Death at a Seance

by Carolyn Marie Wilkins

  Mayor Handy pulled an oversized handkerchief from his shirt pocket and mopped the sweat from his face.

  “There are no formal charges against this girl and you know it,” Mrs. Epps said. Honed by years of speaking at suffragette rallies around the state, her nasal soprano voice cut through the air like a knife. “The Aronsville Women’s Auxiliary has vigorously supported your reelection campaign. However, we may have to reconsider in light of this current travesty.”

  “But I’m on your side,” Mayor Handy said. “I’ve supported reform. I’ve supported the Women’s Christian Temperance Union. I even marched in last year’s Suffragette Parade.”

  “Then stand up for your principles,” Mrs. Mason thundered. “Are you going to remain idle while these buffoons in white sheets take over our city? Is that the real reason you’ve locked up this girl?”

  “My dear woman,” the mayor sputtered, “I take orders from no one, not even you. A contingent of troops from the National Guard is on its way here from Indianapolis as we speak. I fully expect the situation to be contained shortly.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Mrs. Mason replied. “I have already called Henry Stokes to express my displeasure. Americanism is one thing. Persecution of innocent citizens is another matter entirely.”

  Mrs. Epps shook her finger in Handy’s face, as if admonishing a small child. “The Women’s Auxiliary expects you to demonstrate moral fiber, Charles. That is the only reason I encouraged my husband to give to your campaign.”

  “Look, ladies,” he said wearily, “I would be the first to acknowledge that I owe my status as mayor to the generous donations your husbands have made to my campaign, but this girl has been present at the scene of two different murders.”

  “That doesn’t make her guilty of murder. Only a man would leap to such a thoroughly illogical conclusion,” Mrs. Epps said.

  As Mayor Handy attempted to respond, I cleared my throat. When that failed to get anyone’s attention, I decided to shout.

  “I am now in possession of new evidence,” I said at the top of my lungs. “Evidence that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt who committed these terrible crimes and why.”

  With a dramatic flourish, I reached into my shoe and unfolded the crumpled papers I had hidden there.

  “What I hold in my hand is copy of the article Miss Ellen Parker was working on the day she was murdered. May I read it?”

  Everyone in the room stared at me as though I were mad. Without waiting for a reply, I began:

  Results of a three-month-long undercover investigation by this reporter have uncovered a bootlegging ring at highest levels of city government. Police detectives, high-ranking politicians, and top-ranking members of the Indiana KKK are working together to garner millions from the manufacture, transportation, and sale of illegal whiskey.

  Special report by Ellen S. Parker. Last Monday, Jackson Corey, brother-in-law of well-known Aronsville business tycoon Henry Stokes, was seen loading crates of liquor into a motor boat owned by the Aronsville Police Department. According to a reliable source, the illegal liquor in the boat was unloaded on the Indiana side of the river by Mr. Stokes’s associates with the tacit approval of officials at the highest level of our city’s police force.

  “How in the hell did you get these notes?” Mayor Handy said. “Let me see them.”

  As Feeney made a clumsy attempt to grab my arm, Mrs. Mason whacked him on the hand with her cane.

  “Call off your man, Charles,” she said. “As president of the Women’s Temperance Union, I am very interested in hearing the rest of this article.”

  With a helpless shrug, Mayor Handy nodded. “Proceed, Miss McFarland.”

  After smoothing out the crumpled pages in my hand, I continued.

  In search of the truth, this reporter trailed Henry Stokes and his wife Mae, an ardent Spiritualist, to a séance at the home of the well-known socialite Mrs. Portia Mason. When a clumsy maid dropped a tray filled with glassware, the séance was halted before I could learn anything further. Tonight, this intrepid reporter intends to return. Questions for Henry S. 1) How much money is the Klan making from this bootlegging enterprise? 2) How do they keep the operation from being discovered by their Prohibition-loving rank-and-file members?

  When I looked up from reading, Mayor Handy’s customarily ruddy face was as white as a Klansman’s sheet.

  “Where did you get this?” he said.

  “Ralph Barnes has an uncle who works at the Chronicle. He must have found these notes in Miss Parker’s desk. If the police had been less intent on convicting me of murder, they would have found the papers themselves.”

  “How do I know the notes weren’t forged?”

  “Check it against the other papers in Miss Parker’s desk drawers. Her evidence confirms the eyewitness testimony Mr. Tisdale told you about earlier this afternoon.”

  Mayor Handy grunted. “Are you are suggesting Henry Stokes killed the reporter in order to protect his bootlegging scheme?”

  “Yes. Not only Miss Parker, but probably her associate Hubie Brown as well,” I said. “Stokes and his friends had a sweet little racket going. Even the police were in his pocket.”

  As I spoke, Officer Feeney began to inch toward the door.

  “What do you know about this thing, Feeney?” Mayor Handy said, spearing the policeman with a glare.

  “Nothing, sir,” Feeney stammered, glancing nervously around the room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you do,” the mayor said irritably. “Stokes and his boys were using a police boat, for Chrissakes. Just give it to me straight. Is the girl telling the truth or not?”

  “She’s a nigra,” Feeney said, giving me an evil look. “Those people are born liars.”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Epps said crisply. “The time of reckoning has arrived, young man.”

  “Spill it, Feeney,” Mayor Handy rumbled. “Or I’ll put the handcuffs on you myself.”

  For the next half hour, the young policeman sang like a bird. With the active cooperation of the Aronsville police force, Henry and Mae Stokes were making a fortune shipping illegal alcohol into the Hoosier State. They suspected Brown was getting wise to their bootlegging scheme, so they got one of their associates to sell the reporter a bottle of gin that had been laced with strychnine.

  “But the Klan supported Prohibition candidates in the last election,” Mayor Handy said. “Why would they go against their own platform?”

  “Money,” Feeney said simply. “Stephenson and his top lieutenants are making money hand over fist on this deal.”

  Before the mayor could reply, a freckle-faced policeman in an ill-fitting uniform burst into the room.

  “The national guard has arrived,” he said. “They’re marching up Main Street right now.”

  The mayor stared thoughtfully out his window at the white-sheeted Klansmen milling on the courthouse lawn. The stillness inside contrasted eerily with the raucous sounds seeping in from the rally outside. As the band thumped out Sousa marches, the crowd sang, shouted, and cheered.

  After what seemed like an eternity, a slow smile spread across the mayor’s face.

  “Tell General Maxwell to have his men wait at the far end of Main Street,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” the policeman said and rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  The mayor strode across the room until he stood in front of Officer Feeney. “If you want to keep your job,” he said, poking a fat finger into the policeman’s chest, “you are going to listen to me and listen good.”

  “Yes, sir,” Feeney said. Beads of perspiration peppered his forehead. “Whatever you say, sir.”

  “Go outside and tell Mr. Stephenson I’d like a private word with him in my office. Tell him I’m ready to make a deal.”

  “Yes, sir,” Feeney said.

  As he turned to leave, the mayor added, “If Stephenson is not in my office within five minutes, I will fire you. Is that clear?”

&
nbsp; When Feeney was gone, the mayor took Mrs. Mason by the elbow with one hand, and Mrs. Epps by the elbow with the other.

  “Thanks so much for stopping by, ladies,” he said. “However, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I have an important meeting in a few minutes.”

  Mrs. Epps shot him a withering glare. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to do business with that odious little man.”

  The mayor merely smiled and continued to usher the two women toward the door.

  “What about Bright Feather?” Mrs. Mason said. “Surely you don’t still believe she is guilty of murder.”

  “No,” Mayor Handy said in a surprisingly jovial tone, “I do not. She is free to go. In fact, I would very much appreciate it if you took her away with you immediately. Good day, ladies.”

  “What about Ralph Barnes?” I said. “If you give him up to the Klan, you might as well hang me too. Ralph is innocent, and I can prove it.” I stood in the doorway, silently daring him to push me out.

  To my surprise, the mayor merely smiled. “Have a little faith, Miss McFarland. There is a method to my madness. Once I have spoken to Mr. Stephenson, things will calm down considerably for all of us, believe me.”

  From what I’d seen so far, I had little reason to trust the man, but at that point, what other choice did I have?

  “One last thing, Miss McFarland,” the mayor said. “Ask Mr. Tisdale to bring his witness here as soon as possible. Assure him that I will make it worth his time.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Although Mrs. Mason wanted me to return home with her, I convinced her to drop me in Churchtown on her way home. It was vital that I take the mayor’s message and Miss Parker’s notes to Boss Tisdale as soon as possible. When we pulled up in front of the Gray Goose, the lights were off, the windows were shut, and the door was locked.

  “Come back with me, Bright Feather,” Mrs. Mason said. “Churchtown is no place for a person of your sensitivity.”

  “I’ve got to get to Boss Tisdale right away,” I said firmly. “Ralph’s life may depend on it. There’s a telephone at the church. If the reverend is still there, I’ll be able to use it.”

  Mr. Lewis took me to Bland Avenue Church, where I had started my day. To my relief, Reverend Robinson answered when I rang the bell, and Mr. Lewis left me in his care. There were bags under Robinson’s eyes, and his face was lined with concern.

  “I’ve been worried sick about you,” he said, wrapping me in a bear hug. Though it was the kind of pastoral hug he would have given to anyone, I was suddenly aware that it had been a very long time since any man had held me like that. Robinson’s breath smelled faintly of coffee, and his arms felt surprisingly muscular beneath his white dress shirt.

  “Thank God you’re safe,” he said. “Gangs of angry white folks have been running through the neighborhood all day.”

  “I need to reach Boss Tisdale right away.”

  Robinson connected me to Tisdale without delay. Over the telephone, The Boss sounded unsurprised at the mayor’s request.

  “Figured he’d see it my way eventually,” he said. “Wait for me at the church. God willing, I’ll be there within the hour.”

  While we waited, I regaled the young minister with the full tale of my adventures. To my surprise, he did not quote the Bible at me once, not even when I told him about what had transpired between Sam and me.

  “These things happen,” Robinson said gently. “You were misled, that’s all.”

  He laughed when I described the tongue-lashing Mrs. Mason had given the mayor. When I came to the part about how I’d predicted Mrs. Mason’s checks would be found, he stared at me with unabashed admiration.

  “You are really something,” he said. “I hope you’ll still stop by to see me from time to time, even after this business is finished.”

  “I’ve caused you enough trouble as it is,” I said. “As soon as this murder thing is cleared up, I plan on leaving this town. Anyway, your wife probably wouldn’t appreciate me visiting you.”

  Robinson flashed me an impish smile. “What makes you think I have a wife?”

  “Don’t you? I thought all ministers had wives.”

  “Not this one. My beautiful Helen died of typhoid the year we married.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said hastily. “Didn’t mean to pry.”

  “You weren’t prying,” he replied. “You were making a legitimate assumption. And, just so there’s no doubt in your mind, I am a single man. No wife and no family.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I said. “It’s clearly none of my business.”

  “No, Carrie,” he said, “I want you to know. I think you are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. You are smart, you are beautiful, and you are brave. I’d really like to get to know you better.”

  I felt myself go warm all over. Could this handsome young preacher actually be interested in me? As my face turned crimson, I coughed to hide my embarrassment.

  “I’ve done most of the talking so far,” I said. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me your story, Reverend Robinson.”

  “Call me John,” he said. “We’ve certainly gotten to know each other well enough for that.”

  “Fair enough, John,” I said. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “My mother was raped by a white man when she was thirteen and became pregnant with me. She never told me his name, but I think it was the owner of the farm where she worked. While I was growing up, she washed clothes and scrubbed floors to put food on the table. Her one desire in life was that I become a Methodist minister.” He sighed and shook his head. “Truth is, I would probably have gone into the theater otherwise. I think I’d have made a great Othello, don’t you?”

  I nodded. To be honest, I’d never been to see a play, but John had a certain magnetism. Of that I had no doubt.

  “Have you ever read Shakespeare?” he asked.

  “Only a little bit in school.” For the first time ever, I wished I’d paid more attention in Miss Brown’s English class.

  “Would you like to hear something truly beautiful?” Impulsively, John took my hand and began to speak:

  Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

  Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

  Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

  And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

  Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

  And often is his gold complexion dimm’d,

  And every fair from fair sometime declines,

  By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:

  But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

  Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,

  Nor shall Death brag thou wandr’rest in his shade,

  When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st.

  So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

  So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

  When he was finished, John leaned over and kissed me gently on the cheek.

  “I love you, Carrie. I’ve felt this way from the moment I met you. I have no right to imagine you care for me at all. I’m nearly ten years your senior, and I’ve got my duties here at the church. But I want you to marry me.”

  As I opened my mouth to speak, he pressed his finger to my lips.

  “You don’t have to answer me now, Carrie. All I ask is that you think about what I’ve said. Can you do that?”

  Completely overwhelmed, I nodded. I was spared the necessity of coming up with a response by the sound of someone banging on the side door.

  “I won’t ask you about this again,” John said, giving my hand a final squeeze. “But promise me you’ll consider my proposal.”

  As he rushed off to answer the door, I struggled to make sense of my feelings. What on earth had just happened? Had the handsome new minister of Bland Methodist Church really asked me to marry him? I was attracted to him, of course. But marriage? What would his congregation say? For tha
t matter, what would Sister Marie say? As my thoughts chased each other in frenzied circles, Boss Tisdale walked in sporting an ear-to-ear grin.

  “I’ve just come from the mayor’s office,” Tisdale said. “Ralph Barnes has been set free.”

  John and I studiously avoided eye contact as he followed The Boss into the room and sat down at his desk.

  “Thank the Lord,” he said. “But what about the Klan? Will he be safe on the street?”

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways, but of course you already know that, Reverend,” Tisdale replied. “For reasons of his own, our friend DC Stephenson has instructed his sheeted minions to disperse peacefully and return to their homes.”

  “If that don’t beat all,” Robinson said. “I can’t help but wonder if Stephenson’s change of heart could have had anything to do with trying to avoid going to Federal prison for bootlegging.”

  Tisdale winked. “Wouldn’t be a bit surprised. Stephenson and Mayor Handy apparently had a quiet chat. I’ve also heard through the grapevine that Chief Smith and Detective Johnson have been arrested by Federal Marshals on charges of bootlegging, fraud, bribery, and racketeering.”

  “My, my,” Robinson said. “Truly a miracle. And will Ralph Barnes be stopping by?”

  “Yes, Mr. Tisdale,” I said. “I owe him so much. Where is he?”

  “On the Sunset Limited bound for California,” The Boss replied. “He couldn’t get out of Aronsville fast enough. He tells me he’s got a lady friend out there who’s gonna put him up until he can get some work.”

  “Sounds just like him,” I said wryly. “Tell him I owe him one, should he ever need anything.”

  “I’ll do that,” Tisdale said. He adjusted his straw hat to an even more jaunty angle and headed for the door. “Now that life is back to normal, I’ve got a million things that need doing down at the office.”

  “But what about the murders?” I said. “Are the police going to arrest anyone?”

  “Don’t know, and don’t care,” The Boss said. “Ralph’s out of jail. You’re out of jail, and the Klan has gone home. That’s all that matters.”