Murder On Waverly Place

15

THE NEXT MORNING, AS SOON AS BREAKFAST WAS OVER, Mrs. Ellsworth came to take Catherine. The two of them were going to the market and then were going to bake something very special at Mrs. Ellsworth’s house while everyone else attended the séance on Waverly Place.

Mrs. Decker’s carriage arrived soon after Mrs. Ellsworth and Catherine had left, and Sarah followed Maeve and Serafina out and climbed in behind them. Serafina was once again dressed in her flowing black gown, but her expression was more determined than Sarah had ever seen it.

“Maeve,” Mrs. Decker said when they were settling themselves. “You look lovely.”

Maeve blushed prettily at the compliment. Sarah had searched her closet to make sure Maeve’s outfit marked her as someone Mrs. Felix Decker would know. They had decided she would be Mrs. Decker’s niece, and she looked every bit the part in a suit Sarah hadn’t worn in a while and a hat her mother had given her but which Sarah had judged too fancy for her life as a midwife. Maeve touched the hat self-consciously and Mrs. Decker nodded her approval.

Serafina distracted them from their approval of Maeve’s clothes. “What did Mrs. Burke say when she read my note?”

Mrs. Decker smiled. “She got very flustered and kept saying she couldn’t, she just couldn’t, but then I mentioned that you said you wouldn’t charge her anything, and she finally decided she would try.”

“Good. I have been thinking what we should do,” she told them as the carriage lurched away from the curb. “Mrs. Brandt, I think you should not come inside with us. I do not want everyone else to know you are there.”

“I’m not going to wait in the carriage until the séance is over,” Sarah declared.

“Oh, no, that is not what you will do,” Serafina assured her. “I will unlock the back door, and you will come inside that way when we are all in the séance room.”

“How will I know when that happens?”

Serafina thought for a moment. “I will go to the front window and move the curtain just before I take everyone into the room.”

“I could do that for you,” Mrs. Decker said. “No one would think it peculiar if I looked out to check on my driver.”

“Yes, thank you,” Serafina said. “That would be better.”

“What about Mr. Malloy?” Maeve asked. “He’ll probably be there when we arrive.”

“I will speak with him and ask him to pretend to leave,” Serafina said. “I do not want the killer to be frightened by the police. But Mr. Malloy can return with you, Mrs. Brandt.”

Sarah nodded her approval. “You said you’d show me where I could listen to what’s happening in the séance,” Sarah reminded her.

“I won’t be able to show you, but it is easy to find. A picture is hanging on the wall in the kitchen. An ugly picture of a cow. If you lift it down, you will see two small holes stuffed with cotton wool. You can look through them into the séance room, but you will see nothing once the room is dark. They are really for listening. And you must stand in front of them, closely, so no light comes into the séance room once the light is out.”

“Why are they there?” Maeve asked.

“For the Professor. He usually listens in case something happens. I call for him and he comes.”

“Or when you fainted at that séance I attended, the others called him,” Sarah recalled.

Serafina smiled. “Yes, that is right. The Professor will be in the kitchen when you come in, so Mr. Malloy will tell him he must stand aside so you can listen. He will be angry, but do not let him interrupt us.”

“I’m sure Mr. Malloy can handle the Professor,” Mrs. Decker said with a small smile.

Sarah was sure of it, too.

“Whose spirit will you call for today?” Maeve asked.

“I will call for Mrs. Gittings,” Serafina said grimly.

“What if she doesn’t know who killed her, though?” Maeve pressed. “What about Nicola?”

Serafina’s eyes grew bleak. “I will not call for him. It is too soon. But Yellow Feather will know if she does not. He was there when it happened.”

The other three had no answer for that, although Sarah couldn’t help wishing she believed in Yellow Feather. If he really existed, he could be very helpful.

They spent the rest of the trip answering Maeve’s questions about what would happen at the séance. When the carriage rattled to a stop, Serafina sat up straighter, as if bracing herself.

“I know this must be difficult for you, my dear,” Mrs. Decker said.

“I will not be afraid,” Serafina told her, although she sounded as if she were trying to convince herself. “I am doing this for Nicola.”

The driver opened the door, and the three of them climbed out.

“Mrs. Brandt is going to wait here for a while,” Mrs. Decker said to the driver. “Please do whatever she tells you.”

He nodded his understanding and closed the carriage door. When the others had gone inside, he climbed back up to the seat and moved the carriage about halfway down the block. Sarah positioned herself so she had a good view of the front window and settled back to wait.

MALLOY HADN’T BEEN THERE LONG WHEN HE HEARD someone coming in the front door. He and the Professor had been staring at each other across the kitchen table for far too long, and the Professor jumped to his feet at the first sound. “She’s here,” he said and hurried out of the kitchen.

Malloy followed him into the hallway and saw Serafina coming through the front door. Mrs. Decker and Maeve were behind her. Where was Sarah?

“Madame Serafina,” the Professor said, obviously pleased to see her. “How are you?”

“I am very well,” she assured him. “I am happy to be home again.”

“I’m happy to welcome you here,” he assured her. “Mrs. Decker, how nice to see you back again. And you’ve brought a friend.” He eyed Maeve critically, as if trying to judge her potential as a paying customer.

“Miss Decker,” Serafina said, “may I present my assistant, Professor Rogers. Professor, Miss Decker is Mrs. Decker’s niece. She has always been curious about the spirit world, so she is going to learn more about it today.”

“We’re very happy to have you here,” the Professor assured her, although Frank thought his enthusiasm sounded forced. He gave her a small bow, and then he caught her studying him with more than casual interest. He straightened, probably wondering why this young lady would be so interested in him, and then he said. “Have we met before, Miss Decker?”

“I don’t think so, Professor,” she said. “What makes you ask?”

“It’s just… You reminded me of someone there for a moment.”

Frank had been watching from the end of the hallway, unnoticed. The Professor’s back was to him, so he couldn’t see his expression, but Maeve gave the other man an innocent smile designed to disarm him.

Frank didn’t wait to see if it worked. He stepped forward. “Good morning, Madame,” he said to Serafina.

All the women looked up in surprise, and he was glad to see none of them looked more pleased to see him than was appropriate.

“Mr. Malloy, why have you come?” Serafina asked, as if she really didn’t know.

“I thought you might like me to be close by, in case something happened today.”

Serafina gave him one of her disapproving frowns. “May I speak with you privately, Mr. Malloy?” She turned back to the Professor. “Will you serve tea to Mrs. Decker and her niece?”

The Professor looked as if he would refuse, eyeing Frank the way he’d look at a rattlesnake from whom he expected the worst. He couldn’t think of any reason not to do her bidding, however, so he said, “Yes, Madame.” He took charge of the visitors and ushered them into the parlor while Frank and Serafina went across the hall to the office.

Once inside, Frank closed the door with a click and said, “Where’s Mrs. Brandt?”

“She’s waiting in the carriage. I thought it would be better if the others didn’t know the two of you were in the house during the séance. We don’t want the killer to be on guard, so I will ask you to leave when everyone has arrived, and then you and she will come to the back door, which I will unlock. I told Mrs. Brandt how to find the holes in the kitchen wall where you can listen to what is happening in the room.”

“What about the Professor? Isn’t that where he usually waits during the séance?”

“Mrs. Decker said you could handle him,” she said with a small smile.

“I probably can,” Frank allowed, wondering what he had done to earn Mrs. Decker’s confidence.

“Did you tell the Professor about Nicola?” she asked.

“No, you said you wanted to do it,” he reminded her.

“Good, I-”

She stopped when someone knocked on the door. It opened before either of them could react, and the Professor stepped in and closed the door behind him. “You can’t allow him to stay here for the séance.”

Serafina gave him a withering look. “I am the one who decides who is present for the séance,” she reminded him.

“Don’t get high and mighty with me, missy,” he told her. “I knew you when you were telling fortunes on the street.”

“And now you live off the money that I earn,” she reminded him right back.

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he glanced at Frank and changed his mind. He straightened himself again. “Well, perhaps it’s good he’s here after all. He can protect us in case Nicola comes back.”

“Nicola is dead,” Serafina said savagely before Frank could reply.

“Dead?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “How could he be dead?”

“Because someone killed him,” she told him.

The Professor looked at Frank. “Is this true?”

“Yes, someone beat him to death. We found his body not far from here.”

The Professor’s face flooded with color. “The little fool, he probably started flashing the money around and somebody killed him for it. Lucille tried to tell you he was no good, but you wouldn’t listen.”

An excellent theory, Frank thought, but the Professor didn’t know Nicola had no money to flash around. “Who’s Lucille?”

“Mrs. Gittings,” the Professor snapped. “So now he’s gone and the money with him.”

“Don’t worry, you still have me to make money for you,” Serafina told him acidly.

“Mrs. Decker didn’t give me anything when she came in just now,” he informed her just as acidly.

“I told them I would not charge them today.”

“What?” the Professor asked, outraged.

“After what happened, they would not come back unless I begged them. You should be glad they are here at all.”

“And the others? Are they coming, too?”

“Yes, they are. All of them will be here, just like before.”

“Just like before except for that girl. Why is she here?”

“I told you, she is Mrs. Decker’s niece.”

“No, she isn’t. She’s somebody’s maid, and she’s up to something. I don’t like it.”

“You do not have to like it. She is here because I want her here. Now go answer the door. Someone else has come.”

They could hear the bell, and the Professor gave her another glare before going to answer it.

When he’d closed the door behind him, Frank said, “How did he know about Maeve?”

“What does it matter?” She dismissed the Professor with a wave of her hand. “Do you know what you must do?”

“Do you want me to stay until everybody gets here?”

“Yes, and then I will tell you, in front of everyone, that you are to leave, so they all know you are gone. I do not want the killer to think you are here to find him.”

“Or her,” Frank added.

But she was already on her way out of the room. “I must unlock the back door for you,” she said as she disappeared.

Frank sighed. He had a bad feeling about all of this. Why had he let Sarah talk him into it in the first place? If Nicola was dead, nobody cared who had killed Mrs. Gittings. Nobody but Serafina and Sarah. He sighed again and stepped out into the hall. He could hear voices in the parlor, and he crossed the hall to see who had arrived.

John Sharpe was there, and Mrs. Decker was introducing him to Maeve. From the look on his face, he thought she was somebody’s maid, too, but Mrs. Decker didn’t care a fig what he thought and neither did Maeve. Frank could hear clocks around the city striking the hour. Cunningham would be late, of course, if he showed up at all.

The Professor was opening the door to someone, and Mrs. Burke came in. She looked pale and drawn and slightly terrified, especially when she saw Frank. He nodded politely.

“What is he doing here?” she fairly squeaked to the Professor.

“Madame asked him to come,” he said with obvious disapproval.

“Mrs. Decker is in the parlor,” Frank said, hoping to distract her. He succeeded.

She scurried away, not even waiting for the Professor to escort her, and Frank could hear Mrs. Decker’s welcome.

“Where is Madame Serafina?” the Professor asked.

“I don’t know. She had some things to do.”

“The boy, is he really dead?” the Professor asked.

“She identified his body.”

The Professor looked as if he wanted to swear but remembered just in time where he was. “If he’s dead, then why are you here?”

“Madame asked me to come,” he said, repeating the Professor’s own words without a trace of irony.

They could hear Mrs. Burke’s voice, shrill and too loud from nervous tension, “I didn’t know Mr. Decker had a niece.”

The Professor frowned. “That girl…” he said, then shook his head.

The doorbell rang again. The Professor muttered something under his breath and went to answer it.

Frank waited as he admitted Cunningham. The young man was only a few minutes late, which meant he must be eager to see Serafina again. He’d have realized she no longer had to answer to Mrs. Gittings, and he probably wanted to make his case to her again about why she should become his mistress.

The Professor greeted him, but Cunningham wasn’t paying attention. “Where’s Madame Serafina?” he asked, looking around, and then he saw Frank. “What are you doing here?”

“Madame asked him to come,” the Professor said with a touch of irony before Frank could reply.

“Why? Are we in danger?” he asked in alarm.

“Not at all,” Serafina said. They all looked up to see her emerging from the kitchen. Her color was high, her cheeks fairly glowing, and her amazing eyes sparkled with some inner light. She carried herself like a queen, and Frank stared admiringly as she moved gracefully down the hallway toward them. “We are all perfectly safe, are we not, Mr. Malloy?”

Frank wasn’t so sure about that, but he said, “Yes, you are.”

But no one was listening to him. The other two men only saw Serafina. She held out her hand, and Cunningham took it in both of his.

“I’m so glad to see you,” he said breathlessly.

“I am glad to see you, too. Please, come inside and greet the others.”

She had to tug a bit to reclaim her hand from his eager grip, but then she turned, and he followed her into the parlor. Frank followed, too, but stopped, hovering in the doorway and aware that the Professor was hovering just behind him, listening intently to what she might say.

Everyone greeted Cunningham, and Sharpe made a remark about how he was only five minutes late. Everyone chuckled politely.

“We are all a little nervous today,” Serafina said when they were finished greeting the newcomer. “But we have nothing to fear. I asked Mr. Malloy to come, but now that I am here, I know that everything will be fine. I can feel it. The spirits are surrounding us, protecting us.”

“I thought he was here to tell us he found whoever killed Mrs. Gittings,” Cunningham said with a frown.

“The boy who did it is dead,” the Professor said over Frank’s shoulder.

The three people to whom this was news gasped, and the others stared at him in surprise.

“Do you mean that Italian boy who worked here?” Sharpe asked.

“That’s right,” the Professor confirmed. “Mr. Malloy had arrested him, but he managed to escape and now… Well, they found his body, didn’t they, Mr. Malloy?”

“That’s right,” Malloy said, loath to agree with the Professor about anything but unable to think of a reason to lie.

“How did he die?” Mr. Sharpe asked with obvious disapproval. “I hope it wasn’t at the hands of the police.”

Frank could have taken offense, but since many people had died at the hands of the police while in custody, he chose not to argue the point. “No, he was beaten to death before we could find him.”

“So there is no longer any danger,” Mrs. Burke said with palpable relief. “Nothing to worry about at all.”

“Of course not,” Mr. Sharpe assured her.

Frank glanced at Serafina and was surprised to catch her eyes burning with anger in the moment before she got control of herself again and smiled sweetly. “We are in no danger here. I told you, the spirits are surrounding us with protection. That is why I will ask Mr. Malloy to leave us. We do not need you here.”

Frank looked around to see the reactions. No one protested. No one wanted the police around if they didn’t have to be. In fact, they were all looking at him as if he were a skunk at a picnic, except Maeve, who was staring at the Professor with the oddest expression on her face, as if she wanted to knock him over the head with a vase. Maybe he had accused her of being a maid. “If you’re sure you won’t need me,” he said.

“Why should we need you?” Cunningham said with forced bravado.

“If you’re sure, Madame Serafina,” Frank repeated, ignoring Cunningham.

“I am, Mr. Malloy. Thank you for your help.” She gave him a gracious nod of her head, and Frank turned to see the Professor had already fetched his hat and was holding it out to him.

In another moment, he found himself on the front stoop with the door closed securely behind him. He saw Mrs. Decker’s carriage waiting down the street and headed for it. By the time he reached it, the driver was helping Sarah out.

“Good morning, Mrs. Brandt,” he said, unreasonably happy to see her, considering the circumstances. Although, he had to admit, these circumstances were far better than many they’d been in. At least no one was in danger of getting murdered today.

“Good morning, Mr. Malloy. Why are you smiling?”

He hadn’t realized he was and quickly stopped. “No reason. Serafina told me the plan.” He glanced around and saw they were almost to the corner. They’d have to walk down the side street to the alley and then half a block back to the back door of the house. “Are you ready for a little stroll?”

“I’d be delighted.” She took his offered arm, and they started down the street.

“We arranged that Mother would move the front curtain when they started into the séance room, so I would know when it was safe to make my entrance. I saw it move just after you came out. What was going on inside?”

“Did you know Maeve is your cousin?”

“Yes, that was the story we decided on.”

“I thought she looked very nice, but the Professor knew her for what she was the instant he saw her.”

“He can probably smell an Irish girl a mile away,” Sarah sighed. “I don’t suppose it matters, though, so long as they let her into the séance.”

“They’ll do whatever Madame Serafina wants. Serafina told the Professor that Nicola is dead, and he told everyone else that Mrs. Gittings’s killer was dead.”

“Why would he do that?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“Because they were nervous about being in the house with the killer still running loose, I guess. Or maybe he was just happy Nicola is dead and wanted to let everyone else know, too. Anyway, when they heard the killer was dead, they wanted me to leave, so I did.”

“How rude of them,” she said sympathetically.

Frank stopped when they reached the alley. “I forgot to count the houses.”

“I did while I was waiting,” she assured him. “We don’t want to go barging into the wrong kitchen.”

“No, we don’t,” he agreed. He had to admit he was enjoying walking along with Sarah’s hand tucked into the crook of his arm, as if they belonged together. But if Maeve didn’t belong with those people in the house, Frank Malloy certainly didn’t belong with Sarah Decker Brandt. Under any other circumstances, he would never even know a woman like her, much less be her friend and… well, and whatever else he was to her. He couldn’t even think about what she was to him.

“This is it,” she said. “Yes, I remember those curtains in the kitchen window.”

Frank opened the back gate, and they made their way up the flagstone path that had been overgrown with weeds last summer and was now covered with their withered remains and the first green shoots of this spring’s crop. Sarah was the first to the back door, and it opened easily. She gave Frank a conspiratorial grin and then slipped inside. He followed, ready to do very quiet battle with the Professor for possession of the kitchen.

But when they got inside, the room was empty.

“Where is he?” she asked in a whisper.

Frank shrugged. “Maybe he’s in there.” He pointed to the curtained alcove. He stepped over and pulled back the curtain, but no one was in there either. He shrugged again.

Without a word, she went to the wall opposite the back door and started to remove a picture hanging there. He hurried to take it from her. When he’d set it on the floor, he saw her pulling a plug of cotton wool from one of two holes. She pointed to the other one, and said, “Stand close to it so the light doesn’t shine into it.”

He pulled the cotton wool out of the other hole and peered through. He had a perfect view of the séance room. Serafina had just put out the gaslight and was closing the door. He could see everyone seated around the table, their hands clasped just the way Serafina had demonstrated. Maeve was looking all around, taking in every detail of the room in the last seconds before the door closed, plunging them into darkness. She’d probably learned that from her short stint as a Pinkerton Detective a few weeks ago.

Then the room was dark, and Frank and Sarah could see nothing, but after a few moments, when Serafina had taken her place again, she spoke, and they could hear her clearly.

“Yellow Feather, are you there? What do the spirits have to tell us today? Yellow Feather, speak to us.”

Someone at the table murmured something, and Cunningham called out, “Is my father there? I need to speak with him!”

Serafina kept calling for Yellow Feather, pleading with him to make his presence known, and just when Frank thought maybe the spirit guide wasn’t going to cooperate, he heard her make an odd sound, and suddenly a new voice started speaking, one he’d never heard before.

“This is Yellow Feather. I am very confused,” the voice said. A man’s voice, but not the voice of either of the men in the room. “So many spirits, too many, all shouting, all wanting to be heard.”

Frank looked at Sarah, and she gave him a nod, telling him everything was as it should be.

“Is my father there?” Cunningham asked desperately.

“Soon, soon,” Yellow Feather soothed. “You must be patient. A new spirit is here. I have never seen him before. He is looking for someone, someone young. Are you there?”

“Is it me?” Cunningham asked. “I’m here, Father!”

“Who is it? Who are you?” Yellow Feather asked, sounding uncertain.

Someone moaned, a plaintive sound that gave Frank gooseflesh, although he never would have admitted it.

“The new spirit is searching. He is old, very old. And rich.”

“It’s my father!” Cunningham insisted. “It must be!”

“No, no,” Yellow Feather moaned. “No, I am seeing money, much money, but it does not belong to him. He only pretends to be rich. He lies. He lies to steal money from people.”

Frank glanced at Sarah, but she looked as puzzled as he.

“He is old,” Yellow Feather was saying. “No, not old, not very old, but he says he is old. He calls himself the… the Old Gentleman.”

Sarah’s breath caught, and when he looked at her, her eyes were wide with surprise. She put her hand over the hole in the wall and whispered, “Maeve’s grandfather played the Old Gentleman in the Green Goods Game.”

Now Frank’s eyes widened in surprise. When had Sarah come by that interesting piece of information? She had some explaining to do when this stupid séance was over.

“I see money,” Yellow Feather was saying. “A lot of money, and blood. There is blood on the money, and the Old Gentleman is dead. Someone killed him.”

“Who is he?” Mrs. Burke asked in alarm. “Why is he here?”

“He has a message for someone,” Yellow Feather said. “He wants to say… Maeve! Maeve, are you here?” Yellow Feather’s voice rose with desperation.

“Yes,” someone said faintly. Was it Maeve? Was she terrified? Too frightened to speak aloud?

“Maeve, he wants to tell you something. He has a message for you.”

“Who killed him?” Maeve asked, not sounding at all frightened. “Tell me that! Who killed you? Say his name!”

Yellow Feather moaned. “I can’t hear him. Too many spirits. They are all shouting. They all want to speak through me, but I can’t-”

“Is Mrs. Gittings there?”

Sarah started. That was her mother’s voice.

Yellow Feather gave a chilling moan. “I do not want to speak to her.”

“Let her speak,” Mrs. Decker insisted. “Can she tell us who killed her?”

“Oh, Elizabeth, please don’t!” Mrs. Burke cried.

“So many spirits,” Yellow Feather complained. “I am so tired.”

“No, no, you must find my father before you go!” Cunningham cried.

“Someone is here, someone new…” Yellow Feather’s voice broke, and he made some strangled sounds. “He wants to speak. He’s trying so hard to speak.”

Suddenly, a piano started to play. The notes were slow and uncertain, as if the player was just learning. Frank looked at Sarah. She covered her peek hole again and whispered, “It must be the Professor playing the gramophone.”

Frank knew the Professor hadn’t been in the secret room a few minutes ago, but he stepped over again and pulled back the curtain. Sure enough, the gramophone was turning, the needle pressed against one of the wax cylinders, and the bell-shaped speaker was turned toward the door that led to the cabinet. But the room was still empty. Who had started it up?

He hurried back to Sarah and shook his head to tell her no one was there.

Apparently, Yellow Feather was still trying to get the new spirit to speak up and encountering resistance. “He can’t… He is still too close. The pull of life is still too strong.”

Suddenly, everyone gasped, and they all started talking at once.

“What’s that?”

“Who’s there?”

“Did you feel it, too?”

Mrs. Burke made a sound like a sob.

“He is here,” Yellow Feather said. “He needs to speak to you. Spirit, who are you? Why are you here?”

This time the moan was a different voice, higher pitched and keening, and everyone gasped again.

“Speak, Spirit,” Yellow Feather called out. “Do not be afraid!”

“I… did… not… kill… her!”

“Who is it?” Mr. Sharpe demanded. “Who are you?”

“Nic… Nic… Nicola,” the spirit wailed, as if the word was torn from his throat.

More gasps and sobs. The piano music had grown more confident.

“I’m going to stop this,” Frank said, but Sarah grabbed his wrist and shook her head.

“Let her go,” Sarah whispered fiercely. “Maybe she really knows who the killer is.”

The new spirit was keening and Yellow Feather started shouting to be heard. “Stop it! Listen to me! What else do you have to tell us?”

That was when Frank realized with a start that Serafina couldn’t be doing both voices at once. From the way Sarah’s eyes had nearly popped out of her head, she had realized the same thing.

“Tell us!” Yellow Feather begged. “Tell us who killed her!”

“I did not kill her,” the spirit insisted.

“I know! I know! We believe you!” Yellow Feather said. “Tell us the truth. Tell us who killed her.”

“The same… The same…” the spirit sputtered.

“Who is it?” Yellow Feather cried.

“The same who kills Serafina!”

Someone shouted and suddenly a burst of light illuminated the room, and he could clearly see everything.

Frank peered through the hole, desperate to see what was happening, but he could hardly make sense of what he saw.

Nicola’s ghost stood in front of the cabinet, staring in wide-eyed shock at the dark figure holding a stiletto poised to strike, but not at Serafina at all.

He was going to stab Maeve.