Whispers Beyond the Veil

by Jessica Estevao

  Before I could decide what to do, Mr. Jellison called out to me.

  “Miss Proulx, isn’t it?” he said. “Please join us.” I took it as a sign I should proceed. Officer Yancey scowled at me and I thought it likely Mr. Jellison was hoping my appearance would make it less likely that Yancey would pursue his questioning. I nodded to both gentlemen and tried to use my eyebrows to tell Officer Yancey he should not feel hobbled by my presence. He seemed to understand me.

  “Mr. Jellison was just telling me he was surprised to hear there are rumors afloat that he has plans to expand his holdings to include the Belden and the Indian campground near the pier.”

  “The idea never crossed my mind. But now that you mention it I shall have to give it some consideration,” Mr. Jellison said. “After all, it’s the only neighborly thing to do.”

  “Coveting your neighbor’s property is not most people’s definition of neighborly,” Officer Yancey said. I nodded in agreement.

  “The time for small hotels and bands of roving Indians is past. By the new century Old Orchard will be the premier summer destination in the Northeast. Offering to purchase the Belden before Honoria’s financial troubles get the better of her is the merciful thing to do.”

  “I wasn’t aware you had access to Honoria’s financial information,” I said.

  “It’s still a small town, Miss Proulx, despite the number of visitors we host here,” Mr. Jellison said. “And I would have to be a fool to not understand how the murder of one of Honoria’s guests is likely to impact reservations and staff morale.” Mr. Jellison beamed down at me and I felt I needed a good long soak in a hot, soapy bath.

  “I think you underestimate the loyalty of our guests and staff.”

  “I think you overestimate them. Why, just this week we’ve hosted several of your guests and most of the staff.” Mr. Jellison smiled again.

  “Like who?” I asked.

  “You, for starters, Miss Proulx, and the gentleman who accompanied you here this evening. The astrologer and her husband and the unfortunate Mr. Stickney have all been here within the past few days,” Mr. Jellison said. “Not that we’ve entertained them without incident.”

  “What sort of incident?” Officer Yancey asked. He had put his notebook back in his pocket and sounded conversational instead of official.

  “There was a misunderstanding with the astrologer’s husband. A very jealous sort of man. He was vehemently opposed to me speaking to his wife. He made such a scene I had to ask him to leave.”

  “You said Mr. Stickney was here. Do you remember when?”

  “It must have been the night before last because he was here at about the same time as the astrologer. He left not long after they did.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?” Officer Yancey asked.

  “Because after the argument with the astrologer’s husband, Mr. Stickney came up to me and asked if we had any vacancies. He said he had concerns about the Belden already and witnessing the unprofessional behavior of the staff convinced him he should move himself and his wife.”

  “And did you have vacancies?”

  “I assured him we would be happy to accommodate them both, and he left shortly thereafter. Sadly, he had no need for the room by the next day.”

  “And you can prove this?” I asked.

  “Officer Yancey is welcome to speak with the front desk. There will be a reservation marked down in the book.” His attention was pulled elsewhere and he raised his hand to someone. “Business calls, Yancey. If you have more questions they’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” He gave us each a brief nod, crossed the ballroom, and tapped a dark-haired man on the shoulder.

  Something about the man struck me as familiar, but from across the room I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then Mr. Jellison said something that made the man throw back his head and roar with laughter. And that’s when I saw them. The light from the chandelier glinted down on his face, and I grabbed Officer Yancey by the arm.

  “If you believe the murder and the pickpocketing are connected, you might want to question the man speaking with Mr. Jellison.”

  “Albert Fitch?”

  “I don’t know what his name is but I am acquainted with him.”

  “You know Albert Fitch?”

  “There was one more thing I suppose I should have mentioned about the pickpocket.”

  “You mean besides the fact he was not an Indian?” His tone did not do him credit. It was hard to believe someone as pleasant as Lucinda shared a bloodline with Officer Yancey.

  “He had two gold front teeth.” I admit to having taken no small satisfaction in the look of astonishment that flooded his face. He recovered himself with haste and waved his hand above his head. Out of nowhere another officer appeared.

  “Frank, looks like we might finally have a chance to get somewhere with our old friend Albert Fitch.”

  “Have you been sampling the hooch?” Frank said.

  “Miss Proulx here says he’s the man who snatched her bag.” An enormous grin spread over Frank’s face.

  “You don’t say?”

  “I do say,” I said. “Do you need me to fill out a report or something to make it official?”

  “Your word is good enough for me to keep an eye on him, miss.” Frank tipped his hat, nodded at Officer Yancey, and slipped off into the crowd.

  “That’s it?” I asked. “You plan to simply keep an eye on him?”

  “That’s exactly what I intend to do.” Officer Yancey took my arm and steered me away from the noise of the band to a secluded table at the edge of the dining room. “Albert Fitch has been in my sights for a long while. I’ve heard rumors of his involvement in everything from illegal stills to horse thefts from the livery but I’ve never been able to get the chief to authorize me to bring charges against him and have never caught him in the act.”

  “Why won’t your chief bring charges?”

  “He’s a favorite of Mr. Jellison’s, which makes him someone protected by the chief.” Officer Yancey sighed deeply. “But if I have an upstanding citizen swearing he is involved in pickpocketing it is worth further investigation.”

  “Do you think he could have killed Mr. Stickney?”

  “Let’s just say I am hoping that by keeping an eye on him we’ll catch him with Mr. Stickney’s missing watch fob.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Albert Fitch had been a busy boy for much of the night. He stayed at the Sea Spray, making eyes at the ladies and selling illegal hooch on the sly until after two in the morning. He stopped off at a rooming house for another several hours of card playing. Dawn had long since lightened the sky as he staggered toward a ramshackle cottage a few blocks from the shore and let himself in. Before the door closed behind him, young Henry Goodwin slipped out through it and set off toward town. Even without his Peanutine cart he was easy to recognize. Despite his energetic bearing, Henry walked with a pronounced limp. Rumor had it the boy’s father had caused his injury but no one was entirely certain.

  With the promise to send Lewis to relieve him, Yancey left Frank watching the house, then followed Henry as far as the livery stable on Old Orchard Street. He was sure Henry would be there at least long enough to hitch a donkey to one of the many Peanutine wagons that dotted the beach throughout the summer.

  Yancey hurried across the street to the station, where through the plate glass window he saw Lewis seated at Frank’s desk scattering powdered sugar from a half-eaten fritter all down the front of his uniform jacket. He jumped to his feet when Yancey pushed open the door.

  “Is the chief in yet?” Yancey stuck his hand into the grease-stained paper bag on Frank’s desk.

  “No, sir.” Lewis wiped his fingers on his uniform. “Do you want me to call him, sir?”

  “Absolutely not,” Yancey said. “Frank and I have had Albert Fitch under surveillance all ni
ght long and I want you to go over to the Goodwin place and relieve him.” Yancey stifled a grin. If Officer Lewis had had a tail he would have wagged it clean off.

  “I’ll get right over there, sir.” Lewis jumped to his feet, abandoning the half-eaten fritter on the desk. “Just as soon as you tell me where the Goodwin place is located.” Yancey gave him the address and told him to ask the patrolman stationed down on Grand Avenue to accompany him.

  “Don’t approach Fitch and don’t let him know you’re there.” Yancey waited until Lewis dashed out the door to help himself to the fritter left on the desk. He picked up the greasy bag left there, too, and found two more. Time to tackle Henry.

  • • •

  Yancey paced on the street near the Alberta House, waiting for Henry to clatter past with his peanut-shaped cart. Henry was one of several cart drivers who sold the popular peanut and molasses confection, Peanutine, up and down the beach all summer. Yancey waited until Henry was at the end of Old Orchard Street and almost on the sand before he followed him.

  It was still early, with only a few people looking for shells or walking with friends. Thomas Lydale, the photographer, called out to him as he was setting up for a day taking souvenir photos in his booth at the edge of the boardwalk. Yancey kept Henry in his sights as he stopped to greet Thomas.

  “I’ve got those photos of the murder scene ready up at the shop whenever you want to see them,” Thomas said.

  “I’ll try to come by this evening if nothing holds me up,” Yancey said. The photographer nodded and Yancey hurried after Henry, whose donkey was starting to put more distance between them than Yancey liked.

  No one wanted candy yet, so Henry looked up eagerly when Yancey approached.

  “I don’t suppose I could interest you in an apple fritter, could I, Henry?” Yancey asked, extending the bag. Henry tensed his grip on the donkey’s reins and peered down from his perch.

  “What’s it going to cost me?” he asked.

  “I’ll give you these in exchange for a description of the pickpocket you saw assault the lady near the train station.”

  “I already told you what he looked like.”

  “But this time I’d like you to tell me the truth.” Yancey rattled the bag. “I already know it’s Albert Fitch, I’d just like to know why you wouldn’t identify him.” Henry looked up and down the beach. The nearest person was the photographer, who was well out of earshot.

  “Who’s Albert Fitch?”

  “He’s the guy you passed in the doorway to your own house this morning.”

  “Oh, that guy.” Henry bit his lower lip. “Sometimes he asks people to do odd jobs for him.”

  “Did you ever do any odd jobs for Albert, Henry?” The older Goodwin boys had been mixed up with Albert Fitch since their parents had both died of scarlet fever several years earlier, leaving a very young Henry in the care of his teenage brothers. They’d done whatever they could to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. Rumor had it that a fast buck could be earned helping Albert Fitch.

  “Albert offered me a way to make more money in an afternoon than I do all day driving this cart.”

  “What did Albert have you do?”

  “All I had to do was go swimming.”

  “That’s it? Just swimming?”

  “Well, no. He told me he wanted me to drop something off at the bathhouse at the Sea Spray first but he’d pay me to do it and then I could swim all afternoon.”

  The Sea Spray again. Yancey felt the tingling along his scalp he always did when he was sure he was onto something. He held out the fritter bag.

  “What did he want you to drop off?”

  “I don’t know. He told me not to look. He gave me a drawstring pouch and told me to put it in cubby number seventeen at the bathhouse.”

  “Just put the bag in the valuables storage at the bathhouse and then go swimming?”

  “That’s it. He said to tell the lady at the entrance that Albert sent me with something for cubby seventeen.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She let me in without paying, gave me a key, and pointed to the room just past her. I went in, unlocked door seventeen, and stuck the bag in the cubby.”

  “Was there anything else in there?” Yancey asked.

  “Another bag.”

  “If I were you I would have peeked into that one.”

  “You wouldn’t if you really knew Albert.” Henry gulped down a second fritter in three big bites.

  “Did he ever have you go swimming again?”

  “A few times, but when my brother Tippy found out, he gave me a hiding.”

  “Did Albert get someone else to do it?”

  “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

  “I’ll find out one way or another. If you’re worried about someone it’ll go easier on him if I’m not annoyed when I track him down.”

  “Tippy took over. He didn’t want me to work for Albert.”

  “Does Tippy still make deliveries to the bathhouse?”

  “Yeah. Albert shows up at our house. He leaves a bag with Tippy for him to take to the bathhouse that day.”

  “Henry, best mind your brothers and stay away from Albert.” Henry shrugged and turned his best smile on a lady approaching the cart.

  Yancey hummed a little tune to himself as he set off to invite Lewis to go for a swim.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Discovering the identity of the pickpocket the night before and mulling over the possibility that I might have ended up like Mr. Stickney had weighed heavily on my mind. Adding to my unsettled feeling was the task I had agreed to perform for Mr. Ayers. Since there seemed to be little to do about Mr. Stickney, I decided to set things in motion with the Velmont sisters as soon as possible.

  It took a little searching but I found them in the side garden sheltered by the high wooden fence from the sea breeze and the prying eyes of passersby. The sisters stood facing each other, Elva holding what looked like a bowling pin in each hand. They both looked over as I stepped through the gate. From the tension in the air and the grim looks on their faces I had the sense they’d been arguing.

  “Hello, ladies. Have I interrupted something?”

  “Ruby, my dear, you are just the person to help us with an important decision,” Elva said. “I am trying to convince my sister that our interest in physical fitness is best expressed through the private use of Indian clubs rather than by some less seemly means.”

  “I wouldn’t call it unseemly,” Dovie said.

  “My sister has gotten quite a wild notion in her head.”

  “Ruby, would you be willing to consult Father for us? Elva refuses to consider joining me until she has his approval.”

  “Perhaps if you tell me what is on your mind, Dovie, he will be moved to whisper his thoughts in my ear.” I smiled and nodded.

  “I wish to bathe in the sea. My sister feels Father would not approve,” Dovie said. “She knows she wants to go at least as much as I but she doesn’t want to disappoint Father by acting in a way that attracts the wrong sort of notice.” Dovie leaned forward with shining eyes and for just a flickering moment I could clearly see the young girl she had once been.

  “I always wanted to test the waters when I was younger but Father never would give his consent,” Elva said. “He felt the bathing costumes were much too immodest.”

  “Scandalous was the word he used,” Dovie said. “But recently the messages you’ve been relaying from Father indicate a mellowing of his forceful opinions. Perhaps he will think differently of such things from the other side?”

  I could see no harm in turning Father Velmont into the sort of man who helped his daughters to enjoy themselves for once. Especially the serious Elva. If I could lie to them to save my own skin with Mr. Ayers I could certainly lie to them for their own pleasure.


  “Please give me your hands and we will see what can be discovered,” I said, extending my arms to each of them. I drew in a deep, salt-laden breath and allowed my head to loll forward. “Father Velmont, can you hear me?” At the base of the veranda a seagull cried out and I felt the sisters’ hands squeeze my own in surprise.

  “That wasn’t him, Elva,” Dovie said.

  “It sounded just like him whenever his dinner was late,” Elva said.

  “He’s just arriving. I hear him coming closer and closer. He says he knows your question and he has an opinion.”

  “What is it, Father?”

  “The other side provides a higher and purer perspective. He sees time in a long and expanding way and feels there is no need to cut yourself off from wholesome enjoyments because of the small minds of others.”

  “Oh, Father, are you certain?” Dovie asked.

  “Quite. But he has something else he is showing to me. He’s saying you should take stock. Does that make any sense to you?” I decided to slip in the bitter with the sweet. I knew Mr. Ayers would be hounding me at every opportunity and things would be easier if I had some progress to mention the next time he cornered me.

  “We inventoried the china and the linens before we closed up the house for the season. Could that be what he means?” Dovie asked.

  “Perhaps, but he is repeating himself, only louder this time, and I doubt he would do so if that were the correct interpretation.”

  “Father did tend to shout when he felt he was not being understood. Didn’t he, sister?” Elva said.

  “In addition to his voice I hear a crinkling, rustling noise like leaves of paper,” I said, hoping to lead them toward stock certificates.

  “I’ve never felt the need to inventory the library, have you?” Dovie turned to Elva.