Whispers Beyond the Veil

by Jessica Estevao

  “You’ll feel better if you get whatever it is off your chest.” Mrs. Doyle lifted my head with her firm hands and held my face between her work-roughened palms, squinting at me like she always did. “No matter how terrible you think it is.”

  “I had no intention of putting the hotel in jeopardy.” I tried to steady my voice. “It all started with Mr. Ayers.”

  “What about him?”

  “Honoria confessed because Officer Yancey had a photograph of Mr. Ayers ripping my mother’s pendant from my neck.”

  “Why didn’t you report him?”

  “I was buying his silence.”

  “What the devil were you paying him for? Did he have some sort of hold over you?”

  “He knew things about my past that I didn’t want Honoria or anyone else to discover.”

  “Everyone needs someone they can trust.” Mrs. Doyle lowered her hands to my own and squeezed them encouragingly. “Even if you don’t trust me, you can trust that we both want what is best for Honoria and for the hotel.” I wondered what it would be like to take the chance, to be myself without guise, without guile. I drew in a deep breath and made a decision.

  “Mr. Ayers knew my father in Canada. At his place of employment.”

  “Did he also work for the medicine show?”

  “No, he was just passing through,” I said. And then the realization washed over me. “You knew Father and I worked a medicine show?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does Honoria know?”

  “Of course she does. She thought if you wanted to talk about it you would bring it up yourself. That’s why she never mentioned it.”

  “But how did you know?” It never occurred to me there could be people from my mother’s past who were in on the secret.

  “Where did you think your parents met?”

  “Father said he swept my mother off her feet in the ballroom of a fine hotel.”

  “He danced with Delphinia at the Old Orchard House and made quite an impression. I remember she came home that evening floating on air.” Mrs. Doyle clucked her tongue at the memory. “But they met the day before at your father’s show when he asked for volunteers and picked Delphinia out from the crowd. The show was in town for less than a week before they snuck off together in the night.”

  “What did her parents say when they discovered she was gone?”

  “They disowned her. She wasn’t married when she left, and it cast a taint on the family name. Publicly decrying one daughter was the best way to salvage the prospects for the other.”

  “But Honoria wrote to say she thought they would be willing to reconcile.”

  “She did. The coldness between them was ruining your grandmother’s health and even your grandfather could see something needed to be done. He said if Delphinia was willing to come home all would be forgiven.”

  “But she never made it back, did she?”

  “No. Honoria never received a response to her letter, and then began to dream of Delphinia soon after she posted the message. The next word we received was from Ivory, informing us of your birth and your mother’s passing.”

  “Did my grandparents take it hard?”

  “Your grandmother lasted long enough for us to receive the letter announcing your father would not relinquish custody of you to them. As soon as we heard that, her heart just gave out. Before she died she made Honoria promise to get you back here.” My throat constricted and more tears splashed down over the folds of my gown. Not only had my aunt wanted me, my grandmother had, too. “None of us thought you should be raised in such an awful situation and by such a scoundrel.”

  “Now that I’m finally here, I think it would be better if I never had come.”

  “Well, you certainly have made a mess of things. Anything else you want to confess?”

  “Mr. Ayers wanted me to use my connection with their father to influence the Velmont sisters to invest in his dummy corporation.”

  “Did you do so?” Mrs. Doyle kept her hands on mine.

  “I couldn’t bring myself to do it properly. I made some vague hints but then just last night, after he injured me, I tried to get them to draw the conclusion Mr. Ayers wanted. I never wanted to do something like that to those two sweet old ladies.”

  “So he stole Delphinia’s necklace?”

  “He took it as payment until the Velmonts bought shares of his fake stock. I didn’t want Honoria to know the necklace had gone missing or why. But I didn’t kill him.”

  “I know you didn’t.” Mrs. Doyle narrowed her eyes. “I can see it.”

  “You see lies?” That explained all the scowling and squinting. Maybe she hadn’t disliked me so very much after all.

  “I see auras. They hover around everyone like a colored mist.”

  “Some mists look like lies?”

  “The colors surrounding people change to match their thoughts and feelings. Auras are clear, like a shaft of sunshine through a clean window, when the person speaks the truth and is filled with good intentions. It grows muddy when the person intends to damage another.”

  “Is my aura muddy?”

  She shook her head. “You tell white lies. Even when you’re conducting a reading your aura just becomes pale, faded. Which is why it’s a white lie. It’s like someone mixed a quantity of white paint into your aura.”

  “What does that tell you?”

  “It means, like all white lies, yours are intended to make things easier or to shield others from pain.”

  “So you knew I wasn’t a medium?”

  “Of course. I’ve known several mediums and your aura isn’t like theirs.” Mrs. Doyle sat back and looked at me appraisingly. “I expected you to be clairaudient.”

  “Clairaudient?”

  “Do you hear a voice that isn’t there? Telling you to do or not to do things?”

  “How did you know about that?”

  “Your mother and grandmother and great-grandmother before her were all clairaudient. Every generation has at least one woman who can hear voices. Since you’re the only Belden in your generation, I assumed you were the one.”

  “I am. It’s how I’ve been able to conduct the readings for the clients. There’s a voice that advises me.”

  “I’m delighted you’ve inherited your mother’s gift. I thought perhaps because you weren’t born here in Old Orchard you were not blessed with it. Can you summon it at will?”

  “I often hear it when I use the cards,” I said. “But sometimes it just appears in my ear unbidden.”

  “Delphinia used to have excellent luck simply asking for guidance and then listening for an answer.”

  “I’ve tried in the past but it never worked.”

  “I think you may find it works here. As Mr. MacPherson keeps mentioning, Old Orchard is a special place.” Mrs. Doyle tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Don’t look so discouraged. You’ve done well for someone completely without guidance.”

  “Even though it’s often been useful, I’ve worried that I was insane.”

  “Well, you aren’t. But you do need Honoria to make the most of your gifts.” Mrs. Doyle shoved back her chair and stood. “So go sit somewhere quiet and ask the voice how best to go about getting her home.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Heeding Mrs. Doyle’s advice to seek somewhere quiet I headed to the séance room. No sooner had I pulled my card pouch from the recesses of my skirt and settled myself at the table than the Velmont sisters slipped through the velvet portiere and sat down next to me. Both of them looked concerned and pulled their chairs close. I must have appeared as overwhelmed as I felt.

  “Ruby, did Officer Yancey find you?” Dovie asked.

  “As much as I wish he hadn’t, he did indeed.”

  “We never should have meddled.” Elva drummed her knobby fingers on the tablecl
oth.

  “When we saw him coming out of this room earlier we both felt it was a sign that we should tell him about the attack you suffered yesterday,” Dovie said.

  “But from the looks of you, we have done wrong,” Elva said. “We didn’t mean to betray your confidence. You have every right to be angry with us.”

  “Ladies, it isn’t that. I might as well tell you, since the news will be everywhere before long. Officer Yancey has just arrested Honoria for the murders of Mr. Stickney and Mr. Ayers.”

  A surprised silence hung in the air and I sensed something pass between the sisters.

  “Then it’s settled, don’t you think?” Dovie turned to Elva, who nodded, then cleared her throat.

  “We would appreciate it if you would accompany us to the police station. We intend to turn ourselves in for the murder of Mr. Stickney.”

  “Ladies, Honoria has already confessed.”

  “I’m afraid she’s a liar,” Elva said. “She must be because I am the guilty party.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Dovie said.

  “Sister, we agreed on a course of action,” Elva said. “I’ll take the blame.”

  “The actions were mine.”

  “You know I assured Father I’d keep an eye on you. I have failed, so the blame is mine.” Elva’s voice grew shrill.

  “Ladies, perhaps you could be more specific,” I said.

  “It was the bloody handkerchief, you see,” Dovie said.

  “My handkerchief,” Elva said.

  “I think it would be best if one of you explains,” I said. The sisters looked at each other, then nodded. Dovie picked up the tale.

  “The morning the police arrived to announce Mr. Stickney’s murder I awoke in the wee hours to the sound of Elva bent over the washbasin scrubbing at something. When I asked her about it she told me to go back to sleep. I pretended to do so. She finished up with the washing and hid a square of fabric below a towel on the drying rack.”

  “I didn’t know you were watching, sister,” Elva said.

  “I always was a good actress. When Elva left the room a moment later I slipped from bed to inspect what she had hung to dry. It was one of her handkerchiefs, and despite her vigorous efforts there were bloodstains on the white fabric.”

  “How does this make you a murderess?” I asked.

  “As I was inspecting the handkerchief I noticed discoloration below my fingernails. It was dried blood.”

  “You’ve seen with your own eyes that my sister is not always herself.” Elva leaned forward. “You recall when we first arrived that she sometimes wanders in her sleep.”

  “The night I found her in the pantry?” I asked. Elva nodded.

  “Poor Elva can’t always catch me before I slip out. She must have been too tired to hear me go.”

  “I try to keep an ear open even while I sleep but I think the sea air must have been too much for me. I woke to a knock on the door. Mr. Dobbins had kindly brought Dovie back to our room. He said he couldn’t sleep so he took a walk and found her on the beach near the pier.”

  “When I asked Elva about it she said it was nothing.” Dovie reached out and placed a plump hand on Elva’s arm. “After we heard Mr. Stickney was dead I asked her again. She said I returned with blood on my hands and that since she had cleaned me up so well no one would need to know what had happened.”

  “No one but Mr. Dobbins, that is.”

  “Are you sure it was blood?”

  “I haven’t achieved the age I have without some passing familiarity with such things. It was blood.”

  “When we heard about Mr. Stickney being killed, naturally we assumed the worst.”

  “Even if you did find blood on your hands, why would you assume you were guilty of his murder? Couldn’t you have simply cut yourself?”

  “I was in no way injured. And there is something else. Elva and I had good reason to wish Mr. Stickney dead.”

  “Because of what he did to your father?” I asked.

  “How did you know about that?” Dovie asked.

  “Father must have told her,” Elva said. Even though I felt a twinge of guilt, I thought it wouldn’t assist matters to admit I had been gossiping about the two of them with Mr. Dobbins.

  “We knew the Stickneys planned to spend the season here and we came, too, with the notion that we could in some way exact revenge,” Elva said. “When Mr. Stickney died I was certain our evil intentions had come to pass even if Dovie took action whilst asleep.”

  “It is the desire of the heart, you see. We wanted him to die and he did.” Dovie nodded as if it all made complete sense.

  “Mr. Dobbins made everything very clear to me when he suggested there was no need to tell the police about Dovie’s nighttime wanderings.” Elva bunched and unbunched the folds of her skirt between her knobby fists.

  “Mr. Dobbins suggested to you that Dovie might have been involved?”

  “He did.”

  “When was this?”

  “Shortly after the police arrived to notify Mrs. Stickney of her husband’s death,” Elva said.

  “He assured us that after all we’d done for him, we could count on him not to divulge what he knew about me and my murderous heart.” Dovie’s voice cracked and tears shone in her eyes. It was impossible to imagine either of the Velmont sisters as murderers, but Dovie the less likely of the two.

  “What sort of favor had you done for him?” I asked.

  “He credited us with introducing him to his true love,” Elva said.

  “We should have known what would happen,” Dovie said “Men are so susceptible to blondes, don’t you think?”

  “It was all so romantic and we were delighted to be able to encourage young love to bloom.” Dovie’s cheeks pinked becomingly and the years melted away from her face.

  “Secret trysts, furtive notes, messages sent through bouquets, it was all very exciting. Until the end.” Elva shook her head.

  “Without a word she simply disappeared from the Boston Spiritualist community.”

  “Who was she?” I asked.

  “Flora Roberts,” Elva and Dovie said in unison.

  “The Flora Roberts whom I am replacing?”

  “The very one,” Elva said. “The Spiritualist community is not very large, after all.”

  “When did all this happen?” I asked.

  “Just last week.”

  “Why didn’t you mention to Honoria or me that you already knew Flora? Or that you were so well acquainted with Mr. Dobbins?”

  “We didn’t wish to embarrass poor Mr. Dobbins. After all, he was so distressed by the whole affair that we thought it best to let the entire matter drop,” Elva said.

  “We were a little ashamed of ourselves for having helped foster the relationship, considering how it all turned out,” Dovie said.

  “We allowed them to meet at our home, you see, before or after our sessions with Flora.” Elva cleared a lump in her throat. “Sanford knew his uncle was very critical of any young ladies he wanted to court and was eager to press his suit without Stickney’s watchful eye on them.”

  “We did wonder if now that Mr. Stickney is dead whether Mr. Dobbins will marry his true love after all,” Elva said. “I do love a happy ending.”

  I felt a buzzing along my skin, an aliveness that always accompanied the sense I was on the right track when I performed readings.

  “Not that there will be one for us, I’m afraid. Ruby, would you accompany us to the police station? We would appreciate a friendly face when the long arm of the law clamps its steel bracelets around our wrists,” Dovie said.

  “I think it would be best to investigate this matter a bit further before turning yourselves in to the police. I am still not convinced either of you had anything to do with the murders.”

  “Why do you say that
?”

  “A ruined roast.”

  “I’m afraid that hardly clarifies things for us.”

  “Elva, was there sand on the floor of your room the morning after Mr. Dobbins returned Dovie to you?”

  “I don’t remember any.”

  “Did you say ‘a ruined roast’?” Dovie said.

  “I did. Ladies, I’m receiving a message from your father.” I still felt a little guilty but Mrs. Doyle would have said the lie was white. “He wants you to know the blood on Dovie’s hands came from her nighttime wanderings. He’s showing me an image of her peeling back the paper wrapper on a roast of beef in the pantry.”

  “Do you hear that, Sister?” Dovie turned to Elva, a look of hope on her face.

  “He wants you to keep your confession to yourselves until I can look into this more thoroughly.”

  “If Father thinks it best then we must content ourselves with waiting.” Elva took Dovie by the arm. “Come, sister. Let’s leave Ruby to her work.”

  As soon as their voices faded down the corridor I closed my eyes and thought about the voice. I slowed my breathing and decided to leave my cards on the table untouched. I wanted desperately to share my mother’s ability to consult the voice at will. I couldn’t help but feel that wish had more of a chance than ever at being fulfilled, since my intention was to help my aunt and to save my mother’s childhood home.

  I focused my thoughts on proof to convince the police that Honoria wasn’t guilty. I asked silently how such a thing could possibly be managed. I felt a sort of tingling along the top of my head and along the back of my neck as though a strong shaft of sunlight was bathing me in its glow. And then more loudly and distinctly than ever before I heard it.

  “Consult the crystal.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  The obvious thing to do was to approach the crystal reader but the voice had mentioned the crystal, not its reader. Ben was conveniently missing from his post at the reception desk so I had a bit of privacy in which I could check on Madame Fidelia’s schedule. No one had arranged for sittings with her for the next two hours. If I were lucky she would be out enjoying the day instead of holed up in her room. If I were even luckier she would have left her crystal ball behind.