Whispers Beyond the Veil

by Jessica Estevao

  “Does this mean you believe in my abilities?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Just because this case is solved does not mean the world is not still filled with mysteries.”

  “I agree. One that still isn’t cleared up to my satisfaction is how your necklace came to be in Mr. Ayers’s pocket.”

  “Would it put your mind at ease if I explained what you saw in the photograph?” I asked.

  “It might.” I had seen the look on his face countless times. It was the expression of a man who desperately wanted to believe the promises of Father’s concoctions or the guidance provided by my cards. I was surprised to wish the best course was to be honest with him. I sent out a silent call to the voice for advice.

  “The truth will not serve your purpose.” I should have known the ease between us could not be expected to continue. I made up my mind and started to weave a story he would be happy to hear.

  “For some time Mr. Ayers had been making unwelcome advances toward me. I couldn’t seem to be rid of him and as Honoria’s niece I couldn’t very well rebuff one of her guests.”

  “Lucy mentioned you were in an awkward position with him.”

  “Awkward doesn’t begin to describe it. He chased me through the hotel, along the beach, and on more than one occasion into town.”

  “Including the afternoon of the photograph?”

  “Yes. When he accosted me at the station he told me he wasn’t happy that I was cultivating friendships with other male guests. He implied I had behaved inappropriately and that he would be expecting me to confine my attentions to him once our engagement was announced.”

  “You had accepted an offer of marriage from Mr. Ayers?” Officer Yancey’s tone was tinged with disbelief.

  “Of course not. What’s more, he had not made one. I feared his mind was unbalanced.”

  “You looked frightened in the photograph.”

  “I feared for my life. Especially when I made the mistake of telling him I had not agreed to be his wife.”

  “Is that when he turned violent?”

  “It was. He crushed my hand with tremendous force and as he did so he threatened to take me behind the livery and take unmentionable liberties with me if I did not agree to marry him.”

  “That explains your expression in the photograph and your injuries, but not the theft of your necklace.”

  “Fearing for my virtue and possibly my life I assured him I would be delighted to accept his proposal.” I paused, gratified by the look of disappointment on Officer Yancey’s face. “Of course I had no intention of going through with a wedding. If he was willing to chance such violent behavior with an acquaintance in a public place, what might he do to his wife behind closed doors?”

  “It doesn’t bear thinking about.” Yancey’s forehead furrowed. “But how did your necklace come to be in his pocket?”

  “All at once his attention turned to the necklace. He moved his hands around my throat and said he was quite certain I cared more for it than I did for him. He tore it from my throat and stuffed it into his pocket. He said I could have it back on our wedding night.”

  I felt a hot blush steam its way up my cheeks. Officer Yancey, I’m sure, assumed it was caused by my mention of the wedding night. In fact, I was heartily ashamed of how such a convincing string of lies simply and easily rolled off my tongue.

  “Why didn’t you go to Honoria and tell her what had happened?”

  “Because she was busy all evening with her duties at the hotel and I didn’t manage to find her alone for a private chat. You appeared with news of his death before I managed to do so.”

  “So that’s why she confessed? She thought you might actually be involved?”

  “I’m afraid so. I still haven’t been able to reassure her that I did nothing wrong.”

  Yancey stepped to the French doors and opened one. “You aren’t the only one who can make loved ones appear,” he said to me. He made a waving motion and Honoria swept into the room, her head high and her arms thrown wide. I rushed to her and felt the crush of her embrace as I heard the voice once more thrum in my ear.

  “Trust that your place is here.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Ruby, it’s here.” I raced down the stairs two at a time, following the sound of Honoria’s voice to the reception desk. She held out a large envelope. “Mr. Lydale just brought it by.”

  “Have you seen it yet?”

  “I wanted to wait for you.” I lifted the thick flap and slipped out the photograph. I was struck at once by how well Mr. Lydale had reproduced the original image. Honoria and I stood arm in arm in white summer gowns. Curlicues and fretwork and flower-filled window boxes hung off the building behind us. He had even managed to position us in the same spot in front of the Hotel Belden sign.

  “It’s perfect,” I said, feeling a lump gathering in my throat. “But are you sure you could spare the expense?”

  “I shouldn’t worry about that anymore. I’ve paid off the mortgage.”

  “How?”

  “All thanks to you,” Honoria said. “The Velmonts took me aside and told me their father had advised them to take charge of their own investments.”

  “They did?” I felt guilty all over again. Even with Mr. Ayers dead and gone he was still making trouble.

  “Don’t worry. Mrs. Doyle told me all about Mr. Ayers’s part in that.” Honoria smiled at me. “The ladies were so impressed with the way your channeling exposed Flora and Mr. Dobbins that they asked to invest in the hotel. They’ve taken over the note in exchange for a percentage of the profits and a lifetime tenancy at the hotel. Oh, and they insisted on daily sessions with you.”

  “But I thought we agreed that séance was to be my last,” I said. With Mrs. Doyle’s help I had confessed to Honoria that I was not a medium. “I don’t want to go on deceiving them.”

  “Your mother always said the voice she heard only advised her for the good. For herself and for others,” Honoria said. “Has that not been your experience?” I thought about my own experiences with the voice and the sorts of things it had whispered to me over the years.

  “That’s exactly what I’ve experienced. The only problems have come of not listening to it.” My heart squeezed as the image of Johnny smiling at me over my deck of tarot cards filled my mind.

  “Delphina couldn’t identify the source of the voice she heard. She never believed she heard directly from those who passed over.”

  “Why not?”

  “She said the voice she heard was always the same rather than a multitude of different voices.”

  “I only hear one voice too and it has become louder and more helpful since I arrived in Old Orchard.”

  “It seems to me that it would be a shameful waste of your gift to refuse to use it because you are concerned about the way it’s labeled.” Honoria smiled at me. “But, the decision is yours. I would never ask you to do something against your conscience.”

  I couldn’t deny that the voice had provided comfort to the Velmonts, and had assisted with solving the murders. It had helped me to finally find a place to belong. This time I didn’t need to run my cards or ask the opinion of a voice from beyond the veil. My own voice was all I needed.

  “Let’s ask the Velmonts if they prefer their sittings in the morning or afternoon.”

  HISTORICAL NOTE

  While Whispers Beyond the Veil is a work of fiction, the seaside town of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, is entirely real. Most of the events, people, and places mentioned in this book are entirely from my imagination, but a few are a matter of record.

  People have been visiting the shores of Saco Bay since the end of the last ice age, more than ten thousand years ago. Groups of native peoples from what is now known as New England and the Canadian Maritimes gathered to enjoy the pleasures of the comparatively warm ocean wat
ers and the unusual sugar-fine sandy beach. These rare qualities may have led to the reputation Old Orchard developed amongst the earliest visitors as a place of healing waters.

  As early as 1657, European descendants began to see the appeal of Saco Bay as well. Interactions between new arrivals and existing residents were frequently tense. By the time this story takes place, native peoples were treated as the interlopers.

  The Hotel Belden is just a fond imagining on my part. However, the hospitality industry in Old Orchard dates to 1837 when guests began staying at the E.C. Staples farm for $1.50 a week. Rail service with connections from Montreal arrived only two miles from the beach in 1853 and by 1873 the Boston and Maine Railroad stopped in the center of town.

  By 1898, the town was a premiere tourist destination, equally popular with wealthy families who came for the season and mill workers who stopped by for the day from neighboring Biddeford and Saco. Luxury hotels, boarding houses, ballrooms, bathhouses, and, of course, the famous pier, were all a real part of the bustling scene at the time this book takes place.

  Also popular at the time was an interest in Spiritualism. Americans from coast to coast attended public meetings where those serving as mediums channeled messages from the dead for members of the audience. Private gatherings to conduct séances and to develop paranormal abilities with other believers were very popular.

  Not everyone was convinced that Spiritualism was anything more than an intersection of grieving dupes and skillful con artists. The Northeastern Society for Psychical Research only exists in the pages of this book. An actual organization, the Society for Psychical Research, was founded in 1882 for the purpose of investigating claims of paranormal abilities. Debunking fraudulent mediums comprised much of the society’s early work.

  Pickpocketing truly was a serious problem in Old Orchard at the time Ruby would have been in residence. Maine was the first state in the nation to enact laws that prohibited the manufacture and sale of alcoholic beverages except for those for medicinal or industrial purposes. The exact regulations varied in stringency over the years but laws restricting sales continued until 1934, a year later than the national prohibition.

  Today, the town of Old Orchard Beach continues to enchant tens of thousands of visitors each summer with its beautiful beaches, nostalgic amusements, and welcoming locals.

  Photo copyright © 2013 by Liza Knowlton

  Jessica Estevao is the author of the debut novel in the Change of Fortune Mysteries, Whispers Beyond the Veil. She loves the beach, mysterious happenings, and all things good-naturedly paranormal. While she lives for most of the year in New Hampshire, with her dark and mysterious husband and exuberant children, she delights in spending her summers on the coast of Maine where she keeps an eye out for sea monsters and mermaids. As Jessie Crockett, she writes the Sugar Grove Mysteries for Berkley Prime Crime. Visit her online at jessicaestevao.com.

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