Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by M. Louisa Locke

  “Thank you Kathleen,” Annie said, taking tea, but refusing a cookie. She had eaten her fill during Biddy’s visit. “That would explain why neither Kathleen nor I ever saw hide nor hair of the lady’s maid during any of our visits.” She also could be the one who slipped me the second note, and shoved me off the horse car. Since I never have seen her, she could have stood right next to me. I’d never have known, Annie thought to herself.

  “What else did you learn from Kathleen’s friend? Did you say her name is Biddy?”

  Annie laughed. “Yes Biddy, short for Bridget. She has only been working there three months. It was her impression from the cook, who does speak just a little English, that she was the third servant they have had since they arrived in town.”

  Kathleen was hovering near Nate and Annie, and she said, “Biddy thought the Framptons might not want a local servant to stay for very long. Might learn too much about them and their shenanigans. That’s why she’s willing to risk letting us in Sunday night. Figures she probably is going to get the sack sooner or later.”

  Good heavens, she isn’t going to let this rest, thought Annie. “Bridget might be right, but I’m not entirely sure that I feel comfortable about asking her to risk her position. Which is why I haven’t decided whether or not to take her up on her offer. Now, Kathleen, it’s late. If you would, make a quick run through the parlors, make sure the fires are out, and the lamps turned off, and it will be time for you to retire.”

  “But Ma’am, I don’t see the problem about Sunday. I will visit with Biddy, and the two of us can keep a lookout while you snoop around the parlor, maybe even get into the upstairs room. Biddy says no one ever gets back before nine, so there would be plenty of time. You might never get as good a chance to find out what tricks Mrs. Frampton and her relatives are playing. You said yourself it might be the only way to get the goods on them to convince Miss Pinehurst’s sister.”

  Beatrice O’Rourke came up behind Kathleen, put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, and scolded her. “Now, me girl, you pipe down. It’s not for the likes of you to be telling your mistress what to do. Mrs. Fuller will do what’s best, and I for one am not so sure this harebrained scheme you two girls thought up is such a good idea. Now you go and do as you were told, then off to bed with you.”

  Kathleen’s lower lip trembled as she looked at Annie in confusion. Then she turned and started towards the back stairs, looking so distressed that Annie couldn’t stand it. She stood up and followed the girl to the back stairs, where she gave her a quick hug and whispered, “Dear, don’t despair, we’ll still be going on Sunday. It’s just I’m not sure Mr. Dawson is going to think it’s such a good idea either, and I hadn’t decided yet how much to tell him.”

  Kathleen gasped and whispered back, “Ma’am, I hadn’t thought!”

  Annie gave her another quick hug. “Never you mind. Better to tell him ahead of time. He’ll no doubt ring a peal over me either way, and at least he can’t blame me for keeping secrets.”

  Annie then turned back and came over to where Beatrice stood talking to Nate, who had risen as soon as Annie got up from her chair. “Dear Beatrice, you need to turn in too. I can tell that Mr. Dawson is not going to leave until I have told him what Kathleen was talking about, but I will be brief, and I am sure he won’t stay too long. Isn’t that so, Mr. Dawson?”

  “Mrs. Fuller, I promise not to overstay my welcome. Mrs. O’Rourke, thank you so much for the cookies. I hope you won’t mind if I stuff a few in my pockets to take home with me. I am afraid Mrs. Randall, the cook in my boarding house, doesn’t hold with sweets of any kind.” Nate then shook Beatrice’s hand, a reminder to Annie of what lovely manners he had.

  As Beatrice went up the back stairs, Nate waited until she had regained her seat to sit down, and then he took her hand, looking into her eyes. “Annie, I really won’t stay long. You look tired. It was good of you to let me come. I know how long your days are. But please, what was Miss Kathleen talking about?”

  Annie, wishing to postpone the inevitable, if only for a moment, ignored Nate’s request and said, “Before I get into that, what of you? Have you heard anything more from Anthony Pierce?”

  “No, but I have an appointment with him tomorrow afternoon. I gather you did have your meeting with the young medium, Evie May. You weren’t turned away? No more threats?”

  Annie felt her cheeks go hot but answered quickly, again ignoring the questions she didn’t want to answer. “No, I wasn’t turned away. Right off, Simon asked me why I hadn’t gotten my investment advice from Madam Sibyl. I told him she hadn’t been at all helpful. He seemed quite willing to accept my explanation and didn’t show any sign that he thought that Mrs. Fuller and Madam Sibyl were one and the same. I told him that I didn’t believe in fortunetelling—not as reliable as ghosts!” When Nate chuckled, she felt she had successfully slid through one difficult spot in the conversation. Perhaps she could get away with not telling him about the second threatening note or the push.

  She continued. “I also had my meeting with Miss Pinehurst. Oh, Nate, it was quite distressing. Her sister is expecting, again, and instead of this helping her get over her son’s death and end her obsession with attending the séances, she seems to believe that the new baby will die.”

  “Good heavens, what do you mean?”

  When Annie repeated what Miss Pinehurst had told her about Sukie and her fears about her unborn child and Simon’s veiled threat to Arnold Vetch, Nate said, “Annie, this is outrageous. Don’t you see? This might be of use to Pierce, at least convince him to investigate Simon further.”

  “Please don’t tell him. At least not yet. I want to get a chance to talk to Mr. Vetch, maybe even Sukie. I wouldn’t want to get them into any trouble. Can we trust Mr. Pierce not to run off with this story, maybe get Mr. Vetch fired? Miss Pinehurst said she would try to arrange a meeting for me on Saturday afternoon. If it seems appropriate, I will mention to Mr. Vetch the possibility of enlisting Mr. Pierce’s help. See how he reacts.”

  “That makes sense. I will just let Pierce know that I have some reason to believe that the Framptons are engaged in blackmail, but I won’t use any names or particulars. Now, tell me, what happened in your private meeting with Evie May? Did she produce your fictitious son?”

  “Indeed she did. But I am afraid I may have inadvertently limited my time with him. Evie May really is an extraordinary actress, and she was quite convincing as a very young boy, playing with imaginary blocks, babbling to his mama. But when I thought of how she might be using those same acting talents as Charlie, I let my anger show. And Johnny disappeared.”

  “Disappeared? Whatever do you mean?” Nate said. Then, noticing that Kathleen had just come down the stairs, he leaned in and lowered his voice. “Are you saying he vanished from your sight?”

  Annie, amused by the look of astonishment on Nate’s face, laughed and said, “Good heavens, no.” Then turning to Kathleen who was trying to tiptoe past them, she continued, “Good night, Kathleen. Don’t forget that Tilly will be over first thing. I appreciate your willingness to help train her.”

  When Kathleen had disappeared down the hallway that led to the laundry room and her private quarters, Annie explained to Nate. “Bridget has a cousin living with her who is fresh off the train from New York, and before that, the boat from Ireland. The poor girl’s thick accent and her lack of experience have meant she hasn’t been able to find a job, even in domestic service. Bridget says she’s bright, and, if she could just get some training and a little polish, she should do fine. Beatrice, saint that she is, offered to give the girl a chance. For the next week or two, she will help out in the kitchen when Kathleen is accompanying me to the Framptons. Later, if she works out, I will hire her to work on Kathleen’s regular nights out. I just hope that she isn’t more trouble than she is worth.”

  Nate, uninterested in these domestic details, again raised the subject of Johnny’s disappearing act. Annie described how Johnny had been replaced first
by Maybelle, then by her nine-year-old brother, Eddie.

  She said, “I know it sounds impossible, but somehow she alters her voice and facial expressions, even her body, to such an extent you feel you are talking to someone quite distinct from Evie May herself. And I am not sure that Simon understands what is happening. He seemed quite surprised, and even angry, when he opened up the curtains to the cabinet and found me talking to Eddie, not Johnny.”

  “How odd. Could these be roles the girl plays for other clients, and she has gotten mixed up somehow?”

  “I thought of that, but Eddie swore he wasn’t a spirit and laughed at the idea. I’ve begun to realize I just don’t know enough about the principles behind Spiritualism. Arabella is obviously a fraud, but I have begun to wonder about Evie May. What if she is able to communicate with the spirits of those who have died? Might it then be possible for those spirits to not realize they were dead? There is a woman who lives in San Francisco, a Flora Hunt, who was a very famous trance medium in the sixties and early seventies. I read that while she has given up mediumship, she is still a strong leader in the Spiritualist movement, dedicated to rooting out fraudulent mediums. Don’t you see? She might be able to help us. Tell me what to look for at the séances.”

  “That sounds like a very good idea,” Nate said. “But I don’t see how this relates to these mysterious plans, you may or may not carry out on Sunday.”

  Annie thought that Nate had a distressing habit of getting back to the main point, no matter how much she had tried to distract him. She sighed and then began to relate how Biddy had told them that on Sunday evenings, the German cook’s night out, everyone in the Frampton household is absent, finding dinner accommodations elsewhere.

  “She said that it is her impression that Mr. and Mrs. Frampton and Albert and his wife all go out together, to someplace outside of town where they aren’t known. Said the Framptons dress very inconspicuously, for them, and that all four leave and return in the same enclosed hackney. Mrs. Nickerson and Evie May normally eat together at a local family restaurant, whose proprietress comes to séances at the Framptons’. She gets free meals, although Biddy said she complains a lot about not being invited to eat with the Framptons.”

  “Yes, but I still don’t get the point.”

  “You see, Kathleen and Biddy decided that, since the Framptons leave Biddy in charge of the house from seven to about ten in the evening on Sundays, she can let Kathleen and me in the back door, to look around. See if I can figure out how the music and lights are operated, how the table shakes. I confess the idea is attractive. But as I mentioned, I haven’t quite made up my mind, since I am afraid that if for some reason one of the household comes back early, not only will Biddy lose her job, but it will certainly ruin my ability to continue to play the role of the naive Mrs. Fuller.”

  Annie looked up at Nate, expecting to tell her why she shouldn’t, under any circumstance, go to the Framptons’ on Sunday. He sat looking at her for a moment, then rose and walked quickly across the room, looking out the back kitchen window. Annie was impressed by his self-control. This summer in similar circumstances he had gone on forever about how dangerous her plans were and how inappropriate it would be for a woman to act in such a fashion. It occurred to her that, except for when he expressed his reasonable concerns about the meaning of the first threatening note, Nate had been uncharacteristically reticent about stating his opinions. As if he were preoccupied by something more important than her plans to expose the Framptons. Or maybe he just doesn’t care as much as he did this summer. She had just begun to worry at this distressing thought when Nate returned and sat down again, retaking her hands in his.

  “Listen, Annie. Don’t bother to pretend you haven’t made up your mind. I know you better than that. But would you make a deal with me? I won’t try to stop you, if you at least try and resolve this issue with Miss Pinehurst’s sister before Sunday. Get this Flora Hunt to help. Tell Mrs. Vetch everything you have learned so far. Tell her about the note. Maybe that will convince her the Framptons are up to no good. There is no reason to risk Biddy’s position, your safety, Kathleen’s, unless you get nowhere with Mrs. Vetch. And if you have no success and still plan on trying to ferret out the Frampton’s secrets while they are out of the house on Sunday, I will come with you.”

  Annie was stunned. She opened her mouth to protest, but then she admitted she couldn’t think of a single reason why he shouldn’t accompany her. In fact, she realized she couldn’t think of anything that would make her happier.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Friday afternoon, October 24, 1879

  “Yesterday General Grant returned from Sacramento and spent the morning at the Palace Hotel. At 2 o’clock in the afternoon he was tendered a reception by the California Pioneers at their hall.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle, 1879

  Pierce was already ten minutes late, and Nate wondered if this meant he wasn’t coming. Six o’clock was a deuced early time for dining. Nate was uncomfortable sitting at one of the only occupied tables in the Palace Hotel’s Gentleman’s Grille, but it had been Pierce who had chosen the time and the place to meet. He just hoped the reporter showed, since he couldn’t justify staying and ordering dinner for himself. He had been rather looking forward to a nicely grilled steak, knowing cold leftovers would be all he got if he went home to his boarding house.

  The Palace Hotel was only four years old and still impressed Nate each time he came through the arch into the Grand Court and looked up at the seven stories of marble balconies. He wondered what it would be like to stay in one of the upstairs suites. Maybe for a honeymoon. For a moment he unleashed his imagination and pictured Annie lying beside him on silk sheets, her hair set loose in fiery gold curls, her dark brown eyes half asleep, her full lips parted.

  God, there was little chance of that happening, at least anytime soon. Nate ran a finger along his too-tight collar, picked up the whiskey he had ordered, and took a long swallow. Not unless he got his Uncle Frank to budge on taking on a new partner or at least look for some more lucrative clients. He’d had another one of those frustrating conversations just this morning, where he would make his case, and his uncle would smile and nod and say that Nate shouldn’t be so impatient, and “everything in good time.” What the hell does he know about it, finicky old bachelor? I’ll be damned if I let him dictate my future and end up like him, with no wife, no children, no home. At this point, I probably couldn’t even afford to rent a room in Annie’s boarding house, much less support her so she doesn’t have to work.

  At least he hadn’t bungled his conversation with her last night, or for that matter on Monday night when she’d found the threatening note and he’d come so close to forbidding her to ever go back to the Framptons’. But he wasn’t a fool. She had been asked to help out Miss Pinehurst, and she was going to see it through to the end. That was just her nature. Interference from him was only going to make her start shutting him out.

  He had learned that lesson the hard way when he first met her. He also had come to terms with the fact that her fierce passion, her sharp, uncompromising intelligence, and her stubbornness were some of the very reasons he found her so attractive. He’d just never met any woman like her, ever. If only he made enough to support her, and they got married; then she could quit work and spend her time do-gooding as much as she wanted, without wearing herself out.

  She had looked so drained last night. Her skin almost translucent against the stark black of her dress, and for some reason she was limping. He had refrained from asking her why. The glare she gave him when he mentioned how tired she looked had been warning enough. He’d remembered his little sister, Laura, once telling him that women found any reference to their health insulting, since it suggested that they didn’t look their best.

  Nate smiled at the thought of Laura in charge of her first school. He was so proud of her. Thirty students, of all ages. Hard to imagine. He was sorry he hadn’t seen her when he was at the ranch, but he
knew she’d be home over the winter holidays. He hoped he could convince Annie to come with him to visit the ranch in December, when Laura would be home. But that wouldn’t happen if he couldn’t figure out a way to help her, without getting her back up. He really didn’t want her going to the Framptons’ on Sunday. Maybe if Pierce had any new information, combined with what she had learned already, that would provide enough evidence to convince Mrs. Vetch to give up going to the séances. But if not, and Annie still planned to go to the Framptons’ on Sunday night, he was glad she’d agreed to let him come with her.

  He had nearly laughed out loud at how surprised she’d been when he’d said he would join her. He’d expected her to resist the suggestion and argue she didn’t need his help. But that was Annie. She might be damned independent, but she didn’t let this get in the way of achieving her goals. She had accepted his reasoning that having two of them searching the Frampton house would increase the chance of success. Yes, overall, he was quite pleased at how he had handled what could have been a very difficult conversation. And he couldn’t have asked for a better reward. When he stood at the back door and wished her good night, she had permitted him to kiss her. God, what I wouldn’t do to get a kiss like that every night.

  “Sorry I’m late. Got held up. Busy day. Had to cover President Grant’s reception at the Pioneer Hall this afternoon, then there’s the banquet tonight, and I’m working on a big story, have to write it all up before tomorrow. Going to be a long night. But a fella’s got to eat, and since the press weren’t invited to the dinner the Mayor’s having for Grant, I thought I’d have an even better meal here! Lord, won’t the city feel dull once Grant starts his trip back east this weekend.”