Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by M. Louisa Locke

  “Mrs. Frankle had a lot to say about Mr. Sweeter. Most of it was about how he had led her sister on, practically leaving her at the altar; however, there were two very important pieces of information that are relevant to our inquiries. Mrs. Frankle told Hetty that Mr. Sweeter had been fired from his position in a stock brokerage firm for selling inside information. And, when he moved to San Francisco, he expected Mr. Larkson to give him a position in his company. Something that Mr. Larkson, clever man, has so far refused to do. So, you see, Mr. Sweeter might very well be the kind of man who would go into partnership with the Framptons.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Monday evening, October 27, 1879

  “A BOLD DAYLIGHT ROBBERY. Two thieves enter a Grocery Store and Steal $400.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle, 1879

  By the early sixties, Hapgood’s Grocery Store had made a name for itself for stocking a wide range of canned goods as well high-quality, fresh produce. At that time the store was located on Sutter and Kearney, putting it equidistant to the financial district, the docks, and the upper class suburbs of Rincon Hill. When Annie came back to San Francisco a year and a half ago, she had discovered that ten years earlier Hapgood’s had followed the western path of the Sutter Street Railroad. The store was now located at the southwestern corner of Sutter and Hyde.

  The founder, Jezidiah Hapgood, had certainly been a visionary because the store was now within easy reach of the occupants of both the Nob Hill mansions to the north and the miles of new homes for the prosperous business classes west of Van Ness. In fact, the one time Annie had walked the five blocks from her home to the store, she had found it too crowded and the prices too dear, so she did her shopping at a smaller store on Taylor.

  Given the nasty comments made by the spirits who had addressed poor Mr. Harold Hapgood, the current owner, Annie half expected to find the store had undergone some terrible financial disaster in the year since she had been there. However, as she and Kathleen crossed the street to get to the gas-lit front entrance to the store on Sutter, the number of people coming and going suggested that the store was doing just fine. The sign over the door still said, in gilded letters, Hapgood and Sons. Annie wondered if Harold had kept the sign when he inherited in the hope that some day there would be a new generation of little Hapgoods to carry on the family business. Maybe that was the failure in doing his duty that his dead relatives were pointing out during the séances. He wasn’t being fruitful and multiplying.

  “Ma’am, I don’t see Mrs. Hapgood. Do you think we’ve missed her?” Kathleen asked, as they wove through the press of people lined up to pay a harried young male clerk at the front counter.

  “I don’t imagine we have. If the store is usually this busy this time of night, the Hapgoods wouldn’t leave a single clerk. She is probably somewhere else in the store. However, I’m not sure if we do find her that she will feel free to talk.”

  “I see her, ma’am; she is in the corner talking to that lady.”

  “Let’s get the things Mrs. O’Rourke asked us to pick up. Maybe, once we’ve paid, she will be free,” Annie said as she walked over to slanted boxes by the front window of the store where apples, oranges, figs, and grapes basked in the harsh glare of the gaslights mounted on all the walls. She knew that her local store didn’t yet have figs in, so she added a few of these oval fruits, plus some lovely, purple grapes, to the basket she carried. Moving to the next row of boxes, she was surprised to see that there were actually fresh peas, which must have been grown in greenhouses to the south, since her local store hadn’t carried any in a month. They were too expensive to buy, but she did pick out carrots and acorn squash.

  “Kathleen, look, the first of the walnuts have come in; would you get about two pounds?” Annie asked, pointing out a barrel off to the side. Really, Hapgood’s did have a great selection. Perhaps she should think about coming at least once a week to pick up some of the items she just couldn’t get at her local store. She then finished off Beatrice’s list, getting half a dozen eggs, blocks of aged cheddar and Swiss, a pound of rye flour, and a packet of sea salt. By the time she was done and made her way to the counter, she saw that the store had thinned out and there was only one woman in line ahead of her. Just then, Mrs. Hapgood came up beside the clerk and motioned Annie forward.

  Kathleen, who stood beside Annie, took the initiative as they moved up to the counter, and she said, “Mrs. Hapgood. I had hoped I would see you. You have such a beautiful store. I’d never been here before. Please, I don’t believe you have met my mistress, Mrs. Fuller. She asked me to introduce her to you and wondered if there is any way you could spare some time this evening to talk with her.”

  Mrs. Hilda Hapgood looked to be of Scandinavian stock, dark-blue eyes, silvery-blond hair, pale skin that stretched over broad, flat cheekbones. Cheekbones along which a thin raspberry stain of embarrassment spread as Kathleen spoke to her. The woman, older than Annie, but probably no more than her mid-thirties, was certainly attractive. Annie could imagine Harold Hapgood, such a thin, ungainly sort of man, would have found a fresh-faced young farm girl, ten years younger than he, pretty irresistible. Mrs. Hapgood’s dark-blue cashmere dress and the tasteful gold brooch at her throat suggested her marriage had brought with it some degree of town polish. This should have enhanced those original good looks even further.

  Yet, the gray smudges under those blue eyes, which darted back and forth nervously, and the loose tailoring of her outfit, reflecting a recent loss of weight, did the opposite. Annie was reminded of the faded looks of another blonde she had met recently, Sukie Vetch, and she realized that in front of her stood another one of the Framptons’ victims.

  Mrs. Hapgood briefly shook the hand that Annie had extended, saying, “Very pleased to meet you. I hope you found everything you were looking for. Are you ready to pay for your purchases?”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hapgood, I think I have found everything I need. But I wanted to thank you for keeping Miss Kathleen company on Friday while I was attending the séance. I know it must be boring for her to sit in that hallway with nothing to do.”

  Hilda Hapgood murmured something about it being her pleasure, and then she concentrated on picking through Annie’s basket, weighing the fruit, nuts, and cheeses, wrapping them in paper, and adding up the total, which Annie then paid.

  Looking around and seeing that the store now had only one other customer, Annie said as she put the change into her purse and handed the basket of goods to Kathleen, “Please, Mrs. Hapgood. If you could spare a moment, I have only been attending the Monday and Friday séances at the Framptons for a short time, but I have begun to worry that they are not as honest as I had first thought. When Kathleen mentioned that your husband had been attending their séances for several months, but that you didn’t seem entirely pleased by the results, I thought you might be just the person to talk to, to help me decide whether or not to return.”

  “I’m not sure I can be of help, Mrs. Fuller, and I must . . .”

  “Please, Mrs. Hapgood,” broke in Kathleen. “My mistress is really concerned about the Framptons and making sure they aren’t hurting anyone with their spirits and such. Do speak with her.”

  Annie reached out and touched the woman’s arm lightly. “I can promise you that I will be discreet. No one will know that I have spoken to you. We can just pretend to be discussing this year’s walnut crop. No one need be the wiser. Let me start by telling you what I am worried about.”

  Mrs. Hapgood stood motionless for a minute, then she turned to the young clerk, who had just come back to the counter from ushering out the last customer, and said, “George, after putting away the fresh stock in the cellar, would you please lock up and turn off the gaslights in the front of the store. Oh, and bring in the last box of canned goods that was delivered this evening. You can shelve them tomorrow. Let me know when you need to be let out. I will be in back. These good women and I have some business to discuss. Don’t worry about your cash drawer. I will a
dd up the receipts tonight while I am waiting for Mr. Hapgood to stop by and walk me home. Be here on time tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Hapgood then led Annie and Kathleen to a deep alcove at the back of the store, partially hidden by tall shelves of canned goods. It was crammed with a desk, two wooden chairs, a file cabinet, a dolly, and, in the corner, a cast iron safe. She shifted a stack of papers from one of the chairs and indicated that Annie sit there. Kathleen had already squeezed her small self into the space between the safe and the filing cabinet, so Mrs. Hapgood sat down on the chair behind the desk. As Annie sat, she realized that the shelf that was now at eye height was empty of cans, which gave anyone sitting down at the desk a clear view of the rest of the store.

  Clever, she thought. I wonder if that was Hapgood Senior’s plan, or an innovation by Harold or Hilda.

  “George is my younger brother. You don’t need to worry about him overhearing us. He’s a good boy, and I hope that he will make something of this chance to leave the farm and work in a store. Right now he’s too busy thinking about getting his chores done so he can meet his chums,” said Mrs. Hapgood, who then sat still, her shoulders drooping, as if the last few minutes of action had taken everything out of her.

  “Mrs. Hapgood, I really do appreciate your willingness to talk,” said Annie, who had discussed with Kathleen about how best to approach Harold’s wife. She didn’t want to tell her, at least not yet, about the real reason for her investigation since she must keep Sukie and her husband’s identities secret. However, if she wanted Hilda Hapgood to confide in her, a little sharing of information was in order.

  Annie continued, “I came to the Framptons initially because I thought it might be useful to contact my father for some financial advice. However, I have become suspicious of their methods and was hoping that your husband’s experience, from your point of view, might help me better evaluate those suspicions. For example, I don’t really believe that all the lights and music and such are really caused by spirits from beyond. I think somehow they are being manufactured by the Framptons.”

  Mrs. Hapgood stirred and looked up at her and said softly, “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. I couldn’t help but notice that music seemed to be coming from upstairs and asked Mrs. Nickerson about it. She actually laughed. Thought it all quite the joke. She swears her daughter really communicates with spirits, but she has told me that much of what goes on in that room is all hokum ‘to create the right atmosphere,’ she said.”

  “Is that what your husband thinks, Mrs. Hapgood? Because he seemed to take everything very seriously and seemed quite alarmed last Friday when the music became so loud.”

  Mrs. Hapgood looked down and shrugged slightly before answering. “I just don’t know what he believes. He no longer talks to me about what goes on. He did at first. You know he got a letter from Mr. Simon Frampton, inviting him to come to the first séance? I didn’t want him to go. But when someone we trust said they had a good reputation in town, he decided he had to give it a try. I determined to go with him, but that Mr. Frampton said my inner spirit weren’t, I mean, wasn’t compatible. So I haven’t been let in that room once. It’s awful to feel so helpless. Can you tell me what is going on?”

  Annie now understood why this woman had made up her mind to talk to her; she was starved for information of her own. “Mrs. Hapgood, I will try to explain what I have been seeing. Everyone sits around in the dark, then Arabella Frampton goes into some sort of trance, although I am not sure if she is just pretending, and at various times there are lights, the sound of a drum, piano, and so forth. Mostly she talks in various voices purporting to be different relatives of the people around the table. Her rendition of my father wasn’t very good, which was one of the reasons I began to suspect them of not being completely honest. Then, of course, there is the cabinet, which not everyone goes into. Has your husband had any sessions with the young medium, Evie May?”

  “No, he hasn’t. It is my impression it is always that Arabella woman who speaks to him. Mrs. Nickerson hasn’t come right out and said as such, but she keeps hinting that Mrs. Frampton doesn’t really have the ‘power’ to communicate with the dead, or at least that her power is weaker. She wants me to pressure Harold to ask for a session with her daughter; she feels he would have more luck. I just want him to stop going altogether.”

  Mrs. Hapgood stopped speaking, and Annie had the impression she was fighting back tears. The lights at the front of the store blinked out suddenly, and Kathleen and Annie jumped. George came around the shelves, and Mrs. Hapgood stood up and excused herself while she let him out the back of the store. She wasn’t gone but a minute, but she seemed more composed when she returned.

  “Please, Mrs. Fuller, it would help if you could tell me what the so-called spirits are saying to Harold. I just know he seems more upset each time he attends one of these gatherings.”

  Annie thought back to the three séances she had attended and then answered. “I think there have only been two times when he was spoken to. The first time the spirit identified itself as his father. On this past Friday, I was under the impression that it was an older brother; I think he called himself Buddy.”

  Annie heard a sharp intake of breath at the last name, and then she said, “These two spirits didn’t talk long, but both of them sounded quite angry. They seemed to be accusing your husband of failing in his duty or something. Does that make any sense?”

  Mrs. Hapgood sighed. “His father passed on in 1873, five years after Harold and I got married. He did talk a lot about duty. It was Harold’s duty to marry some banker’s daughter, not me, to add to the family’s fortune. It was his duty to move back into the house he had been thrown out of when we married, to take care of the business when his father had a stroke. It was his duty to take care of his mother, no matter how difficult she was. It was his duty to have an heir, to carry on the family name.”

  Mrs. Hapgood stopped, and Annie felt the pain that laced through that last statement. She wondered why there were no children after ten years of marriage. When it looked like Mrs. Hapgood wasn’t going to say anything further, Annie prompted her. “And Buddy? Who might he be?”

  “That was the nickname for his older brother who died in a stupid drunken brawl. I don’t see where Buddy would have any cause to lecture Harold about duty.”

  “What I don’t understand, Mrs. Hapgood, is why your husband would continue to attend these séances if all that happens is members of his family berate him. Most of the other people I have met at the séances seem to get something positive from coming there, a chance to reconnect to a cherished relative, good advice from the spirit world, or just entertaining theatrics.

  “Mrs. Fuller, I wish it made sense. He says he needs to prove himself to them. They always made him feel like he wasn’t strong or clever enough to be successful, to make something of himself or the business. When he was young, before I met him, he had some sort of breakdown when he was away at college. He was studying business back east. Had to come home in disgrace. His older brothers never let him forget it. So now he works day and night, pushing himself. Then he goes to that wretched house to tell them what he has done and comes home crushed and feeling guilty.”

  “Why guilty? From what I can see, the two of you are doing a splendid job with the store. He should feel proud.”

  Annie again heard the sharp intake of breath and was startled to see the raspberry stain had reappeared. Mrs. Hapgood wouldn’t look at her, and Annie wondered if perhaps the store wasn’t doing as well as she thought.

  Mrs. Hapgood rose and stuck out her hand, saying, “Thank you for coming. I wish I could be of more help. But I can only say I would trust your instincts about the Framptons. They have brought to my husband’s life, and consequently mine, nothing but misery. Now, if you will be so kind as to follow me, I will let you out of the front of the store. I really must get to work on counting up the money before my husband comes. His cousin has thankfully offered to meet him at the Framptons, so it is my hope he w
ill be here soon.”

  And be sober, Annie thought, swept back unwillingly to those nights when she sat waiting for John to return home, knowing he would be drunk and consumed by guilt for whatever new financial disaster he had created that day. Is that why she mentioned guilt? Has her husband’s drinking created some financial disaster for them and is he asking the spirits for redemption. Or, are the spirits the ones driving him to drink?

  *****

  The girl stood in the shadows of the old carriage house. She was wearing a slouch hat, pulled down low, and a short dark sack coat, above tightly fitting black pants. A yellow handkerchief around the neck was the only spot of color to catch the moonlight. A small dot of red glowed brightly in the dark, then disappeared, as she tossed the cigarette down and crushed it under her boot. A man comes down the path that led from the front of the house to the servants’ back entrance to the kitchen. The man stopped and knocked lightly on the kitchen door, which was opened and then closed swiftly behind him. The girl moved silently to an open window and leaned against the wall, out of sight, listening intently. Then she shook her head and disappeared into the night.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Tuesday evening, October 28, 1879

  “No Fun for the rats. A ratting match for $200 took place the other evening in a well-known sporting resort…The dogs were the imported bull-terriers ‘Crib’…and ‘Flow.’”

  —San Francisco Chronicle, 1879

  “Jamie, hold tight to Dandy’s leash. I don’t want any rat-catching tonight,” said his mother, Barbara Hewitt, who then glanced over the boy’s head at Annie and smiled.

  Jamie’s mother, a tall, statuesque brunette, who taught English literature at Girls High, had moved into Annie’s boarding house with her young son last January. Most evenings and weekends, she was either working on grading the mountains of papers her students seemed to produce or supervising Jamie in his own homework. She did try, however, to spend a little time each evening with her son, walking Dandy. Tonight, when Annie ran into them coming down the stairs to the kitchen, Barbara had asked Annie if she would join them on their walk.