Hilda had told her that when Mrs. Nickerson saw the photograph on her visit earlier today, she had been quite excited and said what a surprise it was to discover that Harold was related to Pierce. Hilda described her as becoming very distracted and said she left quite quickly after that conversation. What if Mrs. Nickerson had decided to confront Pierce?
Her fear that Evie May and her mother might be in immediate danger had prompted Annie’s decision to go straight to the Framptons, rather than to walk back to her boarding house so she would be on time to make her meeting with Nate. Having spent over an hour trying to explain her suspicions to Hilda, she knew it was going to be hard to convince Nate, or the police, for that matter, that Anthony Pierce was a murderer.
Oddly, what had finally persuaded Hilda that Pierce was behind everything was the discovery that his mother had died over two weeks earlier and that he hadn’t mentioned this to either her or her husband. Annie couldn’t count on Nate making a similar leap, and she didn’t feel she could postpone her conversation with Mrs. Nickerson. As a result, Annie was hoping to talk Evie May’s mother into to removing herself and her daughter from the Framptons’ house as soon as possible, for safety’s sake.
Annie looked at her watch and saw that it was after six o’clock. Since it was Sunday, the Framptons’ cook should have left the house by now, and everyone but Biddy should be above stairs getting ready to go out. If she went round the back to the kitchen Biddy could let her in and maybe get a message to Mrs. Nickerson without alerting the Framptons. While it was possible Simon and Arabella had no idea that they were helping a murderer, Annie had no faith that they would care. All they would be concerned about was any threat to their source of inside information about San Franciscans, or any negative publicity that might come their way. No, Annie didn’t want to run into Simon or Arabella Frampton. Maybe she should just hang around outside the house until Mrs. Nickerson and Evie May left and follow them to wherever they were going to dinner.
Getting down from the horse car, Annie began to walk up Harrison, and when she had crossed Fifth Street she halted, seeing a great deal of activity going on in front of the Framptons’ house. The sun had set about an hour earlier, and the moon hadn’t risen yet, so the street was dark between the gas lamps. She moved closer to the storefronts on her right and cautiously crept closer until she was able to stop in the darkest part of the sidewalk, equidistant between the lamps on her side of the street.
Looking across the street she could see that there was a wagon pulled by four strong dray horses and a large, four-wheel hackney, both illuminated by several lanterns hung on their sides. The wagon looked to be filled with boxes, and, while she watched, Albert came out of the house at a trot, a large trunk on his shoulder. He was followed by a woman, who Annie guessed must be his wife, Arabella’s lady’s maid. She had two smaller valises that she handed to an unknown man, probably the cab driver, who began to strap them to the back of the hackney.
The woman returned up the steps to the front porch, and Annie saw Arabella in the light of the porch lamp move out of the house to meet her. She had on a hat and coat and was carrying another small valise, which she handed over to her lady’s maid, confirming Annie’s conclusion that she was witnessing the rapid decampment of the Framptons and their servants.
What could have happened to force them to leave so precipitously? Could they have known about the attack on Annie last night? Maybe Nate had gone ahead and reported the assault to the police. He had said that he could do so without involving her. The police could even have stopped by, spooking the Framptons into making the decision to leave town before an investigation went any further. Or could this be a reaction to Harold Hapgood’s suicide? Certainly having a client try to kill himself wouldn’t be good for a medium’s reputation if it got out. But they had known about the suicide for over a day, and the activity going on in front of her looked like a very hastily organized affair.
Annie’s heart clutched. Could this be the result of something Mrs. Nickerson said or did when she returned from visiting the Hapgoods earlier today? And where were Mrs. Nickerson and Evie May? The cab in front of the house wasn’t large enough to carry six, but maybe Albert and his wife were going to ride on the wagon. Annie couldn’t imagine Simon abandoning the young medium; she was too much of a financial asset to leave behind. And Biddy? Was she in the house helping with the packing?
Annie moved out of the dark and began to cross the street, impelled by an overwhelming need to find Biddy and Evie May and make sure they were all right. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she saw Simon come down the steps, pulling on gloves. They must have been about to leave. As she walked up to him, she saw a start of surprise on his face, then a crooked smile that didn’t quite reach those intense gray eyes of his.
He said, tipping his hat, “Mrs. Fuller, or perhaps I should call you Madam Sibyl? Why am I not surprised to find you here just in time to see us off. I am afraid that from the beginning I underestimated you, despite my lovely wife’s misgivings. Was it just professional jealousy that motivated you? Surely there are enough good people in the city willing to part with their money that you didn’t need to meddle in our affairs?”
So, someone finally made that connection, Annie thought.
She said, “Mr. Frampton, I am sorry to disabuse you, but I have never considered us to be in the same profession. I don’t make my living using other people’s grief to blackmail or defraud them or drive them to suicide.”
Simon shook his head vehemently. “No, you’re wrong. I had no idea that this was his plan. What kind of fool do you think I am? If I’d had any idea . . .”
“Shut your mouth,” hissed Arabella, who moved out of the darkness and grabbed Annie by the upper arm. “My stupid husband is forever being fooled by a pretty face. Don’t think I don’t know what your game was, with your private sittings and your outings to the Gardens? You wanted to set up your own business with the little bitch and her mother. She’s all yours, much good she will do you.” Arabella let Annie’s arm go and started to pull Simon away, saying, “Leave her. We need to finish bringing out the suitcases. Albert is nearly done with the boxes.”
Annie moved to follow them, saying, “Mr. Frampton, where is Evie May? You aren’t taking her with you, are you?”
Simon didn’t respond, but followed his wife up the steps and disappeared into the house. Annie hesitated a moment, then went up the steps herself. The front door was wide open and light from the lamps in the hallway spilled out onto the porch. She stood in the doorway until she saw Albert barreling toward her, his arms filled with boxes, and she then moved in and stood to the side. When Albert didn’t say anything to her as he went by, she decided to investigate further.
She first looked into the séance room, which had been stripped of drapes, tablecloth, and candles. The furniture, which probably came with the rental of the house, remained, except for the cabinet. This was gone. Annie assumed it was an integral part of their equipment and was constructed to be easy to dismantle and transport. She then moved through to the back hallway, into the kitchen, looking for Biddy.
The kitchen was in much greater disarray. Cabinet doors were ajar, a canister of flour was on its side, dishes stood drying in the sink, and the lady’s maid was on her knees methodically wrapping up pieces of china, using a stack of towels, sheets, and other linens to do so. When she asked the woman where Biddy was, she simply said “gone” and went on with her packing. The single-minded activities of Albert and his wife and their complete lack of interest in Annie reassured her. Annie left the kitchen, relieved that at least Biddy was safe, and she went up the back stairs to the second floor.
Here there were additional signs of hasty packing. The doors to the rooms on both sides of the hallway were open, and what she could see of Albert and his wife’s room suggested that everything of value had already been removed, except the furniture. Since she could hear Simon and Arabella talking in their room, Annie turned back to look in the room tha
t Evie May shared with her mother. This door was closed, so she knocked. When there was no answer, she opened the door and was relieved to see that there hadn’t seemed to be any attempt to pack in this room.
So, Simon did intend to leave Evie May and her mother behind. Was it possible that Mrs. Nickerson didn’t even know the Framptons were leaving? Annie had trouble believing that Evie May’s mother would let Simon go without a fight. Maybe Simon was taking advantage of her absence to sneak out of town. She could very well imagine he would do almost anything to avoid the inevitable scene that the besotted woman would cause. Could it be the hastiness of this departure was nothing more than Simon’s desire to escape Mrs. Nickerson’s hysterics? No, all this activity felt like a desperate flight from some greater danger than a clingy woman, something she imagined Simon was used to handling.
And again, why leave Evie May behind? Could he be trying to remove the girl from her mother? She looked more closely at the room and noted that none of Evie May’s toys or clothing seemed to be missing. As she was about to leave the room, however, her attention was caught by a sound over her head. She then remembered there were steps that led to the cupola at the top of the roof, and that Biddy had mentioned that Evie May used this square room as a sort of playroom.
Annie went and checked the door, which unlike last Sunday, was unlocked. She opened the door slowly and listened. When she didn’t hear anything more, she moved onto the first step and looked up, seeing a square of light at the top of a set of stairs that were so narrow and steep they seemed more like a ladder.
She must be seeing the opening of a trap door, and the light suggested someone might be in the attic. She hitched up her coat and skirts with one hand and began to move up the stairs, holding onto the steps above her with the other hand to counter the feeling she was going to fall backwards at any moment. Every few steps she paused and listened. She heard nothing until she was about to reach the top. Then, just before she let her head rise above the opening, she heard a strange animalistic noise, a kind of growl that brought the hairs on the back of her neck upright.
Annie slowly took one more step up, putting her head above the level of the floor, breathing in a miasma of musty scents overlaid by a sharp metallic odor. At first she was partially blinded by the bright light cast by a lantern that was sitting on the floor to her right, but as her eyes adjusted she began to make out a bundle of clothing about three feet directly in front of her. No, not a bundle of clothes.
With dawning horror, Annie realized she was looking at Mrs. Nickerson, lying on her side, her face whiter than any face powder could make it, her green eyes staring fixedly at Annie, and a thin trickle of blood, as red as the dead woman’s hair, in a trail across the floor. A scream had begun to coalesce in her chest when she saw a hand holding a knife descend to touch the floor in front of Mrs. Nickerson’s chest, followed by the bloody visage of Evie May, who laid her face gently down along her mother’s face and smiled at Annie.
Chapter Fifty-one
Sunday evening, November 2, 1879
“Burned to Death: While O’Neil was absent from the house…his wife upset the lamp, setting the house on fire, and she perished in the flames.”
—San Francisco Chronicle, 1879
“Hello, nice lady,” lisped Maybelle. “Eddie said your name was Annie, and you aren’t my mother. Annie’s a pretty name, but not as pretty as Maybelle.” As Evie May spoke to Annie, she sat back up behind the body of her mother, and Annie could see by the light of the lantern that blood was smeared down the front of the girl’s white dress.
Smeared as if she had clasped her mother to her chest, not spattered the way the blood would look if Evie May had stabbed her, Annie found herself thinking, and her terror ebbed.
“Maybelle, dear, can you tell me what happened to your mother,” Annie asked, slowly moving up the stairs so that she was now about halfway out of the square opening.
“My mama left me. She said papa could only have one princess wife, and if he chose me, she would leave. So she went bye-bye.”
Annie, confused, as she often was speaking to Maybelle, said, “I don’t understand, Maybelle, if she isn’t your mother, who is that woman?” She pointed to Mrs. Nickerson.
“Eddie says she’s our mama, but I know better. Mamas tuck you in and sing you songs and they don’t let bad men hurt you.”
Annie restrained her desire to rush over and take the child into her arms. Could Mrs. Nickerson possibly have been an impostor? No, if Eddie said she was really Evie May’s mother that was more likely the truth. Annie remembered Mrs. Nickerson’s tale of woe about her husband’s illness and death and wondered once again if during that time Evie May had suffered something more terrible than simple neglect. Was that when she stopped seeing Mrs. Nickerson as her real mother?
Annie put her hands down on the floor in front of her and pulled herself to a crouching position, not wanting to stand up and startle the girl. She then said, “Maybelle, can you tell me what happened to the woman lying there?”
“She’s sleeping with the angels,” Maybelle said, gently patting the shoulder of the dead woman.
Annie gathered up her skirt and coat and shifted her weight in preparation to standing as she said very softly, “Maybelle, sweetheart, I would like to come over to you. Is it all right if I come and take your hand and help you come downstairs?”
“Yes, Annie, I would like that.”
Annie stood up and had just moved carefully around Mrs. Nickerson’s body when Maybelle continued, saying, “I’m glad you came. I don’t like being here with the bad man.”
Annie froze. Before she could say a word, Anthony Pierce walked out of the shadows and swung down to stand on the top of the stairs, the light from the lantern turning his odd features into a gargoyle level of ugliness.
He said, “Well, well, Mrs. Fuller, we finally meet.”
Evie May stirred at her feet, prompting Annie to crouch down and put her arms around her protectively, saying, “Leave this child alone.”
Pierce laughed. “Madam, I can assure you, I have no more desire to remain with that devil’s spawn of a child than she has to stay with me.”
Enraged, Annie nodded down at the body at her feet and said, “You killed her, didn’t you? Just as you killed Harold’s mother.”
“Oh, my good woman, I think you will find it very difficult to get anyone to believe you. Don’t you know that my dear, selfish, heartless bitch of an aunt died of natural causes? Of course, if you insist in revisiting that conclusion, my drink-addled cousin may be charged with contributing to her death through neglect, or even worse. As for the ridiculous nuisance of a woman lying before you, I think the fact that her completely demented daughter is holding a knife and is covered by her mother’s blood will make her a much more likely candidate for the charge of murder. A fact I tried to explain to my dear partners, who have instead panicked and are scampering away like some frightened rabbits, breaking up the perfectly good business arrangement we had going.”
When Annie shifted her weight, Pierce pulled a small derringer out of his pocket and said, “Please, no heroics. I do believe it is time to depart. Since you have been able to fool the usually wide-awake Simon, drive his beautiful wife into a jealous rage, as well as ensnare that stupid lawyer fellow, I suppose you must have a fascinating side to you; but I am afraid I can’t stay and further our acquaintance.”
Reaching over to pick up the lantern, he then began to back down the steps, keeping the gun steadily pointed at her. Finally he pulled the trap door down behind him, plunging the room into darkness.
“Sir, there are two ladies below to visit you. I have put them in the parlor.”
The maid sketched a curtsy and gave Nate a speculative look before disappearing from the door to his attic room. He stood up from his chair and carefully put on his coat. Mitchell had redressed both his hand and his side this afternoon, but he could do nothing for his bruised ribs, which hurt like hell when he breathed deeply or made a sh
arp move. Two ladies? That’s odd, he couldn’t think of any woman who would be visiting him except Annie, but she had asked him to come to the boarding house at seven, so why would she be here at twenty after six? Accompanied by another lady? Mrs. Stein perhaps?
Since he was due to leave for Annie’s momentarily anyway, he picked up his top hat and coat, taking them downstairs and hanging them on the hallstand before entering the parlor. There he encountered two complete strangers, sitting and talking with his Uncle Frank. All three stood up as he entered, and his uncle introduced the women as Mrs. Flora Hunt and Mrs. de Force Gordon. Mrs. Hunt was a tiny blonde who reminded Nate for some reason of a fairy sprite, and Mrs. Gordon was a tall, striking brunette, with a kind, round face and warm smile.
Nate shook hands with each woman, saying, “Mrs. Hunt, how pleased I am to meet you, and I want to thank you for being such a help to Mrs. Fuller. And Mrs. Gordon, I am honored to meet you, I have followed your fight for women in the legal profession with great interest.”
Nate’s uncle put his hand on his shoulder and said, “Nate, my boy, why don’t you go over there by the fireplace and sit with Mrs. Hunt while I continue the interesting conversation I was having with Mrs. Gordon about naturalization law.”
Nate, ignoring his reflexive irritation with his uncle’s dictatorial style, graciously bowed and led Mrs. Hunt to the other side of the parlor, waiting for her to be seated before sitting down. As he did, he noticed distinct signs of agitation on Mrs. Hunt’s part in the way she sat perched on the edge of her seat and fidgeted with her purse, so he skipped any conversational small talk and went right to the point.
“Mrs. Hunt, how may I help you?”
“Mr. Dawson, I am very concerned about our mutual friend, Mrs. Fuller. As you may know, I have spent my life with spiritual protectors, and just half an hour ago I got a strong message from one of them directing me to come to you and ask for your help on her behalf. Mrs. Gordon was visiting me. I looked you up in the city directory, and she and I just hailed a cab and came here as quickly as we could. Do you know of any danger that Mrs. Fuller is facing?”
Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery Page 38
