Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by M. Louisa Locke

  Nate felt a brief flicker of anxiety, then, remembering he didn’t believe in Spiritualism, he smiled and said, “As far as I know, she is safely at home, waiting for me to arrive for an appointment we made at seven.” He paused and, seeing that Mrs. Hunt didn’t seem to be reassured, he continued, “However, just last evening she did confront a real danger. A man tried to kill her in an alley, just a few houses away from here. Perhaps this is what your . . . ah . . . spirit guide was telling you about.”

  Mrs. Hunt frowned and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she reached out and clasped Nate’s hand, swaying slightly. Her eyes flew open and she stood up, pulling Nate up with her.

  “This isn’t in the past. I see darkness, and there is a strong sharp odor of blood. She and the little girl need you. We must go.”

  Nate, startled at her vehemence, said, “Go where?”

  Mrs. Hunt shook her head and said, “I’m not sure. You say she is supposed to be at home? Let’s start there. Something terrible is going to happen. We must get to her soon.”

  Oh, Nate, Annie thought, her heart pounding, you are going to be so angry with me for getting into this predicament. And you’ll be right, what was I thinking? Gradually Annie’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness and she became aware that on all four sides of the cupola there were sets of windows, letting in some ambient light. The girl leaned back against her, humming a familiar-sounding nursery rhyme. Remembering the knife in Evie May’s hand, Annie fetched her handkerchief from her coat pocket and then let her own right hand move slowly down the girl’s arm while she said, “Dear, may I take this from you?” Evie May nodded, and Annie carefully reached around with the handkerchief, pulled the knife from the girl’s fist, and wrapped it firmly in the handkerchief. She then placed it in her coat pocket, not wanting it loose, but feeling better having some sort of weapon at hand if Pierce should come back.

  She looked around again, noticing a chair silhouetted against the windows to her left and a bulky, rectangular shape she thought might be a wardrobe to her right. She turned her head and saw a large trunk behind her. If there were any other objects in the room, they were lost in the deep shadows. The attic wasn’t much more than ten feet square, and, since the windows all seemed shut, the air felt close and stuffy and the smell of blood unpleasantly strong. She also noticed a smell of excrement, her stomach turning as she flashed on the image of Pierce stabbing Mrs. Nickerson.

  Annie wanted to go over and see if there was a way to lock the trap door, or move something on top of it so Pierce couldn’t get to them, but she didn’t want to leave Evie May sitting next to her dead mother. She told the girl they were going to get up and she could sit in the big chair where she would be more comfortable. When Evie May didn’t respond, just kept on humming, Annie got on her knees and, with some effort, got to a standing position, wishing her long skirts in perdition. Next she gently pulled Evie May up and guided her around the body on the floor. When they reached the chair, Evie May suddenly bent over and picked a ragged china doll and climbed onto the chair and started rocking it, reminding Annie she was probably still dealing with six-year-old Maybelle, not the older Evie May.

  Annie watched her for a few moments and then walked slowly to the center of the room where the trap door should be. Kneeling down, she felt around for a handle, which she found quite quickly. However, there didn’t seem to be any sort of locking mechanism. She decided to pull it up a crack, to see if she could hear any movement in the room below, but when she began to pull, nothing happened. Tugging harder and harder, Annie realized that the door was not stuck, but was locked from below.

  Two can play that game, she thought, having little desire to descend to the rest of the house until its occupants were well on their way to wherever they were going. What she didn’t want was Pierce to change his mind and return to the cupola, so she stood up and went to the trunk and carefully dragged it around Mrs. Nickerson’s body and placed it squarely over the trap door. She then made her way carefully over to the unexpectedly dust free front windows to look down into the street.

  The combination of the street lamps and the lanterns on the wagon and hackney lit up the scene below as if Annie were watching a play from darkened balcony seats. The wagon was now piled high with boxes and trunks, and Albert was climbing around, strapping everything down with ropes. Evidently he wasn’t doing it to his good wife’s satisfaction, because the lady’s maid was standing in the street, gesticulating vigorously.

  Finally Albert jumped down from the wagon, threw a coil of rope at her feet, and stomped out of view. Annie could practically hear the curse words that must have filled the air. Only a moment later he returned, with suitcases in each hand, which he handed over to the hackney driver, who was standing at the back of his cab, looking at the growth of appended cases and trunks that had sprouted at the back and top of his vehicle. Annie felt a pang for the horses and hoped they weren’t going any further than across town to the docks.

  Then Simon walked into view, and the three men seemed to be conferring over where best to place the suitcases, when their heads all turned in unison to the lady’s maid, who was standing pointing upwards at the house. Annie took a hurried step back and then realized there was no way that anyone could see her in the darkened room. She moved back to the window and saw that Arabella had joined the other four, and all of them were clustered in the middle of the street, pointing and shouting, clearly upset by whatever they saw in the house.

  That was when Annie first smelled smoke.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Sunday evening, November 2, 1879

  “Record of the Alarms Sounded During the Year: There were 274 alarms given, of which 223 were fires, 7 second alarms, 17 false, 20 chimneys, 6 bonfires, and 1 falling building.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle, 1879

  Kathleen ran down the alley to the gate at the back of the boarding house, laughing because she’d beat Patrick there.

  “Slowpoke! And don’t tell me it’s because you have been on your feet patrolling all day.” She laughed and stretched up on her tiptoes to give the young, red-haired police officer a kiss on his freckled nose.

  Patrick grinned and scooped her up in his arms, planting a warm kiss on her mouth, and she playfully drummed on his shoulders with her fists, noticing how broad he’d become in the last six months they had been courting. Courting! How grand that sounded! She’d started out just having fun teasing Beatrice’s nephew, who had the habit of stopping by to cadge sweets from his indulgent aunt. With his carrot top, freckles, and ready smile, he’d just seemed like a good-natured boy. As he’d become more attentive, shyly asking her to accompany him to a dance, or a walk down to Market Street to the confectioners for some ice cream, Kathleen had been careful to let him know she’d no interest in getting serious, ostentatiously walking out with several different boys.

  Then, this summer, when they helped Mrs. Fuller and Mr. Dawson with their investigation, Kathleen had become more and more impressed by his quick wit and ambition. He had a drive to better himself, carrying around books to read when he took a break on patrols, studying the rulebook on his off days. She was proud of him.

  Patrick put her back down on her feet, frowning, and said, “Miss Hennessey, a penny for your thoughts!”

  Kathleen felt herself blush, but she laughed and said, “Mr. McGee, my thoughts are worth a good deal more than a penny. Besides, we’d better go on in, Mr. Dawson should be here by now.”

  As they walked through the gate, Kathleen could see into the kitchen window and was surprised to recognize Biddy standing there, waving her hands around excitedly. A deep foreboding hit her, and she ran across the yard and pulled the back door open.

  Mrs. O’Rourke, who was standing in the center of the kitchen, whipped around and said, “There you are. Biddy’s come to say that the Framptons are packing up to leave town in a mighty hurry. She thought Mrs. Fuller should know, but she isn’t in her room, wasn’t here for supper. Do you know where she is?”<
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  Kathleen’s mind raced. She’d stopped by the boarding house after mass, around 3:30, and found Mrs. Fuller in her room talking with Miss Pinehurst. After Kathleen had interrupted them to tell her mistress about Mr. Hapgood, she had left the house by the front, since she was late to a planned meeting with her younger brother, and didn’t want to get delayed talking to Beatrice. Kathleen figured Mrs. Fuller would tell Mrs. O’Rourke the news, if she wanted to. It wasn’t for her to be the go-between. But that was nearly four hours ago. Mrs. Fuller should certainly be back from any visit to the Hapgoods by now.

  “Girl, what are you keeping from us? Spit it out.” Mrs. O’Rourke said, fear lending a sharp edge to her words.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry, I was just surprised. Did Biddy tell you about Mr. Hapgood’s suicide attempt?” Kathleen asked. Beatrice and Biddy nodded, so she went on to explain about stopping back at the house, and Mrs. Fuller’s plan to go to visit the Hapgoods to see if there was anything she could do.

  “I asked if I should accompany her, but she refused. She knew I’d promised to meet Ian and take him to the docks to see the Pacific Mail China steamer come in. Mrs. Fuller said it weren’t more than a ten-minute walk down to Hyde and Eddy, where the Hapgoods lived, and she would enjoy the outing. She thought it most likely that all she’d be able to do is leave a card, but looks like she stayed.”

  Beatrice said, “Not after dark, not without sending us word she was going to miss supper.”

  Kathleen’s anxiety increased. “I know, ma’am. But she told me to bring Patrick here at seven. She and Mr. Dawson wanted to have a word with him, so surely she’ll be back any minute.”

  The peal of the bell connected to the front door made all four of the kitchen’s occupants jump, and Kathleen tore up the stairs, hoping to see both her mistress and Mr. Dawson on the front steps, although it would be unusual for Mrs. Fuller to forget her keys.

  She threw the door open and was disappointed to see it was just Mr. Dawson and some woman she didn’t know.

  “Miss Kathleen, we’re here to see Mrs. Fuller, this is Mrs. Flora Hunt,” Mr. Dawson said, as Kathleen backed up and let the two of them enter the hallway.

  “Oh, Mr. Dawson, she’s not here. We’re ever so worried. She went out this afternoon to see Mrs. Hapgood, sir, whose husband tried to kill himself, and she’s not come back. Please, would you mind coming down to the kitchen. Patrick and I just got here, and Mrs. O’Rourke is in a rare state.”

  As Kathleen led Mr. Dawson and Mrs. Hunt to the kitchen, she briefly told him about Mr. Hapgood’s suicide attempt the day before and Mrs. Fuller’s plan to visit that afternoon. “And now Biddy’s here with news that the Framptons are doing a runner, and Mrs. Fuller isn’t here. Whatever can have happened, I don’t know. But the mistress is probably right in the middle of it all. You know her, sir.”

  As they entered the kitchen, Kathleen announced, “Here’s Mr. Dawson and Mrs. Hunt, ma’am, here to see Mrs. Fuller. He doesn’t know where she is either. Biddy, tell ’em what’s up at the Framptons.”

  Kathleen then moved to stand with Patrick, whispering, “That little blonde must be the famous Spiritualist that the mistress says is helping her with that strange Evie May I were telling you about.”

  Biddy, after solemnly shaking Mr. Dawson’s hand and curtsying to Mrs. Hunt, swiftly told them about what had happened when she went to work at the Framptons’ that afternoon. She described finding the house in an uproar, with the cook in high dudgeon because she had just been dismissed without notice, and Arabella’s lady’s maid running up and down the stairs shouting orders to her husband. “She told me to go down to the cellar and get boxes they had stored there and then wash up all the dishes, ready to be packed. Then I was to go into the study and help the master.”

  Mr. Dawson interrupted Biddy. “Did anyone say why they were leaving in such a hurry?”

  “No, sir. I asked the lady’s maid, and she just snapped my nose off. I could hear the mistress cursing at the master at one point, but couldn’t tell what she was saying. When I went into the master’s study, he looked sick, all white-faced, but he didn’t say much, except to tell me which books he wanted packed. He was piling together papers and putting them in special boxes, burning some stuff too.”

  Mr. Dawson broke in again and said, “Miss O’Malley, did Mrs. Fuller, or anyone else come to the house while you were there?”

  “No, sir. Not Mrs. Fuller, sir. I did think I heard a man’s voice, weren’t Albert or the master, but I might’ve been mistaken, cause I didn’t see anyone. Fact is, didn’t see Mrs. Nickerson or her daughter either, and no one seemed to be doing anything to pack up their room. Then at six-thirty the master came into the study, where I was still packing books, and thrust some banknotes at me and told me to leave. I came here straight away, because I was sure Mrs. Fuller’d want to know what was happening. Surely looked like they were trying to outrun the coppers.”

  Mr. Dawson looked over at Patrick and said, “Officer McGee, have you heard anything about a police action against the Framptons?”

  Kathleen felt Patrick stand up taller as he said, “No, sir, I haven’t. But then my beat’s the Western Addition, so I might not hear about a raid planned south of Market. I could find out for you if you want me to run to the local station house?”

  Mr. Dawson hesitated then said, “No. I’ve got to think what to do.”

  “Sir, may I ask what happened to your face?” Patrick burst out, and Kathleen tried to shush him, although she’d been wondering the same thing since they had come into the brighter light of the kitchen. The poor man had a dark bruise on his cheek and a black eye.

  “Happened last night when Annie, I mean Mrs. Fuller was attacked,” Mr. Dawson replied.

  Kathleen knew she wasn’t the only one who gasped in the room, but it was Mrs. O’Rourke who first spoke.

  “Mr. Dawson, what do you mean, our Annie attacked, by whom? Oh merciful heavens, why didn’t she tell me.” Mrs. O’Rourke rounded on Kathleen. “Never tell me you knew about this!”

  “No, ma’am, I didn’t. She’s been as closemouthed with me as you since the party Friday night. Mr. Dawson, please tell us.”

  Mrs. Hunt, who had until this time stood silently near the back door, suddenly walked into the center of the room and spoke. “Mr. Dawson, we don’t have anymore time. The danger is increasing. We must go find Mrs. Fuller.”

  “But where? Do you think she is still at the Hapgoods?” Mr. Dawson asked.

  “I feel the spirit of the little girl, very strongly. Wherever Mrs. Fuller is, she is with Evie May. Oh, dear, the fire burns! We must go now!” she cried out and then swayed. Patrick darted over and steadied her.

  Kathleen turned to Mr. Dawson and said, “Sir, what does she mean?”

  Instead of answering her, he said, “McGee, you and Miss Kathleen go to the Hapgoods, see if she is still there, and if not, find out if anyone knows where she went.” He took out a wallet and handed over some money to Kathleen, saying, “If you don’t learn anything, get a cab and meet Mrs. Hunt and me, we will go straight to the Framptons’ house. We have a cab waiting out front. Now go, there’s no time to waste.”

  In the dark of the attic cupola, Annie couldn’t see any smoke in the air, but the smell increased with every breath she took. She went back and pushed the trunk to the side and tried the trap door again, but it remained stubbornly shut. She returned to the front windows and tried to pull each of them up, but they seemed warped shut. She hurried over to the windows to her right and found them equally stuck, although with great effort she was able to open one of the top windows a few inches. This mitigated her sense of panic somewhat. Continuing to move clockwise, she next tried the windows that overlooked the backyard, relieved when she found that she could pull up one of the two windows about a foot. The last two windows, however, were stuck closed. She felt a tickle in her throat and suppressed the desire to cough.

  Annie groped her way back to the chair where Evie May sat roc
king the doll. When she couldn’t get a response from her, she simply pulled the girl to her feet and walked her to the now-open window and pushed her to a sitting position. The girl recommenced rocking and singing, and Annie noticed with a start that the tune was “hot cross buns.” How odd.

  Sitting down with her arm around Evie May, trying to believe she was getting some fresh air, Annie wondered if she should check to see if the trap door was now unlocked, but she worried that the smoke was being produced by Pierce in some fashion to force her to come out of the attic, straight into his hands. She found it intolerable to sit and do nothing, so she got up again and made her way back around to the window facing the street. She saw that Simon was still looking up at the house, with Albert and Arabella clearly remonstrating with him. She wondered if they were arguing about whether or not to go into the house to try to put out whatever fire was causing the smoke.

  Could they know Evie May and I are trapped up in the cupola? Annie turned to check on Evie May, and a flicker of light to her left caught her attention. Moving over to that window and looking across to the abandoned house next door, she was confused, thinking at first that she was seeing people wandering around the upper floors of that house with candles. Then in dismay she realized she was seeing bright flames reflected in the neighboring house’s window, flames that had to be coming from the house in which she and Evie May were effectively being held prisoner.

  With a rising sense of fear, she ran back to the side of the cupola overlooking the street and started to bang frantically on the windows and shout, but she saw that no one was looking back at the house any longer. The hackney driver was up in his perch, and Albert was pulling Simon towards the open carriage door. She yelled and banged again with more force and thought that she saw Simon turn and look up at her, but then another man came walking up to him, arresting his attention.