“Today is Sunday, June eighteenth.”
Helena did some quick addition in her head. “My birthday is Friday. This Friday that is June twenty-third, right?”
“You are blessed child, you’re going to turn eighteen on the first night of the summer solstice full moon. It is one of our most sacred nights. Many cultures believe that is when the veil between this world and the others are the thinnest. It’s a night of celebration around the world. It is also a potent night for people to practice the dark arts.”
“Then for my birthday, I wish that I can find Missy.”
“Careful with what you wish for, the universe can find a twisted way of answering prayers or wishes. Especially when you are close to places of great magical power, all magic comes with a price.”
“Brother Murphy said something that made me think just before we left his winery. He said that ‘evil is always looking for a way to enter men’s hearts.’ Did he mean that men are more susceptible to evil than women?”
“No, I think Brother Murphy would find there are just as many evil women as there are men. The question you should be asking, what did he mean by evil? Different doesn’t automatically mean evil. I’m sure the most villainous, black-hearted, reprobate believes his motives are pure.”
“Then how do we judge good and evil?”
“By someone’s actions. What is good for the community versus what is good for the individual is how I judge.”
Ophelia finished her sentence the same time Helena observed three women walking towards them one the bunny that ran off with her cork and locket followed by two women, their hair cropped short. For a fleeting moment, she prayed that one of them was Missy, but the closer they got she could tell that was impossible, one obviously Asian the other looked Mexican.
“Lady Ophelia, I found these two women that recognized the picture in the locket.”
“Well tell your story girls, do you recognize this woman?”
“She helped both of us escape The Nymphia, we would still be working there if she didn’t help us catch a ferry out of the city. Once you start that line of work, it’s impossible to escape, your little more than slaves.”
“I saw that sign, I asked my escort what it was, but he wouldn’t tell me,” Helena realized after the woman began speaking she wasn’t Mexican she spoke perfect English.
Ophelia said, “Dear, you can learn that most men find it difficult expressing themselves clearly if it involves sex. The blood rushes from their brain, and they lose all common sense. The Nymphia is a brothel. A place where men go and pay women for sex, generally against the women’s will.”
The three women standing in front of Helena all nodded agreement, “When my husband threw me out, I got scooped up off the streets and forced to work there. I would’ve never escaped had it not been for Miss Whitaker’s help,” Helena was shocked that such a seemingly refined white woman could end up working in such a place.
“I was sold from one of the houses in Chinatown to the Nymphia, I had no say. Miss Whitaker saved my life,” the Chinese woman spoke softly embarrassed of her predicament.
“Thank you, both for helping this young lady out. She’s trying to find Miss Whitaker, I hope the goddess keeps her safe until all is resolved,” Ophelia said dismissing the three women. Bunny handed Helena back her two clues before joining the others.
“I had no idea life was so unfair,” Helena tried hard to fight back the tears. “It sounds like Missy was a wonderful woman, but I’m no closer to finding her.”
“Life just is. People in power do whatever they can to whoever they think they can.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I have no leads to follow. This was my last hope to find Missy.”
“Never assume just because one door closes another one isn’t about open. Lately one of my acquaintances from back east has moved into the area. She is a powerful Seer. She can tap into the life force better than anyone I’ve ever met. Now, she is working for a woman in Santa Clara who is being haunted at every turn. If you go to Lady Chesterfield’s home in Santa Clara, speak with Madame Griselda, tell her Mistress Jinx sent you. She might be able to give you an idea where to look.”
Helena couldn’t believe it Santa Clara lay on the complete opposite end of the bay, and they were just there Friday evening. She grew tired of this Consulting Detective business. She was happy and surprised that while searching for Missy, she had found out so much about her family’s past. Now she just needed to find the woman that helped so many.
She stood, thanked Mistress Jinx for all her help before heading back to her two companions waiting in the auto. Before leaving, the older woman yell out.
“Those who dance are thought to be insane by those who can’t hear the melody.”
That didn’t make Helena feel any better at all.
Mystery House:
It was after dark before the last ferry from Cuttings Wharf arrived at the San Francisco docks. Since Bessie and the trio took up so much weight, Sigmund had to pay three times the going rate to bribe their way onto the craft.
Helena had never seen the approach to San Francisco at night. The fog had just begun rolling in, so visibility was still out a couple of miles, but it gave the gas lights and the few electric lights a halo that made the city look magical. The music from the Barbary Coast and the dance halls along the waterfront drifted over the water blending to create a strange rhythmic beat of the player piano’s pounding out different rag marches.
All the beauty and mystery of the city was lost once the crew had Bessie unloaded, and the three began winding their way through the streets of San Francisco to the estate. The thoroughfares were clogged even on a Sunday night. An odd peppering of cowboys, ranchers, farmers, sailors, men returning from the gold-fields in Alaska, with a smattering of local gentlemen looking for a good time, gave the cutpurses and the prostitutes plenty of targets to choose from. No wonder there was a murder every night in this section of town and some untold number of robberies. Thrown into this mix, Lane tried to navigate the streets laying on the steam whistle to clear a path and failing.
Helena in her Sunday dress stood out like a beacon for drunks of all shapes and sizes to approach. Barbary Coast was no place for a proper lady on any night of the week. Helena saw the underbelly of San Francisco.
At the intersection of Kearney and Pacific, the trio ran into a horde of sailors and prospectors fresh from Alaska. Each seemed to carry a bottle of cheap whiskey doing their best to disrupt the city with their reveling. Surrounded, it didn’t take long before one of the drunks approached the car and tried to climb in.
“Hey little Miss how about a kiss, I’ll give you a dollar for a kiss,” the first drunk drooling as he puckered up trying to steal a kiss from Helena. Lane had been busy trying to move the car forward, Sigmund was busy keeping a drunk from climbing into the backseat with them. Helena did what any respectable young lady would do she took her cane and thrashed the man on the top of the head. He dropped, like a tree, spread-eagle back into the crowd. This caused the crowd to cheer more. The trio faced a difficult time when Helena first noted a blur nipping at the edge of the throng.
Fighting to keep the drunks away she detected children darting in and about the crowd stealing, or she presumed thieving items from the men, only to be chased by the victims. It became a bizarre scene of hide and seek, or some other children’s game as the urchins circled the crowd like sharks looking for victims. Helena’s focus was pulled back to her dire-straits as a new man tried to climb into the backseat when she started hearing police whistles sounding up Pacific Street. The metal reinforced walking stick rapidly knocked the new threat unconscious as well.
A line of police officers began working their way towards the intersection nightsticks swinging as they did their best to physically thin the crowd. The swarm of children moved to the far side keeping the mob between themselves and the coppers.
She felt a man climbing up behind her, she turned prepar
ed to crack him in the head as well when she saw Detective Longstreet.
“Not the best street to drive down at night,” Longstreet had to shout to be understood over the rowdy crowd.
“I can assure you it was not our intentions to be caught in a riot,” Sigmund replied punching another drunk in the face.
Doyle reached over and touched Lane’s shoulder, “Once you find a chance make the first right off Pacific. Broadway or Vallejo are much calmer streets. Remember this is my neighborhood.”
Helena wanted to bash Doyle’s skull in like she did the drunks. She was no damsel needing to be saved, she grew tired of men taking control of her life. The ten police officers had made it to the front of the car and cleared a partial path, Lane didn’t hesitate, he blew the steam whistle and started for the gap. Helena found an opportunity to wrap the end of her cane across the cheek of one last drunk trying to climb onto the back of Bessie. She was surprised when she turned to Doyle and saw him smiling at her assault on the man.
“Remind me not to make you upset,” Doyle said grinning at Helena.
“You would be wise to remember that,” Helena was still angry, but she couldn’t help smiling back at Doyle and his boyish grin.
Lane did as directed taking the first right off Pacific, then made a left onto Vallejo Street.
“I’ll be getting off here, I need to go try to help clean up that mess back there. I hate when ships come in from the goldfields. Gold miners are the worst drunks,” Doyle didn’t wait for the automobile to slow down he merely stepped off the running board as Lane slowed to take the corner.
“That man can be most infuriating,” Helena spoke to herself more than anyone.
“He does display an annoying habit of showing up when he is most needed. I can understand where you might find that bothersome,” Sigmund added.
The last few miles home passed uneventfully. The day’s adventure had primarily been by ferry, so they weren’t nearly as tired as the day they journeyed to Agnew’s Insane Asylum. Still, Helena went straight to bed, she knew the trip to Santa Clara the next day would be exhausting. However, she had a hard time sleeping. So many thoughts raced through her head: her mother was a witch, that detective Doyle Longstreet made her blood boil every time she thought of him, and who were those children and how could they move so fast. The way they wove in and out of the crowd stealing at will, she found astounding. Helena wasn’t sure if they were trying to help or if they were taking advantage of busy targets or both. She hoped with crossed her fingers that the long trip to Santa Clara would bear fruit, she was growing weary of playing Consulting Detective. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as she expected it to be. Holmes and Watson always made it seem much more exciting. What Helena was doing felt more like work.
The trio met like they had the previous days, in front of the house. Helena dressed in a mint green summer dress. They were getting into a routine. Regrettably, Helena’s lack of sleep the previous twenty-four hours didn’t help her demeanor. She was coming to the realization that the more she learned about her family, the higher the likelihood she had a dark life awaiting her. She couldn’t stop thinking about all horrible outcomes her future might hold. Was this to be her new reality?
The two men must’ve been equally tired she did notice both had freshly bandaged knuckles and a few bruises on their faces. Helena had been so focused on protecting herself she didn’t know the two men had such a rough go of it last night.
Helena thought to herself: If we don’t find some useful information on this trip I’m going to tell Minnie, I quit. Missy and her family are lost forever. Once the vehicle started moving Helena fell asleep slumped in her seat.
Time flew, Sigmund woke her up. Bessie parked outside Lady Chesterfield’s house in Santa Clara. Before she had completely opened her eyes, she endured the sound of construction. Hammers were hammering, saws were sawing, and her eyes flashed open when she felt the crash of a lumber load being dumped right in front of Bessie.
“You should read The Chronicle or The Call, along with your papers from New York and Europe. This has been going on for over a year,” Sigmund said looking up at the massive Victorian mansion. Where a typical home of the style, has a rhyme or reason to it this had none. The wood structure already stood seven stories tall and nearly as wide. Construction seemed to be going on everywhere at once.
“But who would need a house so huge?” Helena asked.
“I’m not sure why the constant construction, but the building started a year ago and has been going day and night ever since.”
“That’s insane, and Lady Chesterfield lives here?”
“All part of the insanity, she has been living here during the construction. You can ask Madame Griselda what the impetus was for this round-the-clock building,” Sigmund gazed up the side of the structure.
“I... I am not sure I want to go in there, do you think the building is safe?”
“It’s safe enough for Lady Chesterfield and Madame Griselda. It should be safe enough for the hour or, so you might be in there,” Lane chuckled.
Helena tentatively got out the automobile, stepping around workman, lumber, and wound her way to the front door. She studied the haphazard construction holding the building together. Fearful if she knocked the entire structure might come tumbling down, overriding her fear she grabbed the knocker and rapped three times. She stepped back just in case the door fell out of the wall which it didn’t. The door slowly opened towards the inside creaking the whole way, the wall out of plumb.
Helena was greeted by an elderly Butler who spoke before Helena could speak a word, “I’m sorry, but the Lady Chesterfield does not take visitors,” and start closing the door.
“That’s lovely Sir, but I’m not here to see Lady Chesterfield. I’m here to visit Madame Griselda, please tell her Mistress Jinx has sent me,” Helena tried to speak with her most formal and proper voice not sure how she did.
The Butler scrunched his face up like he had encountered a fresh cow pat laying in the center of the porch. However, he did open the door wider allowing Helena to step over the threshold. “If you will please wait in the parlor, I will see if Madame Griselda is available.”
Helena was sure the man couldn’t have spoken in a more condescending tone, but she made it inside the door and still lived. She tried to decide if it would be ironic if she came all this way only to die in a building collapse or construction accident. Before she reached a conclusion to her rational, she could hear a tinkling of jewelry approaching before the woman gushed into the room.
“Oh, my dearest, I’m so glad to meet you please tell me everything you can about that minx Mistress Jinx,” she laughed at her own rhyme like she was the funniest person in the world. Helena didn’t find it that funny, but she smiled all the same.
“Hello Madame Griselda, my name is Helena Brandywine...” the two women went shook hands before Helena began to explain in great detail everything she knew about Mistress Jinx, which wasn’t that much.
“I’m sure you didn’t come all the way from San Francisco to fill me in on my old friend Jinx, now tell me why you’re really here?” Madame Griselda asked.
“A few days ago, a friend of mine came asking for help...” Helena went on to recite the entire story. Finishing with, “I hoped you might be able to use your special gift to give me a clue or an idea or something, anything. I’m running out of ideas and leads.”
“I’m sure Jinx told you there is no guarantee I will be able to see anything, my gift is not like some of the other witches, mine is more fluid, magic always has a price. We often don’t understand what the cost will be until after we’ve used it, sometimes many years after, are you willing to risk the fee?”
“What I want more than anything is for this investigation to be over. I think I want to return to the way it was.”
Madame Griselda stood and walked around the room closing the blinds. “Very well place the two objects you brought in the center of the tab
le. I will do my best to take a reading from these objects. You’re going to need to be brave, no telling what we will encounter.”
Madame Griselda sat across from Helena, she reached across the table palms up and indicated with her head for Helena to grab her. The two made a circle around the objects with their clasped hands.
“Spirits one spirits all, I beg you, please come hear my call. I wish you will I wish you might, I wish you come and answer right.”
Helena wasn’t convinced magic even existed. However, the hair began to rise on the back of her neck once the temperature in the room started dropping. Madame Griselda continued.
“Spirits mighty and spirits small, I call you now, I call you now one and all. Come to me come to me now, this is your chance to come and speak.”
Helena could see dark shadows gliding along the walls of the room, she had a hard time focusing on what Griselda said when everything in her body screamed for her to run out of the house.
“I call on you spirits, there is a missing woman, her name is Missy, Missy Whitaker, tell me if she’s alive, tell me where she is. I demand you speak the truth, tell me now.”
The glass globe on the gaslight over their heads shattered, raining shards of glass down. Helena tried to free her hands, but Griselda’s grip had become like a vice. She could feel the blood rushing out of her fingers while Griselda squeezed. Focusing on the words Griselda spoke, she couldn’t help seeing her irises had disappeared.
Helena was about to scream when Griselda started speaking in a most unnatural deep raspy voice coming from the gates of hell, “The girl is alive. She is afraid, terrified she can hear the sound of water, lapping water. She can’t see anything, the room is pitch black, but she can smell the ocean, she can hear water, and there are bars blocking her escape.”
Transfixed on Griselda’s face, it took her a moment to notice the door behind her bowing in like something fought to reach her.
“Did I say anything? I’m never really sure if a reading is going to work before we start,” that was when the wooden door shattered, spraying the two women in a shower of splinters. Both let out a long scream, Griselda’s lasted unnaturally long. Helena didn’t understand how she could go on for so long without breathing, her scream turned into words, “Death comes on white wings!” Griselda continued screaming the words over and over every time she repeated the pitch in her voice grew higher. Helena would’ve covered her ears with her hands if they had been, free instead she did the best she could to hide one ear at a time with her shoulder, closing her eyes in pain. Suddenly at the highest pitch possible every window in the study imploded again covering the pair with glass. The screaming stopped.
Pretty Waiter Girls Page 11
