Whispers of Warning

by Jessica Estevao

  Popping, sparking sounds like firecrackers erupted throughout the crowd. I frantically looked down at the marchers. They lurched and leaned, some even lost their balance completely and toppled to the ground. I tried to see the cause of the turmoil, and there in the middle of the chaos I noticed a number of young boys running through the assembled marchers, jostling and shoving them as they threaded through their midst. Little puffs of smoke followed on the trail of several of them.

  I searched the crowd for those most dear to me. Lucy stood hunched over, protecting her head with her arms. Before I could spot any of my other friends I felt a tremor beneath my feet. My attention snapped back to the center of the stage. Sophronia’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a circle of utter surprise. With a whoosh the stage, and the stairs leading up to it, collapsed beneath us both.

  I lay stunned, splayed on my side, a wooden stair tread pressing into my rib cage. I tried to draw a breath and realized the fall had knocked the wind right out of me. Fleetingly, I wondered if Mrs. Doyle had knocked over the stage armed only with the power of her stare. The stampeding mob looked even more terrifying from the ground than it had from the stairs.

  I ventured to sit up but the sharp pain from my ribs stopped me in my tracks. I sagged back down against the ground and then thought better of it as I realized several pairs of men’s feet were running toward what was left of the stage. I winced with pain as air rushed back into my lungs.

  “Miss Proulx, are you injured?” A pair of sturdy brown boots stopped just short of my head. Officer Yancey crouched over me, a look of earnest concern upon his face. “Can you move?”

  “If you give me a hand I think I can stand.” I hated to admit it but there was something very comforting about Officer Yancey’s presence. He slipped an arm beneath me and helped me to my feet. The pain in my ribs caused me to flinch as I tried to turn. “Is Sophronia all right?” I asked.

  The stage lay in a heap upon the brick square at the base of the pier. “I have no idea. Shall we find out?” he asked, offering me his arm. I hoped he was too distracted by the continuing turmoil to notice that my whole body seemed to be shaking. A ring of people, including several photographers and men with notebooks and pencils in their hands, crowded around what was left of the stage. With Officer Yancey’s help I squeezed through the throng and peered into the center of the wreckage.

  Sophronia sat on the ground. Blood oozed down her face from a long, jagged gash to her cheek. One of the men stepped forward and offered her a hand. She shook her head and scrambled to her feet unassisted.

  She turned toward the photographers and journalists and gave a little wave. “I think it is safe to say someone doesn’t want people to hear my message. But it will take more than a little tumble like that to get rid of me, gentlemen.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Yancey stood at the edge of the salt pool, wishing he could be in two places at once. He would give a great deal to be keeping another set of eyes on Lucy and his mother. The owner of the bathhouse, Pinckney Ferris, had turned away and brought up more of his breakfast. Not that Yancey could blame him. If he had managed to choke down more than a black cup of coffee before the call had come in he might have had trouble with his own stomach.

  The pool sat in a courtyard sheltered from public view, next to the Sea Spray Hotel. Rumor had it that Robert Jellison, the owner of the Sea Spray, had been trying for months to convince Pinckney to sell him his popular bathhouse and pool. Water was let into the pool every couple of days and the sun heated it to a much more pleasant temperature than that of the open ocean.

  People were willing to pay a pretty penny to soak in waters warmed by the sun that still contained the perceived benefits of the sea. Yancey had enjoyed the pool himself during his infrequent days off on a number of occasions since his return to Old Orchard. He was sorry to think he would never be able to do so again without thinking of the body splayed inelegantly before him.

  Sophronia Foster Eldridge looked far smaller in death. Perhaps it was her unusual clothing that created that impression. He knelt over her body and noticed a dark patch on her fair head.

  “Did you see this, Frank?” he asked. “It looks like blood.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Frank pulled a cruller from a paper sack in his hand and took an enormous bite, cascading powdered sugar onto the straining buttons of his uniform and onto Sophronia’s corpse. “A woman like that was always going to come to an end like this.”

  “A woman like what?” Yancey looked up at Frank and wondered how they were going to be able to impartially pose questions when clearly his partner didn’t care about the victim. He didn’t even want to think about how all the ladies at the Belden would react to the news. Maybe Frank would get called in to help with something else and he’d be free to take Lewis with him to inform Honoria instead.

  “An unnatural one. As far as I’m concerned she belonged in a nuthouse and the only mystery here is why we’re even looking into this when she obviously killed herself.”

  “I think you’ve been spending too much time with the chief.” Yancey looked up at the man he used to consider a friend. “You’re starting to sound just like him.”

  “And I think you’ve been spending too much time in a house full of womenfolk.” Frank crossed his arms over his broad chest and scowled. It wasn’t likely that they were going to start getting along much better, so Yancey asked a question he knew wouldn’t go over well with Frank.

  “Has anyone gotten ahold of Thomas Lydale yet?”

  “You aren’t planning to call that ghoul in on every investigation from now on, are you?” Frank said. Frank had never gotten over his mother hiring Thomas to take a memorial photograph of Frank with his dead father. From what Yancey had heard, Frank had not reacted well to the experience and instead of owning up to his own fear had blamed Thomas for his discomfort.

  “You seem to have forgotten how much he assisted in solving our last murder case,” Yancey said. “Besides, with the department being stretched so thin lately I’m happy to make use of any technological assistance I can muster.”

  “You want him, you call him.” Frank stomped off to the far end of the pool. Yancey spotted Lewis, looking eager to please, hovering near the still-queasy Pinckney Ferris. Yancey waved Lewis over.

  “I’m going to send you out to telephone for Mr. Lydale, the photographer, but before I do, tell me what you see when you look at this body.” Yancey leaned away to give Lewis a complete view of the deceased.

  “She appears healthy, well formed. She’s suffered a blow to the head but I think it took her by surprise.” Lewis pointed to the side of her head where something clung to her hair, darkening the blond strands.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “She looks peaceful, not frightened.” Lewis shrugged as if to apologize for having an opinion of his own. The kid was new but he had sharp eyes. Given enough time he’d make a far better detective than Frank. Maybe better than Yancey even.

  “What else do you see? You can take a closer look if you’d like.” Lewis knelt on the side of the pool.

  “She’s wearing a gentleman’s coat. Not only is that a bizarre choice for a woman but it’s been far too warm lately, night or day, to have need of a heavy layer.”

  “Check the pockets,” Yancey said.

  “May I touch her?” he asked. Yancey nodded then watched as Lewis gently laid his hands over the bulges Yancey had noticed in Sophronia’s large overcoat pockets.

  “Rocks?” Lewis asked.

  Yancey nodded and pointed to the lumps around her ankles. “A whole lot of them. Designed to keep her body underwater once she went into the pool, I’d say.”

  “Do you think she drowned herself?”

  “She might have done, but how do you explain the blow to her head?”

  “She could have hit it on the edge when she entered the pool.”

/>   “It’s a stretch but it is possible.” Yancey straightened. “I had gotten the impression that she was the sort of person who would consider it a sin to rob the world of her presence.”

  “Are you going to interview the owner? He found the body.” Lewis inclined his head to Pinckney, who was still bent at the waist, gripped by dry heaves.

  “I suppose it would be shoddy policing not to,” Yancey said. “While I do that you go get Lydale and ask him to hurry. And ask him if he has time when he’s done to develop anything he’s got from the march yesterday.” Lewis nodded and broke into a trot. Yancey admired the younger man’s energy and enthusiasm. He wished for a moment he hadn’t lost his on a broad plain far out West. He also appreciated the fact that the kid did as he was asked and didn’t waste time questioning a more experienced officer. Yancey approached the bathhouse owner again, keeping a bit of distance in deference to his shoes.

  “Pinckney, I need to ask you a few questions about this morning. Do you think you can answer me if we step outside?” Yancey asked. Pinckney struggled into a standing position and followed Yancey through the seaside door and into the fresh air. Yancey waited while the older man drew in a few deep, ragged breaths and then pulled out a notebook and a pencil.

  “Tell me, if you can stand to, what you saw when you arrived at the bathhouse this morning.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “Just tell me what you did and what you saw to the best of your abilities, from the time you arrived.”

  “Things seemed much as usual until I got right up to the edge of the pool. I always check the pool first thing in the morning when I come in to make sure no animals have wandered in during the night and managed to get themselves stuck.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  “More than I’d like the bathers to hear about. Not that it will matter now.” Pinckney’s face blanched again. “This will ruin me.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that. People love a good scandal.” Yancey could tell from the expression on Pinckney’s face he hadn’t considered that. He looked almost animated for the first time since Yancey had arrived. “You’ll probably be turning them away by the time this reaches the papers.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think I should be more forthcoming about the mice and the dogs, too?”

  “I think you might want to keep that to yourself. So, what happened next?”

  “I looked in the pool and saw a shape at the bottom of it, just splayed out on the bottom.”

  “It wasn’t floating?”

  “No. It was flat on the bottom. I leaned over to get a better look at it and as soon as I realized it was a person I jumped in and pulled her out.”

  “I assume she was dead at the time? There was no hope of reviving her?”

  “She was completely beyond help. For such a little bitty thing her body was surprisingly heavy.”

  “Did you see anything else unusual?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “How do you think she managed to get in here when the pool was closed?”

  “It isn’t locked.”

  “Not ever?”

  “No. There’s no need. There’s nothing here to steal and no one wants to use the place when the sun goes down.” Pinckney’s voice betrayed his belief that Yancey was a fool for asking such a thing. Yancey remembered a time as a youth when he and friends would sneak into the bathhouse after dark for a free swim without the prying eyes of the adults upon them. The water had retained its warmth from the day and the bathhouse had been a favorite haunt for many of his friends. Perhaps Pinckney needn’t hear such a thing, though. He’d had enough of a shock for one day.

  “Thanks for all your help, Pinckney. We’ll get out of your hair as soon as the photographer has had a chance to document the scene and once the body is removed.”

  “Will I be able to open for business today, do you think?” Some might think it a crude question but having grown up in town Yancey understood from where it sprang. With only a single season to earn a year’s income, each and every day mattered.

  “That will be in Frank’s capable hands but I’m sure he’ll have you up and running before noon.” Yancey hoped he was telling something like the truth.

  “You’re not leaving before this is all cleared up, are you?” Pinckney looked like he might be sick again.

  “As much as I’d rather stay and keep an eye on things here, someone’s got to let them know over at the Belden what has happened to their famous guest.” Yancey patted the older man on his bony shoulder and set off down the beach.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The morning after the march I lay abed longer than was my habit. The bruising to my ribs had caused me to pass a restless night. If I were honest, nightmares filled with the violent memories of the march had roused me whenever I managed to drift off.

  Throughout the night images of smoke and sirens, shouting and terrified expressions on the marchers’ faces filled my mind. Over and over I startled myself awake with the sensation the stage was collapsing beneath me. Every time I stretched or turned the soreness in my ribs made me almost cry out in pain.

  Ben stopped me on the way to the dining room for a late breakfast. He handed me a message slip indicating I had received a telephone call from Officer Yancey, who wished to interview me about the events of the previous day. He planned to be at the Belden within the hour.

  Within a half an hour I found myself sitting across from him in the hotel dining room. Providing him with a hearty breakfast was the least I could do after he had helped get me back on my feet at the march. Even the events of the last few days did not explain the change in his manner. His eyes bore deep shadows beneath them and his shoulders looked rigid under the cut of his uniform.

  He accepted a cup of coffee but seemed reluctant to partake of any nourishment. I managed to persuade him only by mentioning Mrs. Doyle would be most put out if he refused to partake of her excellent breakfast. His grip upon the spoon whitened his knuckles and I feared he would snap the piece of cutlery as he stirred two spoons of sugar into his coffee. It was as if it had done him an affront. I was glad all of the guests had either already eaten or had decided to have a tray taken to their rooms. Some were not completely recovered from the terrors of the march.

  “You seem out of sorts, Officer,” I said. “Is your investigation off to a difficult start?”

  “What investigation?” Officer Yancey stopped stirring and gave me his complete attention.

  “The investigation into the stage collapse and the chaos caused during the march yesterday.”

  “I’m not here to investigate the stage collapse.” He sawed back and forth maliciously on a burnt sausage. It would seem Mrs. Doyle was perhaps as rattled by the events of the day before as the rest of us. “That case is not going to have priority.”

  “What do you mean there is no investigation? Elva Velmont was knocked to the ground. Miss Rice has taken to her bed. There’s been no sign of Sophronia so far today. Those are just the injuries I witnessed.” I could not believe my ears. “Has your chief told you not to look into it because he was the one involved?” I kept my eyes firmly focused on his face and was gratified to see his own eyes widen in astonishment before he tucked his surprise back under his police officer demeanor.

  “That is a bold charge. Are you able to provide proof of such an accusation?”

  “Proof, no. But I can tell you what I saw.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Just before the collapse I saw your boss having a quick word with Henry Goodwin. Almost immediately after I saw a group of boys, Henry included, weaving in and out through the ranks of marchers, jostling and shoving. They are what started the chaos.”

  “It is quite a leap between a quick chat and soliciting a bunch of youngsters to incite a riot.”

  “I watched as Henry ran straight up to him
as though he were expected. We both know Henry is not the sort of boy to pass the time of day with the police for no reason.” Henry’s brothers were infamous in Old Orchard for entanglements with the law. His brothers were both serving time on burglary charges, amongst other things. “Chief Hurley was up on a raised area and in plain view. He reached out his hand and pulled Henry up beside him. I saw the whole thing as plainly as I am seeing you here now.”

  “You seem very sure the collapse wasn’t simply an unfortunate accident that resulted from shoddy workmanship.” Officer Yancey reached for a piece of toast from the silver rack on the table between us. “Is there a reason you suspect it was intentional?” Officer Yancey bit down on his toast with a will, sending a dribble of strawberry jam cascading down his chin. I felt an unreasonable urge to dab his face with a napkin. Fortunately, I resisted such nonsense and kept my attention firmly on the matter at hand.

  “Have you forgotten the threatening letter Sophronia received?” I asked. “Of course the first thing I thought was that the collapse was planned.”

  “Did anything strike you as strange besides Henry speaking to Chief Hurley?” Officer Yancey asked. His tone was urgent and I couldn’t help but wonder what was really behind his questions.

  “The only thing that struck me, Officer, was a rock. I still have a lump on the side of my head.” I reached up and moved my hair back from my face. Officer Yancey looked slightly green at the sight of the lump. It wasn’t a very polite thing to display at the breakfast table. “If you aren’t here to investigate the stage collapse why are you asking so many questions about what led up to it?” Officer Yancey returned his toast to his plate and sat up straighter. His eyes looked sorrowful and I didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to tell me. No one with that sort of look in his or her eyes was ever going to deliver good news.