A Visitation of Angels

by Carolyn Haines

  “No trouble. The garden made good this year. There’s plenty of fresh vegetables, just not a lot of meat or sugar.” She went back inside and the screen door shut behind her.

  I made sure Hattie was gone before I spoke. “Where are you going, Reginald?”

  “I have a plan.” He grinned. “You’ll find out about it later tonight if it works.” He stepped back to the driver’s side of the car. “I wish I knew where Trussel was taking you for dinner.”

  “Me too.” I had a queasy feeling about being alone with Michael Trussel. “Has anyone mentioned any dining establishments near here?”

  “There’s the café in town, and then there’s something called the Brass Kettle. That’s what I’m betting on. I won’t be far from you, Raissa. Just be careful and try not to give anything away.”

  I nodded. “That’s my plan.”

  He got behind the wheel and drove away. I stepped up on the porch out of the sun.

  “Are you two related?” Hattie asked from the shadows of the hallway. “Cousins like?”

  “We’re business associates. We’re both working for my uncle. He sent us to look for some property for him.”

  “He’s a handsome man and you’re a pretty young woman.” She wasn’t making an accusation, just an observation. “There’s been talk at the dry goods store. Mr. McKay doesn’t like you much. He said you were uppity and that I shouldn’t let you stay here.”

  The realization that we could make life difficult for Hattie hit me hard. “We can leave. We don’t want any trouble for you.”

  “No, there’s no trouble. I make ends meet renting out my rooms. I rent to all kinds of people and I can’t let McKay and his vicious tongue take food from my mouth.”

  “Hattie, we don’t want trouble,” I repeated.

  Hattie peered closely at my face. “What do you want? You’re not here for the healing spring water or the church singing.”

  “It’s like I said, my uncle sent me to look at some property, including Ruth’s, to see if he might purchase it for a summer retreat.” I decided to stick with my lie because it was the safest answer for Hattie, should she ever be questioned. Reginald and I would leave, but Hattie would remain in Mission. “Uncle Brett heard about the property but he couldn’t come right now. I help him with things. He sent Reginald because he thought it was unsafe for a woman to travel alone. I can drive, but I understand I shouldn’t do it here in Mission.”

  Hattie shook her head. “Don’t let those men catch you driving or even thinking about it. They’d hurt you. Most of them have never driven a car. Can’t afford one. Seeing a woman driving would be a punch in their gut and they’d definitely punch back.”

  “I hear you. Thank you for the advice.”

  “I’m brewing some fresh tea. We’ll have a glass when it’s done.”

  “That sounds terrific.”

  As I waited for my dinner date, Hattie and I chatted about fall gardens and the heat. Hattie went to check something on the stove and I sat on the porch for a moment longer. Beyond the clearing of the yard I saw something move.

  Two watchers stood just within the shadow of the forest. They wore the overalls and straw hats of farmers, but they stood motionless, their hands hanging limply at their sides. “Who are they?” I asked Hattie when she returned.

  “Bad men,” she said. “Don’t look at them. Don’t acknowledge them. They watch and report back to Lucais. Their presence here is not good.”

  I hadn’t expected her to speak out. A pang of guilt struck again—those watchers were here because of me and Reginald. Hattie didn’t need this grief. Reginald and I had to leave. “Hattie, we’ll pack up tomorrow. This is too much to put on you.”

  “Hush, now. If Olin was alive, they wouldn’t dare lurk about my woods. They bully everyone in town, standing and staring when someone is out of line. They’re only here because I’m a widow.” Hattie’s words were hot. “Now enough about those spies. You take yourself inside. It’s not seemly for you to meet this man at the door like you’re over-eager. And, Raissa, watch your step. He’s been courting Melissa Gomes, the deputy’s sister. If he’s such a fool as to throw her over, the price is going to be high.” She brushed past me and went into the kitchen.

  I’d heard that before, and I took it for gospel. I wondered if Melissa Gomes was a buck-toothed horror that the whole town had to take her side, or if Deputy Gomes was so vindictive that no one wanted to get on his bad side. I went into the parlor and glanced out the window for one last look at the watchers. To my surprise, Hildy Morse was sitting on the edge of the front porch. She looked up at me and held up her dolly. “I can’t find Miss Ruth,” she said. In the blink of an eye she was standing at the window only inches from me. The speed of her movement made me gasp and step back. “I looked everywhere, but she’s not here. Can you help me?” Her lips didn’t move, but I heard her thoughts.

  “Tomorrow,” I promised her.

  She remained at the window as if she wanted to come inside. She was only a young girl, lost and alone. She had no idea she was dead. I wanted to help her and I needed to question her. “Come back here early in the morning,” I mentally told her.

  “We’re going to play dolls.”

  I didn’t know if she understood me or not, but I put my hand against the windowpane and she smiled before she faded away. Gathering my composure, I hurried to the kitchen table and sat down.

  I’d just finished my tea when I heard a car approach. I peeked out the kitchen window, moving the lace curtain back just enough to see Michael exiting the car. Hattie went to answer the door when Michael knocked, a formality that tickled me. Hattie had assumed the role of protector of my reputation.

  Michael joined us in the kitchen for a glass of tea. He wore a suit cut to the latest fashion, and his hair was groomed and polished. He stared at me over the rim of his glass, and had I not known better, I would have thought he honestly fancied me. Snake charmer, and I wanted to be a willing snake. I missed the attention of a man, and Michael was smart and handsome and at ease with me. He included Hattie in the conversation and made her laugh, which warmed me.

  When his tea was gone, he stood up. “We should get going. I don’t want to keep you out too late.”

  “That’s a good plan.” I picked up my clutch. There was nothing in it but a lipstick that I’d failed to put on. Hildy’s unexpected appearance had rattled me. Besides, Mission was a plain community. Face paint would not be favored. I proceeded Michael out of the house and waited for him to open the car door for me, allowing him the chance to be a gentleman.

  “You look lovely,” he said as he got behind the wheel. “That dress brings out the color of your eyes, yet somehow I think your regular wardrobe is a bit more…modern.”

  “It is, but I didn’t want to offend anyone here or make them uncomfortable. When in Rome…”

  “You’re wise for your age,” he said.

  “How old are you?” Just because I couldn’t wear my slacks and short skirts didn’t mean I couldn’t be a little bold.

  “I’m thirty-two.”

  “Were you in the war?”

  He hesitated. “No. I don’t believe in wars.”

  I wanted to press, but I didn’t. As foolish and impossible as it was, I wanted an evening without ghosts or guilt. Michael had stayed safely home while my husband had not. It’s possible he was afraid to confront battle or to kill, or perhaps he was just a man who valued his hide more than his country. I didn’t want to know or be forced to judge his motives. Alex had not wanted to go to war, but he’d felt it was his duty. When he’d gone to enlist, I hadn’t fought him, though I wished now that I had. If only I’d tried to stop him… This was a mental game without a good ending and I pushed those thoughts away.

  “Your face is expressive when your brain is busy. You’re trying to decide if I’m a coward.”

  He read me too easily. “It’s a question I ask often. Of many people.”

  “I was in medical school, training to b
ecome a doctor. I meant to go overseas when I could help the wounded, but I wouldn’t have been a soldier.”

  Medical school was a twist I hadn’t seen coming. “What happened?” The burden on my heart eased a little.

  “I witnessed a robbery and gave chase. I apprehended the thief and turned him over to the law. After a few hours in detention, the man gave up his fellow thieves. A ring of outlaws that had been deviling the area was broken up and the leaders brought to justice. About a week later, I got a call from the Pinkerton Agency.” His smile was wry. “My life’s direction changed before I knew it. I thought I’d work for Pinkerton for one case, just to experience that life because it sounded…like an adventure. I completed the case, which was to track down a bank robber. I was hooked and stayed with the agency for nearly a decade. I traveled around the country. I saw the West. I never even thought of going back to the books, sick people, and diseases.”

  I thought about the Confederate ghost I’d first seen at Caoin House and how that one incident had rippled into a tidal wave of change in my life. “Was it fate or whimsy, do you think?”

  “A philosophical question. Was I meant to be a detective instead of a doctor? I can’t say. Are you a theologian or a scholar?”

  “I was a high school teacher for several years, before I moved to Mobile to live with my uncle.”

  “I’ll bet those high school boys thought they had died and gone to heaven when you walked into that classroom. All of my high school teachers crept out of the grave each morning to teach. When the sun set, they returned to their caskets.”

  “Educated by ghouls, were you?”

  Michael threw his head back and laughed. As the wind swept his hair and the last glow of the sun touched his face, I felt his sexual attraction like a touch. Michael Trussel was a dangerous man. I was a practical, independent woman with a level head and a hard check on my desires. Still, there was no denying that Michael tempted me.

  “Where are we going for dinner?” I focused on the basics of this date. I needed a quiet place if I intended to pump him for information.

  Michael shot me a grin. “Across the county line to a little place I know. It’s small and not so fancy but the food is good and we can get a gin fizz or maybe a Collins. I keep some good stuff there for special occasions.”

  I stilled my initial reaction. “So you do drink?”

  “And so do you.” He turned right down another dirt road. The lavender hues of dusk were setting in, and somewhere in the distance was a wood fire. The smell was pleasant and reminded me of long winter evenings reading books curled on the sofa in my parents’ home. “You’ve earned your independence and the right to do as you choose. A drink does no harm.”

  I shot Michael a sideways glance. “That’s contrary to the laws of Mission. Especially for women.”

  “Some women. Never doubt there’s a hierarchy among the ladies as well as the men.”

  That was information I tucked away. “I suspect that Lucais Wilkins and his henchmen drink.”

  “I don’t keep up with Lucais’s bad habits and I urge you not to either.” The dimple in his cheek came into play when he grinned. “The women in Mission are good for running a household. Other women are good for fun. I like a woman who’s experienced life, has some opinions, reads books.”

  Unspoken were the words—and wouldn’t expect marriage. “What a liberated view you have, Michael.”

  “The world is changing. Women can vote now, though I’ll bet very few in Mission will register.”

  “As soon as I get back to Mobile I intend to register.” The realization that Mobile was now home made me smile. Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped thinking of Charleston, the city I’d lived in until I came to visit my uncle, as my home. That issue had been settled in my subconscious.

  I relaxed into the car seat. Michael was a good driver. He’d turned the headlights on and they swept the right side of the road as he made another tight curve. Two men were standing just behind the first row of trees. These were not the watchers I’d grown used to. These men wore hoods over their heads and faces.

  “Stop!” I called out, and Michael slammed on the brakes.

  “What the hell?”

  “There are men in green hoods back there just in the trees. Like the men who watch me and Reginald all the time. Back up. I want to talk to them.”

  “That’s a very bad idea, Raissa.” Michael let the car idle in the road but made no effort to back up. “Those are dangerous men. You’re an educated woman. I know you’re aware of the white hoods, the secret society of the Ku Klux Klan and the fear they instill. They’re meant to keep Negroes, and sometimes wayward women, in line.”

  “I know of them. Cowards.” I’d seen their work.

  “Perhaps they are cowards, because they hide their identity. This group, the Green Men, are much the same. They police the community and punish those who flaunt the laws of Mission.”

  As distressed as I was by the realization that an organized group was enforcing Mission’s unique laws, it was a possible lead in the case we’d come to solve. “Was it one of them who punished Ruth Whelan to death with a meat cleaver?”

  He sighed and put the car in motion. “You don’t need to talk about this.”

  “Oh, but I do.” He had no idea how much I needed to talk about this.

  His jaw clenched and I couldn’t tell if he was angry or worried. “Talk like that and Mr. Proctor won’t be able to keep you safe, Raissa. Neither can I, if you poke that sleeping bear with a stick. Now let’s just have a nice dinner. By the time we’re finished, those men will have gone home.”

  Chapter 13

  The trees that hugged the road suddenly thinned, and Michael pulled into the rocky parking lot of a small wooden building that blazed with lights. Music filtered into the night, a jaunty dance tune that came from a live band. I drew back in surprise. “The woods around Mission are filled with surprises. Diners that serve a drink, a parking lot full of cars and only one mule-drawn wagon.”

  “There’s an attempt to hold back the future in Mission, but it won’t last. That never works. No matter how willful Lucais may be, he can’t stop change.”

  I didn’t comment, and Michael got out and opened my car door, offering a hand. Even when I stood safely on my own two feet, he continued to hold my hand as we walked to the front door. The delicious smell of grilled meat came from the back.

  “This is the best bar-be-cue in four states, but they also have wood-grilled steaks and chicken.”

  “I like almost everything.” It wasn’t a lie.

  The interior of the Hickory Pit was rustic and busy. There were only ten tables in the place and seven of them were in use. Michael pointed to a small table in a corner. Tucked away in a little nook, we had some privacy.

  A middle-aged waitress placed drinks on the table. I took a sip, surprised at the combination of champagne and gin.

  “It’s a French 75,” Michael said. “I grew fond of them working a Pinkerton case in New York. I taught Nellie how to make them for me.” He held up his glass in a salute to the waitress. “Of course, we have to drink a number of them. Can’t waste a bottle of good champagne.”

  He was teasing and I enjoyed it. “I’ve never been to New York, but I’d like to go. I have a…friend who lives there part of the time. I could visit her.”

  “That would be Zelda Fitzgerald?”

  I was shocked, but I shouldn’t have been. He’d been a Pinkerton. He had contacts and connections everywhere. “Yes. She has such a zest for life.” Zelda had actually hired Pluto’s Snitch to help her save a friend, a young woman who might have had brain surgery had it not been for our intervention. Reginald and I had saved Camilla from the probe of the surgeon once we’d figured out that she was possessed. It had been a very close shave.

  “A very modern woman. And someone who makes no effort to avoid scandal.”

  I searched for censure in his tone but found none. “She would never deliberately hurt another per
son, but she demands the freedom to be herself.”

  “Her husband’s books are excellent. A bit sad, don’t you think?”

  “I do.” It surprised me that Michael had read F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books. The novels were far too racy for a man who chose to stay in Mission, Alabama.

  “I understand you’re also a published author.”

  This time the shock made me carefully search his face in an effort to determine his motives. “Not yet. My first story will be published next month.” My great love had always been literature, especially the stories of hauntings and ghost from the masters such as Poe. Uncle Brett had encouraged me to try, and in a remarkable turn, I’d actually sold a short story to The Saturday Evening Post.

  “In a very prestigious magazine. You’re something of the master of ghost stories, from what I could find.”

  I didn’t deny it. “You know a lot about me, so why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

  “I’d like an introduction to your uncle Brett Airlie. I’m considering another career change.”

  I showed no reaction even though I wanted to ask for the details. If he was playing me for an introduction to my uncle, I wasn’t going to assist him. “I’d love to introduce you if you travel to Mobile. I’m sure Uncle Brett would find you delightful.”

  “I’ve always been interested in waterways. I know a lot about the submarines that were sunk in Mobile Bay and up and down the Mississippi River during the Civil War. Steam engines revolutionized river travel, and your uncle played a big role in that. The machine is going to change the way humans work and I want to be part of that change.”

  “Uncle Brett would be very interested in hearing your theories. He’s an inventor also. Just let me know a time and I’ll make it a point to be in Mobile to make the introductions.”

  “Perhaps over Thanksgiving. I like to be in a city for the holidays. This is a community that upholds family and if you don’t have a family, well…” He shrugged.