Shrouded In Thought (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 2) (16 page)

Martin’s hands were shaking as he tried to hold the cigarette to his lips.

“Marty, lad, ye mustn’t carry on so. She’s only a wee little woman.”

“Only a woman, you say? Let me tell you, I fear that wee little woman, as you call her, more than I fear the devil himself! She’s as clever as Old Nick and twice as tenacious. I heard she solved a murder once. The last thing I need is a female detective dogging my every move and unearthing facts that are nobody’s business but mine. I won’t have a moment’s peace unless I can get rid of her insinuations once and for all.”

“Here, have another sip. It’ll do you no harm.” Desmond plied them both with another round. Martin no longer cared that Desmond’s cup was filled to the brim with something other than coffee. Allworthy was preoccupied in rubbing the back of his neck. His shirt collar chafed as if it were made of sandpaper.

Bayne continued affably. “And tell me now, how do you plan to get rid of those, how do ye call ‘em, insinuations of hers?”

Martin leaned forward over the table. “That’s where you come in. I need you to take care of a few things for me.”

“Aha! Now the mist begins to part and I see daylight, sure enough! Marty, boy, you’ve hit upon me true calling in life. I have a natural gift for setting things to rights.” Desmond lowered his voice to a whisper. “Though I must say with the trail o’ corpses you’re leavin’ behind, you might do better to hire a man in a white uniform with a push broom to follow you round town.”

“I’m sure you’ll do well enough.” Allworthy drew himself up, the picture of offended dignity.

Desmond’s eyes showed a hint of calculation as he regarded his companion. “You do know I’ll be needin’ to drive the price up a bit. Silence is a dear commodity these days.”

Allworthy laughed bitterly. “Yes, I’d anticipated a price increase. I’m prepared to pay the going rate for services rendered.”

“And what might those services be, lad. What’s in yer mind?”

Martin looked quickly around the bar to make sure no one was within earshot.

“I want you to give Miss LeClair something besides me to be concerned about. This is what you’ll need to do...”

Chapter 14—Four Tolled

Evangeline heard the grandfather clock from the staircase landing as it chimed the hour. Four o’clock in the morning. She had heard its predictable reproach at fifteen minute intervals ever since midnight. Still she sat motionless, wide awake in the small parlor, staring out into nothingness. Monsieur Beauvoir, utterly untroubled by insomnia in others, lay curled in her lap asleep. Evangeline noted with mild irritation that he was the only cat she had ever encountered whose sonorous breathing could rival a human snore. The steady drone seemed to rebuke her own lack of composure.

She had extinguished all the lights in the room and, as the evening was mild, had opened the windows.
 
The full moon cast a phosphorescent glow across the lawn, dimmed now and again by clouds scudding across its face. Trees sent encroaching shadows into the room and across the parlor rug—dark shapes that shook and quivered in the wind and sometimes disappeared altogether as each new cloud obscured the moon.
 
Lace curtains billowed in a strong western breeze, undulating on the air currents like indecisive spectral visitors. The wind carried a hint of dampness, of rain falling somewhere far off in the distance.

“A strange night,” Evangeline mused to herself, “succeeding a day of even stranger events.” She thought of the incidents that had transpired no more than twelve hours before. She thought of an innocent social call that had quickly escalated into a full-blown murder investigation. She thought of Euphemia Allworthy—an amusing and vital woman—transformed into an inert mound of flesh under a white sheet on the floor of her own foyer while a bizarre procession of strangers traipsed through her home. She thought of Euphemia’s servants—Ingrid twisting her apron in a knot of helpless regret, Garrison clearing his throat and trying to maintain his sang froid in the face of disaster. She thought of Roland, vague and staring off into space unless someone asked him a direct question. Most of all, she thought of Martin—nervous, shocked, outraged by the intrusion of chaos into his well-ordered life. Of all the many emotions she had watched Martin display that afternoon, why could she recollect no expression of grief among them? It was made conspicuous by its absence. Odd. Very odd indeed.

Evangeline’s ruminations were cut short by the creaking sound of the parlor door opening. Monsieur Beau, immediately vigilant to the sound of an intruder, lifted his head, ears perked forward. Evangeline turned her face languidly toward the door, expecting Delphine to approach and scold her for being up so late. Instead, she saw a slighter shape bearing a night light.

“Excuse me. Have I disturbed your quietness?” a sing-song voice asked.

“No, Serafina.” Evangeline smiled wearily. “Please come in and sit down if you like. I couldn’t sleep.”

The medium, who was barefoot and dressed in a nightgown and cotton shawl, came to sit in the armchair opposite Evangeline. She placed the lamp carefully on the table between them, dimming it so that the shadows in the corners of the room, which had been briefly held at bay since her entrance, re-emerged. The feeble light flickered uncertainly and reflected off the pallid faces of the two women who now sat regarding one another.

“It’s been quite an eventful day, hasn’t it?” Evangeline offered.

“Yes, that is so.” The medium seemed on the verge of saying more but thought better of it.

Monsieur Beau chose that moment to announce his presence to the visitor. He jumped down from his place on Evangeline’s lap and perched himself on the arm of Serafina’s chair. He looked at her curiously, head tilted to one side—purring.

Evangeline raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. “Well, that’s out of character for him. He’s usually reserved around strangers.”

The medium solemnly stroked the cat’s head. “Our little protectors,” she murmured.

The mistress of the house smiled at her pet’s unabashed flirtation with the visitor. “Why do you say that? Since I don’t fear mice, I seriously doubt he could protect me from much of anything.”

“No, I do not mean the body. God made them to protect us from lies—the cats, the dogs, and all such animal friends—because they are honest.”

Evangeline laughed ruefully. “I believe you’re right. They don’t seem to have the gift for emotional deception that humans are blessed with in such abundance. Whether they love you or hate you, they don’t lie about it. Insincerity is a peculiarly human trait.”

By now Beau had hopped into Serafina’s lap, eyes glazing over in bliss while she rubbed his ears. “They do not fool us, and they do not fool themselves about us. They always know the good people from the bad.”

Evangeline contemplated the idea. “It certainly makes them ideal companions. I can’t imagine a heaven without animals in it, can you? As for our little friend’s ability to ferret out dishonesty, maybe I should just put him on a leash and let him find Euphemia’s murderer for me. Or better yet”—she brightened in the gloom—“I suppose I could just ask you. After all, you’re gifted with the second sight. The truth should be child’s play for you while I have to dig and dig for clues.”

Serafina looked over the wavering light at Evangeline. Her face was troubled. “If only I could help. Once it would have been easy. But something has happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“My guides, they have abandoned me. They will not come into the presence of such great distress.”

The lantern flame hesitated and retreated still further from the drafty air currents, throwing vague shadows across Serafina’s face.

“Whose distress?” Evangeline asked.

“My own.” Serafina’s voice was heavy with dejection. “I cannot help it. It was because...” She winced, recalling the moment. “Because I was there to watch Madame Euphemia when she—”

Evangeline intercepted the memory. “Yes, it must have been awful to witness that.”

“Si, you understand,” the medium agreed readily. “When people ask me to tell them the future, I close my eyes and I can see...”

“What?”

“Pictures of their days ahead but now when I close my eyes, all I can see... all I can see is a picture from the past. Madame Euphemia and her face as it looked in her last moments. It was like... like... what is the English word for this monstrous thing? I can remember when I was little, I saw one crouching on the roof of a church, and it frightened me so. With wings like a bat and a terrible, evil smile. Like a devil made of stone... like... oh, what is the word?” She shook her head, trying desperately to remember.

“Like a gargoyle,” her companion offered quietly. The mental picture was unnerving enough to Evangeline even though she had not been present to see Euphemia’s convulsions. She could only imagine the effect it might have on a sensitive nature like Serafina’s.

“I have too much feeling here.” The medium put her hand over her heart. “And the feeling is all bad.” She ran her fingers through her hair distractedly. “All bad. Even in my nightmares I never saw such a thing as terrible as this. And my guides will not return until I am peaceful again.” The medium paused. “I very much liked Madame Euphemia. She had a most generous spirit.”

 
“Indeed she had,” Evangeline agreed sadly.

“And I am more sorry still that I could not stop this thing from happening. I have taken this matter much to my conscience.” Serafina sighed heavily. “Even at the séance, I could not understand the picture that I saw.” She raised her hands helplessly.

Evangeline jumped in. “Ah yes, I recall. You saw a glass falling from her hand and shattering on the floor.”

“But I did not see the true meaning of that vision. It was not the glass that fell and shattered, it was she who fell. I did not know how to warn her, and now it is too late.”

Evangeline sat forward. “Serafina, it wasn’t your fault. You mustn’t think that!”

The medium looked down at the floor. “I have been given this gift of second sight for a purpose. It is to help people so they can avoid harm. But I could not help her and I am sorry for it.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, I don’t think the murderer will be at liberty for long. Even if you can’t help confirm my suspicions, I’m fairly certain I’ve narrowed the field to two possible culprits.”

Serafina looked at Evangeline in surprise.

“Well, it’s either Roland or Martin.”

“You are so sure?”

Evangeline shrugged matter-of-factly. “Who else had a motive? I’ve sat here all night remembering every detail of what I saw today. Though of the two, Martin’s behavior was certainly more suspicious. Especially after I watched how he carried on this afternoon. He and I walked into the house together and both were confronted with the sad news at the same moment. He didn’t act like a grief-stricken husband. He acted like an outraged landowner who sees too many strangers traipsing through his property after he’s posted a ‘No Trespassing’ sign.”

“Perhaps that is just his way.”

“I doubt it. He used every means at his disposal to obstruct the investigation from the start. Didn’t you notice how he argued that the doctor had no right to order an autopsy? He objected even more strenuously when he was informed that Sheriff Weston was on his way over. He wanted to send Roland packing the minute the sheriff was through questioning him. He didn’t want the servants questioned at all, and above all, he didn’t want me there to see any of it.”

“Why would this be?” The medium sounded puzzled.

Evangeline explained. “Perhaps you don’t remember what you told me at the séance. You said being a detective was my destiny in life.”

Serafina nodded her agreement.

“Unfortunately, under these sad circumstances, it now appears that prediction is coming true. My friend Freddie and I solved a murder awhile back. We pointed the finger at some former friends who live hereabouts. I’m sure Martin must have heard rumors about our last investigation and he’s afraid I may discover something.”

“Did you see anything that the others did not notice?”

“I think I may have done. Martin and I walked into the parlor together. I remember I looked at his face. The first place his eyes went was to the table. He saw the cordial glasses and decanter sitting there on a tray. I was struck by his expression of sheer horror. His face turned a ghastly pale. He appeared about to move toward the table when the doctor came up behind us and said nothing in the room was to be touched until the sheriff arrived.”

“But perhaps he was only upset to see the place where his wife had died. Perhaps it was grief.”

“Perhaps it was guilt,” Evangeline countered. She paused, thinking aloud. “And yet, he wasn’t in the house when the poison was administered. Perhaps he’s covering for Roland. Why else would he want his nephew out of the house so quickly? Roland was the one who actually served Euphemia the sherry. I’m sure he had a motive too. Since you told me he brought the cordials in as a peace offering, he’d probably had a rift with his aunt. Maybe she’d threatened to cut off his inheritance. Maybe she suspected he was somehow involved in the drowning at Hyperion. You did, after all, see that poor girl’s ghost hovering behind his chair at the séance. If I was able to put two and two together, I’m sure Euphemia did as well.” Her voice held a note of anxious appeal. “Can you help me understand this? Can you sense anything at all about which one of them did it?”

Serafina squeezed her eyes shut tight for a moment. She seemed to be engaged in a mental battle with herself to overcome the image that was ever-present to her, to try to see beyond the horror of Euphemia’s last moments. When she reopened her eyes, they held an expression of despair. “It is no use. She is still with me. I can only see a little beyond. Flashes of things here and there. Jumbled pictures that make no sense. Of the young Roland, I can see nothing at all. Of Mr. Allworthy, all I see is fear. He is haunted by something even worse than what I feel. As before, I see him with a heavy weight of chains around his neck, around his back. But this time I see him in water.”

“A pool?” Evangeline prompted.

“No, deep water. Like a river or lake or maybe even an ocean. His feet do not touch the bottom. He is terrified of something. He can swim but the weight of these chains is very heavy and that is what pulls him down. I do not see what surrounds him, but I feel that he will pull down whoever is near him to keep his own head above the water.”

“Interesting.” Evangeline looked up as a strong gust of wind stirred the curtains to life. They billowed like sails. “I’m sure he’ll do something to cover his tracks, or Roland’s for that matter.”

“Maybe that is an explanation for my dream.”

“Your dream?”

“Yes, that is why I came looking for you.” Serafina’s voice became urgent. “I wished to find you, to tell you. It is the only clear image I have had of anything since this terrible tragedy happened. It was so clear it woke me up, and sometimes when a dream is strong the feeling of it will stay with me for many hours after I wake. You have felt like this, perhaps?”

“Yes, that’s one reason why I prefer not to remember my dreams if I can help it.”

“This dream, you were in it as well.”

“Really?” Evangeline sat forward on the couch, intrigued.

“It was night. Very late, as it is now. You and I, we were standing in a small field, and the field was surrounded by water.”

“An island in the middle of a river?”