Shrouded In Thought (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 2) (17 page)

Serafina frowned in deep concentration, trying to recall the image. “It was not exactly so. The water ran around and around the land. Where it started, it also ended.”

“More like a moat around a castle,” Evangeline offered helpfully.

“Yes, it was like that. A ring of water around a field, and we stood in the middle of this field.”

“Just like the bull’s-eye of an archery target.”

“Unfortunately, that is like what it was. For the arrow tries to find the bull’s-eye of a target, does it not?”

“Yes,” Evangeline confirmed guardedly. “I don’t particularly like the analogy. Are we the target?”

“I fear something like this. Though it is not an arrow. This place that I was speaking of. We are standing in the middle of it in high grass. And all around I hear sounds that are like... like...” she paused, casting about for the right word. “Like a hissing and slithering.”

“You mean snakes in the grass?”

“Yes, yes!” Serafina agreed intensely. “That is the picture. There are snakes crawling everywhere around us, but it is dark and the grass is high, and it is very hard to see where they are hiding.”

“Are we in any danger?” Evangeline was disturbed by the image.

“I fear so, for these snakes all have poison in their fangs. Wherever we walk, if we tread on them, they will strike.”

“Well, that’s disconcerting. What happened next?”

“In my dream, you took me by the hand and said, ‘Look, Serafina, there is a path here. We can go this way. You see, there is a boat down by the water if we can only get to it. I will show you.’”

“And then?” Evangeline urged.

“And then I woke up,” the medium finished weakly. “I heard the clock strike and... and... that is all.”

“How very disappointing.” Evangeline had gone from being enthralled to mystified. “What do you make of it?”

“That is what I came to tell you. I think there is danger coming to us. To you and to me in the days ahead. But my dream is saying you will find a path for us to get away from this deadly place. You will know what to do.”

“I suppose that’s meant to be comforting, but I have no idea how your premonition will unfold or what I’m meant to do when the time comes.”

“It is enough for me to know that you will pick out a path for us. You will find a way for us to get to safety.”

“Let’s hope so, though I’m not sure your confidence in my ability as a scout is justified.” Evangeline shivered as the breeze gusted the curtains once more. She rubbed her arms to keep warm and rose to leave. “I think I’ll try to sleep for a few hours. I doubt anything I meet in my dreams will be as disturbing as what I’ve just heard. Are you coming?”

“No, I believe I will stay here for some while longer with our little friend. He is so calm, perhaps I will catch the sleepiness, too.”

Monsieur Beau had begun his sonorous breathing again, a signal that he was now slumbering in the medium’s lap. Serafina stroked the cat’s neck. He stretched briefly in his sleep.

“He is smiling. Do you know that cats can smile?” she asked.

“Yes, I’ve often observed it. Whenever I mention that fact to other people, they look at me as if I’ve taken leave of my senses.”

“They have eyes but they do not see.” Serafina quoted Scripture, evidently thinking once again of her own obscured vision.

“Still, I suppose that in order to see something you have to be looking for it in the first place.”

“Perhaps that is what the Christ was saying, too.”

Evangeline laughed. “Yes, but I doubt the subject under discussion at the time was smiling cats.” She paused and looked at her guest fixedly for a moment. “Will you be all right?”

Serafina nodded. “Si, it will take time, but all will be well.”

Evangeline relaxed her concern slightly. “Good night, then.” She walked toward the door. “You needn’t wish me pleasant dreams. I’ve had enough waking nightmares to last me quite a while.”

Chapter 15—Portrait Of A Lady
Suitable For Framing

Even though Evangeline had slept to the unheard-of hour of ten o’clock in the morning, sleep had done little to dispel the fatigue and foreboding that had pursued her since the previous evening. Her dissipated state was at least partially due to the manner in which Delphine startled her into consciousness by sweeping peremptorily into the bedroom, raising the shades to a glaring burst of sunlight, and huffing several times about the deleterious effects to the complexion of sleeping late. To this Evangeline retorted that she was in more immediate danger of the deleterious effects of a heart attack after being shocked awake in such a rude manner. Delphine, having created as much distress as she possibly could to ensure that her mistress was completely alert, left the room highly satisfied.

When the lady of the house finally could bring herself to stumble over to her dressing room mirror, she scarcely believed anyone would take notice of her sallow complexion since the shadows beneath her eyes dominated every other feature. She sighed, rose to the occasion and made a supreme, though futile, effort to repair the damage with several layers of face powder. After this she went downstairs to see if her house guest had breakfasted.

When she inquired of Delphine as to Serafina’s whereabouts, the housekeeper sniffed that Mademoiselle Serafina and her maid had gone to mass, as all good Catholics ought to have done on Sunday. Since this was an old bone of contention between the housekeeper and her employer, the latter wisely decided not to rise to the bait. She simply wasn’t up to the challenge on an empty stomach. Ignoring the comment, and with as much dignity as she could muster, she asked Delphine if her own breakfast had been arranged or if she was to suffer the pangs of hunger along with fatigue for the rest of the morning.

Delphine, somewhat mollified by the sight of her lady’s ravaged appearance, hinted that she might find something to her liking in the breakfast room. “Tu vois, cherie, it is just as I have said. You see what comes of staying up all night and sleeping jusqu’apres-midi. You see how you suffer for it, but I say no more.”

With Delphine’s eloquent silence reverberating in her ears, Evangeline went to restore her still-frayed nerves by partaking of some croissants and café au lait.

***

Serafina returned shortly before noon to find her hostess in the conservatory, inspecting a pot of lilies which had just begun to bloom. Several vats of coffee had artificially restored her characteristic esprit, and Evangeline was humming to herself as she tended the flowers.

“You do not go to church?” the medium asked in surprise.

Evangeline smiled ruefully. “Not since I was at school. Traditional religion and I don’t get on well. I confess I’m somewhat surprised that you attend, given the nature of your occupation. The church doesn’t exactly smile on such endeavors.”

The medium shrugged. “What the good priests think is not so important as what God thinks. I do not tell them what they do not need to know. On this day above all, I thought it would be a good day for praying.”

“To which I say a hearty ‘Amen.’ I would also add that today is a good day for a drive in the country. I guarantee it will banish that solemn look from your face.” Evangeline’s eyes held a twinkle. “I can have Jack bring the carriage round if you like. A drive through green fields might help clear the cobwebs out of both our heads.”

Serafina smiled broadly. It was the first sign of cheerfulness Evangeline had noticed since the tragedy the day before. Taking the smile as a sign of assent, the lady of the house decided the matter. “Yes, I think that would be just the thing.” She rang for the carriage, instructing Jack to put the top down on the barouche as the weather had continued fine.

***

Late that afternoon, in a more rested and sanguine frame of mind, the ladies returned from their outing. No sooner had Evangeline descended from the carriage than her brief good humor was extinguished by a most unexpected sight. A lanky, gray-haired man with a drooping mustache and a crumpled slouch hat stood on the sidewalk in front of her home. He appeared to be on his way to her front door, but when he saw the carriage round the corner, he stopped and waited for the occupants to alight.

“Afternoon, ladies.” The lanky man ambled over in their direction, hat in hand. His voice contained the faintest remnant of a southern drawl.

Evangeline watched nervously as Jack handed Serafina out of the carriage. The medium remained poised uncertainly on the bottom step.

“Why, Sheriff Weston, what brings you here? Any further news regarding the unfortunate events of yesterday?”

The sheriff scraped the toe of his boot self-consciously in the dirt of the driveway. “Uh, yes, ma’am. It so happens that’s why I’ve come.”

There was something in the sheriff’s manner that put Evangeline on her guard. “Would you like to come inside? May I offer you some refreshment while you give us your news?”

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am. Thank you all the same.” The man paused, clearly ill at ease. His lack of composure did nothing to alleviate Evangeline’s concern.

“What is it?” she asked tensely.

“I don’t rightly know how to say this, ma’am. Don’t rightly know how to go about it, either. This never has happened before.” Sheriff Weston sighed and looked up at the trees briefly for inspiration. “As you must know, Miss Evangeline, I’m new in these parts. I was a career military man. A cavalry officer out west. I know how to fight Indians and such.”

Evangeline looked skeptically at the sheriff, not quite sure what obscure line of reasoning he was following.

“But a man gets tired. He gets old and all he wants is some peace and quiet.” Sheriff Weston’s face held a woebegone expression. “So when the time came for me to quit that life, I was happy to collect my pension and bring the missus back east. Took this job in this quiet little town of
Shore Cliff
where nothing ever happens. Just to keep my hand in. Just to remind me I’m still alive, but...” He twirled his hat around contemplatively in his hands. “...nothing was ever supposed to happen here. I surely never wanted anything to happen, you see.”

“Ah, yes.” Evangeline sensed that he was leading up to an ominous disclosure.

“So it grieves me something fierce to have to tell you this, ma’am, but... but I’ve come to take somebody in for questioning.”

“Sheriff, what are you talking about?”

Jack edged forward protectively.

The sheriff glanced at him briefly, appraisingly. He shook his head. “Take it easy, friend, it’s not like that. It’s not Miss Evangeline I’m here for. I’ve come for the other lady.”

“What!” Evangeline gasped.

“It’s Miss Serafina there.” The sheriff motioned toward the medium, who was still standing on the lower step of the carriage. She appeared to be listing to one side, and Evangeline feared she might faint.

“Jack, help her down!” she commanded urgently. “What on earth can you mean by this, sheriff?”

The sheriff twirled his hat a few more times before continuing. “Well, Doctor Fowler finished his examination of Miz Allworthy, and it looks for certain that she was poisoned.”

“That’s hardly a surprise, sheriff, but what has that to do with Serafina?”

The rumpled gray man gazed stoically off in the direction of the town hall and jail. “Maybe Miss Serafina and I should talk about it down the street.”

“Would you have any objection to my tagging along?”

The sheriff hardly seemed the sort to stand on either ceremony or procedure. He casually shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever suits you. I don’t know what-all is the proper form in such matters, so we’ll just make it up as we go.” Sweeping his arm in the general direction of the municipal building, he said, “After you, ladies.”

The coachman seemed inclined to follow along, but Evangeline stopped him. “No, Jack. You stay here. I’m sure we can clear this matter up quickly but if not...” she paused a moment, “tell Serafina’s maid to pack an overnight bag for her mistress.”

Jack nodded grudgingly and headed toward the back door of the house. Evangeline, Serafina and Sheriff Weston made for the village jail.

The incongruity of their destination on a fair summer afternoon struck Evangeline full force. She smiled encouragement at Serafina while the sheriff remained stolidly uncommunicative until they had entered his small office. It looked like any other municipal bureau—wooden floor, wooden desk, wooden chairs, but the bulletin board displayed wanted posters, not memoranda. Evangeline noted to herself with a smile that none of those desperados would be likely to visit Shore Cliff at any time in their dark criminal careers, but the smile left her face when she happened to glance toward the back room. Instead of a door, it was separated from the front by iron bars.

“Things’ve reached a pretty pass now, ma’am.” The sheriff grimaced. “The mayor’s afraid of a crime wave and he’s forcing me to hire a deputy.”

“A deputy?” Evangeline repeated skeptically. “To do what?”

The sheriff indicated that the two ladies should be seated in front of his desk while he retreated behind it. “To guard dangerous criminals, I guess.” It was clear from his tone of voice that the sheriff did not share the mayor’s concern.

“About the only crime wave I’ve seen around here is when the college boys go over to the Reilly Club of an evening and get a brick in their hats. Most of the time I just round ‘em up to sleep it off here in the back room. That is, the ones that aren’t out tipping cows or trying to dive off the bluff for a late night swim.” The sheriff chuckled briefly at the thought of his usual ne’er-do-wells. “That’s about the limit of wrongdoing hereabouts, until now.” He cleared his throat self-consciously and looked at Serafina.

The medium, who had been quiet up to that point, broke her silence with a startling observation. “Someone has said that I have killed Madame Euphemia, is that not so?”

Evangeline rose to her feet in outrage. “What!”

“Take it easy, Miss Evangeline. Take it easy. If it comes to that, it’ll be for a court to decide.” He gestured for her to return to her chair.

“What basis do you have to suspect this lady?” Evangeline persisted, still standing.

The sheriff sighed and rummaged around on his desk to locate a specific piece of stained and crumpled paper on which he had taken some obscure notes. He pawed around in his desk drawer trying to find his reading spectacles. When he had perched these on his nose, adjusted them properly, and perused the unimpressive document before him, he began. “Well, certain evidence has been brought against her, and it’s my job to sort out what’s what.” He looked up mildly over his glasses. “Miss Evangeline, I’d be much obliged if you’d sit down, ma’am. You do give a body the jitters standing there looking like you’re fit to wake snakes.”

Evangeline allowed herself a momentary smile at the mental image. “Very well, sheriff. I shall conduct myself in a more seemly manner.” She reclaimed her seat. “Now what’s this all about?”

Scanning the paper before him once more, the sheriff continued. “Well, it’s like we thought. Doctor Fowler finished his autopsy and found cyanide poisoning to be the cause of Miz Allworthy’s death.”

“At least now we know the nature of the poison.”

“He did some tests on the liquor that was left, too. Seems the poison was only in the one glass. Not the one by Miss Serafina’s plate and not in the flagon either.”

“Well, that tips the scales a bit in Roland’s direction. Martin couldn’t have known who would drink from—” Evangeline caught herself in mid-sentence.

“What was that, ma’am?” The sheriff looked up briefly from his paper.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just rambling. Please continue.”

“Well, there’s that, and then there’s the information I got from Mr. Allworthy this morning.”

Evangeline hesitated to breathe. “And what did he have to say?”

The sheriff took off his glasses and looked at the two women. “He said a few things that are kind of worrysome to figure out.” He paused and, with great deliberation, opened his desk drawer again and drew out two letters. Weston pushed the two pieces of paper forward on the desk.

“I’m not asking you ladies to read any of this, but does it look like these two letters were written by the same hand?”

Warily, Evangeline and Serafina scrutinized the documents. The stationery was scented and of good quality bond paper. The handwriting was neat with a few embellishments here and there that suggested a feminine author.

“They would appear to be,” Evangeline said cautiously. “The same color ink, the same scent, same paper. The shape of the characters appears similar.”

“That’s what troubles me, ma’am,” sighed the sheriff. “One is a note from Miz Allworthy to her husband. The other is supposed to be from Miz Allworthy to that whadda-ye-call-it metaphorical society.”

“You mean the Chicago Metaphysical Society?”

“Yup, that’s the one. The letter hints that Miss Serafina here is a fraud.” The sheriff uttered these words very softly.

“Let me see that again.” Evangeline whisked the paper off the desk and looked it over carefully. “This is unbelievable!” she gasped.

Serafina took the letter and studied the wording as well. “It is from Madame Euphemia to my friend Theophilus. She says my powers are not what she expected. She is disappointed and thinks I could be a confidence trickster. She warns him not to recommend me to any of her friends. She says if she could find proof she would expose me as a fraud. It is dated the morning of the day she died. This is... is... impossible!” She let the letter slip nervelessly through her fingers, and it fluttered back down onto the desk.