Whispers Beyond the Veil (25 page)

Y
ancey let himself into the séance room and carefully inspected each window. Lewis stood and watched as Yancey confirmed the drapery tiebacks were a perfect match for the cord from the murder scene. The third window he checked was partially hidden from view by a silk folding screen. He felt his heart strain against the lining of his jacket when he noticed the far drape was held back by a length of packing twine rather than blue cording. He retraced his steps to the foyer.

Elva and Dovie Velmont stood near the registration desk, watching him approach. They bent their heads toward each other and whispered animatedly back and forth. With a simultaneous nod of their fluffy white heads they turned toward him once more.

“Officer Yancey, you are just the man we wanted to see,” one of them said. He wasn't quite sure which sister was which. He motioned for Lewis to stay put and moved down the hall to greet the elderly pair.

“It's a sign, isn't it, sister?” said the other one.

“I am at your service, ladies.” He knew he ought to tell them he was at the Belden on urgent business but he was relieved to
find an excuse to delay confronting Miss Proulx. Yancey gave a bit of a bow, unleashing a twitter from the plumper of the two sisters. “How may I assist you?”

“We wish to report a crime,” the thin one said. “On behalf of a friend.”

“A friend of yours, too, we suspect.” The plump one twittered again.

“What sort of a crime?” Yancey asked. The desk's gleaming walnut and polished brass fittings shone so brightly they made his eyes hurt. Lack of sleep was taking its toll. If he didn't make a special effort he would mishandle the upcoming interview.

“I'm not sure how you would classify it. It was either a robbery or an assault.”

“Who was the victim?” Yancey asked, quite certain of the answer.

“Ruby,” they answered in unison.

“Was she severely injured?”

“She didn't feel the need to seek the ministrations of a doctor but she was not able to use her hand for the card reading she conducted for us yesterday evening.” The sisters nodded at each other in agreement.

“Which hand was injured?”

“Her right one.”

“Do you know what was stolen?” Yancey asked.

“That was the worst part. The thief absconded with her mother's heirloom necklace. Such a heartbreak.”

“We couldn't convince her to tell you or even Honoria what had happened.”

“Ruby is always such a thoughtful girl, never wanting to trouble others.”

“We worried that she might feel we had betrayed a confidence by gossiping to the police but when we saw you standing right in front of us we felt it was a sign.”

“Did she give a description of her attacker?” Yancey asked.

“Oh dear, we never thought to ask for one.”

“Ladies, you did right to bring this to my attention. Criminal behavior cannot be allowed to run unchecked. Do you know where I can find Miss Proulx?”

“I believe I saw her enter Miss Belden's office before we arrived here in the foyer.”

“You've both been a great help.” He motioned for Lewis to follow him, then walked slowly down the hall, not wishing to think about why it was that he didn't want to question Miss Proulx.

Just outside the door to the office he paused and listened. Honoria's booming voice and Ruby's higher-pitched one came through the thick wood. He chided himself for cowardice, then knocked with more force than necessary on the door. Millie, the maid, opened it and a look of fear passed over her face.

“Yancey, how lovely to see you.” Honoria waved him into the room, a beaming smile spread across her face. There were days when Yancey loathed his job. This whole week had been full of them.

“As much as I wish it were, this isn't a social call.” He motioned for Lewis to follow him into the room. “I'm here to ask you some questions about your guest, Mr. Ayers.”

“He isn't here. He never came back to the hotel last night. Very poor manners not to let us know ahead he planned to stay out all night,” Honoria said. “Ben waited up to let him in, as he hadn't asked for a latchkey.” Yancey heard Lewis's pencil scratching across his notebook.

“Do you know when he was last seen?” Yancey asked.

“He left the hotel in the afternoon with the intention of attending a concert at the amphitheater,” Honoria said. “What's all this about, Yancey?”

“There's been another tragedy.”

“Has something happened to him?” Honoria asked. Despite his question being directed at Honoria, Yancey kept his eyes firmly planted on Ruby. A flicker of apprehension flitted across her face, but almost as soon as it appeared it vanished. If he hadn't known to watch her he would have missed it entirely.

“His body was found near Googins Rock this morning,” Yancey said. “This was in his pocket.” Yancey held out the necklace. Honoria stood and leaned toward him, bracing herself against the desk with her plump hands. Her face drained of its usual high color and the contrast between her skin and dark hair made her look frail. Yancey hated to contemplate what his mother would say when he returned home.

“That looks just like Ruby's necklace.”

“I thought so, too.” Yancey returned the necklace to his pocket.

“You said he's dead? Is some sort of lunatic targeting my guests?”

“He's been murdered, and while I believe there's a connection to your hotel, I don't think it's an anonymous lunatic.”

“Since he had Ruby's necklace do you think Mr. Ayers was part of the pickpocketing ring?”

“I don't believe so. I believe she knew when it left her neck,” Yancey said. “Miss Proulx, will you permit me?” Yancey crossed to where she stood and reached out to take her right hand. He felt like a brute when she let out a squeak of pain as he tugged off
the glove and inspected her injuries. Her ring finger was purple and swollen to twice the size of her other digits.

Yancey knew well enough where his responsibilities lay but he couldn't help but feel the world was better off without the sort of man who would do that to someone so much smaller than he. Just as Yancey was about to release her hand he recalled Nell's words. He turned Ruby's hand over instead and bent close. There in the middle of the intersection of two lines on her palm was etched a distinct star. It was all he could do to keep himself from tracing it with his own finger. Annoyed with himself for his lack of professionalism, he resumed his line of questioning.

“I understand you were the victim of another aggressive thief yesterday.” Yancey raised Miss Proulx's injured hand for Honoria and Lewis to see. “Are you more able to identify this attacker than you were the last one?”

Yancey felt Miss Proulx's body grow rigid as he kept a lingering grasp on her hand. She tugged her hand away and he reluctantly released his grip.

“It all happened so quickly. And besides, the last time I gave a description to the police my words were twisted and used against innocent people. It hadn't occurred to me to attempt to do so again.”

“I wish you felt you could be honest with me. A man might not be dead if you had.” Yancey placed the photograph he had gotten at Thomas Lydale's studio on the desk. “It looks to me like you did know your attacker.” Yancey placed his finger just above the image of Miss Proulx.

Honoria leaned over the photograph and Yancey thought he detected a flicker of surprise as she recognized what was taking
place in the scene set before her. Yancey found himself admiring her quick recovery as she raised her gaze to his own.

“This proves nothing. All I see is a man behaving in much too forward a manner to an innocent girl.” Yancey heard the dismissal in Honoria's tone. “There is nothing to connect this photograph and the murder.” Honoria crossed her arms over her daunting bosom and pelted him with a look that would have sent him packing if it weren't for the other evidence in his possession.

Yancey withdrew the drapery cord from his pocket. “This was found near the body. We believe he was strangled with it.”

“What does that have to do with the hotel?” Honoria asked.

“It's a drapery tieback from your séance room. I've already checked and one is missing from a window there.”

“Anyone could have taken it.”

“The photograph shows Miss Proulx in a heated exchange with Mr. Ayers. You said yourself he never returned home, so she is the last person we can say for sure saw him.” Yancey held up a hand to stop Honoria from sputtering an interruption. “No one had better access to the murder weapon than she or, as far as we can tell, a reason to kill him. Miss Proulx, it is my duty to take you to the station for questioning.”

Ruby started to sway slightly, and Honoria moved quickly to her side and wrapped a steadying arm round her.

“It wasn't Ruby,” Honoria said. “I did it.”

“Honoria, that isn't true.” Ruby's voice was shrill, and Yancey was certain she believed what she said. All at once she looked far younger than her years and utterly lost.

“It is. And I can prove it.” Honoria released Ruby and returned to her desk. She yanked on a drawer and rummaged inside. She opened her hand to reveal Mr. Stickney's missing watch fob. “I
meant to take the whole watch so you would think a pickpocket had killed him but I heard someone coming and this was all I managed to grab in my hurry to not be discovered.”

“But why would you kill either of them?” Ruby asked, her voice quavering and small.

“Mr. Ayers told me he knew I had killed Mr. Stickney to keep him from reporting in his publication that my hotel employed frauds. He wanted money to keep quiet. I arranged to meet him out on the beach to make the first payment.”

“And you strangled him with the cord?”

“I did. There's nothing I wouldn't do for my hotel. Or for you.” Honoria gave Ruby a long look. Yancey wasn't sure what it meant but he felt he was missing a silent message passing between them. Yancey held out a hand and Honoria dropped the watch fob into it.

“Honoria Belden, I am placing you under arrest for the murders of Leander Stickney and Dennis Ayers.”

“Of course. Ruby, I'm trusting the hotel to you.” Honoria slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out her jangling set of keys, which she thrust toward Ruby. “Mrs. Doyle and Ben will help you with anything you need. Please break the news to Mrs. Doyle yourself. I'd rather she not hear it from someone else.”

H
onoria strode off without a backward glance. I watched, feeling completely unmoored. As I sagged against the doorframe I heard a sob. Millie sank into the desk chair, tears running down her face.

“This is all my fault.” She stared at the desk and let out another shuddering sob.

“I think you'd better tell me what this is about.” I shut the door firmly and turned the key in the lock.

“It's about Miss Howell.”

“Amanda?” I asked. “What about her?”

“While you were out with the Velmonts she was in your room.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I was coming along the hallway with a tray for Mrs. Stickney when something caught my eye.”

“Yes?”

“Your room is the only one at the end of that passage and as I stopped to shift the weight of the tray I saw Miss Howell letting herself into your room.”

“Did you call out to her?”

“No. I had to make haste. Mrs. Stickney is impatient and I didn't want her to complain to Mrs. Doyle.”

“Did you see her face?”

“No. Just the back of her head and her dark dress. She was behind the closed door as quick as a wink.”

“And you didn't see her coming out?”

“Mrs. Stickney kept me for some time. By the time I got back and worked up the courage to let myself into your room there was no one in there.”

“Then what happened?” I was curious but I still didn't understand why Millie was so upset. Maybe Amanda was just borrowing a hatpin or snooping through my newly refurbished wardrobe. She had already performed a reading on my tarot cards, and my parasol had been in my possession, so there was no way she could have gotten any information about me from the contents of the room. Prowling around wasn't nice but it did not a crisis make.

“I decided to check if anything had been disturbed or taken.”

“And?”

“Nothing had been taken but I found something that didn't belong to you.”

“I haven't noticed anything in there that wasn't present when Honoria first showed me the room.”

“That's because I took it out and gave it to Honoria.” Millie hung her head. “I never meant her to come to harm from it.”

“What did you find, Millie?”

“I checked the jewelry box to be sure nothing was missing and right there in the bottom, sitting amongst the brooches and earrings, was a watch fob made of gold in the shape of a tiny set of
scales.” Millie drew in a ragged breath. “It was just like the one Honoria gave to the police.”

•   •   •

A
s soon as Millie managed to stop crying, I sent her off to pack a bag for Honoria. Remembering my promise to my aunt, I decided next to speak to Mrs. Doyle. I headed for the kitchen and found her pulling gleaming glass jars of pickles from a shelf in the pantry.

“Do you have a moment?”

“No, I don't. I'm up to my eyeballs rearranging dinner plans.” Mrs. Doyle's face was as flushed as a pint of strawberry jam and her hair curled damply around her face. She squinted at me in her usual alarming way. “You don't know how the turkey I'd planned for dinner ended up all dried out, do you?”

“No. I have no idea. I need to talk to you about something more important than turkeys.”

“That just goes to show what you know. That turkey is the most important thing in my day. Someone peeled back the paper wrapper and now a whole side of it is dried out to a fare-thee-well. Just like the beef roast the day Mr. Stickney was killed. There must be some sort of a lunatic at the hotel with a grudge against my supper plans.”

“I'm sorry to hear it. Would you like a glass of water?”

“Of course I wouldn't. If you have something to say you'd best get on with it. I haven't got all day.” Mrs. Doyle blew out a loud breath. I was surprised it wasn't made of fire. Her impatience burnt up whatever reservoir of tact I might have had.

“Mr. Ayers has been murdered. Honoria's confessed to killing both him and Mr. Stickney. Officer Yancey just took her to the
police station.” Before that moment I wouldn't have believed so few words could change someone's world. But watching Mrs. Doyle collapse into a heap in the nearest chair, the life drained out of her face, I discovered that they could.

“She never did any such thing.”

“I can't understand it. Officer Yancey arrested Albert Fitch for Mr. Stickney's murder yesterday. Why would she confess to both crimes? Millie found Mr. Stickney's watch fob hidden in the jewelry box in my room and gave it to Honoria.”

“She was trying to protect you,” Mrs. Doyle said. “According to my daughter, Albert Fitch is no longer in custody.”

“The police let him go?”

“Frank told my daughter Albert died while in custody. If Honoria confessed to both murders I'm sure the department is relieved to have a new suspect before the pier opens.”

A hot tear slid down my cheek and a choking feeling filled my throat. I put my head down on the table and began to sob. I felt Mrs. Doyle's strong hand stroking my hair. “It's all my fault. If only I'd told Honoria the truth in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

“You'll feel better if you get whatever it is off your chest.” Mrs. Doyle lifted my head with her firm hands and held my face between her work-roughened palms, squinting at me like she always did. “No matter how terrible you think it is.”

“I had no intention of putting the hotel in jeopardy.” I tried to steady my voice. “It all started with Mr. Ayers.”

“What about him?”

“Honoria confessed because Officer Yancey had a photograph of Mr. Ayers ripping my mother's pendant from my neck.”

“Why didn't you report him?”

“I was buying his silence.”

“What the devil were you paying him for? Did he have some sort of hold over you?”

“He knew things about my past that I didn't want Honoria or anyone else to discover.”

“Everyone needs someone they can trust.” Mrs. Doyle lowered her hands to my own and squeezed them encouragingly. “Even if you don't trust me, you can trust that we both want what is best for Honoria and for the hotel.” I wondered what it would be like to take the chance, to be myself without guise, without guile. I drew in a deep breath and made a decision.

“Mr. Ayers knew my father in Canada. At his place of employment.”

“Did he also work for the medicine show?”

“No, he was just passing through,” I said. And then the realization washed over me. “You knew Father and I worked a medicine show?”

“Yes.”

“Does Honoria know?”

“Of course she does. She thought if you wanted to talk about it you would bring it up yourself. That's why she never mentioned it.”

“But how did you know?” It never occurred to me there could be people from my mother's past who were in on the secret.

“Where did you think your parents met?”

“Father said he swept my mother off her feet in the ballroom of a fine hotel.”

“He danced with Delphinia at the Old Orchard House and made quite an impression. I remember she came home that evening floating on air.” Mrs. Doyle clucked her tongue at the memory. “But they
met the day before at your father's show when he asked for volunteers and picked Delphinia out from the crowd. The show was in town for less than a week before they snuck off together in the night.”

“What did her parents say when they discovered she was gone?”

“They disowned her. She wasn't married when she left, and it cast a taint on the family name. Publicly decrying one daughter was the best way to salvage the prospects for the other.”

“But Honoria wrote to say she thought they would be willing to reconcile.”

“She did. The coldness between them was ruining your grandmother's health and even your grandfather could see something needed to be done. He said if Delphinia was willing to come home all would be forgiven.”

“But she never made it back, did she?”

“No. Honoria never received a response to her letter, and then began to dream of Delphinia soon after she posted the message. The next word we received was from Ivory, informing us of your birth and your mother's passing.”

“Did my grandparents take it hard?”

“Your grandmother lasted long enough for us to receive the letter announcing your father would not relinquish custody of you to them. As soon as we heard that, her heart just gave out. Before she died she made Honoria promise to get you back here.” My throat constricted and more tears splashed down over the folds of my gown. Not only had my aunt wanted me, my grandmother had, too. “None of us thought you should be raised in such an awful situation and by such a scoundrel.”

“Now that I'm finally here, I think it would be better if I never had come.”

“Well, you certainly have made a mess of things. Anything else you want to confess?”

“Mr. Ayers wanted me to use my connection with their father to influence the Velmont sisters to invest in his dummy corporation.”

“Did you do so?” Mrs. Doyle kept her hands on mine.

“I couldn't bring myself to do it properly. I made some vague hints but then just last night, after he injured me, I tried to get them to draw the conclusion Mr. Ayers wanted. I never wanted to do something like that to those two sweet old ladies.”

“So he stole Delphinia's necklace?”

“He took it as payment until the Velmonts bought shares of his fake stock. I didn't want Honoria to know the necklace had gone missing or why. But I didn't kill him.”

“I know you didn't.” Mrs. Doyle narrowed her eyes. “I can see it.”

“You see lies?” That explained all the scowling and squinting. Maybe she hadn't disliked me so very much after all.

“I see auras. They hover around everyone like a colored mist.”

“Some mists look like lies?”

“The colors surrounding people change to match their thoughts and feelings. Auras are clear, like a shaft of sunshine through a clean window, when the person speaks the truth and is filled with good intentions. It grows muddy when the person intends to damage another.”

“Is my aura muddy?”

She shook her head. “You tell white lies. Even when you're conducting a reading your aura just becomes pale, faded. Which is why it's a white lie. It's like someone mixed a quantity of white paint into your aura.”

“What does that tell you?”

“It means, like all white lies, yours are intended to make things easier or to shield others from pain.”

“So you knew I wasn't a medium?”

“Of course. I've known several mediums and your aura isn't like theirs.” Mrs. Doyle sat back and looked at me appraisingly. “I expected you to be clairaudient.”

“Clairaudient?”

“Do you hear a voice that isn't there? Telling you to do or not to do things?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Your mother and grandmother and great-grandmother before her were all clairaudient. Every generation has at least one woman who can hear voices. Since you're the only Belden in your generation, I assumed you were the one.”

“I am. It's how I've been able to conduct the readings for the clients. There's a voice that advises me.”

“I'm delighted you've inherited your mother's gift. I thought perhaps because you weren't born here in Old Orchard you were not blessed with it. Can you summon it at will?”

“I often hear it when I use the cards,” I said. “But sometimes it just appears in my ear unbidden.”

“Delphinia used to have excellent luck simply asking for guidance and then listening for an answer.”

“I've tried in the past but it never worked.”

“I think you may find it works here. As Mr. MacPherson keeps mentioning, Old Orchard is a special place.” Mrs. Doyle tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Don't look so discouraged. You've done well for someone completely without guidance.”

“Even though it's often been useful, I've worried that I was insane.”

“Well, you aren't. But you do need Honoria to make the most of your gifts.” Mrs. Doyle shoved back her chair and stood. “So go sit somewhere quiet and ask the voice how best to go about getting her home.”