Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (21 page)

Annie nodded and said, “I’ve always thought it couldn’t be a coincidence that one of the owners of that bank, Mr. Ruckner, also attends the Frampton séances. I thought at first that maybe Sukie had been involved with getting him there. But now I wonder if the connection isn’t more sinister. What if Simon Frampton hopes to get Mr. Vetch to reveal privileged information about the Bank, or Mr. Ruckner?”

Miss Pinehurst leaned forward, her face grim. “My brother-in-law told me he flatly refused Frampton’s suggestion to visit Charlie, that he threatened him with the police if he didn’t stop his pernicious influence over Sukie. But I saw in his eyes the real truth. My brother-in-law is a good man, an honorable man. But he is weak, and his greatest weakness is Sukie. I fear something terrible is going to happen if these evil persons aren’t stopped.”

Annie and Miss Pinehurst talked a little longer about what Simon Frampton’s motives might be and decided that it was imperative for Annie to meet with Sukie’s husband as soon as possible. Then Mr. LeFrey, the proprietor of Montaigne’s, entered the room and graciously inquired after Annie’s small meal. He encouraged her to come to Montaigne’s again when she could enjoy the delicacies of the full menu, saying that any friend of Miss Pinehurst would be an honored guest. Miss Pinehurst gave LeFrey the first genuine smile Annie had ever witnessed from her, then said it was time for her to return to her responsibilities. Annie, looking at the watch pinned at her waist, realized that she needed to hurry if she didn’t want to be late for Madam Sibyl’s six o’clock client.

When she got ready to leave the restaurant, she discovered to her dismay that it was raining quite hard. Miss Pinehurst pressed her own umbrella on Annie, saying that Mr. LeFrey always called a cab to take her home if the weather was inclement. Fortunately, one the frequent horse cars that plied Market had just stopped at Kearney when Annie left the restaurant. Even though it was so crowded that she was forced to stand on the open platform at the back of the car, there was a roof over her head, and the crowd of people around her blocked most of the wind and rain.

Remembering how everyone at Montaigne’s Steak House had been so kind and thoughtful with Miss Pinehurst, Annie realized that until today she had felt sorry for this woman, whose life seemed narrow and confined. Yet, despite the tragedy of her nephew’s death, she did have family. And she had a family of sorts at Montaigne, where she had worked for over ten years, where people treated her with respect and cared enough to order a cab to take her home. Thinking fondly about the people she had gathered around her at the boarding house, Annie recognized for the first time the similarities between her life and Miss Pinehurst’s.

But would I be content ten years in the future to say, as Miss Pinehurst has said, that I was reconciled to having no husband, no child?
This thought led to thoughts of Nate. Then she noticed the horse car was slowing to let people off at Fourth and Market. Annie began to squeeze through the platform to the steps leading down to the street. Just as she got to the top of the steps, several men in front of her hopped down, opening the way for her. People pressed up behind her, no doubt trying to get off before the car began to move forward. She hurried to open the umbrella, which had an unfamiliar kind of catch. She had just managed to get it open when she found herself leaping into space, the umbrella torn from her hands by a ferocious gust of wind. Hands miraculously now free, she was able to break her fall enough so she only went down on one knee.

“
Lady, are you hurt?” said an older man who rushed up to her from the sidewalk and leaned down to help her to her feet. “I never seen anything like it, that brolly almost had you airborne!”

“
Thank you so much, sir, I’m fine,” Annie said, embarrassed by the crowd that had gathered, despite the continued downpour. “I’ll just be on my way; we all need to get out of this rain.”

“
Oh, there’s a good lad, he’s caught your umbrella for you. That will help keep some of the wet off, if it don’t decide to go flying again,” the man said with a chuckle as he raised it over her head.

Annie wiped a sopping strand of hair out of her eyes, opened her purse and found a penny to give the young boy, who grinned and ran off. Walking over to the sidewalk, she thanked her protector, who tipped his hat and also went on his way. As she turned to walk up Stockton, she realized that, with each step, pain blossomed in her left knee. She wondered if the wetness running down her leg was blood or just her soaked skirt. Her left wrist was also hurting, and when she turned her hand over, she saw a trickle of blood seeping from under the top of her glove. She took a deep breath.
It was just a fall. There’s nothing wrong that a little arnica won’t cure.
Then a wave of dizziness rolled over her as she remembered the distinct feel of a hand shoving her in the small of her back, right before she and the umbrella took flight.

“
Lena Moroney, Spirit Medium, Private Sittings, 1023 Stockton Street”
.—
San Francisco Chronicle
, 1879

Twenty-four hours had done much to bring down the swelling in her knee, so Annie was able to walk without much discomfort as she and Kathleen made their way to the Framptons, where Annie was scheduled to have a “private” sitting with Evie May. On Monday, before the séance had begun, Simon had offered her this chance to meet alone with Evie May. Later that evening, when arguing with Nate about whether she should return to the Framptons, Annie brought this up as proof that Simon didn’t know about her connection to Madam Sibyl. After yesterday’s accident getting off the horse car, she wasn’t so sure.

While the storm had rumbled its way out of the city sometime late last night, yesterday afternoon it had been throwing its full force at Annie as she hobbled up the hill from Market. She was a sorry mess when she finally arrived home: hair soaked, coat muddy, gloves ruined, and limping so badly she had trouble making it up the stairs to her room. She’d had some faint hope of repairing most of the damage before encountering anyone else in the household, but, as luck would have it, just as she was about to creep into her second floor room, the Stein’s sitting room door opened and Kathleen came out, followed by Esther Stein.

Annie thought Kathleen had actually shrieked, so she must have looked awful, but Esther had made no comment, just ordered Kathleen to go down to the kitchen and bring up the hip bath and as much water as she could get from the hot water reservoir on the stove. She then told Annie to strip while she got a pile of towels from the hallway linen closet. In a short time, Annie was sitting in steaming hot water, having her hair washed by Kathleen and her knee looked to by Esther. Her story of an errant gust of wind, unwieldy umbrella, slippery horse car steps, and a fall, seemed to satisfy both women, who were more concerned about making sure Annie didn’t catch cold and unsuccessfully arguing that she cancel Madam Sibyl’s evening clients. What she didn’t reveal to the two women, or later to Beatrice, was the role a sharp shove had played in her accident, nor her discovery of another note in her coat pocket. Written like the first note, in black ink, the message was short and sour: STAY AWAY OR ELSE.

She hadn’t stayed away, since here she was, once again at the Framptons’ door. Ringing the door pull, she reassured herself that there wasn’t anything to fear. It was a sunny afternoon, Kathleen was with her, and the worst that could happen was that the Framptons might turn her away and refuse to let her have her private sitting with Evie May.

On reflection, she couldn’t even take the shove too seriously, since whoever did it couldn’t even be sure Annie would fall, much less be hurt. Unbidden, Annie had an image of Arabella, wearing some long hooded cloak as a disguise, following her to the restaurant, maybe expecting to catch her in a secret tryst with Simon, and using the confusion of the rain and the crowded horse car to slip the note in Annie’s pocket. She then imagined Arabella so overcome by jealousy that she had shoved Annie in a fit of anger.

Rather amused by the scene she had just conjured up, Annie’s fear dissipated, permitting her to address Albert with equanimity when he opened the door and stood glaring at her. “If you will be so good as to summon Mr. Frampton,” Annie said, stepping forward, forcing the butler to give way. “I have an appointment with Evie May at three. I will wait for him in the parlor. Kathleen, you wait for me here, and I am sure that Albert will see that you are given a cup of tea.”

Annie walked over to the parlor door. She had hoped to have a few moments in the séance room alone to explore its secrets, but when Albert opened the door she was disappointed to see Simon standing in front of the fireplace, waiting for her. The curtains were pulled open, revealing two sets of French doors leading to the side garden, a dark tangle of shrubs whose rain-washed green contrasted favorably with the artificial leaves of the room’s wallpaper. Overall, this room did not fare well in natural light, which exposed the worn edges of carpet, the sheen of an inexpensive velvet tablecloth, and a chip in the marble mantel.

Simon moved to her side, shaking her hand, and commanding her attention with his extraordinary gray eyes as if, she thought, he feared letting her spend any more time in observation. “Mrs. Fuller, how good it is to see you. Please let me take your coat. Albert will hang it in the hallway for you.”

“
No, thank you, Mr. Frampton, I believe I will keep it on, I got a little chill yesterday from the rain,” Annie said. She stepped neatly around Simon and moved towards the fireplace. She thought for a moment that leaving her coat in the hallway might give Kathleen a chance to see if someone deposited another note. She decided, however, to keep her coat on. She was once again wearing one of her older black silks, not only for convenience since this evening she again had appointments as Madam Sibyl, but also because Annie had only a limited number of outfits appropriate for the role she was playing as a wealthy young widow.

“
I am so sorry, Mrs. Fuller,” Simon Frampton said. “Please, why don’t you have some sherry before we commence the sitting. It will warm you nicely.” He walked over to the drinks table, and, without waiting for her response, poured out a very generous helping.

Annie had no intention of dulling her faculties in preparation for her sitting with Evie May, so she said something about it being too early in the afternoon, walked over to the second set of windows, and looked out to see if there was a path that would provide access to the room from outside. The strong breeze she had felt at each séance prompted this curiosity. Despite the overgrown nature of the side garden, the patch of ground right next to the house was cut back, and she could see a narrow opening in the bushes that would lead to the rear of the house. Albert, or the yet unseen lady’s maid, could easily slip into the room and stand behind the curtains until one of the sections of the séance when the room was in complete darkness.
To do what? Fool around with the lights? Play the tambourine?

Not wanting Simon to note her interest in the side yard, Annie turned and began to burble out a series of questions designed to establish further her credentials as a naïve, unthreatening woman. She asked how the spirits knew to come, did his wife have a way of calling them, and did they come to Arabella when she wasn’t holding a séance. She then asked if someone could communicate on their own . . . because she felt sure that last night as she lay in bed, she heard her mother’s voice, “clear as a bell.”

Simon got a word in edgewise when Annie paused. “Please, Mrs. Fuller, do have a seat, and I will try to answer your questions.” He then indicated the small sofa in the corner. When she sat down, trying not to react to the sharp twinge in her knee, he sat beside her and reached out to take both of her hands in his, his thumbs resting on her wrists in uncomfortable intimacy.

Annie resisted her impulse to pull away, reasoning that his move would not have been unwelcome by most women. Mrs. Larkson, for example. However, she also knew from her experience as Madam Sibyl that Simon could use the beat of her pulse under his thumbs to determine how agitated she might be.

So, she sighed and said, “Oh Mr. Frampton. You are such a comfort,” while at the same time she pulled her hands from his grip and swiftly clasped his right hand in her own, squeezing tightly. “I am glad that I have you here to advise me. Father seemed extremely upset with me on Monday. He sometimes hid my dollies away when he wanted me to study my sums more diligently. I don’t know that I will listen to him if he persists in being so mean.”

Annie pretended to pout, glancing upwards through her eyelashes to gauge Simon’s reaction.

Simon smiled at her and used his free hand to pat her on the shoulder. “Mrs. Fuller, I can assure you that your father is just looking out for your interests. I am confident that he will have some very good suggestions on how to invest your money. But tell me, why aren’t you asking Madam Sibyl for this sort of advice?”

Her first thought was,
Blast you, Nate Dawson. Did you have to be right?
Her second was,
I should have been prepared for this. I have seriously underestimated Simon, but he hasn’t indicated that he knows Madam Sibyl and I are the same person, thank goodness.

Fortunately, several years of working as Madam Sibyl had taught Annie how to think quickly while stalling verbally, so she let her mouth continue to rattle on in the same vein as before.

“
Why, Mr. Frampton, do you know Madam Sibyl? Of course, I don’t know what would make me think you wouldn’t, seeing as you are in the same business. Is there some sort of organization? A secret society? My father was a member of the Masons. Oh, dear, he told me over and over again that I should never reveal that. Well, he’s dead, so I can’t see that it would hurt him. You don’t think they have such groups in the afterlife? Oh, my, that could be awkward. Please promise you won’t mention it, I mean to your wife. I wouldn’t want it to slip out the next time she communicates with him. He already seems so unhappy with me.”