Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (22 page)

Annie, pleased to see a small, puzzled frown on Simon’s brow, judged it was time to answer his original question. “But at least I get a chance to see him, or at least hear him, when I attend one of your séances. Madam Sibyl just reads palms or talks about the stars. Silly business. I admit I did think at first that she could help me. I mean, how convenient, right there in the house, and I got a discount on her fees. It was one of the reasons I agreed to rent out the downstairs parlor to her. It would help pay my expenses, and she would be able to advise me in my investments. But it was all a sham. I tried investing money as she suggested, but my income didn’t increase at all, and when I wanted to sell shares to purchase a new gown, she got quite cross.

“
That’s when I decided to try to talk to my father. Maybe he is angry with me because he knows I have gone to a fortuneteller. He always said they were charlatans, and now I am inclined to agree. If I didn’t need the income, I would ask her to leave. But Mr. Stein said I shouldn’t do anything so hasty.”

“
My dear Mrs. Fuller, I do hope you will find better success with your father,” Simon interrupted her. “But I do believe that financial advice is not your only motivation in contacting the spirits. I was under the impression that you had a request of a deeply personal nature. Which is why I suggested this sitting with Evie May, such an extraordinary way of channeling the spirit world.”

Feeling as if she had passed some sort of test, the knot in Annie’s stomach began to ease.
What would have happened if I hadn’t reassured him of my lack of complicity with Madam Sibyl? Probably Evie May would have then turned out to be indisposed.
She would have to be very careful from now on not to deviate from the role she had created for herself. She was sure Simon had not spent a lifetime fooling people with his magic, mesmerism, and mediums without developing a well-honed ability to detect when other persons were trying to pull the wool over his eyes.

Pushing that unsettling thought aside, Annie replied, infusing her voice with nervousness she didn’t have to pretend. “Mr. Frampton, I am so uneasy. I know I asked for a chance to speak with my little boy, but now I am afraid. He was so young when he went. What if he doesn’t remember me?”

Simon pulled Annie to her feet while telling her not to worry. “If your boy comes, as I am sure he will, you may find his spirit will seem older than when he left you. I don’t understand it myself, but my wife tells me that some spirits, particularly those of children, continue to grow and mature in the afterlife.”

What a convenient way to cover any discrepancies
, thought Annie. He had just told her not to be concerned if the child he produced isn’t anything like her dead son. What inconsistencies about Charlie had he explained away to Sukie? At least he can’t explain away the manifestation of a child who never existed. The sudden memory of her own real lost daughter intruded, and Annie resolutely pushed that thought away.

Simon had moved over and opened the pocket doors to the small adjoining parlor, where the cabinet sat. In this room the curtains remained closed, so the only light came from the larger parlor and that mysterious shaft of light coming from the room above. Sitting in the cabinet, in that shaft of light, was Evie May. Today she was again dressed all in white, but this time in a very young fashion, with a linen sailor top, pleated skirt, and white stockings. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, with the front bangs prominently displayed. Annie was startled to realize that if she hadn’t known Evie May was a girl, she could have passed in this outfit as a very young boy. Someone had spent a good deal of time dressing her for this particular sitting. She speculated that this was what the girl wore when she was “Charlie” and had her private chats with Sukie.
Did they ever just dress her as a boy?

As they walked up to Evie May, she seemed to be staring right through them, which was disconcerting. There was no recognition of Annie, no hint, thank goodness, of Maybelle, no expression at all on her face.

“
Please, Mrs. Fuller, come join Evie May in the cabinet, and I will pull this curtain to give you privacy. I will be in the next room if you need me,” Simon said, giving Annie’s shoulder a reassuring pat. She sat down, and the girl didn’t moving a muscle. As the curtain closed, the light in the cabinet dimmed considerably. Annie knew her eyes would adjust quickly, but for an instant she could neither see nor hear Evie May, although she could feel the girl’s knees touching her own, which ached in response.

Outside, Simon intoned as he did in the séances, “Oh, departed ones, call the spirit of this woman’s child, let Annie Fuller speak with him and find comfort.” Evie May stirred.

Annie, aware that Simon could hear everything that went on in the cabinet, admonished herself to stay in character. “Oh, it’s so dark,” she said, making her voice tremble. “Johnny, are you there? Can you hear mama?” Her eyes becoming accustomed to the dim light, she could see that Evie May was now sitting cross-legged, doing something with her hands. Annie almost laughed out loud when she realized the girl was pretending to stack objects, probably blocks, one on top of the other. Of course, since they only knew that her son had died when small, they had Evie May play the one game every child by the age of three knew.
How clever!

Annie went along with the charade and said, “Johnny, is that you? What are you doing? Are you playing with your blocks? Darling, do you remember, they were painted such pretty colors.”

Evie May looked up at her and said in a child’s lisp, “Mama, course it’s me. Do you want to play with me?”

“
Certainly I will play with you, my sweet,” Annie replied, and she proceeded to pretend to build a tower of blocks, laughing when Evie May pretended to knock them all down. Annie was surprised at how at ease she felt with this pretend Johnny, doing pretend things. Then she thought about how this would feel if, like Sukie, she believed she was playing with the spirit of a real child, and her mood darkened.

She lowered her voice and began to ask Evie May a series of questions about where Johnny had been . . . if he had seen his father, his grandfather, grandmother. Finally she said sharply, “How do I know you really are my son Johnny?”

Annie stopped, aghast when she saw that Evie May had started to cry. Instinctively she put her arms around the girl, who snuggled closely and started to suck her thumb. Fighting to keep her voice no more than a whisper, Annie said, “Please, child, tell me who you are? Are you my son, Johnny?”

Evie May reared back and said, “No, I’m not! The bad man told me to make-believe, but I don’t want to, cause I’m not a boy.” Then the girl smiled and said, “You know who I am. I’m Maybelle. Why didn’t you come the other day? I saw you, sitting right in that other room. I tried to tell that old man I didn’t want to see him; I wanted to see you. But you came today, I’m glad. I didn’t want to be that Johnny.”

Frantic thoughts cascaded through Annie’s mind. Could this really be her child? Could Simon have been telling the truth, that children aged in the afterlife? And if Johnny was made-up, but Maybelle was real, was the spirit of Charlie real or not?

As the girl again popped her thumb in her mouth and put her head on Annie’s shoulder, Annie whispered urgently in her ear. “Maybelle, tell me, who are you? Where did you come from?”

The girl sniffed and said, “I’m Maybelle, you said so yourself. I dunno where I come from, I just am. Aren’t you my mother? I thought you might be. I guess I wished you. You will take care of me, won’t you?”

“
Maybelle, who is the bad man? Tell me who is he? Does he hurt you?”

Annie felt the girl go rigid in her arms, and then she was pushed away as Evie May sat up and glared at her. Before Annie could say another word, the girl spoke, this time in a different, much rougher voice. “Lay off, she’s just a kid. She don’t know. Can’t remember. Silly girl, always looking for her ma. She don’t need a ma, she’s got me to protect her.”

With this, Evie May turned around and started to scrabble down behind the bench in the cabinet, coming up with what looked like a boy’s cap, which she jerked on her head, stuffing her braid up and under it in the back. She then leaned back and crossed her arms and glared at Annie, who said in bewilderment, “And just who are you?”

“
Lady, don’t be stupid. I’m Maybelle’s brother, Eddie.”

Annie was absolutely speechless for a few seconds. She then pulled herself together and started asking this new person questions. First, she asked him what his last name was and how old he was.

“
Nickerson, watcha think? I’m no baby, that’s for sure. Think I’m nine. But no one’s ever given me any birthday parties or presents, so you might say I’m a little fuzzy on that,” the boy answered. Then, again reaching behind the bench, he pulled out a small cup and ball toy. He began to count under his breath while he flipped the ball into the cup.

Annie was surprised at how much this “Eddie” seemed like a real boy, playing with a real toy, unlike the imaginary Johnny playing with his imaginary blocks.

Annie watched him play the game for awhile and then said, “Did Mr. Frampton ask you to visit me, or Maybelle?”

Eddie stopped his game and glared at her, saying, “I got no truck with that man and he’d better not try to mess with Maybelle. It’s Maybelle who wanted to talk to you.”

“
Why?” Annie asked.

Eddie just shrugged, so she continued, “Maybelle told me she ‘slept with the angels.’ How long ago did she die?”

Eddie guffawed and said, “Hell’s gate, Lady, where’d you get the idea she’s dead! That’s a good one. She’s just talking about the prayer. When she gets all riled up, I repeat the angel prayer Miss Evelyn taught us and tell her to go to sleep, so she says she sleeps with the angels. She’s no more dead than I am! Watcha think, I’m some kind a haunt! Can’t no dead person do this,” he said, leaning over and pinching Annie on the arm.

“
COMPETENT GIRL WISHES A SITUATION to do housework; can give references.”
—
San Francisco Chronicle
, 1879

Kathleen sat on what she had begun to think of as her chair near the front door and watched the butler, Albert, walk down the hallway and through the door to the back of the house. For such a solidly built man, he was unusually silent on his feet. He also didn’t seem to like her mistress very much, if the scowl he gave Mrs. Fuller meant anything. She wondered if it was Albert who had put the note in Mrs. Fuller’s coat on Monday, maybe on Arabella’s behalf. Since he met all the members of the séance at the door and deposited their wraps on the hallstand hooks, he had plenty of opportunity.

The hallway was cool, so Kathleen was glad of her shawl, since she had no expectation that Albert would comply with Mrs. Fuller’s request to bring her a cup of tea. Too bad, she could do with a cup and some of the German cook’s pastries. Given how uncomfortable the wooden chair was, she wondered if anyone would complain if she moved over to the small sofa where Evie May’s mother and Mrs. Hapgood had sat on Monday evening. She wished she were brave enough to go back to the kitchen on her own to look for the parlor maid.

To be honest, she wasn’t used to doing nothing. Couldn’t remember when she had sat so often in her life, before this past week. Not that she wasn’t proud to help her mistress, but she worried about leaving Mrs. O’Rourke to manage the house by herself. She had tried to get all the ironing done yesterday, but then Mrs. Fuller had come home, looking like something the cat dragged in. Of course, she had to help with the bath, and that put her behind. Then this morning, between the breakfast and lunch dishes, dusting the downstairs room, and refilling all the lamps, she hadn’t been able to finish. She had told Mrs. O’Rourke not to touch the last pile. Ironing was not her business. She would get to it this evening after dinner, but she had no faith the older woman would pay her any mind.

Mrs. Fuller, bless her, had tried to get Kathleen to stay behind this afternoon, saying that there wasn’t any need for her to have a maid with her during the day. Mrs. O’Rourke would have none of it. She’d said, “Annie, if you think I’m going to let you go into that house alone, after you got that note! I would have thought that this summer’s adventures had taught you the danger of going off alone and sticking your nose into other people’s business.”

That had been that. Nobody crossed Mrs. O’Rourke when she put her foot down. Kathleen thought that secretly Mrs. Fuller was glad not to come alone. To be certain, something had been bothering her today. Didn’t say hardly a word on the way here. And she tried not to show it, but Kathleen could tell her knee was bothering her. Funny business, her fall. Those crowded horse cars could be dangerous, but generally Mrs. Fuller was so graceful. The sound of the library door opening and a woman’s voice interrupted Kathleen’s thoughts.

“
Thank you for coming, Mr. Sweeter. I believe we are in agreement. I look forward to seeing you this Friday,” said Arabella Frampton, ushering out a very handsome young man.

Well, well, who’s this
, Kathleen asked herself.
Mr. Sweeter! Wonder what he’s doing here, all on his own, without his cousin that Mrs. Stein was telling us about.

She watched as the young man preened under Arabella’s attentions, smoothing his very considerable mustache before putting on his bowler. Dressed pretty fancy for a man without a job. When
Kathleen saw how Sweeter frowned when he realized that he and Mrs. Frampton weren’t alone and hurriedly exited the house, she decided he was up to no good.
Looks like Mrs. Frampton isn’t too pleased by me being here either. Well, too bad.
Kathleen smiled cheekily at the medium, who looked like she was going to say something, then glanced over at the closed door to the séance room, frowned, shrugged, and then went rapidly down the hallway, disappearing through the door to the kitchen area.
There’s another who isn’t happy about my mistress visiting today
.
I’d bet my blue satin ribbon, she’s the one who wrote the note.