Victoria Thompson - Murder On Waverly Place

“Get some chairs, will you, Professor?” Frank said.

He disappeared and returned with two straight-backed chairs that he’d probably fetched from the kitchen. O’Toole wouldn’t have let him into the séance room. Then the Professor closed the doors behind him and was gone.

Mrs. Burke sat down on one of the chairs, and Frank placed the other so he could face her. “I know this has been a shock, Mrs… I’m sorry. What was your name?”

“Mrs. Burke,” she said, her voice a little steadier. “Mrs. Philip Burke.”

Frank pulled a notebook and pencil from his pocket and jotted it down, along with the address she gave him. She was a near neighbor of Mrs. Decker’s on the Upper West Side and a long way from home down here on Waverly Place. “Tell me what happened or at least what you remember happened.”

“Where shall I start?”

“Right before Mrs. Gittings…” He made a vague gesture with his hand.

She nodded and drew a steadying breath. “We were sitting around the table.”

“In the dark, I know. Holding hands. Talking to the spirits.”

“That’s right,” she said with some surprise.

“Who were you holding hands with?”

“Not holding hands exactly,” she corrected him. “We hold each other’s wrists. Madame Serafina was holding mine and…” She had to stop and swallow before she could finish. “And I was holding Mrs. Gittings’s.”

Frank nodded encouragingly. “And what was happening just before you noticed something wasn’t right with Mrs. Gittings?”

She gave a little shudder and for an instant Frank was afraid she would start screaming again, but she got hold of herself and went on. “Mrs. Decker was… Oh, dear! I mean, Mrs. Brandt…”

“I know who Mrs. Decker is,” Frank told her. “I won’t tell anyone. Go on. What was Mrs. Decker doing?”

“She was trying to get her daughter to speak to her.”

“Her daughter?” Frank echoed in surprise, wondering why Mrs. Decker would need a séance to talk to Sarah.

“She has a daughter who died,” Mrs. Burke clarified. “She wanted to contact her.”

“Oh, right,” Frank said, remembering now. “Go on.”

“As I said, Mrs. Decker was trying to get her daughter to speak to her, but there was a lot of confusion, and Yellow Feather couldn’t understand the message. Yellow Feather is-”

“I know, the spirit guide,” Frank said, managing to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “What did you hear?”

“Yellow Feather was shouting and there was some music,” she remembered with a frown. “I don’t think it was really a song exactly, just notes, discordant. There was so much noise, and we were all listening to find out what Mrs. Decker’s daughter would say to her.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing,” she admitted sadly. “Or at least nothing I could understand. I was distracted, you see. I was holding Mrs. Gittings’s wrist.” She held up her left hand and looked at it in wonder.

“How exactly do you do that?” Frank asked, trying to picture it in his mind. “Hold each other’s wrists, I mean.”

“Oh, well, you hold the wrist of the person on your left, and the person on your right is holding your right wrist.”

Frank nodded, understanding at last. “All right, go on. You were holding Mrs. Gittings’s wrist.”

“Yes, and she was very still, although I didn’t think about that at the time. But then she leaned over toward me, or at least I thought that’s what she was doing. Her shoulder touched mine.” She instinctively grabbed her left shoulder with her right hand, as if she could still feel the pressure from the dead woman. “And then… and then… she just kept coming.” Her voice caught on a sob and she was weeping again, her shoulders shaking as she bawled into a fine, lace handkerchief.

Frank sighed and sat back, letting her cry for a few minutes. “I’m sorry to put you through this, Mrs. Burke, but I only have a few more questions and then you can go,” he said when she’d slowed down a bit.

She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and full of horror. “She fell on me! I’ll never forget how that felt. I tried to catch her, but she was too heavy.”

“And then you screamed,” Frank said.

“I did?” she asked in surprise. “I don’t remember. I was just trying to tell everyone she fainted, trying to make myself heard over the din.”

“What happened next?”

“I don’t know… Someone opened the door, I guess. I didn’t see who. Then I could see her lying there, in the light that came in from the hall. Her face… She looked surprised. Her eyes were open, and she just seemed surprised. I asked her if she was all right,” she remembered with another shudder.

“What happened then?”

She tried to remember. Frank could see her making the effort, picturing the scene. “Everyone was talking at once. Someone… Mr. Sharpe, I think, he knelt down to help her. Madame was calling for the Professor to bring smelling salts. We thought she’d fainted, you see. Then someone said, ‘My God! Look at her back.’ ”

“Do you remember who that was?”

“I… No, I’m sorry. I looked at her back, and I saw…” She shuddered again. “And then everything is all confused. I just wanted to get away . The next thing I remember clearly, we were all in the parlor, and the Professor told us to wait there while he got the police.”

“This Mrs. Gittings, was she a friend of yours?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she said too quickly. “I met her here. She was at the first séance I attended.”

“Do you know anything about her?”

Mrs. Burke had to think about this. “I believe she was trying to contact someone in her family, but I can’t think who. Isn’t that strange? I know who everyone else in the group wanted to contact.”

“You don’t know where she lived?”

She bit her lip, and Frank realized she was lying, although he couldn’t imagine why. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. I’m sure Madame or the Professor could help you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Burke.”

“May I go now?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes, you can. Do you have a carriage waiting for you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stay right here. I’ll have the Professor escort you out.” She looked as if she might not even be able to walk back to the parlor, and if she did faint, Frank wanted no part of it.

The Professor was only too glad to do Frank’s bidding. Frank returned to the parlor to select the next witness. Once again, everyone looked up when he walked into the room. The two remaining men had been conferring in the corner, and they both started toward him. Frank instantly chose the older man as the one most likely to have power and influence and therefore the most likely to cause him trouble.

“I’ll see you next,” he said and turned away before the other one could argue. As he’d expected, the older gentleman followed him. They passed Mrs. Burke and the Professor on their way out.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Burke?” the man asked solicitously.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Sharpe.”

“If you need help getting home-”

“Oh, thank you, but my carriage is waiting outside. I’ll… Well, good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” he replied and watched until the Professor had gotten her out the front door before following Frank to the empty dining room. Frank closed the doors and indicated he should take a seat.

Sharpe was well dressed and well groomed, the masculine equivalent of Mrs. Decker and Mrs. Burke. He could probably have been welcomed into Felix Decker’s home and conducted himself well.

“I don’t know why you’ve detained all of us,” Sharpe was protesting even before Frank had a chance to sit down himself. “You can’t think any of us were responsible for what happened to Mrs. Gittings.”