Victoria Thompson: Murder On Waverly Place

“I’m sure this was a shock to you,” her mother said before Sarah could open her mouth. “I shouldn’t have asked you so soon. I should have given you time to get used to the idea. It’s just…”

“How long will Father be out of town?” Sarah asked, having figured out the rush.

“Only three more days. It’s not really necessary that he be out of town, of course, but I thought-”

“You thought it would be easier if he were,” Sarah supplied for her. “I just don’t know…”

“Sarah,” Mrs. Decker said, her blue eyes clear now, and full of determination. “You’ve finally been able to lay your own ghosts to rest. Please, help me with mine.”

Sarah knew she was referring to Sarah’s husband, Tom. She hadn’t even realized how haunted she had been by his tragic murder almost four years ago until her friend Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy had finally tracked down his killer. While Sarah would still miss Tom until the day she died, at least she understood why he had died and had seen his killer punished. While nothing would ever ease the pain of losing him, she did have some measure of peace now. Could she deny her mother the chance at some peace for herself?

“I’ll go with you, Mother,” Sarah said.

Mrs. Decker’s relief was palpable. “Oh, Sarah, thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not promising to support you in this or believe for one second that it’s possible. I’m just going to make sure no one takes advantage of you.”

“It is possible,” her mother said, her voice almost breaking from the strength of her emotions. “It has to be.”

For her mother’s sake, Sarah could almost hope it was.

AFTER SEEING HER MOTHER OFF, SARAH CLOSED THE front door to find Maeve standing on the stairs that led upstairs to the girls’ bedrooms. “Is everything all right?” the girl asked with genuine concern. “Mrs. Decker seemed upset.”

Sarah looked at the young woman who, like Catherine, had also come from the Prodigal Son Mission. Maeve had sought refuge there to escape a life Sarah knew little about. She had recently learned some important facts about that life, though, and about Maeve’s special talents.

“Do you know anything about spiritualists?” Sarah asked.

“Spiritualists?” Maeve repeated with a frown. “What kind?”

“Are there different kinds?”

Maeve shrugged, telling Sarah more than she wanted to know.

“My mother wants to go to a séance.”

Maeve’s eyes widened with surprise. “Mrs. Decker? I wouldn’t’ve thought she’s the type.”

Sarah’s head began to throb again. “Would you come into the kitchen and tell me everything you know about it?”

“Are you sure?” Maeve asked with unfeigned concern. “You’re awful tired. Maybe tomorrow…?”

“I won’t be able to sleep,” Sarah assured her. “At least not until I know more about this.”

Maeve nodded and led the way back to the kitchen. When they were seated at the table, Maeve folded her hands expectantly.

“What do you know about people who do séances?” Sarah asked.

Recently, Sarah had learned that in her former life, Maeve had been a grifter, or at least that she’d come from a family of grifters, people who made their living by conning people in elaborate schemes. Although Maeve had never given Sarah any reason to suspect she was dishonest, Sarah’s friend Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy had recognized her abilities immediately when Maeve had employed them to help him solve the murder of Sarah’s husband, Dr. Tom Brandt.

“I never knew anybody who did that kind of thing,” Maeve replied. “You need a house in a respectable neighborhood, and most of all, you need some way to get people with money to come to you. You know, classy people who can vouch for you.” She smiled apologetically. “My family never could even have managed the house part of it.”

“But you know that it’s all fake, don’t you?”

“I always figured it was. People talk, so I heard about it. There’s a lot of money in it, I guess.”

“How do they get money from people?”

“Not by stealing or anything,” Maeve hastened to assure her. “The marks… I mean, the customers, they come back of their own free will. The trick is to make them want to. You tell them some little thing the first time, just enough to make them believe it’s on the up and up. Then they have to come back again to hear more. Next time you tell them a little more and promise that the next time there’ll be even more. There’s no end to it, and they’ll pay more and more each time to hear what they think the spirits are telling them.”

Sarah sighed wearily. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Mrs. Decker wouldn’t let herself get taken in, though,” Maeve said.

“What makes you say that?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“She’s smart. She’s…”

“Rich?” Sarah guessed when Maeve hesitated. “That’s no guarantee you won’t be gullible. In fact, she’s probably much more innocent about these things than you are. She’s led a very sheltered life.”

Maeve frowned, considering this. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s made her want to do this in the first place?”

Sarah sighed again, absently rubbing the ache in her forehead. “She wants to contact my sister, Maggie.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Maeve said in surprise.

“There’s no reason you should. She died a long time ago, and we don’t talk about her,” Sarah admitted. “We’re too ashamed.”

“Ashamed?” Maeve couldn’t believe it. “I’m sure you’ve got nothing to be ashamed about, Mrs. Brandt.”

Sarah only wished that were true. “Guilty then,” she said. “We’ve got more than enough guilt to go around.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“Then I’ll have to convince you, won’t I?” Sarah said with another sigh. “Maggie was my older sister. I suppose she was a bit of a rebel. She didn’t think it was fair that our family had so much when many other people had nothing. She wanted to do something to help.”

“Like the ladies who volunteer at the Mission,” Maeve guessed.

Oh, if only Maggie had confined herself to such conventional good works. “No, she wanted more than that. She wanted to convince businessmen like my father to treat their workers more fairly.”

“Did she?” Maeve asked doubtfully.

“Not at all. She tried to convince our father first, of course, but he completely dismissed her, which only made her more determined.”

“I can understand that.”

“I’m sure you can,” Sarah said with a small smile. “Telling Maggie no was always the surest way to make her dig in her heels. And then she fell in love.”

Maeve’s eyes lit up, thrilled to hear about a romance. “With who?”

“A man who worked for my father. He was young, just a clerk, but he probably had a bright future. He would never be good enough for Felix Decker’s daughter, though.”

Maeve’s face fell with disappointment. “So Mr. Decker wouldn’t let them get married,” she guessed.

“Of course not. Not even when she told them she was with child.”

“Oh, no! But wouldn’t she have to get married? With the baby and everything?”

“No. My father was determined she wouldn’t waste herself on a nobody, so my parents arranged for her to take a trip to Europe. She would have the baby there, give it to some orphanage, and return home with no one the wiser.”

Maeve made an anguished sound of protest. “That’s horrible!”

“Of course it is,” Sarah agreed bitterly. “Didn’t I tell you we were ashamed?”

“Is that how she died? Having the baby?”