Chapter Nineteen
NINETEEN
We take the coach, of course. Again, we can’t show up at the Adler house on foot.
Also, we really shouldn’t be cutting through Old Town dressed for an evening soiree.
Simon pulls up in front of the Adler house.
Gray is out first and helps Isla down and then me.
While Gray speaks to Simon, I notice a figure slipping in from the side, as if seeing us arrive.
I squint, recognize Art, and murmur to Isla.
“Can you tell Duncan I’ll be back in a minute? I need to speak to someone.”
“Of course.”
I cut over to where the odd-jobs boy stands watching us.
“Hello,” I say as I approach.
Art nods, somber, his bright blue eyes on mine.
“I wanted to speak to you about Nellie,” I say. “I have bad news, I’m afraid.”
“I know. She is dead. Drowned.”
I walk closer and resist the urge to squeeze his arm. “I’m sorry.”
Another wordless nod. Then his gaze shifts to Gray. “Is that the consulting detective? Dr. Gray?”
“It is.”
“And you are looking for the man who killed Nellie?”
I hesitate. “You believe it is a man?”
He gives me an almost withering look. “It is always a man. Women do not do such things.”
I raise my brows. “Then you have not read Dr. Gray’s cases, have you?”
“I have read the first and the third. I cannot get hold of the second.” He cocks his head. “The killer was a woman?”
“Spoilers,” I say. At his confusion, I smile. “I mean telling you that would spoil the story.”
“Only if there is but one woman in the whole of it.” He looks back toward Gray. “Is he looking for Nellie’s killer?”
“He is.”
“Good.” He eases back, folding his arms. “She deserved better.”
“She did.”
I’m about to take my leave when he says, “I heard Nellie’s ghost asked for Dr. Gray before anyone even knew she was dead.”
“Er…” I clear my throat and glance back toward Gray and Isla. “It is true that Madame Paix said she spoke to Nellie’s ghost, which asked for Dr. Gray’s assistance.”
“In finding her killer.”
Damn. I’m not sure how to respond. He’s eleven years old, catching a spark of magic in the world, and I can’t stamp it out. But I can’t fan it into a flame either.
“That is what Madame Paix said,” I say carefully. “What interests us is finding who killed her.”
“And putting her soul to rest.”
“And finding justice for her memory and setting the minds of her family and friends to rest.”
He only nods, as if I’m stating additional goals, not replacement ones. “Nellie will tell you who killed her. Tonight. At the séance. I heard there is to be one, so Dr. Gray can ask who killed Nellie.”
I take a moment and then cautiously say, “But if Madame Paix contacted Nellie’s ghost the other night, would Nellie not have said who killed her at once, rather than asking for Dr. Gray’s help?”
“That is a good point.”
I relax. “Yes, as much as we might find comfort in the idea of—”
“Clearly Nellie did not see her killer,” Art continues, as if I didn’t speak. “Or perhaps the moment of her death was so disturbing that she has forgotten it. I have heard that can happen with living people.”
“It can definitely happen,” I say. “However, as for the possibility that Nellie’s ghost—”
“It would be easier if she could say who killed her,” he continues, “but Dr. Gray will find the culprit. That is why she asked for him. Because he is a proper detective, unlike the police.”
“There are excellent detectives on the police—”
“Science is the key,” he says, warming to his subject. “Police are not scientists. Which isn’t their fault. They have their uses. But Nellie asked for Dr. Gray, and so tonight she will give you clues about her death—what bits she can remember—and he will find her killer.”
I open my mouth, only to be cut off by a noise at the door, the butler coming out and urging us inside.
I turn back to Art. He’s already walking away, his steps firm and his shoulders square, taking heart in his version of the story.
That Nellie’s ghost will give Gray clues, and the great detective will solve the case.
Damn it.
“Mallory?” Isla calls.
I take one more look at Art, and I decide it isn’t my place to stamp out that spark of magic.
I’d like him to have a higher opinion of police detectives—I’ll need to talk to Jack about being even more careful not to belittle the investigative efforts of law enforcement.
But if Art admires Gray and that fosters a love of science, that’s not such a bad thing, right?
If he follows that route, he’ll develop a proper skepticism for spiritualism and ghosts.
I wave to tell Isla that I’m coming, hike my skirts, and pick up my pace as I cross the lawn.
Madame Paix has not yet arrived, so we’re socializing briefly with Lady Adler and her husband.
Miss Emerson is there, and I pay greater attention to her than I had before.
She was the original séance client. Her mother, Mrs. Emerson, had been a friend of Lady Adler’s and had died two months ago.
Lady Adler offered to hire Madame Paix for the grieving daughter.
It seems a very kind thing for Lady Adler to do except …
Okay, it’s not kindness at all, as I learn once I engage Miss Emerson in private conversation while Gray and Isla speak to the Adlers.
Miss Emerson and I are in the library, the others having gone to look at some newly acquired piece of furniture.
“I imagine the last séance was difficult for you,” I say as Miss Emerson fidgets and looks toward the window. “All that hope of contacting your mother and then…”
She glances at me, her mouth twisting in a wry smile. “I did not expect to contact my mother, Miss Mitchell. I am sorry if I disparage your own beliefs, but I do not think the dead walk among us.”
I glance toward the door and lower my voice. “Neither do I.”
Her smile touches on something close to genuine. “That is a relief. I know you work for a man of science.”
“I do, and I find the concept of ghosts utterly fascinating, but if they exist—and I do not think they do—I cannot imagine they are loitering about waiting for a medium to contact them. Or, at least, I hope they are not. It sounds like a dreadful afterlife.”
She chokes on a small laugh. “Indeed.” She checks the door and leans closer.
“I adored my mama. I would dearly love to speak to her again, but she died of a lengthy illness, and I had time to say all that I wished to say. I hope she has moved on and is enjoying a happy life with Papa. In the meantime”—another glance at the window as she lowers her voice more—“I was supposed to be at the theater with my fiancé tonight. But I cannot refuse Lady Adler. She truly has been kind to me, even if…”
I edge closer.
“The first séance was her idea,” Miss Emerson whispers. “I told her it was not necessary, but she insisted. I believe she is trying to be helpful but also…” A small shrug. “She has a keen interest in spiritualism.”
“Ah.”
“She had heard wonderful things about Madame Paix. Did you know she is the cousin of D. D. Home?”
I remember that is Madame Paix’s brother’s surname, and therefore likely her maiden name. At the last séance, her brother—Freddie—asked whether we knew the name Home and Madame Paix had shushed him.
Recognition hits me then, and Miss Emerson smiles at my reaction.
“The famous American spiritualist?” I say.
“Not American. Scottish. He was born a few miles from Edinburgh, in Currie. Which I only know because Lady Adler told me. Before that, I had not heard of Mr. Home at all. But in those circles, he is a sun among the twinkling stars, and by extension, his cousin receives the reflected glow of his light.”
I won’t mention that our sun actually is a star. I take her point, though. D. D. Home is famous. If one believes that the gift is a family trait, Madame Paix would have started her career a few steps up the ladder, boosted by the family name.
“As you do not believe in ghosts,” I say, “might I ask what you think happened the other day? It is a conundrum we are trying to solve.”
“That Nellie’s ghost presumably spoke up when no one knew she was dead?”
“Yes.”
Miss Emerson taps her fingers on the chair arm.
“I have thought about that. I can only presume that it was a wild guess. Or perhaps not so wild, I fear. I recall Lady Adler speaking very fondly of Nellie, and I met the girl a few times. She was lovely—I had told my fiancé that I would happily steal her from Lady Adler. Bright and good-natured and dreadfully efficient. She seemed happy here, though, which is how I knew I could never lure her away. When she disappeared, Lady Adler was most confused. She could not understand why Nellie would go.”
“She did not question it?”
Miss Emerson shrugs. “She questioned herself—whether she had said or done something—but she did not question that the girl left of her own accord, as her belongings were all taken. Yet it was odd, and from what I hear…” She lowers her voice.
“Mediums make it their business to know a client’s business, if you understand my meaning. ”
I’ve heard this from a modern detective who investigated fraudulent mediums. There’s cold reading, which means they pick up cues on the spot, like noticing that a client looks troubled when they mention money, leading the medium to claim they see financial problems in the client’s life.
Then there’s hot reading, which means they’ve done their research, like bringing up the financial troubles after discovering that a client mentioned unpaid child support on social media.
I say, “Madame Paix could have known about Nellie’s disappearance, and that it was unexpected and troubling, which could lead her to guess that Nellie is dead. Even if Nellie lived, Madame Paix could reasonably count on Nellie never coming back here, so it would appear Madame Paix was correct.”
“A calculated guess,” Miss Emerson says with some satisfaction. “And if Dr. Gray took on the case and found Nellie alive, then it was her living spirit, unknowingly reaching out for help. However, I must say I do not think Madame Paix conducts her own research.”
“She has her brother and her husband.”
“Not the brother. Oh, he is very sweet, in a puppy-dog sort of way. Very enthusiastic and eager. But her husband.” She flushes. “He is very handsome.”
Is he? I hadn’t noticed.
Miss Emerson goes on. “Both the brother and the husband conduct a pre-séance visit to the site. To ensure it is appropriate for Madame Paix’s needs. The brother does all the running about and checking everything, while the husband socializes.”
My brows rise. “He seemed very reticent to me.”
“He is, but is there not something appealing in that? A handsome and aloof man? From what I hear, the maids competed for his attention and even Lady Adler made herself most available.”
“When did this site visit take place?”
“A few weeks ago.”
I sit up. “Before Nellie disappeared? I was under the impression the séance was only recently arranged.”
“No, Madame Paix is very popular and must be engaged weeks in advance. The visit came at least a fortnight before Nellie disappeared.”
“You said all the maids vied for his attention? Including Nellie?”
She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “He is a very handsome man.”