Chapter Twenty-Five
TWENTY-FIVE
I’ve debated how to go about this. Do we start at the edges and work in?
In other words, get more details on Madame Paix and her operation—her reputation—before I actually speak to her?
That technique is for going in hard, waiting for the suspect to make a misstep so I can seize it and throw them off balance.
But do I want that?
I decide I do not. I already believe Madame Paix is a fraud assisted by her husband and brother. If I have proof of that, I won’t be able to suspend my disbelief enough to earn her trust. She will suspect my motives. I think her husband will suspect them even more.
I decide to play this soft … for now. If there’s a chance the trio don’t realize they’d be the prime suspects—as the ones who knew Nellie was dead—then I want to keep them in that state of ignorant bliss for as long as possible.
Keep them cooperative.
Last night, Gray had interviewed the Adler staff.
He hadn’t spoken to anyone who’d actually been at the second séance, because he’d been looking for details on Rose.
He had, however, let the medium and her team know that we would need to speak to them today.
We have an open invitation to stop by, and that is what we do.
The address leads us to a New Town hotel, where the Parsonses have taken up temporary residence. They’re sharing a two-bedroom suite, and when we arrive, the only one at home is Freddie, the brother.
“Stella and Edgar are out to lunch,” he says as he invites us in. “They will be back within the hour, if you would care to wait.”
“We would,” I say. “Thank you.”
Freddie rings for tea. Room service, Victorian style, ringing a bell that’s rigged up to a pulley into the staff area and then waiting for a staff member to appear and take his order.
We settle into the living room, and Gray sits silently while Freddie and I chatter about the hotel, ending with me asking, “I take it you are not in Edinburgh for long?”
“We have a house near Glasgow,” Freddie says. Then he gives a short laugh. “I should say that Edgar has a house, and I stay there. We came to Edinburgh specifically for Lady Adler, though while we are here, we have accepted other invitations as well. My sister is much in demand these days.”
“So it seems.” I smooth my skirts. “I must admit that when you said your surname was Home, I did not immediately see the significance. I later realized what you meant. That you are related to Mr. Daniel Home, the spiritualist.”
His face lights up. “Stella does not like me to trumpet the connection, and Edgar frowns on it.” A roll of his eyes. “Edgar frowns on everything. It is his nature. I understand he is only thinking of my sister. He wishes her to stand alone, without the crutch of connection.”
“Your brother-in-law supports his wife’s endeavors? I fear I had heard … Well, I had heard something different.” I’d heard no such thing, but it was the impression I got.
“Edgar is … My sister adores him, and he is a good husband, but very much … straitlaced and straight-backed. He understands that spiritualism is important to Stella, and so he supports it. I only hope someday he will come to fully comprehend the gift she has been given.”
“I would hope so, but if you ask me, it is a truer sign of his love that he supports his wife in something he does not particularly understand.”
“Or he supports the money she makes at it.”
I’m taken aback, but Freddie laughs. “That was a joke. Edgar has money of his own. Though extra never hurts, does it?”
I resist the urge to glance at Gray. I do love an overly chatty—and overly honest—witness, and I’m not surprised that’s Freddie, given his puppy-dog enthusiasm.
I just have to be very careful not to let him see that I’m surprised by his openness.
I’m not sure whether he has the self-awareness to dial it back, but I’d really rather he didn’t.
“What does Mr. Parsons do for a living?” I ask.
“As little as possible,” Freddie says cheerfully.
“He comes from money. He does this and that for the family business. Shipping. Terribly dull. But it suits him.” He makes a face.
“That sounded uncharitable. I am very fond of Edgar, even if he does not feel the same about me. And if he were more interesting, he would not be with my sister, would he?”
I don’t know how to answer that, so I only look expectant, as if waiting for him to go on, which of course he does.
“The fellow has money, and he cuts a very dashing figure,” Freddie says. “It is only his dull nature that kept him from being the most eligible man in Glasgow.”
I think about what Miss Emerson said, that women found Edgar Parsons irresistible, between his good looks and his standoffishness. Is that standoffishness actually just, well, a lack of anything interesting to say? A lack of charm? Or is Freddie misinterpreting a reserved personality as a dull one?
One of my theories involves Nellie falling for Parsons. It would explain her slipping off in the evenings. It would also explain her apparently not being interested in dating. That makes Parsons a suspect, but it also makes his wife one, if she’s the jealous sort.
It might not matter whether Parsons is reserved or dull. What matters would be what Nellie saw, and whether she found it attractive.
I consider ways to tug this thread. Freddie said Parsons is a good husband.
That doesn’t necessarily mean he was a faithful one.
In this time, fidelity isn’t considered nearly as important as being generous, kind, and supportive.
Which, honestly, might not be a bad ordering of priorities, but only if that lack of fidelity didn’t come with a lack of respect and consideration.
I’m sure marriage can run well without monogamy, as long as the rest is there.
While I suspect Freddie might give me an honest answer about his brother-in-law’s fidelity, I can see no way to word the question—even obliquely—without being scandalous.
So I circle back. “About the spiritualism, while I am interested, I fear I know little about it. Your sister has a gift, yes? Like her cousin, Mr. Home?”
“The Sight runs in our family. My grandfather had it, as did Daniel’s mother—my aunt.
She—my aunt—was a renowned seer. When we were young, Daniel foresaw the death of his sister, who drowned at the age of twelve.
Then, while his brother Adam was at sea, Daniel had a vision of his death.
He told me of it months before the notice arrived. ”
I nod encouragingly, not that Freddie needs it.
“At that time, Daniel only seemed to be able to foresee death. I have heard that now, in America, he does more. Contacting the dead. Interpreting rappings and so forth. Which is what my sister does. She has always heard knocking and whispers, and my aunt said it was the Sight, but Stella has never seen a harbinger of death. Not until…”
He trails off. I glance at Gray, mostly to be sure he’s still awake. He is, listening and saying nothing. When a rap comes at the door, I’ll admit I jump, as if it’s one of Madame Paix’s ghosts.
It’s the hotel staff with tea. I serve, which forces Gray to make small talk, and then he gratefully withdraws into silence as I sit again.
“You said Madame Paix has never seen a harbinger until…” I prod.
“Yes, it appears that aspect of her power has finally manifested with the demise of poor Miss Carmichael.” He leans forward. “Dr. Gray? You are a man of science. Perhaps you can settle this disagreement?”
“Hmm?” Gray says, rousing himself.
“I say it was the house.”
“The…?”
“The Adler house. Because Nellie had recently died and Stella was doing a séance there. That conjunction of events allowed Stella’s latent ability to foresee death. It is science, yes? Edgar says it is not.”
“I…” Gray glances at me, obviously confused.
I clear my throat. “But when Stella contacted Nellie, she was already dead. So it wasn’t really foreseeing death.”
“But no one knew she was dead. Maybe she was not even dead yet, but only on the banks of that creek, considering drowning herself.”
“She died the night she disappeared,” Gray says, his voice firm as he returns to known territory.
“But no one knew that.”
“Except her killer,” I say.
“If that is the answer. Which it might be. No insult to Dr. Gray. It might be murder. But if the police have called it suicide, it might be that, too.”
We’re going in circles here. Madame Paix allegedly sees ghosts. Therefore, seeing a ghost is not “foreseeing” death. At least, not in the sense of it being a new power.
Is Freddie trying to steer us away from the obvious—that her killer would know she was dead, which means it could be his sister?
“I have heard your adventures are committed to print, Dr. Gray,” Freddie says, and we both startle at the change of subject.
“Yes…” Gray says.
“They are becoming very popular. My sister showed me one. She bought it after meeting you. The mystery about an Egyptian mummy.” He shivers with a smile. “I cannot wait to read it.”
“Thank you.…” Gray’s gaze flicks to me.
“You will be covering this story as well, yes? I hear you work closely with the writer.” Before we can answer, he says, “My sister would be delighted. And it would be such excellent publicity. Not that she cares about such things, but I am her manager.”
“I … did not know that,” Gray says carefully.
“Edgar would say he is her manager, and he is, for scheduling and such. But I handle the promotion.”
“Ah.”
“So if you need anything about my sister’s background, how her powers manifested as a child, stories and the like, I am the person for that. Your readers are sure to find that fascinating. And they will be very interested to know that, like her more famous cousin, she has begun to foresee death.”
I try not to slump. Okay, that’s why he’s framing it that way. To more closely align his sister with D. D. Home. It also means that he’s useless as a source of information on her “abilities.” He is, in short, her publicist.
“We will take that into consideration,” I murmur. “Now, how well did you know Nellie?”
He looks confused. “She is a housemaid.”
“But you had met her before, yes?”
He shrugs. “I believe so? I do not pay attention to housemaids.” He hurries on. “That sounds dismissive, but I am a young man, not yet betrothed, and my sister is a famous medium. I cannot afford to notice the young women in a client’s employ. Edgar is better at that.”
“Is he?” I frown. “I did not get the impression he was overly friendly.”
“He is not. However, he says it is important for us to know who we are working with, and that goes beyond the client to their staff. He does have a point. Did you hear about Mrs. Lloyd?”
The name isn’t familiar, so I shake my head.
“A medium of middling renown. She was rude to a maid. Brought the poor girl to tears because the séance room was not to her exact specifications. The next thing you know, someone from that household was spreading a story, saying that she saw the medium’s assistant rapping on the table.”
“Ah.”
“So Edgar insists we be kind to the staff, and he makes a point of knowing their names. I do not, but I am friendly enough. It is Edgar the young ladies gravitate towards. They find him dashing. You should speak to him. I am certain he knew Miss Carmichael.”
I tread carefully. “Did you ever see them together?”
“That would require me knowing which one was Miss Carmichael.” A soft laugh. “I do recall that Edgar worked closely with one of the maids, with instructions for how the room was to be arranged. Perhaps it was her?”
I decide not to push more there. Better to speak to Parsons himself. When I glance at Gray, I expect the usual headshake, telling me he has nothing to add.
Instead, he says, “How did your sister take the news of Miss Carmichael’s death?”
Freddie looks confused. “You mean the official confirmation? After she first heard it from Miss Carmichael herself? I thought it exciting, but Stella was most distressed. She had only ever made contact with those she already knew were dead. I told her this was a new power, and she said if it was, she did not want it, and then Edgar told me to be quiet, that I was making it worse…” He trails off.
“We do not always see eye to eye when it comes to my sister. Edgar worries too much.”
“And when she learned Miss Carmichael had been found dead?” Gray presses.
“Stella already knew she was dead.”
“So she did not react?”
“I don’t know. I did not deliver the news. Edgar forbade it.”
“Forbade it?” I say.
A shrug. “He does that. As I said, we do not always see eye to eye.” Freddie seems uncomfortable for a moment but then finds his enthusiasm again. “But we both care deeply for Stella, and that is what counts. Edgar would do anything for her. I could not ask for more in a brother-in-law.”