Hungry Spirits [Spirits 04] (17 page)

Johnny’s prayer was short and practical. “Lord, please give Daisy and Billy a measure of Your grace. They’re going through some really hard times, as You well know. You know how to fix their problems, which are truly severe, better than we do. If it’s Your will that Billy leave this earth, protect and save him, and take care of Daisy, who loves her husband dearly. Even if she can’t cook very well.”

“
Thank you, Johnnie.”

He would have to add that last part.

Nevertheless, I appreciated Johnny Buckingham at that moment more than I ever expected to, even though I’d known him for a kindly man for years. I drove back home feeling—not contented, exactly, but a little more peaceful. Less harried. And I also knew I had to apologize to Billy for blowing up at him. The poor man deserved a better wife than I.

So I did exactly that as soon as I got home.

Billy said, “I’m sorry, too, Daisy. I know you don’t like it when I talk about doing away with myself.”

“
No, I don’t. But I understand why you might want to one day. At least . . . I think I do.” Because I couldn’t help myself, I added, “But I hope you never do it, Billy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He gave a short, mocking laugh. “You’d be better off.”

I stared at him, and I’m sure he could see the denial and sadness in my expression. “No, I wouldn’t. You might want to think that, but it’s not true. I love you, Billy.”

He’d have heaved a sigh if he’d been able. Instead, he said, “I know it, Daisy. I love you, too.”

So much for that.

* * * * *

The following day, after breakfast, I picked out one of my better costumes to wear. After all, I was headed into the rarified atmosphere of the Castleton residence in San Marino. I selected a dark-blue serge frock with a long, braid-trimmed roll collar that continued beneath the belt. The only ornamentation were five buttons on the bodice. It was quite fetching, and I believed it was also sober and appropriate for my meeting with Miss Emmaline Castleton. I plopped my recently updated-for-fall black hat on my bobbed hair, drew on a pair of dark stockings, and fetched the pretty pumps that I’d bought on sale at Nash’s.

See, this is what’s so great about sewing for yourself. I’m sure that entire outfit didn’t cost more than four dollars, and that included the shoes and hat!

Anyway, I felt properly dressed and was eager to discover what important subject Miss Castleton wanted to talk to me about.

Billy looked up from his Tarzan novel when I walked across the living room. I executed a little pirouette in front of him and Spike, who sat on his lap. “Do I look good enough to appear at the Castleton mansion in San Marino?”

His eyebrows soaring, Billy said, “Castleton? You’re going to the
Castletons’?
Good Lord, don’t tell me old man Castleton wants you to conduct a séance there.”

I laughed, although it took a bit of playacting, since I still felt kind of blue. “No. His daughter, Emmaline, asked me to meet her there for luncheon. I met her at Mrs. Bissell’s séance, and I’m honestly not sure what she wants to talk to me about. She said she isn’t interested in getting in touch with her late fiancé.” Recalling my wifely duties, I said, “There are leftovers from last night’s dinner in the icebox for you and Pa.”

“
Good. I like leftovers. Especially Vi’s.” Billy’s grin did a good deal to make me feel better about life in general. “Well, you’ll have to tell me all about this latest conquest of yours when you get home.”

“
I certainly will.” I gave him a kiss and Spike a pat, and Billy held on to Spike so I could escape the house without him.

The drive to the Castletons’ took me through a lovely part of Pasadena. My favorite street down that way is, I think, San Pasqual, which has huge houses and beautiful yards and even a prestigious university. The Throop Institute had just been renamed the California Institute of Technology, and was reputed to have the biggest scientific brains in the nation on its faculty. It had been situated in the middle of Pasadena before moving to this location, on California Boulevard. The campus was quite pretty, but it couldn’t hold a candle to the magnificent homes around it.

Miss Castleton had prepared Stickley well. As soon as I drove up to the gate, a buzzing noise sounded from a speaker on a pole next to my window, and a tinny voice said, “Mrs. Majesty?”

“
Yes.”

“
Please come in.”

And darned if the gate didn’t swing open and allow me to enter the hallowed Castleton grounds! I slowly drove through the gates, and a man held up a hand for me to halt. So I did.

The man came to my window. “Miss Castleton asked me to give you directions,” said he.

“
Thank you.”

So he did. My goodness, but this place was big! It’s a good thing he gave me directions. Otherwise, I’d never have found the house. If you can call such a gigantic building a house. I’d read about Mr. Castleton’s art collection, and was kind of prepared when Emmaline met me on the massive front porch. She hurried over to the car as soon as I brought it to a stop beside an elaborate portico.

“
Oh, I’m so glad you could come!” she said, sounding as excited as I was.

I considered that kind of strange. I mean, I’m just me, and she was a Castleton. Still, I’d learned a long time before then that people are an odd lot. “Happy to help,” I said, meaning it. In truth, I was dying to find out what was so important to her that she’d had to set up a private meeting.

“
Let Jones park your car. Here, let me take your keys.”

Startled, I handed her the keys, and she instantly handed them over to a man, whose name, I assumed, was Jones. He wore a uniform, by gum. Shoot, I guess the woman really was serious about this visit of ours.

“
I’ve asked Caruthers to serve us luncheon on the front veranda.”

I took an unintentional glimpse at the sky. It wasn’t cloudy, and this was Southern California, but still. . . .

“
Don’t worry. There’s an electric heater that Caruthers will set up so we don’t get cold. I really want to speak to you in private.”

“
I see. Well, that’s very nice,” I said, although I really wanted to see inside the house. What the heck, did she not think I was good enough to set foot in her famous abode? I tried not to resent it.

And then she said, “But before we eat, you must see inside,” and I felt better. “The place is truly fantastic. My father spared no expense, as you’ll see. Well, he had all the money in the world, so why should he?”

Why indeed? Her attitude puzzled me. She seemed fond of her father, yet she spoke of his millions as if they didn’t mean much to her. I could have educated her to the perils of poverty, but didn’t think it would be politic to do so. “I’d love to see inside,” I said mildly.

She looked at me keenly. I got the impression Miss Emmaline Castleton was no dummy. “You’re wondering why I talk like that about my father and his money, aren’t you?”

“
Well . . . yes, I guess so.”

“
Follow me.” She walked to a huge, carved mahogany door, which was instantly opened for her by another uniformed personage. Jeez, the Castletons must have employed half the people in Pasadena!

After we’d walked inside, she led me to a gigantic staircase that split halfway up so that you could go either right or left, I guess depending on which room you wanted to visit. She spoke softly. “You see, my father truly is a wonderful man, but he and my uncle used some mighty dirty tactics to make their vast wealth. I guess I’ve always felt a little guilty about it. Although,” she admitted next, “not enough to live on my own.” She heaved a huge sigh. “Anyhow, now they’re both philanthropists. Kind of like Andrew Carnegie. After he made his millions by running down the little people, he became a philanthropist, too.”

I understood her dilemma. Principles were fine, but they didn’t put food on the table. Heck, look at me. I was a total fraud. “Believe me, I understand exactly what you mean.”

Again her gaze pierced me. “Yes. I think you do. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. I think you’ll understand why, too. After the grand tour.”

It was a grand tour, all right. I’d never seen anything like the place. The artwork alone nearly overwhelmed me. Gorgeous stuff. And the servants! I swear, there were servants
everywhere.

At one point, Emmaline—she told me to call her Emmaline—said, “Father insisted on having a cat. He said there’s nothing quite like a cat to make a house a home.”

“
Hmm,” I said. “Maybe he’s right, although I think it would take more than a cat to make this place into a home.” Then I could have slapped a hand over my too-ready mouth.

Fortunately for me, Emmaline laughed. “You’re right about that! It’s just too big. Too grand.”

“
But it’s beautiful,” I said as a sop.

“
It is that. Wait until you see the grounds and the sculpture garden.”

“
Sculpture garden?”

“
Yes. Father had a whole lot of statues imported from . . . I don’t know. Greece? Well, they look like a row of Greek gods, anyhow.”

“
My goodness.”

Actually, they looked like two rows of Greek gods. The grounds were as fantastic as the house. I’d have been stricken speechless except that I’m virtually never speechless, and Emmaline was so down-to-earth and . . . well, I guess the word I want is
fun.
Isn’t that strange? But she had a wonderful sense of humor and no pretensions at all. When I compared this daughter of wealth to Stacy Kincaid, another daughter of wealth, Stacy sank even farther in my esteem, although before it happened I wouldn’t have thought it possible.

“
But you must be starving,” Emmaline said after we’d wandered around in what, to me, seemed like Wonderland for an hour or so. “I know I am. I’m sure Caruthers has our luncheon ready. I hope you like chicken à la king.”

“
I’m sure I will,” I said, hoping for the best. Chicken à la king was another thing Aunt Vi never made for the family. Too delicate for us Gumms, I suppose.

I did like it. In fact, it was delicious. I said so.

“
Thank you. I thought it might be nice to have something a little lighter for luncheon than a big, heavy meal. We always eat . . . well in the evening.”

“
So do we, thank goodness. My aunt cooks for us. She’s a marvelous cook.”

“
I’ve heard Harold Kincaid say the same thing. You’re fortunate to have such a clever relation who lives with you.”

“
Yes, we are fortunate.” Because I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about Vi, I added, “Of course, if it weren’t for the war, Vi would still be living in her own home and cooking for her family, but her son died in the war, and her husband got sick during the influenza pandemic. He died of pneumonia, as so many others did. She hasn’t had the best of times these past few years.”

To my horror, Emmaline’s eyes welled with tears. Impulsively, I put out a hand to her. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I know you suffered terribly from that awful war, too. I . . . I guess we all did.”

“
Oh, don’t mind me, Daisy.” I’d told her to call me Daisy. Turnabout’s fair play, after all. “I just get a little teary when I think about all the fine young men who lost everything in that damned war.”

Oh, my. I wasn’t accustomed to young women saying words like
damn
out loud. I thought it sometimes, and have even written the word a time or two in these journals, but I don’t drop it into casual conversations.

Emmaline wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “Actually, that’s the reason I asked you to come here today.”

“
It is?” I think I gaped at her. “I thought you wanted to talk to me about the Salvation Army’s program to help people in distress.”

“
Yes, yes, I do. But it’s all connected to that blasted war.”

“
Oh. Um . . . I don’t think I understand.”

“
Of course you don’t. I haven’t told you yet. You see, I’m hoping you can advise me about a young man who suffered terribly in the conflict, and who helped my Stephen and made his last days much brighter than they might have been. He carried him from the battlefield, you see, and tended him as well as he could until he died.”

“
Good Lord.”

Emmaline nodded. “He brought me a letter Stephen had written right before he subsided into unconsciousness. I know it was written by Stephen, because it was his handwriting, and he wrote about things nobody but the two of us would know about.” She looked at me earnestly. “This man is a genuine hero, Daisy. At least he’s the hero of my life.”

“
It sounds like it,” I said, since I couldn’t think of anything more refined to say.

She nodded again. “He is.” Firmly. She spoke firmly.

“
Um . . . I presume this fellow has had some hard times since the war ended?”

“
You wouldn’t believe what he went through. He was reprimanded severely for helping Stephen, for one thing, and was even imprisoned for a while. He couldn’t get work, and he finally had to escape. I sent him money to get to South America, and he stayed in Mexico for several months. He was ill, you see. Very ill. He had that influenza, too. Plus, he’d been wounded in the same battle that took Stephen.”

I held up a hand to stop the flow of her words, because they didn’t make any sense to me. “Wait a minute, please. Did you just say he was
reprimanded
for helping Mr. Allison? And was actually
imprisoned
for helping him?”