I nodded in admiration. Kay put the matter very well indeed.
“However, you know and I know and Bailey Ruth knows that our participation—”
Was there a faintly heard rumble?
Kay continued hurriedly. “Actually, her unwilling presence, very unwilling, would in no way signal approval of the fraud perpetrated by Laverne Phillips upon poor Diane. However, since we are well aware the seance is a fraud, that knowledge surely permits Bailey Ruth to attend. Ronald Phillips intends to blackmail Jack Hume’s murderer. Bailey Ruth may gain evidence to avenge Jack. Possibly if we follow those leads, we can prevent Ronald from putting himself in grave danger.”
I shook my head. “A moment ago, I warned him.” I described the note and my knock on the door. “He took the note as a signal that he was right. The seance will proceed.”
“Danger.” Wiggins’s voice was as deep as the lowest timbre of a pipe organ.
Kay’s eyes flared wide.
Wiggins boomed. “Danger indeed for the immortal souls of all who traffic in such nonsense.”
Kay shot me a panicked glance.
Truly, it mystified me that she had come to terms with me, but still found Wiggins’s unseen presence unnerving. “Wiggins.” As always I was respectful. “Possibly we should realize that Precept Six—don’t scare anybody—outweighs Precept Three—stay out of sight. Of course, it is always your intent, nobly so, to work behind the scenes. However, in this instance I believe we can have more civilized discourse if Kay can see you.” He was such a wonderful, reassuring man. In person. A booming voice alone didn’t give the proper impression.
“Hmm.”
Kay stared toward the sound of his voice, hunched her shoulders.
“Oh, very well.” A swirl of colors and Wiggins stood a few feet from us, shining chestnut curls bright above his ruddy face. “Kay Clark, please understand this is not the usual protocol.”
Kay lifted a shaky hand to touch her upper lip.
Wiggins’s walrus mustache was a thing of beauty. His stiffly starched, high-collared white shirt gleamed. He was true to his period in gray wool trousers—thankfully, the air-conditioning in The Castle made the room quite cool—and suspenders as well as a thick black belt with a silver buckle.
He looked at Kay. “Now, now, my dear.” His voice was suddenly gentle. His rubicund face creased in that warm, welcoming smile I had come to love.
The tension eased from Kay’s body.
His dark brown eyes glowed with kindness. “The mission of the Department of Good Intentions”—he spoke with quiet pride—“is to combat evil.”
Kay’s look was imploring. “That’s why Bailey Ruth must be at the seance tonight.”
Wiggins tugged on one end of his mustache. He stood in thought for a long moment. Finally, he spoke in a considering tone. “The intent behind tonight’s gathering is reprehensible in several ways: the spurious offering of contact with the beyond, the deliberate effort to create fear on the part of those present, the nefarious purpose of profiting from evil. However”—his eyes brightened—“I can see that Bailey Ruth’s attendance would in no way offer sanction, but may lead to a successful completion of her mission.” He folded one large hand into a fist, smacked it into his palm. “Very well. I approve.”
Colors swirled and he was gone.
Kay went directly to Evelyn Hume, who was seated in a Louis XV armchair. She appeared regal in a summery blue silk dress and a lustrous pearl necklace. “Evelyn, this is my assistant, Francie de Sales.”
Evelyn looked up, but her gaze didn’t center squarely on me. “We are pleased that you can stay with us, Francie.” Her tone was gracious. “Jack’s life was exciting and I’m confident Kay will create a fascinating book. Have you met everyone?”
I smiled. “I’ve met all of the family.”
Kay looked around the room. “Francie hasn’t met Laverne and Ronald.”
Diane fluttered toward us. “Laverne and Ronald won’t be dining with us. Just a light repast in their suite. Laverne said she is under great stress. Because of this evening.” She took a deep breath. “Tonight holds special significance. We will be gathering together, everyone who was here the night Jack died.”
Evelyn was gruff. “I doubt our guests are overly concerned with the presence or absence of Laverne and Ronald. Francie can meet them in the morning. Francie, I hope you are enjoying your visit here in Adelaide.” She looked past Kay and me. “I believe our dinner is ready. Francie, I’d be pleased to have you sit by me.” She rose and gestured for me to accompany her. “Are you aware that the Chickasaw Nation…”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Drawn velvet curtains blocked any vestige of late-summer sunlight from the library. Golden light from ecru-shaded bronze wall sconces offered soft pools of illumination around the periphery of the room. The twin chandeliers remained dark. Near the oak writing table in the center of the room, Laverne Phillips lay propped against the end of the red velvet chaise longue, one hand draped on the carved back, the other dangling limply over the side. Her face was indistinct in the gloom. No details of her all-black clothing could be distinguished.
I floated above the long oak table, studying the family and guests seated in the Louis XV chairs.
Diane plucked nervously at silver charms on a bracelet and darted worried glances around the table, perhaps fearful that those she’d persuaded to attend would leave, perhaps fearful that James would not appear.
