Strong Spirits [Spirits 01] (40 page)

      
He finally said, “Yes. Well, if there are no more questions about Mr. Kincaid’s capture and arrest, I’d better get down to the courthouse.”

      
Harold exchanged a glance with his mother, then with me. I shrugged. Whether anyone in the room wanted to believe it or not, this Kincaid mess wasn’t my problem.

      
Algie went to Mrs. Kincaid and stood before her as she sat on the sofa. “Is there anything I can do for you, Madeline? I had best go to the bank and help Mr. Farrington. We have to make sure exactly how many bonds are missing and how much they total in dollars.”

      
“Of course, Algie dear.”

      
So he was a
dear
, too. I felt much better.

      
“Maybe I should go to the courthouse with you, Detective Rotondo. Will you require a member of the family to be present?”

      
“It wouldn’t hurt. Thank you, Mr. Kincaid. Er, would you care to drive in my police vehicle or take your own?”

      
I’m sure Harold could tell how little Sam wanted him to ride in his machine, because even I could detect Sam’s reluctance to make the offer. I think it’s a dirty shame that so-called “normal” men feared the Harolds of this world. Harold was about as dangerous as a powder puff.

      
“I’ll take the Bearcat,” said Harold. He didn’t even sound snippy or cynical. He was probably accustomed to this reaction from men who weren’t of his persuasion. “That is, I’ll take it if Stacy hasn’t stolen it and wrapped it around a tree somewhere.”

      
“Harold!” cried Mrs. Kincaid, aghast.

      
I couldn’t suppress a grin because Harold and I were on the same track. Harold Kincaid was a peach; I don’t care what anyone else said or thought about him. He was quickly becoming a good friend to me, as Sam was to Billy, and I appreciated having someone to talk to, as I could talk to Harold.

      
“Just kidding, Mother.” Harold scurried over to the couch, kissed his mother’s cheek, winked at me, and headed toward Rotondo, who stepped back a space, as if he expected Harold to attack him. Bigotry comes in lots of forms, I guess.

      
“Thank you, Mr. Kincaid.” At least Rotondo
sounded
polite. Turning to Mrs. Kincaid, he said, “I’ll return as soon as the arraignment is over, if that’s all right with you, Mrs. Kincaid, and tell you how it went and what will happen next. We may have to execute search warrants on this house and the bank, but I promise you that we’ll disturb you as little as possible.”

      
“
Search
warrants? Good God!” Mrs. Kincaid’s stiff posture slumped. I laid a hand on her shoulder and murmured in my best mediumistic voice, “This, too, will pass, Mrs. Kincaid. Recall the messages that came through for you in the cards and the board.”

      
I could practically hear Sam Rotondo’s eyes rolling even though I wasn’t looking at him. Darn it, if he wasn’t a friend of Billy’s, I’d never let him in my house again.

      
“May I speak with you before you and Daisy get started, Madeline?” Father Frederick looked serious, and I instantly took the hint.

      
I stood up and smoothed my jacket. “While you speak with Father Frederick, may I visit with Edie and Quincy? They’re both good friends of mine.” I smiled sweetly down upon Mrs. Kincaid.

      
She took my hand. “Of course, Daisy dear. I feel so bad about what happened to both of them.”

      
Yeah. So did I.

      
Algie, Harold, Sam, and I left the room together. Harold gave me a peck on the cheek before taking off to the courthouse. Sam nodded curtly. Algie stuttered something I didn’t catch. Father Frederick shook my hand, which was a departure, but I didn’t mind. As for me, I hot-footed it through the kitchen, waving at Aunt Vi as I did so, and hurried to the room that was being used to accommodate Quincy as he recovered.

      
I made a big mistake when I got there. It still embarrasses me to think about it. But how could I have known that I should knock before entering a hospital room, and that room was being used as one, wasn’t it? When I trotted through the breakfast room and got to the right door, I burst right in. My greeting stuck in my throat, and the sight that greeted me made me step back out into the hall and shut the door. Fast.

      
My goodness, but I didn’t think people did things like that until after they were married. If I’d known what was going to happen to Billy in France, I might have availed myself of the opportunity beforehand, too, but, gee whiz. How embarrassing.

      
I heard some shuffling noises coming from inside the room, and stood there, wondering what to do. I really wanted to congratulate both Edie and Quincy for overcoming such terrible obstacles to their happiness, but I didn’t think I could manage a chat with a couple of nearly-naked people. I wouldn’t know where to look, if you know what I mean.

      
As I stood in the hallway for several moments, confused and flustered, the door opened and a red-faced Edie peeked out at me. “Daisy,” she said.

      
I bowed my head. “I’m so sorry, Edie. I don’t know why I didn’t think to knock. I was so eager to find out how the two of you were doing, that I just walked right in.” Guess I didn’t have to ask
now
, but I did anyway. “Is Quincy better?”

      
“Much better.” Her cheeks got even redder. “Thank you for asking.” She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Please come on in, Daisy. We both need to thank you for suggesting the police get in touch with the Coast Guard.”

      
“Right,” came from the bed. I didn’t want to go into the room, but after such a friendly greeting from Edie, I felt obliged to do so.

      
I waved from the doorway. “How are you feeling, Quincy?”

      
“Much better. And I want to thank you, too, because if the Coast Guard hadn’t found that bastard—”

      
“Quincy!” Edie glowered at her beloved.

      
Quincy winced. “Sorry. Edie’s making me watch my language.”

      
I thought that was a splendid idea, although I didn’t say so.

      
“Anyhow, if the police hadn’t finally called on the Coast Guard for help, I’d probably have been charged with murder.”

      
“Without a body?” I asked, thinking about what Billy had told me.

      
Edie said, “You know how it goes, Daisy. If you’re not rich, they can do pretty much anything they want to do to you.”

      
Pessimistic, but true. “Yes, I know. I’m sure glad they found him. They got most of the bonds back, too.”

      
“Glad to hear it. I wish they’d toss a few our way. We could use them.” Quincy grinned. I quailed to see the grin, but I guess his lip was healing fast, because nothing started bleeding.

      
“Quincy.” Another glower from Edie. “Mrs. Kincaid has been an angel. She’s given me a paid leave of absence to nurse you, she’s given you your job back,
plus
a raise in pay, and she said I could stay here and work—again with a raise in pay—until I don’t want to any longer. What more do you want out of life?”

      
I wondered how these two were going to get along after they were married. Pretty well, I decided, as long as Edie held firm. You had to be strong to survive living with a man. I knew it for a fact.

      
“I know it, Angel Face, but I sure wouldn’t mind being rich. Would you?”

      
Angel Face? I’m glad Billy only called me Daisy.

      
Upon a sigh, Edie confessed, “No. I wouldn’t mind at all. But there’s no use in longing for things that can’t be.”

      
Quincy shrugged, which didn’t seem to cause him any pain, either. “You never know.”

      
“True, true,” I said, deciding I’d better get back to the drawing room with my Tarot cards. I suspected it would be Featherstone who brought Mrs. Kincaid’s fancy Ouija board to the drawing room, and I wanted to see him do it. There was something about Featherstone together with an Ouija board that tickled my sense of the ridiculous.

      
I didn’t get home that night until way past dark. I actually dined (the Kincaids dined; we Gumms and Majestys only ate) with Mrs. Kincaid, Harold, Father Frederick, and Algie (nobody knew where Stacy was, thank God) at the Kincaid’s massive dining room table. What’s more, I got to eat Aunt Vi’s food, so I didn’t miss out on anything.

      
The meal started out with a salad made with mixed greens and with a dressing that was so good I wanted to lick the bowl when the greens were gone. That course was followed by a poached fish of some sort served on a bed of spinach and with a sauce so savory, I decided that as long as I could eat Aunt Vi’s cooking, I wouldn’t miss not doing with Billy what Edie and Quincy had been up to. Not much, anyway.

      
I thought that was it—salad, fish, and spinach would be a full meal for us Gumms and Majestys. It wasn’t it, however. Next to be brought in by Featherstone, who held the platter as if he neither knew nor cared what it contained, was a chicken pie. I was familiar with Aunt Vi’s chicken pie, and wished I hadn’t eaten so much fish. But what’s a person to do in a situation like that? I ate my chicken pie with relish. That is to say, not with relish, but with pleasure. Oh, you know what I mean.

      
Dessert was a blackberry tart smothered in sweetened whipped cream. I understood now why Mrs. Kincaid and Harold were both on the plump side. If I ate like that every day of my life, I’d look like an elephant in no time at all.

Chapter Eighteen
 

      
It turned out that even judges have their principles (or maybe they were prejudices). Not a single one of the judges or lawyers or bankers that had been chummy with Mr. Kincaid before he stole the bearer bonds wanted anything to do with him after he was charged with several felonies.

      
He was not tried by a jury of his peers, either, since rich men always managed to get out of serving on jury duty. It was regular people like the Gumms and Majestys who served on his jury. Irate that a rich man like Kincaid had tried to swindle them out of their own paltry savings, they convicted him of everything. Plus, the judge (who, I later learned from Harold, belonged to one of Mr. Kincaid’s clubs) sentenced him to ten years in the prison in Los Angeles.

      
So, there you go. Sometimes justice prevails. Sometimes it doesn’t. Depends on how much money you have at the time you need a judge’s influence. Fortunately for Mrs. Kincaid and the rest of us who loathed or had been oppressed by Mr. Kincaid, Mr. Kincaid had no money at the time of his trial.

      
Mrs. Kincaid filed for divorce, and proved Algie’s prophecy by being the center of social attention in Pasadena for months after the news of Mr. Kincaid’s theft and bolt to the ocean spread. She was the Queen of Pasadena until the next scandal broke and some other society woman took over the position. She enjoyed herself during her reign, too. I can’t even remember the number of séances I held at her house during the ensuing six months, or the number of new clients I garnered from doing so.

      
I was glad for her and even a little bit proud. After all, I’d had a hand in helping her through her many travails, one of whom still lived in her house. Mrs. Kincaid never spoke to me about Stacy, but I heard lots of gossip when I conducted séances at other rich women’s homes. It seemed to me that Stacy would never grow up, and I was glad I didn’t have to run around in her circles.

      
As for Edie and Quincy, three months after Quincy resumed working as a stable hand at the Kincaid mansion, the two of them got married. What’s more, Mrs. Kincaid insisted they do so in her garden, which still looked gorgeous even though September had crept in and fall was approaching fast. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many spectacular carnations and chrysanthemums.

      
Father Frederick performed the ceremony. Mrs. Kincaid cried. So did Algie Pinkerton, who sat next to her (I saw them holding hands at one point). So did I. How embarrassing. But my darling Billy understood. He even surreptitiously handed me his big white handkerchief at one point when my tiny lacy one was saturated.

      
I saw Stacy Kincaid sitting on a garden bench, a scowl on her face and her arms crossed over her chest, and I wondered how in the world anyone had got her to attend the wedding. Had it been Harold? Or had Mrs. Kincaid finally acquired some backbone? I didn’t like Stacy enough to find out for sure, but I was intrigued to see her there. She was even clad in a demure frock, and wasn’t trying to shock the world by smoking cigarettes during the ceremony.

      
Billy got to meet Harold and Del Farrington at the wedding, and he was as polite to the two men as he would have been if he’d been introduced to a couple of “normal” men. I was proud of him.

      
Harold and I had become true chums by that time. We spent gobs of time together, and he gave me a tour of the Sam Goldwyn Studio, which was fascinating. I even got to see Douglas Fairbanks from a distance. I’d have fainted dead away on the spot, had I been a woman with a weaker nature. I’d asked Billy to come with me, but he said he didn’t want to, and that he considered men who acted in the pictures sissies. There you go. There’s no reasoning with even the best of men about some things.

      
Sam Rotondo had already surprised and disappointed me by keeping in touch with Billy after the Kincaid case was concluded. Of course, his friendship was good for Billy. And Pa liked him, too. Aunt Vi and Ma thought I was prejudiced against him for no good reason. Ha! They’d never been regarded as a murder suspect as I’d been. Let me tell you, such an experience gives a person a poor impression of one’s accuser.