Free Maids of Misfortune by M. Louisa Locke Page A

Mrs. Voss used to open the front door to let her sister-in-law out to call for help."
    "But why are you assuming that it had to be an intruder?" she asked. "There were people in the house at the time of his death, weren't there?"
    "Just stop it!" Nate said. "That is an unconscionable suggestion. There were four people in the house that night besides Voss. His wife, his sister, his son, and a perfectly respectable maid. Good heavens, you don't think any of them were capable of murdering Matthew Voss? What earthly reason would any of them have for doing so?"
    Annie stood still, shocked by his vehemence. As she began to speak, she struggled to control her voice, saying, "There are all kinds of reasons to wish someone dead. Love. Hatred. Fear. Revenge. Even incredible weariness. How can you presume to know what any of those people were incapable or capable of doing? You barely know them."
    "But neither do you," said Nate quietly.
    Annie paused. Then, thinking out loud, she replied, "No, you are right. But from everything you have just said, it seems clear that the answer to Matthew Voss’s death lies somewhere within that household. So we must get to know the members of that household better if we are to solve the mystery of his death. We owe it to him to do so."
    With that statement, she briskly resumed walking. Across the street from them rose the mammoth Palace Hotel, and its rows of bay windows glowed golden in the afternoon sun. "Ralston's Folly," Beatrice always called it. It was, in its way, magnificent, but people said it had bankrupted Ralston and driven him to suicide four years earlier. Because of this too painful reminder of her own husband's death, she had so far avoided even entering the carved archway that led to its central court. Looking up at the building's symmetrical facade, Annie found herself fervently hoping that she could prove that Matthew Voss had not died in a similar fashion, crushed by fortune's fickleness. Nate caught up with her, and they continued walking side by side in silence.
    "Mrs. Fuller, why did you decide to become a clairvoyant? Do you really believe in spiritualism?"
    Annie, who had been lost in her own thoughts, was startled. She took the opportunity to pause, grateful for the chance to rest again and let the air cool her heated brow. Although Market was not one of the city's steeper hills, her dress made walking difficult. She had chosen to wear one of the outfits that had been remade recently by the Misses Moffet, her seamstress boarders. The tightly fitted skirt may have looked very fashionable, but it was extremely confining. She realized now that she had wanted a chance to show Mr. Dawson that she didn’t always dress like some actress from a variety show. As if he would even notice what I am wearing? And why should I care? Nate's question had interrupted this thought, and the unexpected nature of the question about clairvoyance so surprised her that she answered him honestly, without thinking.
    "I don't disbelieve in it. I suspect that ninety-nine percent of it––the table rapping, ghostly manifestations, voices from the great beyond––is completely fraudulent. But that doesn't mean I discount the possibility of there being spirits or ghosts or that there might be some people who are able to communicate with them. It has always seemed to me pretty arrogant to assume there are no mysteries in the universe that cannot be explained away. However, what I actually do is cast people’s horoscopes or read their palms."
    “You really use that astrology rigmarole to advise people on their business ventures?” Nate said. “And men like Matthew Voss and Herman Stein take it seriously?"
    She laughed. "Well, to be honest, Mr. Stein doesn't take the astrology or palmistry seriously, and I suspect Mr. Voss didn't either. I don't, of course, but most of my clients do. I use the palmistry and star charts as a way of getting to know the people who are asking my advice. You can tell a lot