Free Unsettled Spirits by Alice Duncan Page B

liveried fellows would park Harold's Bearcat for him and, when we left the hotel, would fetch it for him.
    Whether Harold wanted to admit it or not, money talked. Loudly.
    Very well, so I'd also visited Emmaline Castleton at her home, which was lavish. I'd been to her father's Castleton Memorial Hospital several times, but I'd never been to the Castleton Hotel before in the company of a Castleton. You'd have thought we were visiting royalty. That is to say, you'd have thought we were royalty visiting the hotel. Oh, you know what I mean.
    A fellow in a black suit who looked vaguely like an undertaker, hurried to us as soon as our feet hit the red carpeting inside the building. "Miss Castleton's guests?" he inquired in a snooty voice.
    "Yes, indeed," said Harold, who didn't let his money give him airs. He let his money give his servitors airs.
    Am I being cynical? I suppose so. I apologize.
    Anyhow, we were divested of our outer garments, asked if any of us would like to visit the "guest facilities," which, I assume, were the bathrooms, and when we all declined the invitation, he led us to the main dining room, which was a supremely fancy place, through that room, and to a private dining room, where he opened the door and bowed. Harold and Del let me enter first, as was only proper.
    Emmaline had been seated at the beautifully set table, complete with a gorgeous flower arrangement in its middle, with her elbow on the table and her palm supporting her chin when we entered. As soon as the door opened, she got to her feet and headed to me with both her hands out.
    "Daisy, it's so good to see you again," said she, beaming at me.
    That was nice. "It's good to see you again, too, Emmaline." I beamed back at her. What the heck.
    Harold rubbed his hands together. "What's on the menu today?" he said.
    Del bumped him with a shoulder in a funning gesture one wouldn't necessarily expect from the extremely sober and proper Delray Farrington, who hailed from a fabulously wealthy family from New Orleans.
    Which is kind of funny, because Mrs. Pinkerton's gatekeeper, Jackson, is also from New Orleans, only his family is black, so they probably were either owned by or waited on the Farringtons back in the day.
    Oh, pooh. Forget I said that. Life isn't fair, never has been, and never will be, so it's almost not worth making note of the fact.
    "But Daisy, I wanted to ask you about Mrs. Franbold," said Emmaline, taking my arm and leading Harold, Del and me to the table. "Was she really poisoned? At a communion service?"
    To say I was surprised by this introduction to the luncheon table's conversation would be a major understatement.

Chapter 8

    Before I could say anything, which was a good thing since words seemed to have fled from my brain, Emmaline gave some instructions to the dignified man in black, who bowed to her and left the room. By the time the door shut behind him, my words had returned. All I had to do then was put them in some kind of coherent order.
    "You knew Mrs. Franbold?" I asked, surprised. I didn't know Mrs. Franbold had toddled around in such exalted company.
    Emmaline cocked her head in seeming surprise. "Her granddaughter, Vivian Daltry's daughter Glenda, is a good friend of mine. She's engaged to marry Barrett Underhill. Vivian's husband, Ralph, is one of Grover Underhill's partners in their fertilizer company."
    My face must have shown my opinion of Grover Underhill, because Emmaline laughed. "Yes, I know. Mr. Underhill is a horrible person, but Glenda and Barrett are very nice, and poor Glenda was most cut up about her grandmother's death."
    "Yes, we all were. I mean the congregation of the First United Methodist-Episcopal Church were. Was. Whatever the correct tense is. Mrs. Franbold was a sweet woman." Then, because I couldn't stop myself, I blurted out, "Do you know that when Mrs. Franbold fell over at church, rather than try to catch her, Mr. Underhill actually jumped out of the way? He bumped into a bunch of other