Page 23 of The Bride Wore White

“Please place your hands on the table,” she instructed.

Clara slapped her black-gloved hands on the surface of the table. “Get on with the business. I don’t have all day.”

An invisible cloak of dread shrouded the darkened room. Lorelei could not shake the sensation of impending disaster. She told herself that her sudden attack of nerves was ridiculous. This wasn’t her first séance. She was a skilled professional who had been connecting people with the dead for a couple of decades.

She had made good money when the séance business had boomed at the end of the Great War and through the devastating flu epidemic that had followed. Grieving relatives had been desperate to communicate with those who had been taken too soon. Business had soared again after the crash as people sought financial advice and gambling tips from deceased relatives. Currently the demand for expert mediums was reliably steady, but the headlines in the press made it clear that another worldwide war was looming. That would no doubt mean another uptick in profits.

Her mother had been right, Lorelei thought. There would always be a market for practitioners who claimed to be able to speak with the dead. There was really only one rule to success in the medium business—tell the clients what they wanted to hear. The rest was theater.

Showtime.

“I call the spirit of Gilbert Dover,” Lorelei intoned. “Can you hear me, Mr.Dover? Your mother is here. She wants to know that you are safe and content on the Other Side. She wishes to say goodbye.”

“No,” Clara Dover snapped. “That is not why I want to communicate with Gilbert.”

This was not going well, Lorelei thought. But she had no choice except to keep moving forward.

A cold draft drifted through the séance room. The lamp on the table dimmed briefly and then flared again. There was a faint, muffled tapping.

Clara Dover tensed with anticipation. “Is he here? Gilbert? Is that you?”

“Welcome, visitor from the Other Side,” Lorelei said in her stage voice. “Please identify yourself. Are you the spirit of Gilbert Dover?”

Another whisper of cold air wafted through the small space. There was more tapping.

“Gilbert?” Clara said. “Is that you? Show yourself.”

There was no maternal anguish in the demand. Clara’s voice was harsh and impatient. Lorelei tried to think of a way to end the séance as quickly as possible.

Another cold draft. More taps.

“The answer is yes,” Lorelei said, sticking with the dramatic tone. “The spirit of your son is with us, but I must warn you that he cannot remain for long. The connection to the Other Side is very weak tonight. Something to do with the fog, no doubt.”

Clara ignored her. “You are a fool, Gilbert. Just look at yourself. Not only are you dead, you have embarrassed Dover Industries. That dreadful picture of the bridal suite and the wedding gown were on the front page of every paper in the country. The police say they believe you were playing some sort of ridiculous sex game with the woman who murdered you. What were you thinking?”

A sharp silence descended. There was no draft. No tapping. Lorelei rushed to fill the awkward moment.

“Communication with the Other Side is quite difficult, Mrs.Dover,” she said. “I’m afraid the answers can seem a bit vague to us.”

Clara tightened one gloved hand into a fist. “The police say they don’t know the identity of the woman who murdered you, but I found a note on my pillow last night. It said that Prudence Ryland, that woman who called herself Madame Ariadne, murdered you. Is that true?”

There was another silence.

“I’m afraid the atmosphere is quite disturbed this evening,” Lorelei said.

Clara ignored her. “When I told Rollins about the note, he said there was no proof. He tried to tell me that we should leave the matter to the police, but everyone knows they are hopeless. I came here so that you could confirm the information in the note. Did that ungrateful creature murder you? Yes or no?”

Icy perspiration trickled down Lorelei’s sides. She raised her voice.

“The spirit is slipping back through the veil,” she said. “It cannot remain here any longer.”

There was a quick series of taps.

“That sounded like a yes to me,” Clara said. “Listen to me, Gilbert. The problem is that Madame Ariadne disappeared from San Francisco months ago.Where is she?”

There was a blast of cold air, a few more raps, and then a gong sounded, echoing in the shadows.

“The spirit has departed,” Lorelei said, raising her voice to make sure she could be clearly heard in the spirit world, which was located on the other side of the wooden paneling.

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