Murder at the Paris Fashion House by Nancy Warren

Author:Nancy Warren [Warren, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-08T00:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

When Abby opened the door, it wasn’t a certain cool-eyed inspector standing there, as she’d feared, but her Aunt Ida, hanging on to the doorjamb, trying to get her breath back. She took one look at Abby and cried, “Oh, thank heaven you’re not dead.”

Aunt Ida Tumulty was a tall, thin woman who wore loose, flowing, vaguely Oriental-looking clothes. Her gray hair she also wore loose and flowing. She was nearly as tall as Abby and wore a great deal of makeup. Her most compelling feature was her piercing green eyes. Aunt Ida was the president of the Chicago Spiritualist Society and a minor celebrity. Since she was the widow of a wealthy man, she mostly did what she liked. She specialized in connecting the living with their dead loved ones with mixed success. Some clients left her front parlor séance room with thanks and tears of gratitude, while others left with blank faces and dashed hopes.

Abby didn’t think of her aunt as a fraud so much as an unreliable communicator with the dead. Although, of course, Aunt Ida blamed the communication problems on the other side. “It’s not like dealing with Western Union. The departed don’t find it easy to get their messages across.” She would spread her hands wide and say, “I am but an open conduit.”

She pulled Abby in for a hug, strongly smelling of sandalwood and bergamot. “Oh, my dear, I’ve been so worried about you. I received a message that you were in great danger. I had to come and see for myself.”

Abby strongly suspected that her aunt had read of her troubles in the newspaper and said so.

Aunt Ida studied her. “You look tired, dear. The strain is showing. I did not read about your terrible trouble until I was already aboard the ship that brought me here. I wired you from the ship.” She put a hand to her forehead in dramatic fashion. “I was terribly shocked when I heard about Lillian’s death, of course. I knew the spirits had sent me here for a reason.”

“Did the spirits by any chance tell you who killed Lillian? That would be the biggest help they could give me.”

Aunt Ida shook her head sadly. “The spirits don’t deal well in direct communication. But never mind. I’m here now, and we shall soon get to the bottom of this mystery.”

Abby invited her aunt into their tiny flat and introduced her to Vivian, who looked as guilty as though she’d been caught in mischief. The curtain that hid their few cooking utensils bulged, and a handbag strap peeped out. Viv would never find success as a criminal.

Aunt Ida settled herself on the tiny settee. Although she didn’t comment on the poor accommodation, after glancing around, she said, “I am putting up at the Hotel Meurice.”

“You are? Do you realize that’s the hotel where Lillian was staying before she was killed?”

“I wasn’t certain, but I had a premonition that’s where she would have stayed.”

“Why would you want to stay in the same hotel as Lillian?”

Seeing Abby’s obvious confusion, Ida smiled gently.

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