A Halloween Tale: Chapter 2

Picture Credit:https://tinyurl.com/ddhjn3n7

October 31, 1907

Forlorn, Mrs. Abigail Cromford stood gazing at Emma’s portrait. She took a hanky from her pocket and wiped her eyes and then her nose. “Emma, dear,” she said. “Soon.”

Anna — now podgy and graying — watched nearby. When she overheard Mrs. Cromford, Anna confronted her. “Abigail. What ya mean by soon? Didn’t we agree there’d be no more?”

“I agreed to no such thing,” Mrs. Cromford said, whirling toward Anna and shaking her head. “You said no more, not I.”

“It must stop! Ain’t ten enough?”

“We’ll never know for certain, Anna, so we must keep on.”

“It’s become an obsession, Abigail. Something evil. Get help.”

“Remember your station, Anna.”

“Station or no station. End this, or I’ll —”  

“Or, what, Anna? You’re as deeply involved as I am.”

I’ll find a way, Anna thought. I must find a way.

Mrs. Cromford glanced at the grandfather clock. “A new candidate arrives at three o’clock.”

“Ya didn’t?”

“Yes, I did,” said Mrs. Cromford, looking at the portrait. “I invited Mr. Summerville to conduct a séance in this very room under Emma’s watchful eyes.” She turned to Anna. “And you’ll prepare the desert coffee as always. Is that clear?”

“Abigail!”

“Do as you’re instructed, Anna!”

“Yes, ma’am. But... No... More... He’ll be the last one.”

“We shall see. Now, be a good girl and get everything ready for his visit.”

###

The weather changed by the hour — dark clouds blew in from the north, obscuring the sun and threatening rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance and moved ever closer. A chilly wind sent swirls of dust into the air, swaying tree limbs and rustling bushes.  

Alfred, the driver, stopped the car at the portico, exited, and opened the passenger door.

“Mr. Summerville, I have an awful feeling about this place, an evil foreboding. Please stay in the car, and let me take you back to the hotel.”

Summerville protested. “Don’t be like an old mother hen, Alfred. This will be our greatest haul, and then we’ll travel to Europe, the Far East, and Japan. Just two old friends enjoying the good life. Now, go back to the hotel and await my call.”

“I’ll be all right, dear friend. After all, I’m The Great Summerville.”

They chuckled and shook hands. Summerville climbed the stairs to the front door and knocked while Alfred drove away.

###

Anna opened the front door.

Summerville stood under the portico and removed his hat. “Mr. Summerville, at your service. I have an appointment with Mrs. Cromford for a private séance.”

“Yes, Mr. Summerville. My mistress is expecting ya.”

Summerville stepped into the foyer. Despite the increasingly gloomy weather outside, the room was cheery, brightly lit, and exquisitely decorated.

Anna curtsied and said, “May I take yer hat and coat?”

“Certainly. Thank you.”

Anna put them in a side closet and turned to Summerville. “Please come this way.”

Summerville followed Anna into the library. He quickly scanned for valuable items and noticed hand-carved figurines, hand-painted curios, and first editions.

As dollar signs registered in his eyes, he smiled.

The library was poorly lit, except for the fire, which cast a warm glow in the room. The outside light offered little relief from the room’s dreariness.

Anna stopped by the fireplace. “My mistress will join ya shortly.” She turned to leave, but turned back. “Ya may find the smoking chair quite comfy,” Anna said, pointing to an overstuffed chair.  

“I prefer to examine this portrait for a few moments,” Summerville said, gazing at the larger-than-life painting above the mantle. “Who is this woman? She’s quite stunning. Tell me all about her.”

“Tis Emma. Emma Cromford.”

“Emma? My word. Her obituary photo didn’t do her justice.”

“The gloom over this house lasted more than a year.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Perhaps we’ll contact Emma’s spirit during the séance.”

Anna cocked her head. “That’s why yer here, isn’t it, sir?”

“Yes, it is. Quite —” Summerville cleared his throat and stepped backward. “Well —” He cleared his throat again. “I’ll enjoy the portrait while I wait.”

“As ya wish, sir.”  

###

Anna joined Mrs. Cromford in the butler’s pantry. They each peeked through the partially opened door and watched Summerville unobserved.

“What do you think, Anna?”  

“He’s a handsome one. More so than any of the others.”

“Beyond his outward appearances.”

“I encountered him only a few minutes ago,” Anna whispered.

“First impressions then.”

“He’s the only one who wanted ta know more about Emma. He’s quite taken by her portrait, almost mesmerized by it.”

Mrs. Cromford peeked to observe him again. “He is tall and broad-shouldered and —”  

“And in the prime of his life.”

“Are you a good gauge of age, Anna?”

“Early to mid-thirties, I’d guess.”

“My guess as well.”

“Should I prepare the dessert coffee?”  

“You’re too hasty, Anna,” Mrs. Cromford said, adjusting her dress. “I must meet Mr. Summerville first. Then I’ll decide. Meanwhile, prepare tea and sandwiches.”

Anna murmured and turned to her chores. Mrs. Cromford stepped into the library.  

Summerville extended his hand and held hers lightly for a moment. “Mrs. Cromford, I presume. Summerville at your service.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Summerville. Your reputation precedes you.”

“A good reputation, I trust.” Summerville shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He tried to force a casual smile without looking too fake. “Uh... Shouldn’t we sit and start the séance?”

“Before starting, we should have some refreshments.” Mrs. Cromford turned toward the pantry. “Anna... Anna!”

Mrs. Cromford and Summerville sat in silence while the fire warmed them.

Anna entered the room. “Yes, ma’am. Coffee?”

“No, Anna... Not quite yet. First, some tea and sandwiches.”

Anna frowned, curtsied, and left.

“I am deeply sorry for the loss of your daughter, Emma. Please accept my sincerest condolences.”

“You are very kind, Mr. Summerville.”

“Perhaps we will contact Emma’s spirit.”

“Perhaps we will. Perhaps we will indeed.”

Anna returned, pushing a serving cart of refreshments. “Refreshments are served. Tea, ma’am?”

“Yes, thank you, Anna.”

“Mr. Summerville? Milk? Sugar?”

“Thank you, no... Just tea.”

“That’ll be all, Anna. We’ll manage the sandwiches.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall I brew the coffee now?”

“Yes... But not too hot, Anna. Too much heat bitters the taste, you know.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Anna curtsied and departed, smiling.

“Now, Mr. Summerville, may I ask a few personal questions before the séance?”

“Of course.”

“Are you from nearby?”

“No. My business manager, Alfred, and I travel where my appointments take us. We are staying at the Heritage Park Hotel on this trip.”

“Many appointments?”

“Alfred managed to book four besides you, and then we packed up and moved on. You’re our last one.”

“Interesting... No relatives or acquaintances in town?”

“Except for appointments, Alfred and I are strangers in your beautiful city... Uh... Well... Shouldn’t we proceed with the séance?”

“Not before a dessert coffee. Anna.” Mrs. Cromford raised her voice. “Anna!”

Anna entered and curtsied. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Coffee... The unique blend, Anna.”

“Right away, ma’am. Right away.” Anna curtsied and exited to the butler’s pantry, grinning.

“You’ll like this unique blend, Mr. Summerville. Smooth as silk to the palate.”

“Who’s your roaster?”

“Oh no, Mr. Summerville, I couldn’t reveal our roaster. It’s a family secret.”

“A unique blend from a mysterious roaster. Oh, the anticipation... You heighten the delight of a good cup of coffee all the more, Madam.”

“You have no idea.”

Anna returned with two coffees on a silver tray, with creamer and a sugar bowl. “Cream? Sugar?”

“I’ll take my black,” Summerville said.

“Thank you, Anna,” Mrs. Cromford said. “I’ll fix my own.”

Anna curtsied and stood off to one side.

Summerville stood to admire the portrait from afar. He brought the cup to his lips but didn’t drink.

Anna and Mrs. Cromford glanced at each other. Mrs. Cromford stood and walked to the fireplace. She looked up at the portrait, her back to Summerville.

“Emma’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Mrs. Cromford said.

“More beautiful than any woman I’ve ever met.”

“Em. Emma, my dear,” Mrs. Cromford said, speaking to the portrait. “What do you think of Mr. Summerville?”

Using ventriloquism, Mrs. Cromford threw her voice. “He’s very handsome, Mother.” She turned around and faced Summerville.

Summerville’s mouth was agape. His eyes were as large as saucers. For a moment, he couldn’t move.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Summerville? You haven’t touched your coffee.”

Reacting to the talking portrait, Summerville chugged the coffee in two gulps.

“You don’t look at all well, Mr. Summerville. Something startle you?”

“The... The portrait spoke.”

“Yes, so it seems. But you’re not the only one here with theatrical skills.”

“Then, it didn’t speak?”

“Oh, no, it didn’t.” Mrs. Cromford walked to her chair. “But the illusion made you drink the coffee.”

“To what end?”

“Poison,” Mrs. Cromford said, smiling. “Fast-acting poison.”

“Poison?”

“In the coffee, of course.”

“I tasted nothing unusual.”

“Our unique blend. Don’t you remember, Mr. Summerville, or has the poison already fogged your memory?”

“Madam, I beg of you. The antidote —”  

“There is none.”

“Surely... There must be...” Summerville loosened his tie and collar. “I need air.”

“Don’t fight it. Soon, you’ll pass into the hereafter and be with Emma... Then, you’ll be the perfect couple.”

“But there’s no afterlife!”  

“You’re wrong, Mr. Summerville. There is an afterlife, and Emma is there. And she’s very much alive.”

“You crazy old bat.” Summerville coughed. “Emma’s dead.”

“Emma lives, I tell you, and I want her to have the perfect companion throughout eternity.”

Summerville cleared his throat. “It’s... It’s all a fake, a sham. I’m a fake. All mediums are fakes.”

“I knew that about you, about all mediums, when I scheduled séances.”

“All? Then I’m not the first?”

“No... But you’re the ‘Greatest.’ You said as much.”

Summerville teetered, unable to navigate on his feet. He reached toward the mantel for support. “Summerville is my stage name. I’m Samuel Morris, an actor. I came here to dupe you, to prey on your vulnerability, to trick you. That’s no reason to murder me.”

“There’s reason aplenty.”

“Why then?”

“You’re handsome, healthy, and full of vitality. Perfect in every way for Emma.”

Summerville tried to grab Mrs. Cromford. “Damn you.” His knees buckled, and he side-rolled to the floor. His body jerked as his muscles spasmed.

“Be calm, Mr. Summerville. It won’t be long now.”

“No... Don’t... Do... This.” Summerville’s breathing was labored. He foamed at the mouth. He tried to lift his arm, but it dropped to the floor immediately. He mumbled. “Help... Me. Hel... P—”

Mrs. Cromford whispered in his ear. “And you should know, Mr. Summerville, Emma is far more beautiful in person than any portrait could show.”

“Is he... Dead?” Anna said, leaning over him and poking his cheek with her finger.

“Not yet... But there’s no escaping the poison.” Anna and Mrs. Cromford stood by Emma’s portrait. “Mr. Summerville should be joining Emma very soon.”

As the women conversed, they ignored Summerville as he gasped for air.

“Can ya be sure?” Anna said.

“What do you mean?”

Behind them, Summerville convulsed and breathed his last breath, but they took no notice of him.