“Hannigan!” Ah Toy yelled. “They have a pneumatic telephone to call the staff, but I prefer using my lungs,” she smiled at Clara. “Besides, this redwood house is like one big echo chamber. Americans claim to be Materialists, and yet when they have beautiful materials, like the redwood used in this building, they want to cover it up and make it dark and sad.”
“Be well, my friend,” Clara said, and she walked to the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Míng tiān jiàn,” Ah Toy said.
“Which means?” Clara asked.
“See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 3: The Meeting at The Joss House
Tin How Temple, Waverly Place, Chinatown, San Francisco, February 14, 1884.
Captain Isaiah Lees liked to pursue a case in an orderly fashion. When he entered the temple on Waverly, accompanied by Detective Vanderheiden, he had his day of investigations all planned. First, he would interview the leaders of the Six Companies, then he was going to visit Rachel Benedict, head of the Methodist Mission for Wayward Women in Chinatown, and, finally, he wanted to visit the Mayor, Washington Bartlett, to plead with him to call off the Chinatown Squad arrests of Tongs.
Lees knew that if these Tong leaders were not released, there could soon be a war, which would not look good for the city’s reputation. Lees also knew Bartlett was a Jew, and even though he didn’t practice his religion, he had still been raised in a tradition that placed a high value on justice in the law. Going to Sheriff Connolly would do nothing, so it was Lees’ plan to head straight to the person who would most likely do something to reduce the pressure on the Chinese community.
Unless those Tongs got released, Lees knew, he would get nowhere in his murder investigation. Without their “security force in place,” the population of Chinatown felt fearful, and they would react like a giant tortoise, withdrawing into its shell.
Tin How Temple was dedicated to the worship of the Goddess Mazu. She was believed to be able to protect China’s seafarers as well as Chinese who were living away from home. Captain Lees saw that the Chinese head of the temple, Guan Shi Yin, was performing a prayer and spirit medium ceremony in front of the temple. Lees knew the Chinese got very superstitious whenever there was something bad happening in the community.
The woman, dressed in an elaborate gold and silk robe and headdress, was the medium to receive Mazu’s messages, and she was in a deep trance, shuffling around on the sidewalk. The black beads on the ends of a string, fastened to her headdress, were bouncing in front of her eyes as she nodded and shook her head. She was mumbling something in Chinese, and Guan Shi Yin, dressed in what looked like gold pajamas, was translating for her to the audience. There were about two hundred men in the audience, and they were clasping their hands in prayer and reciting something back to the medium, perhaps questions for Mazu or some form of thanksgiving.
“Think praying to Mazu will help get their Tong gangsters out of the hooskal, boss?” Dutch pushed through the crowd in front of Lees to get to the front door of the temple.
“Probably works as well as when you pray to the porcelain goddess after a drunk,” Lees told him, making a mental note to question Guan Shi Yin. If the Tin How Temple was anything like Christian churches, he knew, there were a lot of sinners who went there to find a way to be forgiven. There were also religious fanatics, who had begun to believe God was telling them to do things. Either way, Lees knew, the Mazu curator would know if there was anybody saying anything about the murder.
Clara sat with her interpreter, Ah Toy, at a side desk that Andrew Kwong had set-up for them. Kwong had told her that he wanted an appearance of formal strength shown to the Captain of Detectives when he asked his questions. The six members of the Companies sat behind their usual Clan table in front of which Clara had been brought the day before.
When Lees and Vanderheiden entered, Clara heard loud chanting coming from outside until the door was closed behind them. The two detectives seemed at first befuddled by the formal arrangement of seating, and they didn’t know where to stand. Andrew Kwong pointed to a rostrum in the center of the room. “Please, Gentlemen, you may use that witness stand to ask your questions. It has a flat top for you to place your notebook.” Lees thought he was probably being tricked into intimidation by the group, but he didn’t mind. He strolled over to the witness stand, and he took out his notepad from the inside of his gray cape and placed it on the flat top. He then turned to Dutch. “You have a pencil, Detective Vanderheiden?”
“Here you are, Captain,” the taller man said, handing his superior a yellow pencil from his breast pocket.
“Now. Let’s get down to the facts we know about this murder, and then I will begin my questioning. I don’t think we need introductions, Andrew, but I would like to know the identities of those two attractive ladies seated on your left,” Lees smiled, nodding at Clara and Ah Toy.
Clara thought that Captain Lees appeared quite a bit different than the police she had worked with when trying her only criminal case, The People v. Wheeler, in 1879. He looked a lot less formal, with his frock coat, cape, and checkered pants. His voice also had the hint of a British accent.
“I can introduce myself, Mister Kwong. Captain, my name is Clara Shortridge Foltz, Attorney-at-Law, and this is my assistant and translator, Ah Toy. I have been retained to represent the interests of the Six Companies, and this will include advising them on their rights regarding your questions, if I may be so bold. Fourteen citizens of Chinatown have already been arrested by San Francisco sheriffs, so you can imagine why Mister Kwong and his partners are concerned.”
“Thank you, Counselor. It’s an honor to meet you. However, as it is my duty to investigate a murder, which took place within one of the residences of your clients, my questions will relate to finding a possible murderer. I understand your concern for the welfare of the men who were arrested, but right now it is of no concern to me other than they might be possible suspects. At this point, anyone within reason is a suspect. The Sheriff's Department is in charge of their incarceration, and I suggest you take it up with them. Right now, I must find the killer or killers. Does that explain my purpose to your satisfaction?”
Lees was handling the attorney with kid gloves. He knew she knew nothing about how evidence was discovered in the streets, and he was going to use that ignorance to his advantage. She may be a famous orator and courtroom barrister, but she was a fish out of water when it came to his world of criminal inquiry.
“Yes, I will certainly contact Sheriff Connolly about their release. You may proceed with your questions.” Clara believed her courtroom demeanor would assist her, as this policeman was obviously ignorant in the finer points of the law.
“Gentlemen, who owns the residence at 814 Sacramento?” Lees wanted to narrow the search right away. If he could limit the range of suspects, it would improve his chances at finding clues as to possible connections with the victim.
“That is one of my properties, Captain,” Andrew Kwong answered. “I rented it to Miss McCarthy when she came to my office and told me she had graduated from Missus Benedict’s Methodist school. She wanted to find employment, but she did not have the resources to pay rent for a place outside Chinatown. I am a Methodist, so I was sympathetic to her plight. I rented the apartment to her at five dollars per week.”
“Were you aware that she was not looking for legal employment? In fact, she was working as an independent prostitute inside your residence, and had escaped Missus Benedict’s home, not graduated.” Lees watched the faces of all six of the men. None, including Kwong, showed any emotion.
“I object. The rental agreement Mister Kwong uses is legal and straightforward. It has a clause that stipulates that the renter can be evicted if she or he is discovered to be committing illegal acts on the premises. If he knew of this prostitute’s activities, then she would have been immediately evicted.” Clara responded as if she were talking to a judge.
“This is not a
courtroom. As you must be aware, Missus Foltz, laws are written mostly to protect the wealthy. In this instance, your clients. The reality of a cold-blooded and heinous murder, however, makes me a realist. For example, let us say there is a law against spitting on the sidewalk. It was written to protect the health and well-being of persons who use that sidewalk. However, this law is quite meaningless until an enforcer chooses to make the abstract words real by giving a citation to a violator. Excuse my vulgarity, but expectorant can flow like a river all over our sidewalks, but until a policeman acts, there is no law.”
Lees walked over to stand in front of Clara and Ah Toy's table.
“I am one of those policemen who is trying to enforce the law against the willful and premeditated spitting on another person’s life. In this instance, Missus Foltz, we are talking about a person who would not only kill this nineteen-year-old Miss McCarthy but who would then proceed to strip her body’s skin and internal organs from her skeleton, leaving her unfit for a Christian Methodist burial.”
“Must you be so descriptive, Captain? You may proceed.” Clara looked over at Ah Toy and raised her eyebrows.
“No, Captain, I was not aware that she was a prostitute. If I knew, then I would never have rented her the residence.” Andrew Kwong turned right and then left, getting nods from his five colleagues.
“We all know who handles your dirty business, and many of them were arrested by the sheriff. You need to pay your bribes with more regularity.” Lees wanted to get a rise out of them, and he could see by their reaction that he did.
“Our Tongs were arrested because there was a murder in Chinatown. My people become guilty before any evidence has been gathered. What kind of justice is that?”
Lees could see that Kwong’s neck was red, so he continued.
“I agree. The Chinatown Squad wants to make a name for itself at your expense. I, however, want the truth. Have any of your men ever had anything to do with Miss McCarthy?”
“Despite what you may think, Captain, the Six Companies does not maintain constant communications with our Tongs. We contract with them to keep our community safe. What they do on their own is not our concern.”
“It should be, if what they do is run your gambling, prostitution, and opium interests. But, never mind. What I want from you is access to all of Chinatown. I want you to communicate to your people that there is a murder investigation going on. I would also like to have your new lawyer and her translator accompany me. That way, you can be certain I won’t step on anybody’s toes.”
“Of course. I will tell my people today, and you can begin starting tomorrow. Missus Foltz and Miss Ah Toy? Please arrange your schedules so you can accompany the good Captain.”
Clara and Ah Toy nodded.
Lees stepped over to stand in front of Andrew Kwong.
“Before I leave, I would like to ask you and your son, George, a few questions privately, Mister Kwong.” Lees knew this was the time he could get into the real possibility of clues. The newspaper reporter had seen George going out of McCarthy’s place on Sacramento shortly after, or possibly even before, she was murdered. The other members of the Six Companies were window dressing.
The elder Kwong spoke to one of the Six Companies directors in Chinese, asking him to contact his son, George, and tell him to come to the temple basement immediately. When the room was emptied of the others, except Clara and Ah Toy, Andrew Kwong let out a sigh.
“I knew it would come to this. You suspect me because I am the wealthiest person in my community, and I also have assimilated into your society to the greatest degree. Murder, however, does not assist me if I wish to ingratiate myself further and become an American citizen.”
“Are you accusing my client of murder?” Clara sat up straight in her chair, her eyes riveted upon Captain Lees.
“Nobody is accusing anybody of murder until enough evidence is collected to prove such accusations beyond a reasonable doubt. This is the law, is it not, Missus Foltz? I am simply asking questions at this stage in my investigation.”
“Very well. Just remember. If I believe my client’s best interests would be harmed by answering one of your questions, then I will advise him not to respond.” Clara looked over at Mister Kwong until he nodded his head in agreement.
“Indeed. However, I would point out that if he doesn’t respond to important questions, such as the one I am now going to ask, he will become even more suspect.”
“I understand,” Clara said.
“Mister Kwong, where were you on the evening of February 12, between the hours of six and eight?”
Clara nodded at Andrew Kwong to give him permission to answer, but she was wondering if Captain Lees suspected something more than just the usual alibi responses.
“I was at home. My wife can vouch for my presence as well as my two servants. I retired that evening at ten, after going over some of the proofs for the next day’s distribution of The Oriental.”
George Kwong entered the temple basement. He was a tall young man of twenty-two, and his raven hair was slicked back and parted, in the Western tradition, and his conservative brown frock coat, white shirt, and necktie completed his business attire. His deep-set brown eyes moved over the faces of the others and stopped on his father’s grim scowl.
“Father? You wanted to see me? What’s all this about?”
“This is Captain Lees of the San Francisco Police Department and his assistant, Detective Vanderheiden. And these are the two women I told you about who are representing the Six Companies. The Captain wanted to ask us some questions about the murder of that prostitute on Sacramento two nights ago.”
“I’m going to ask you the same question I asked your father. Where were you on the evening of February 12, between the hours of six and eight?” Lees knew what he would ask next if the response was what he thought it would be.
“I was at the paper finishing the galley proofs for the next issue.” The young man didn’t look at Lees. Instead, he kept staring at his father.
“I am afraid that won’t suffice. You see, I have an eyewitness who says he saw you leaving the scene of the murder at approximately a quarter after seven. In fact, he told me you bragged to him about getting a photograph of the victim inside her apartment.”
Lees could see perspiration begin to form on the young man’s upper lip and forehead.
Andrew Kwong began to speak to his son in rapid Cantonese.
Ah Toy whispered the translation to Clara. “He’s telling him not to answer any more questions. His duck is in the deep fryer. A Chinese expression.”
“Excuse me, Captain. My client will not answer any more of your questions until you bring forth evidence of this alleged meeting.” Clara said.
“I will be getting this testimony. I was simply giving Mister Kwong an opportunity to be honest. The truth will come out, one way or another.”
“Very well. Ah Toy and I will meet you here tomorrow morning at nine to go around with you on your detective hunt. If you would be so kind, please bring an affidavit from your witness about my client’s whereabouts on the night of the murder.”
“Thank you, Missus Foltz. I will bring such proof with me, and I look forward to showing you how a detective works at the street level.”
Clara and Ah Toy were allowed to leave the room first. Clara was baffled by the Captain’s desire to have her go with him on his rounds. Perhaps he just wanted to distract her. He seemed to be highly suspicious of Mister Kwong and his son, George. She knew she was a novice when it came to detection and “sleuthing,” as they called it. This Lees seemed a nice enough sort, so she believed she could learn a lot from him, even though he was on the other side. She liked his expression about murder. The taking of a human life is all that should be considered important. That’s exactly the way she saw events when she was in the courtroom, so she thought well of this police captain who believed the same thing at the enforcement level.
After telling Andrew a
nd George Kwong that they should not leave San Francisco until the murderer was found, Lees and Vanderheiden left the temple basement to go to their next interview, Rachel Benedict, the Head Mistress at the Methodist Home for Wayward Women located in St. Louis Alley off Jackson Street. This was where the prostitute slave auctions were held when the girls of 10-16 were brought there by the Tongs to be displayed like prime cuts of meat and sold to the highest bidders.
Lees knew that Miss Benedict had purchased some of her “students” at these auctions, even though the church usually didn’t have the money to do such things. He was going to ask her about this, along with more pertinent questions about the victim.
Miss Benedict’s “school” was a converted bordello. It had a sloping, red tiled roof, with windows filled with colored glass images of different scenes from the Bible. Once inside, Lees could smell the odors of an abode that kept a clean and meditative sanctuary for young women who wanted to escape from the wildly carnal life that lay just outside, only a few doors down. Bath salts, lye soap, and rose fragrances combined to nip at his nostrils in a pleasant way.
Inside the main room, where the prostitutes were usually seated, waiting for their customers, was now filled with six Chinese ladies and one Caucasian, lounging in comfortable stuffed chairs, reading books taken from the wide assortment of bookcases that stretched along the walls on three sides. This was obviously the room now serving as a library.
Captain Lees asked the one girl who was white and wore a long yellow dress with matching ribbon in her brown hair if she could tell Miss Benedict that Captain Lees would like to speak with her. The girl jumped from her chair like a jack-in-the-box, giggled, and ran up the stairs where the bedrooms were usually located. After a few moments, Rachel Benedict came down the stairs and into the library.
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