Scandal On Rincon Hill

by Shirley Tallman

  Although Major Tremaine beamed at his grandson with undisguised pride, the only one present who seemed to comprehend this explanation was my brother Charles, who is a physician.

  “That's correct,” he confirmed. “Nigel was studying the protozoal parasites of animals. Malaria, as I'm sure some of you know, is of protozoal origin, as are certain forms of dysentery and syphilis. Nigel and I enjoyed a number of interesting conversations on the subject.”

  My mother, Celia, and Mrs. Tremaine had blanched at the mention of this last disease. Realizing too late the inappropriate nature of his remarks, Charles mumbled an apology and lowered his head to concentrate on his braised beef and steamed clams.

  “Of course,” David added, seemingly oblivious to the ladies' discomfort, “one must ask how an infectious disease originates in the first place. The parasite lives in or on its host. In that limited habitat, its organs are lost and it becomes degenerate. That was one of the mysteries Mr. Logan was attempting to solve, or at least to observe in a clearer and more impartial light.”

  Once again there was utter silence at the table. Papa and Major Tremaine were smiling broadly, while the women stared at the boy with a mixture of confusion and consternation. Samuel gave me a sly wink and Charles cleared his throat. Was he trying to warn the lad? I wondered.

  Reginald Tremaine eyed David unhappily. “I must apologize for my son. He has a passion for studying any plant, insect, bird, or rodent that crosses his path. He has made up his mind to be a scientist. I have tried to make him listen to reason and come to work at my Men's Emporium, but sadly, he would prefer to sit in his room dissecting bugs.”

  He sighed, then gave a dry chuckle. “Children today—they have no concept of what is required to earn a living for one's family. Fortunately, my younger son, Reginald, Junior, has indicated his desire to take over the Emporium one day.”

  “Come now, Reginald,” Major Tremaine told his son. “You are being too hard on David. He has a fine brain and an active curiosity. Most importantly, he has the determination to study and learn. He may not be suited for managing your store, but I believe he will make a fine life for himself in the field of science, which is the coming thing, you know.”

  Faith Tremaine was eyeing her father-in-law with displeasure. “Nonsense, Father Tremaine, what Reginald says is nothing less than the truth. David has his head in the clouds. I fear he will come to regret that he did not listen to his father. Fortunately, young Reggie has a practical head on his shoulders. He will make a splendid manager.”

  A wounded look flitted across David's handsome face, but was quickly gone. The major eyed his grandson sympathetically, while the boy's father and stepmother seemed oblivious to his feelings.

  Faith smiled at her stepdaughter. “And this dear girl loves nothing better than to sing the day away.” She gave a high little laugh. “Can you imagine, she has gone so far as to indicate that she would like a career on the stage! Quite out of the question, of course.”

  “The child has a lovely voice,” her father-in-law put in, smiling fondly at Melody. “Surely it is only natural for a young girl to dream. She has been blessed with beauty and genuine talent, a formidable recipe for success.”

  “Dreams do not settle a girl with a good husband, Father Tremaine,” Faith protested. “She and David will be eighteen next June. It is high time she accepted the reality of her future. Unfortunately, she insists on having nothing to do with gentlemen callers, and takes to her room if I dare suggest she attend a ball. I have done my best to introduce her to society, but it has been disastrously unsuccessful.”

  She smiled tightly at Melody, who was staring fixedly at her plate, her full lips pulled into a thin line of silent mortification. “She possesses a great many admirers, but she will have none of it. I swan, I simply cannot understand the girl.”

  “I can remember how frightened I was when I first came out,” Celia said, bestowing a kind smile upon the young woman. “I'm sure my mother despaired of me. But I eventually came around. Melody is only seventeen; this must be a bit overwhelming for her. I'm certain that given a little time, she'll become more at ease in strange company.”

  Melody gave my sister-in-law a grateful smile. Celia possessed such compassion and empathy; I constantly admire her easy ability to mother her own three children. And I, too, sympathized with the girl. I had resisted my own mother's efforts to establish me in San Francisco society. The gatherings Mama insisted I attend meant endless hours of boredom, the conversations invariably revolving around the latest fashions, or which gentleman was currently paying court to which young lady. My goals in life had been established early, and even at that age I had refused to wander off my chosen path.

  I wondered if this could be the case with Melody. Although she had hardly spoken all evening, I suspected there were multiple layers of emotion hidden beneath that lovely exterior. At present, she appeared to be working extremely hard to keep them all in check. How sad that the girl had lost her mother at such a tender age. Faith Tremaine might mean well, but it was evident that she possessed no genuine understanding of her beautiful stepdaughter's true temperament and aspirations.

  “I fear that your sympathies are misplaced, Mrs. Woolson,” the woman told Celia. “I have ensured that Melody is trained in all aspects of housewifely duties. She has proven to be an apt, if unenthusiastic, student. As I said, she is very nearly eighteen, and I have quite made up my mind that it is time for her to marry and establish a home of her own. I assure you that I have only her best interests at heart.”

  I caught my mother's quick intake of breath, and her hasty glance in my direction. It was not difficult to deduce her thoughts. I had passed this courting milestone ten years ago, yet to her chagrin I appeared no closer to entering the married state than when I'd been Melody's age. As always when this sensitive subject reared its painful head, I felt a wave of guilt and regret that I continued to cause my dear mother so much anguish.

  Mrs. Tremaine smiled at her husband, as if seeking his approval that she had performed her duty with his eldest daughter. He did not disappoint, but returned her smile and gave her hand a gentle pat.

  “Melody could not do better than to follow my dear wife's example,” he said fondly. “She is devoted to my two elder children. Indeed, she has raised them as if they were her own. They could not have been blessed with a more dutiful stepmother.”

  Major Tremaine coughed gently into his napkin, but held his tongue. Faith beamed at her husband's praise. David seemed about to open his mouth to speak, but in the end remained silent. Only his clear blue eyes—bright with the dissent he evidently did not feel free to express—betrayed his true feelings. It was impossible to read Melody's reaction, since she kept her head lowered, as if preoccupied with her dinner, although it was clear she was merely playing with her food.

  Since neither Samuel nor I felt inclined to pursue our inquiries into Mr. Logan's death, subsequent conversation continued at a rather desultory pace, boring everyone, I was sure, but at least not causing Mama further concern.

  Once the interminable meal finally came to a welcome conclusion, the women excused themselves from the table, and the men enjoyed their after-dinner brandy and cigars. However, even in the front parlor, Mama's polite attempts to make casual conversation held little interest for me.

  In fact, I was mulling over possible excuses for retreating to my room, when the men rejoined us and Melody was coaxed by Mama and Major Tremaine into taking a seat at our piano and entertaining us with a song or two. Blushing attractively, the girl nonetheless did as she was bidden, selecting several songs from Gilbert and Sullivan's popular opera H.M.S. Pinafore, which had enjoyed its first major San Francisco production at the Tivoli Opera House two years before.

  Although after-dinner recitals were virtually de rigueur, I must admit that I've not always been an eager spectator. I have sat through more of these impromptu recitals than I care to remember, some of which have required the patience of Job to endure.
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  Which was why it came as such a delightful surprise to realize that Melody Tremaine's musical talents were far and away above average. Major Tremaine had not exaggerated when he claimed she possessed a gifted singing voice—amazingly rich and melodious. Moreover, she accompanied herself on the piano with a sensitive, deft touch, her attention rarely focusing on her slender fingers as they danced lightly over the keys.

  She seemed, in fact, to have entered a world of her own; the expression on her face was one of angelic delight. Her lovely blue eyes shone with an inner bliss, as if now that she had been given the opportunity to display her talents, she could truly come alive. I stole a surreptitious glance at her grandfather and found him glowing with approval, his foot tapping out the beat of the music.

  My gaze moved to Faith Tremaine, to find that she was not even watching the stepdaughter. Rather, her head was bent as she played with the folds of her gown, smoothing the pale green silk with short, slender fingers.

  At the conclusion of Melody's first piece, Faith looked up, smiled, and added her applause to that of the rest of the party. Still, I thought her attitude toward the girl was a bit perfunctory, as if she had little interest in her stepdaughter's undeniable musical abilities.

  Looking toward the girl's brother, I was touched to see David regarding his sister with unselfconscious pride and love. Their profiles were very similar, I thought, admiring the boy's straight nose which, like Melody's, turned up just a bit at the tip, and the full, sensitive mouth which was presently curved into an admiring smile. Along David's still boyish jawline, I could detect the barest shadow of a beard. The lad would soon be a man, I thought. And a very handsome one at that.

  It was apparent that brother and sister were very close, which was hardly surprising considering how much they'd been through together during their short lives. How fortunate they were to have each other, I mused. My own childhood had been loving and nurturing, yet there was so much I might have missed if it had not been for Samuel. According to our parents, we had frequently behaved like little terrors, yet what wonderful adventures we had shared! Even today, the best part of our relationship was the ability to be totally honest with one another. This must be the sort of bond that Melody and David shared.

  These thoughts of my brother caused me to glance in his direction. He had been watching Melody as avidly as everyone else in the room. However, sensing my gaze, he turned and mouthed, “She is gorgeous!”

  I nodded my agreement. I knew my brother well enough to guess that he was regretting the fact that she was so young. In truth, a man would have to be blind not to take notice of Melody Tremaine's striking beauty. I could well believe Faith Tremaine when she spoke of Melody's many gentlemen admirers!

  When the girl concluded her performance, everyone broke into enthusiastic applause. Melody seemed not to hear. She sat very still for several minutes, her lovely eyes fixed upon the keyboard, almost as if she were in some kind of trance. When she finally returned to the present, she smiled happily, her face flushed, her clear skin glowing. Rising with a little bow from the piano bench, she hurried to take a seat beside her brother on the settee. His look said far better than words how much he had enjoyed her performance.

  “My dear, that was marvelous,” Mama gushed, rising from her own chair to take the girl's hands. “You are remarkable, absolutely remarkable!”

  “That is how she came by her name, you know,” the girl's father announced. “She was born Irene, but as soon as the first glorious notes issued from her throat, her mother began calling her Melody. My first wife, Mary, God rest her soul, had a lovely singing voice. And the most beautiful clear blue eyes. That is where the twins get their unusual eye color, not from me, I'm afraid.”

  He laughed, then went on as if picturing the scene in his mind's eye. “Ah, yes, I well remember the way Melody and her mother filled our home with laughter and song, just like two beautiful songbirds.” I was surprised to see tears glistening in the man's eyes. “We are very proud of our girl, aren't we, Faith?”

  His wife returned his smile with a rather stiff one of her own, and I guessed she did not appreciate this reference to her husband's late wife. However, she dutifully nodded her approval to the girl, then leaned over to give her a light peck on the cheek. “Yes, of course. We were delighted by your performance, my dear.”

  “I am the most fortunate of men,” Reginald declared with pride. “Four lovely children and the most devoted wife any man could wish for. Yes, I am very lucky indeed.”

  He stood and raised the snifter of brandy he had brought in from the dining room. “A toast, everyone. To my dear Faith's thirtieth birthday. May she enjoy many more.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Arriving at my office the next morning, I completed what remained of Robert's work, even though I was aware he might not collect it until the following day. It would depend, of course, on how long he would be forced to act as Joseph Shepard's second chair at court. It is not, however, my custom to put off until tomorrow what I could do today. As Edward Young wrote in Night Thoughts, “Procrastination is the thief of time.”

  When my desk was clear, I spent a restless hour pacing the back room of my office, or my library, as I preferred to call it. I believe I have mentioned that I'd been able to add only a dozen or so volumes to the shelves my brother Charles had constructed for me, but I had promised myself that I would purchase one new book for every case I was able to bring to a successful conclusion. This vow never failed to lift my spirits.

  In truth, I believe my restiveness was caused by the secret hope that Brielle Bouchard might yet keep her appointment with me. As I'd told Samuel, I could not help but worry about the girl and her small baby. How was she to manage, so young and so alone, in this hectic and self-absorbed city? What had those two men said to her the previous morning to cause her to run off like a frightened rabbit? Was she in physical danger? And where was she staying now that her lover had cruelly ejected her from his house?

  From Brielle, my thoughts went to the two violent deaths that had occurred so frighteningly close to our home. Because I could not shake the fear that the killer might strike yet a third time, I tried to settle my thoughts and focus on what little was known about the cases. Assuming we were correct that the two crimes were connected, the most obvious link between them had to be Nigel Logan and Dieter Hume's friendship, a relationship which continued despite the divergent paths the men had followed after their university days. Surely this suggested that the motive was of a personal rather than a professional nature. But what might that motive be?

  To answer this, I attempted to list the interests and beliefs the men held in common. Did their mutual acceptance of Charles Darwin's theories on natural selection, for instance, play a role in their deaths? Could someone feel so threatened by this hypothesis, that he would brutally take the lives of two men?

  What other similarities might they have shared? Because of Eddie's recent adventure playing detective, we were aware that the deacon had a secret interest in pornography, but there was nothing to suggest that Logan was also taken by this fetish. The men had attended university together, and neither was married. Were either of these commonalities significant? According to the Reverend Mayfield, Deacon Hume had shown a recent interest in taking a wife. I couldn't recall anyone mentioning if Nigel Logan was seeing a woman, or if he had plans to marry.

  This exercise was futile. I simply did not know enough about the victims' private lives to hazard a guess as to why they had been murdered. I wondered how thoroughly the police were looking into Logan's and Hume's pasts. Surely that was of primary importance in finding the killer.

  When noon arrived I gave up on fruitless speculation and decided I would take my lunch in a small Italian restaurant located in the next block. To my surprise, as I was locking my office door Samuel came darting up the stairs.

  “Good,” he said a bit out of breath. “I'm glad I caught you. I'm leaving this afternoon to spend the weekend with the Talbots in Me
nlo Park. But first I wanted to deliver my report concerning your new client. Do you have time for a quick lunch?”

  “As a matter of fact, that's exactly where I was going,” I told him. “I'm delighted you'll be able to join me.”

  We settled upon the restaurant I'd had in mind, and were lucky to find a table, since the eatery was very popular at this time of day.

  “I can't believe you have news of Miss Bouchard so soon,” I said while we awaited our orders.

  “Never underestimate the power of a newsman's nose, my dear sister,” he said, tapping this appendage with a forefinger.

  “So, what can you tell me?”

  “Not as much as I would like, although I think I've made a good start. I spoke to a maid who works at the Pacific Avenue house Gerald Knight reserves for his paramours. It seems that the girl was fond of Brielle, and felt sorry for her when Knight ended their relationship and sent her packing.”

  I experienced a flicker of hope. “Does the maid know where Brielle went after she was forced to leave?”

  “She claims she doesn't.” At my expression of disappointment, he hurried on. “However, she thinks it's possible she may have gone to live with a Madam Valentine, who operates a parlor house for the upper crust on Montgomery Street, near Pacific Avenue.”

  “Whatever makes her think that?”

  “According to the maid, Madam Valentine came to see Brielle several times while the girl was living with Knight, and was recognized by one of the servants.”

  I frowned, remembering something Brielle said when she came to my office on Monday morning. “That's strange. Miss Bouchard assured me that she was an innocent when she commenced her relationship with Gerald Knight. Indeed, she was only seventeen.”