Scandal On Rincon Hill

by Shirley Tallman

  Upon my arrival, I was dismayed to discover a large and unruly group of demonstrators gathered outside the courthouse, many waving signs and placards demanding that the dirty yellow devils be strung up from the nearest tree or, better still, be drawn and quartered, like in the good old days.

  To my horror, I saw several people who had obviously read Foldger's article the previous evening. They carried signs denouncing me as a loose woman, a hussy, a tramp, and, God help me, even worse. Reminding myself that I was here for the sole purpose of defending my clients, I lifted my chin and, paying no heed to the angry catcalls and racial slurs, boldly led Sun Kin Lu through the rowdy throng and into the building.

  In spite of all the commotion, the proceedings themselves were quickly concluded. Although I received a few sly looks from the assistant district attorney's table, the judge—a portly, humorless man whom I knew to be one of Papa's friends—put a vigorous stop to the murmurs and snickers directed at me from the spectators.

  The two witnesses who claimed to have seen my clients near the Harrison Street Bridge on the night of Deacon Hume's murder dutifully testified. Notwithstanding my attempts to challenge their ability to identify Fan and Lee on such a dark night, the judge inevitably remanded the pair over for trial. Bail was denied.

  What I found most disturbing were the vague insinuations coming from the assistant district attorney that there was a possibility Lee and Fan might also be linked to Nigel Logan's death. To allow sufficient time for the police to dredge up new evidence to support this charge, my clients' trial date was set for late the following spring.

  As promised, Sun Kin Lu had brought with him a bag of dried meat and fish, enough I judged, to feed a dozen men. I stood patiently by while the guards removed every item from the burlap bag, holding each repugnant-looking piece up and trying, with deep belly laughs, to guess what it might be. To be fair, even I found it difficult to identify the dried foodstuff, some of the shapes resembling flattened rats, squid, pig's livers, and giant insects.

  As one piece of dried meat and fish after the next was inspected and mocked, it was tossed with loud guffaws into the waste container. Sun's face grew progressively darker as this continued, until I feared he might lose control and explode. Good heavens, I thought in alarm. If he, too, were arrested, I would be forced to defend my Chinese interpreter, along with the two clients I already felt powerless to save!

  When the guards finally finished, they left the room still joking about the disgusting-looking discards. It was pitiful to watch the disheartened expressions on the boys' faces, to see so many Oriental delicacies carried out with the trash. All that remained were a handful of grisly bits that would probably not amount to a single meal.

  With Sun Kin Lu's help, I did my best to allay the young men's fears and confusion about what had just taken place in the incomprehensible white man's courtroom. I could tell by their faces that they understood little of what I said. In all honesty, I wasn't sure how much Sun had grasped, consequently it was easy to see why he had failed to pass the information on to my clients.

  When Fan and Lee were finally taken back to their jail cells, I asked Sun to wait while I composed a note to Li Ying, explaining the outcome of the morning's proceedings. It was a disheartening missive. I even offered to return Li's generous retainer, since I felt I had done precious little to help his unfortunate countrymen.

  Sealing the letter in an envelope I had brought with me for this purpose, I thanked the interpreter, then left the courthouse to make my way back to Sutter Street.

  I was surprised to find Pierce waiting for me when I returned to my office. He and my downstairs neighbor, Fanny, were chatting in front of her millinery shop. The look of relief on Pierce's face at my arrival led me to believe that this was more than a strictly social call. I felt a stir of alarm, fearing that he and Fanny had read Foldger's article. Then, after studying their faces, I was relieved to realize that I was imagining trouble where it did not as yet exist.

  “Ah, there you are, Sarah,” said Fanny, gazing up at the tall man as if he were a Greek god. Was I imagining it, or did her eyelashes actually flutter? “You have kept poor Mr. Godfrey waiting for nearly half an hour.”

  “I was not aware that Mr. Godfrey intended to call upon me,” I replied with composure. “If I had known, I could have informed him that I would be occupied at the courthouse this morning.”

  “You have a new case?” asked Pierce.

  Before I could respond, Fanny said, “Our Sarah is representing those two unfortunate Chinese men who've been arrested in the Deacon Hume murder.”

  “You don't say.” Pierce's dark eyebrows rose. Although he showed polite interest in my new clients, his expression clearly indicated that he wished to speak to me alone. “Why don't we go upstairs to your office, Sarah, and you can tell me all about it.” He turned politely to Fanny. “I'm grateful for the pleasure of your company, Mrs. Goodman. I trust we will meet again soon.”

  To my astonishment, my sensible, middle-aged neighbor actually blushed. “I look forward to that, Mr. Godfrey. And next time you really must join me for a cup of coffee, and perhaps something fresh from the oven.”

  “I would be delighted,” Pierce answered, smiling down at her with the full force of his considerable charm.

  I would not have thought it possible, but the woman's grandmotherly face turned an even brighter shade of pink.

  “Shame on you,” I told him, unable to smother my laughter as we entered my office and I removed my wrap. “You've bewitched the poor woman. I'll never hear the end of it.” I took a seat behind my desk. “Now, Pierce, what are you bursting to tell me?”

  His look became serious. “Is that Tremaine girl really as good as you claim she is?”

  This unexpected question took me aback. “You mean as a singer? Yes, she is. Why do you ask?”

  “I have arranged an audition for her with Joseph Kreling at the Tivoli Opera House.”

  “Good heavens!” I stared at him in astonishment. “When?”

  “That's the tricky part,” he said, crossing one perfectly pressed pant leg over the other. “Kreling is going out of town this evening, and isn't sure when he'll be back in town. It has to be this afternoon, Sarah. No later than three o'clock.”

  “Three o'clock!” I parroted in surprise. I consulted the timepiece pinned to my shirtwaist. It was already well past the hour of noon. “I'm not sure if Melody is even at home, or how to reach her if she isn't.”

  I sat silently contemplating this for several moments. There was no guarantee that rushing to the Tremaine house would result in her parents' agreeing to the audition. In fact, from the comments they'd made the night of Faith's birthday dinner, it was far more likely they would refuse the girl this opportunity. The opportunity she had longed for since childhood.

  Without further ado, I made up my mind. If I had anything to say about it, the girl was going to have her chance!

  Bounding out of my chair, I reached for the wrap I had just removed, and crossed swiftly to the door.

  “We must hurry, Pierce. There's no time to be lost.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Although I had never been inside the Tremaine house, I knew it was located on Harrison Street and Rincon Place, a mere two blocks from our own home. It was about the same vintage as ours, most likely dating from the early 1860s, and had been erected in the Italianate style, as had our own. Gerald Tremaine's residence was three stories high and had a mansard roof, that is, with two slopes on each of the four sides. A tall eucalyptus tree grew to the right of the house, while a lovely old cypress shaded the left. The surrounding grounds were well maintained, although the normally colorful flower beds had long since fallen dormant for the winter.

  I was surprised to see Marco Ciatti, the handyman and gardener who helped Papa maintain our own yard, clearing out vegetation and weeds from beneath a row of overgrown bushes.

  Catching sight of me, he politely tipped his cap, and gave me a jaunty smile. “
Buon giorno, Miss Woolson. You look deliziosa, very nice this afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Marco,” I replied, too intent on our mission to give much thought to the little Italian, or his opinions concerning my appearance.

  “That man strikes me as a good deal too forward,” Pierce commented, as we ascended the steps to the Tremaines' front door. “How do you know him?”

  “Marco does odd jobs around the neighborhood,” I told him, stopping as we reached the elaborate front door. “Do you think Melody's father will agree to the audition?”

  “My hope is that he's not here,” he said candidly. “That way, with any luck we may avoid having to ask his permission. If he challenges us later, we can truthfully explain that there was no time to seek his consent.”

  I gave Pierce a nod of agreement then, without allowing myself time for second thoughts, rang the bell. “To be honest,” I said, leaning closer and speaking softly, “I think I would rather face Mr. Tremaine than his wife. She seems determined to marry the girl off at any cost. I'm sure that a career in the theater is not what she has in mind for her stepdaughter.”

  Before Pierce could reply, the door was opened by a man I assumed to be the butler.

  “Good afternoon,” I said. Reaching into my reticule, I handed the man my card. “Miss Sarah Woolson and Mr. Pierce Godfrey. We are here to see Miss Melody Tremaine, if she is in.”

  Solemnly, the man accepted my card and placed it on a silver salver sitting in readiness on a table by the door. “If you would care to wait in the parlor,” he told us rather stiffly, “I shall ascertain if Miss Tremaine is here.”

  We entered the foyer, then after the butler had closed the door, followed him into an agreeable, west-facing room, pleasantly warm from the rays of sun which had finally made its first welcome appearance in several days. A lovely vase of fresh-cut flowers was arranged on a polished table, and two smaller flower vases were positioned about the cheerful room.

  While we waited, I took the opportunity to examine the photographs which were displayed on the fireplace mantel. All of the pictures were of Reginald Tremaine's second wife, Faith, and their family. Although Melody and David were featured equally with the two offspring of his second marriage, I could find no photographs which might be of the twins' mother. Surely this was understandable, I told myself. Faith Tremaine would hardly care to be constantly reminded of her husband's first wife.

  Over the fireplace hung a large oil portrait of the family, including all four children. Even in a painting, Melody's beauty was striking. The artist had skillfully captured her delicate innocence, while at the same time hinting at the promise of womanhood which was soon to blossom.

  “She is beautiful, isn't she?” Pierce said, as if reading my mind. “If she possesses half the talent you've described, Joe Kreling will snap her up in a minute.”

  “If her parents agree to allow her to appear on the stage,” I answered, not bothering to hide my skepticism. “I know this is what she wants but—”

  I was cut off as the parlor door opened and Melody Tremaine swept into the room, closely followed by her brother David.

  “Miss Woolson,” she said, with a welcoming smile, “how very nice to see you again.” Her lovely eyes went to Pierce, then widened in obvious admiration. “And this gentleman is . . . ?”

  “Pierce Godfrey, Miss Tremaine,” he said, bowing slightly and returning her smile. He held out a hand to the boy, saying, “You must be her brother, David. The likeness is remarkable.”

  The young man returned Pierce's shake politely enough, but I could see that he was puzzled by the older man's presence in their home. “Miss Woolson, Mr. Godfrey, please sit down. To what do we owe the honor of this visit?”

  Pierce and I took seats on the sofa, while Melody and her brother sat in armchairs facing us. “Are your parents at home?” I asked, looking nervously to the door which remained open behind the twins. Somehow I must have betrayed my apprehension, because now even Melody looked perplexed.

  “No, they're not,” she answered, studying our faces curiously. “If you wish to see them, you'll have to return later this afternoon. Our stepmother will certainly be home by then. It is more difficult to say with our father. He sometimes remains at the store long after it has closed for the day.”

  “No, Miss Tremaine,” said Pierce. “Actually, it is you we have come to see.” He paused and looked at me, as if feeling it would be better if I explained the purpose of our visit.

  “I was very impressed by your beautiful singing voice the evening you performed at our home, Melody,” I told her. “So was my entire family. When we met for lunch the other day, you mentioned that you wished to pursue a career on the stage. Is that truly how you feel?”

  The girl moved forward in her seat, enthusiasm causing her brilliant blue eyes to sparkle. “Yes, that is my fondest hope. I would love nothing better than to become a professional singer.”

  “Why are you asking these questions, Miss Woolson?” asked her brother, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Mr. Godfrey is acquainted with Mr. Joseph Kreling, the owner of the Tivoli Theater,” I explained. “He has managed to arrange an audition for your sister this afternoon. Only if you would care to do it, Melody. And of course there is the matter of your parents. I received the impression that they might not approve of your performing in public.”

  “No, they would not,” Melody responded gravely. “But they're not here to ask, are they?” she added, unknowingly parroting the very words Pierce had spoken only moments before.

  Clapping her small hands in delight, she sprang out of her chair and fairly danced about the room, stopping only to bend down to kiss her brother on the cheek. “Oh, David, I can hardly believe it. This is the answer to our prayers. We must go. Oh, please, say that you agree.”

  The boy looked at Pierce cautiously. “With all respect, sir, we are not acquainted with you. And this is a very serious matter. I cannot allow my sister to do anything which might put her in harm's way, or tarnish her reputation.”

  “I assure you, young man, that if Miss Tremaine desires to attend the audition, it will not tarnish her reputation in any manner whatsoever. Miss Woolson and I will accompany her, as you may yourself, if you wish, and we will not allow her out of our sight.”

  The boy continued to look worried. “I'm not sure. I'm certain our father would not approve of a strange man taking my sister to—”

  “What is going on in here?” came a voice from the doorway. Melody straightened and turned toward Major Zachariah Tremaine, as he entered the room. “May I inquire just where you are proposing to take my granddaughter, sir?”

  Perhaps it was the man's upright bearing and air of authority that caused Pierce and I to rise from the sofa at his entrance. I noticed that David was already on his feet, and was regarding his grandfather with keen respect, as well as genuine fondness.

  “This is Mr. Pierce Godfrey, Grandfather,” David told him. “He has just informed us that he has arranged an audition for Melody at the Tivoli Opera House. This very afternoon.”

  “Yes, Grandpapa, it's true,” exclaimed his sister, once again prancing about the room in unabashed pleasure. “Isn't it wonderful? Please, please, Grandpapa, say that it is all right with you if we go to the Tivoli. And say that you'll accompany us. You are so brave, I know your presence would lend me courage.”

  “My dear girl, calm down,” the elderly man said, his pale eyes studying Pierce warily. “You say your name is Pierce Godfrey, sir, but I do not recall that we have met.”

  Pierce reached into his pocket and withdrew a business card, which he handed to the older gentleman. “My brother Leonard and I own Godfrey Shipping here in the city, sir. When Miss Woolson described your granddaughter's remarkable singing voice, I promised I would speak to my friend Joseph Kreling, who owns the Tivoli Opera House.”

  “I've heard of the fellow,” said the major, his expression relaxing a bit as he examined the card. “And you say that he has actually agreed
to hear Melody sing? Does that mean there is a possibility she might be asked to appear in his theater?”

  “Yes, sir, that is exactly what will happen if he feels she's right for the stage,” Pierce told him. “But only if she can audition for him this afternoon. He's leaving town this evening, and may be gone for some time. This is the only opportunity for her to sing for him until he returns to the city.”

  The old man spent several silent minutes considering this, while Melody fairly bounced up and down in front of him, her large blue eyes pleading for his approval. At last, he took the girl's hands in his and kissed her on the cheek.

  “My darling Melody, how could I possibly deny you the chance to follow your dream. Of course, your father will more than likely never forgive me, but fortunately he's not here to forbid us, is he?”

  He smiled broadly and gave the twins a mischievous wink. “As Major General Hooker said at the Battle of Lookout Mountain nearly twenty years ago, always take the offensive while the enemy is diverted. Right, bub and sis?

  “Just let me get my coat and we'll be off.”

  The Tivoli Opera House was located on Eddy Street near Market, its second location since a twenty-two-year-old Joseph Kreling had opened its predecessor, the Tivoli Beer Gardens, a few years earlier. The Beer Gardens had proved to be so successful that Kreling and his brother, John—with the help of various other members of their industrious family—built the Opera House in 1879. The three-story white structure looked for all the world like a respectable private dwelling, welcoming one and all to some of the best entertainment to be had in the city. I had attended the “Tiv,” as it was commonly referred to, several times myself, and had unfailingly enjoyed the experience.

  It had changed a great deal during the two and a half years of its existence. When the Tivoli Opera House first opened, it had been set up as a cabaret-style hall with small galleries to either side of the auditorium. Configured in this manner, it had served beer, wine, and light refreshments. Its ever-growing popularity, however, resulted in an expansion of the stage, removal of the dining tables to make room for more conventional seating, and the installation of numerous new viewing boxes.