“What kind of stuff?” Laura said.
“Actually some fairly expensive pieces, according to the manager, Mr. Gower. A shipment of Wedgwood china, a sterling silver tea set, an order of imported knives, and even four silk-covered dining room chairs.”
“Is this Mr. Gower one of the men that Biddy couldn’t imagine being Marie Fournier’s secret lover?” Laura asked.
Nate winced. Annie had told him about how upset Biddy was at the idea the dress designer might have been anyone’s mistress and how uncomfortable Mrs. O’Rourke had been with this whole line of discussion. He rather agreed. It made him uneasy to hear his little sister speak so lightly on any sort of immoral behavior. Although he knew she would see him being over-protective and old fashioned if he said anything. So, instead, he said, “Did Miss Voss have any suggestions, Annie?”
She glanced at him, and he could tell she knew just why he’d changed the subject. “I am glad to say Miss Voss spoke very highly of Mr. Gower. He seems so genuine, I would hate to think of him involved in anything underhanded. But she did tell me the name of two delivery companies she no longer does business with because she’d found them ‘unsatisfactory.’”
Nate laughed, picturing the very proper Miss Voss using that word to describe a company that might be involved in criminal behavior. “Was she more specific?”
“Yes. A failure to deliver goods on time, unacceptable level of breakage, and even some orders going permanently astray. And Miss Birdsoll says that the Silver Strike does business quite frequently with one of those two firms.”
“The simple solution might be to advise Livingston to stop hiring that firm,” Nate said.
“Yes, if Marie Fournier hadn’t been murdered, that would be what I would recommend. But what if the person involved in the thefts was the one who killed her?”
Laura finished the last strip of bacon and wiped her hands on one of the napkins, saying, “They would probably have to have some sort of partner working in the store, wouldn’t they?”
Annie nodded. “That is what is most worrisome. Gower suspects Flanagan…but I gather that is an old fight. It’s more likely to be one of the men who work under him, who wouldn’t have the same loyalty to Livingston.”
Nate thought about the basement, its warren of cages and storerooms, and how easy it would be to pretend to “misplace” an item that in fact had never been delivered. He said, “If the police can catch one of the delivery men in the act of stealing something before it makes it to the store, they could then determine which Silver Strike employee pretended to check it in. Or they can lean on the delivery man to give up who they are working with in the store.”
Annie said, “That’s the plan. Once I had the name of the company from Miss Voss, I went back over the records and, sure enough, a number of the items that Gower says went missing had been shipped with that company. Miss Birdsoll is going to notify the police when this firm is scheduled to deliver something next week. Then Patrick McGee, out of uniform, will track the delivery wagon from its origin to see if there are any unscheduled stops. When the wagon gets to the Silver Strike, he can be there to watch to see if all the items are off loaded and determine if there seems any coordination with one of the Silver Strike employees.”
Laura clapped her hands. “That’s very clever. Good for Patrick. I must say, who would think this sort of shenanigans would be going on behind the scenes at a big dry goods store? But would thefts of some china or chairs really be reason enough to murder Mrs. Fournier? Even if she discovered what was going on?”
Twenty minutes later, Laura had their list of suggestions for presents and left them to go downstairs and wait for Kitty Blaine to arrive with her carriage to take her and Kathleen to the Silver Strike.
Annie said to Nate, “I can’t help but agree with Laura. It is hard to imagine killing someone over home furnishings. Furs, on the other hand, I could see. They are so expensive. And that brings up the question of Mr. Livingston’s son, Robbie, who first said the furs hadn’t been delivered, and then when he found out I’d been hired to investigate the shortages, said the furs had been ‘found.’ He is also the most logical manager to be involved in any scheme involving the inferior cloth that the store has been getting recently.”
“But why would he be doing that to the store or to his father?”
“I got the impression from Gower that there might be some resentment on Robbie’s part that Villeneuve was made a partner.”
“Yet Livingston told me he’d promised his son that he’d bring him into the firm this coming year. Seems like it would be foolhardy on Robbie’s part to do anything that would risk a partnership in such a profitable firm.”
“Well, maybe he hoped Villeneuve would be blamed for the increase in returns, and it was worth the risk to show up his rival,” Annie said.
“Could be. Have you been able to figure out which companies are involved with the inferior cloth?” Nate gathered his papers and placed them into his satchel.
“It’s going to be hard to figure that out. In any given month the Silver Strike receives material from fifty or more manufacturers and wholesale and commission merchants. And a good percentage of the orders were made when the managers took buying trips back east or even in Europe.”
“But Robbie Livingston is the major purchaser?”
“Yes, besides Mr. Jenkins who does all the ordering for the dress goods that sell on the first floor. And it isn’t those goods that are being returned as inferior. Robbie is responsible for buying the cloth that goes into making the men’s and boys’ clothing sold in his own department, as well as ordering for Mrs. Martell, the manager of the ladies and children’s clothing department on the second floor.”
“And those are the departments where the returns have increased recently?” Nate said.
“Yes, although ultimately Monsieur Villeneuve has final authority over all purchases, so I guess it is possible he really is the one who was responsible, maybe changing orders after they were put in by Robbie or Jenkins.”
Nate just looked at her, and she said, “I know, I know, he’d have even less reason to do that than Livingston’s son. As minority partner in the firm he has the most to lose if the store’s profits are down. And wouldn’t Robbie or Jenkins notice? Or Mrs. Fournier, since the inferior goods appear to have shown up in the custom made dresses as well, at least according to the Moffets.”
“But why would Mrs. Fournier participate in this fraud or keep silent about it?”
“Exactly my question.” Annie could always count on Nate, and his sister for that matter, to get to the heart of a problem. “It was her reputation, which by all accounts she cared about deeply, that was being negatively affected by the dress returns.”
Nate shrugged. “There had to be money involved. You think that someone…most likely Robbie Livingston…has a deal with a manufacturer or merchant to substitute inferior material but keep the price the same?”
“Yes. The person or persons who are making the substitution would then give whoever at the Silver Strike was involved some of the profits they were making. When you look at the hundreds of yards the store buys each month from each source, the total could add up. Although the loss in the store’s reputation for quality goods might be the more grievous harm.”
“But that brings us back to why would Robbie Livingston or Villeneuve risk everything for a few pennies a yard?”
Annie sighed. She knew this was one of the reasons the police weren’t that interested in her idea that this particular swindle, if it was a going on at all, was worth investigating. She said, “What if one of them had gambling debts that they don’t want anyone to know about?” She was remembering a certain young man who was afraid to tell his father when he got in trouble financially.
“I see what you mean.” Nate nodded. “And you were thinking that Marie Fournier might keep quiet to protect that man.”
“Yes, especially if he was her secret lover. And frankly Robbie fits that role better tha
n Monsieur Villeneuve. Robbie is very handsome, but he must be five or more years younger than Marie, and he might not have been interested in a formal relationship with an older woman who was below him in education and class and who already had a child who may or may not be legitimate.”
“Do you have any way to prove any of this?”
“No. But I asked Sergeant Thompson to look into whether or not any of the men who work in the store are known as gamblers. I am hoping that on Monday when I take the Misses Moffet to tour the workrooms at the Silver Strike that they might help me figure out if there is one particular merchant or manufacturer responsible for the inferior goods. That would help.”
“Well, you can’t do anything more today, so why don’t you take some time off?” Nate said. “I know you say you are fine, but you started to cough again last night, and I don’t like the circles under your eyes. And Miss Kathleen looks daggers at me when she picks up our dishes and you haven’t eaten everything on your plate.”
“I am fine, just still a little congested from my cold. But once I finish going through the newspapers this morning to prepare for my Monday morning clients, I have promised to go down and help out with making some cookies and pop popcorn for the tree. You’ll be back in time to help decorate, won’t you?”
“I will try, but I can’t guarantee when I will get home because I need to work on my closing arguments for the divorce case. I want Cranston to look over my draft, and he’ll be in the office late this afternoon.”
“But you are feeling confident that the testimony of your Sacramento witnesses on Friday helped?”
“Oh yes. I am not really that worried now about whether Judge Simmons will grant her the divorce. It is whether he will give her custody of the children and require Inglenook to pay her enough to adequately support herself and the children that has me concerned. Sure would be a nice Christmas present for her if he did.”
Nate got his coat out of the wardrobe and slipped it on. Annie went over and straightened his tie, thinking happily of the package of new ties and dress shirts that were hidden away in Beatrice’s room. She hoped to find time to wrap them today while he was at the law office.
He took the opportunity to kiss her on the forehead as she stood in front of him. Then, as if that little contact had primed a pump, he pulled her closer for a long and immensely more satisfying follow-up sign of his continued regard and affection.
Chapter 20
“Suggestions for Holiday Gifts… ‘The Wonderful Christmas St. Nicholas’ is a grandly illustrated Holiday book, costing only 30 cents.”––San Francisco Chronicle December 22, 1880
Early Saturday morning, December 11, 1880
“Oh my, Miss Laura, Miss Kitty, it’s like a storybook come to life,” Kathleen exclaimed. “Patrick told me the store windows were decorated for Christmas, but this is beyond everything wonderful.”
“Yes, Kathleen. I saw Macy’s windows in New York City two years ago on a trip with my father over the holidays, and it wasn’t as nice as this,” Miss Blaine said.
Miss Blaine’s coachman had dropped them off right in front of the Silver Strike Bazaar. Made Kathleen feel like royalty. This gave them three hours to shop before going to lunch at the Silver Strike restaurant at eleven. Then the coachman would be back to pick the three of them up and bring them back to the boarding house. She would get back to work and Miss Dawson and Miss Blaine would meet Seth Timmons and Mr. Nate’s friend, Mitchell. The four of them were going down the peninsula to the San Bruno Mountains to cut down a tree. She’d never been in a house before that brought in a real tree for the holidays.
Mrs. O’Rourke said that Mrs. Dawson’s aunt and uncle always had a large fir tree in the parlor and she was glad that the mistress was starting that tradition up again. Although she said it was a nuisance to keep everyone from tracking needles all through the house.
The window in front of her looked like a tiny parlor itself, with a small tree covered all over with red bows, strings of tiny brightly colored balls, and silver strips that Miss Kitty called tinsel. Kathleen got goosebumps picturing what their own parlor would look like by the end of this evening.
Miss Dawson, walking from one window to the next, told Kathleen how each scene was from a famous story about Santa Claus and a carriage pulled by reindeer. She said, “This gives me an idea for a gift for my nephew Frankie. I’ll look for a copy of a picture book with The Night Before Christmas in it. Then maybe I can convince Violet to let Mother and me take a trip back up to the city on the 23rd with him so he can see the store windows. Violet might appreciate the day to finish getting ready for Christmas, and I suspect she doesn’t want to come back to the Silver Strike anytime soon.”
Kathleen thought that was a very nice thing Miss Laura was going to do for the sister-in-law she didn’t like that much. She wondered how much a book like the one she was talking about would cost. She wanted to get Ian, her youngest brother, a book for Christmas. She’d been working for two months on knitting new scarves for him and her other two brothers. But she wanted to give Ian something special. Mrs. Hewitt, Jamie’s mother, said he might be interested in a book called Little Men. So she’d see. Mrs. Hewitt also told her she’d gotten a globe for Ian…like the one she’d gotten Jamie for his birthday. Made Kathleen just want to cry everyone was so nice to her brother.
“Well, we’d better go on in before the crowds get too large,” Miss Dawson said.
As they walked through the front door, Kathleen’s head swam just trying to take in everything in a space that went on and on…farther than a body could see. There was a group of fiddlers up on a small platform, all dressed in black evening clothes, playing Christmas carols. And there was a tree that was so tall that it must have been cut down by a giant. Mirrors and bright gas chandeliers with dangling pieces of glass made the whole place flash and sparkle like sunlight on diamonds. And, oh my…the piles of beautiful cloth. Pretty plaids, soft velvets, and silks and satins with threads of gold and silver woven into them. All of it begging to be touched.
“It is so beautiful,” she sighed. Just the way she imagined a palace must look.
They went to the book shop first and were waited on by the manager, Mr. Brown. He was a skinny young man who wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and whose short hair and small mustache were the same color as his name. Kathleen thought him rather mousey, although very well spoken and polite. Not at all the kind of man she would expect Biddy O’Malley to fancy. But he was kind about showing her books he thought a lively ten-year-old boy would like, including Little Men, which was what she finally decided to buy. The other book with the story about Christmas night seemed too babyish.
She had just enough money budgeted to pay for Little Men and felt proud as she counted out the coins on the counter. She watched carefully as Mr. Brown handed the book to a girl who ran away with it and her money. Miss Dawson whispered that this was one of the cash girls and that she would bring the book back, all wrapped up, and that Kathleen should be careful to put the piece of paper that came with the package in her purse. She said that was her “proof of purchase.”
The girl wasn’t the Cherry that Biddy talked about because she looked no older than her brother, Ian. And Biddy had said Cherry was at least sixteen.
While Miss Dawson and Miss Kitty spent some time getting a number of books for different people, Kathleen wandered over to the notions counter that had everything you might ever want to decorate a dress. Miss Millie was teaching her how to use small strips of material to create ruffles. She hoped to save enough money after the holidays to buy some dark brown velvet that she could use to make some ruffles to decorate her good brown tweed.
She wondered if the elderly gentleman who seemed to dart here, there, and everywhere around the dress goods department was the manager Mr. Jenkins. If so, she didn’t envy Biddy working for him. He seemed awfully fussy.
Once they all had their wrapped purchases, they walked to the back of the store to the toy department. Oh, how
she wished she’d had money to buy the toy train set for Ian. But wherever would he put it in the small room he shared with three of his cousins?
That was the one thing that made her think hard about marrying Patrick sooner rather than later. His promise that she could bring Ian to live with them. But there was no way that they could afford room and board for two rooms on just Patrick’s wages, and then Ian wouldn’t be any better off with them than he was now, especially once babies started to arrive.
“Come, Kathleen. It’s time for us to take the elevator. Have you ever been on one before?” Miss Dawson said. “We decided we’re going to go straight up to the third floor first. That way we can do our last bit of shopping on the second floor where the restaurant is located. It’s also where Biddy is working.”
Patrick had told her about the elevator, so she wasn’t surprised it looked like a tiny room. But it still startled a faint gasp out of her when it jerked and then started to push her upwards.
More than an hour later, they were back on the elevator going down to the second floor. This time, Kathleen was more prepared for the jerk when it started, but not for the brief feeling that the floor had dropped out from under her feet. At least she’d not cried out.
They’d had such fun on the third floor. If the front store windows were tiny parlors, the home furnishings department was a whole house put inside another building. And the clerks encouraged them to touch things on this floor. So she and Miss Dawson and Miss Kitty sat down on some of the chairs and sofas. Something that she seldom did at the boarding house…afraid that there would be some smut on her skirt left over from cleaning the fireplaces that would end up staining the upholstery. At the Silver Strike there was even a fully stocked nursery, with a table just high enough for changing nappies, a matching rocking chair, and cradles and cribs. Even a narrow low bed just the right size for a small boy…or girl. It was fun to think about a child of Mrs. Dawson’s sleeping in just such a bed.
Pilfered Promises Page 20
