A Dying Note

by Ann Parker

  All trace of lightness left Flo’s demeanor. Her eyes narrowed, the little come-hither smile vanished as if it had never been, and her dimpled face tightened. “Nothing good, I can assure you.” Ignoring the proffered chair, she paced, clasping and unclasping her hands, her lace parasol slapping her coat as it swung from her wrist on its bamboo handle. “In fact, it’s a goddamned mess.”

  She finally sank down into the chair next to Inez. “It wasn’t my idea to be here in San Francisco, believe me.”

  “So, why are you here?”

  Flo took a deep breath. “I don’t have much time. I’m supposedly out shopping for a new hat. I’m glad you’re sitting down for what I’m about to tell you. I’m here with Harry Gallagher.”

  Inez stared, unbelieving.

  Harry.

  Harry Gallagher, owner of Leadville’s Silver Mountain Mine, here in San Francisco?

  A wealthy Eastern capitalist, Harry was one of a handful of silver barons who had extended his fortune by coming in early on the Leadville mining boom. His wealth had only continued to grow as he invested in other holdings inside and outside Colorado, as Inez knew. It would not be out of line, she reasoned, for him to have business in the West Coast’s crown jewel by the bay. And to pay Flo enough that she would accompany him as his companion.

  But looking into Flo’s worried gaze, Inez suspected this visit was more than that. Furthermore, Inez had once, in a moment of emotional weakness, capitulated to Harry’s charms, a misstep resulting in untold complications she had no desire to revisit, all of which only added a dark undercurrent to her increasing apprehensions.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Mrs. Stannert! I went through a great deal of trouble to come here and warn you.”

  Inez found her voice. “And what,” she said, “has any of this to do with me?”

  “Look, I know way back when you thought your husband dead and gone, before he made his surprise reappearance, you and Harry were…Well, this isn’t really about that. At least, not entirely. Did you ever meet Harry’s son?”

  Inez blinked. “I had no idea he had a son.” But then again, I didn’t even know he had a wife. At least not at the start.

  Flo nodded. “He does. Robert H. Gallagher, all of twenty-three years old. Harry brought him to Leadville a year ago, shortly after you left town, and put him in charge of Silver Mountain Mine. The son had been Back East with his mother until she died. She was an invalid, only came to Leadville once, as far as I know. Robert was devoted to her. The reason given for his sudden appearance and elevation in Leadville was that Harry was grooming him to take responsibility in the family business. I also heard rumors of certain unsavory hijinks Back East that caused Harry to think it might be best to bring him West. Well, Robert was not the least bit interested in following in his father’s footsteps and has a bit of a wild streak besides.”

  “You would know all this how?” asked Inez.

  “How?” Flo lifted an eyebrow. “How do you think? In the usual way, Mrs. Stannert. In my business, there are no secrets. At least, not many that stay that way.”

  She pulled at one of the curls by her ear, releasing it like a spring. Nudging aside a stack of music scores, she put her elbows on the table, and leaned toward Inez. “Apparently, Harry decided to wipe out the wild streak in Robert, plain and simple. Three months after Robert came to town he was engaged to a prim little miss who just happened to be the daughter of one of the rich muckety-mucks Harry knows. Robert was less than enthusiastic about the match.”

  “The match was Harry’s doing?”

  “The two fathers. All strictly business,” said Flo.

  Inez flashed on Carmella, and Nico’s attempts to curb her spirit. “Let me guess. These stories seldom end well,” said Inez grimly.

  Flo nodded. “Robert came to talk to me, two days before the wedding. Just about six months ago. He said he was leaving town. He couldn’t go through with it. He didn’t love her, he said.” Flo rolled her eyes. “As if love has anything to do with any of this. Anyhow, he vamoosed without a word.” Flo’s mouth thinned out. “Then, the stupid little fool killed herself. Poison. Rumor is, she couldn’t live with the shame of being jilted.”

  Inez leaned back, shocked. “How awful!” following with “I suspect the elder Mr. Gallagher did not take well to this turn of events.” Harry was a man who liked to control everything and everyone in his orbit.

  “Oh, that’s not the half of it,” said Flo bitterly. “He blames me for Robert’s bolting. I had nothing to do with it! Sure, I listened to him when he was in a talkative mood, which was most of the time. When he came to visit the girls, he never was one to screw, pull up his suspenders, and slink out the door. He liked to hang around after and talk to me, ask my advice. I swear, the boy was looking for a mother, not a—”

  “You listened.” Inez crossed her arms on the table top, staring hard at Flo. “What else did you do?”

  “Well,” she shifted in her chair a little. “I might have given him some money. Enough for a one-way ticket West.”

  “Flo!” Inez was aghast. This was quite unlike the hardnosed businesswoman. Oh, she could be kind to her girls and had gone the extra mile for them on occasion, but for a client?

  “I know, I know,” Flo looked down and straightened the seam of one glove. “I’ve gone over it a thousand times, how stupid that was. I felt sorry for him, and he caught me in a moment of weakness. It’s really all Harry’s fault. He shouldn’t have pushed Robert the way he did.”

  “Harry found out?”

  “He found out all right.” Her round blue eyes narrowed. “He threatened to close me down if I didn’t come with him and find that whelp of his and drag him back by the short hairs. My words, not his. Robert will be lucky if he has any short hairs left by the time his father is done with him.”

  “Why San Francisco?” Inez asked. “There’s New York, Chicago, St. Louis, many other cities. And why are you bringing me into this? I don’t know this…Robert. Or, rather, I can think of several Roberts, all of whom have been in town longer than the one you are looking for. Trust me, my life is very circumscribed here.”

  “He said he was going to San Francisco. You see, it wasn’t just the girl. He and Harry tangled about running the mine. Robert had this notion of ‘workingmen’s rights.’ He believed the miners weren’t getting a fair shake under his father. He tried to change things and, well, Harry didn’t approve. So, it didn’t happen.”

  “I can imagine. It sounds like Harry said, ‘Manage the mine, but manage it my way.’”

  Flo nodded. “And much as Robert would hate me saying this, I will say it: Like father, like son. Neither can stand being told no.”

  “San Francisco,” Inez repeated, frustrated. “If he’s got a notion to come to the aid of the workingman, he must have been drawn to the labor movement here.”

  Flo nodded. “But that’s not all. He intended to pursue a career as a professional musician, something his mother apparently supported. Lessons from the time he could walk and all that. Music is all he has ever cared about doing. Well, in addition to the usual things young men his age care about.”

  Music.

  Now it was becoming clear.

  “Mrs. Sweet,” said Inez ominously, “Did you tell Harry about what I am doing out here? About this store?”

  Flo raised her hands, palms out. “I swear to God, I have not breathed a word of your whereabouts or what you are up to. But Harry knows, at least in part. He has connections, agents, working for him. He knows you are here in San Francisco. I think he knows you are in the music business, in some way or another. What else he knows, I can’t even begin to guess. But he didn’t learn it from me.”

  That sent a chill down Inez’s back, but she focused on the problem at hand. “There are hundreds of professional musicians here. Hundreds! Why would he even think I might know his son? If this Rober
t is in the city, he’s probably too smart to go by his own name.”

  “I know, Inez. But try to convince Harry of anything other than what he wants to believe. Anyhow, he insisted I come to San Francisco with him. He said if I don’t cooperate in finding Robert, he’d see me ruined and my girls thrown out into the street.”

  “How could he possibly do that?” Inez asked. “You have your supporters in Leadville. Why, with the taxes and fines you pay, you probably support half the city government!”

  “Leadville has changed in the year you’ve been gone. Every month, there is less and less tolerance for businesses like mine, or maybe I should say ‘ours.’ All the so-called proper women pull their skirts aside when any of my girls or I walk by.” She looked furious. “It wouldn’t take much for the city fathers to decide businesses like ours should be ‘quarantined’ in the poorer part of town or shut down altogether. And Harry is perfectly capable of nudging things in that direction. I probably don’t need to point out that if Harry follows through on his threat, it’ll be a disaster for you and me. As for why I’m here, warning you of all this, he knows that you and I, we have a…” she cleared her throat, “…connection.”

  “A connection.” Inez repeated, her stomach dropping. If Flo’s lucrative, high-class house of ill-fame disappeared, Inez’s share of the profits would vanish as well. She could weather that. Probably. But if word got out that she was part-owner of a brothel, no matter how distant or how upscale…

  Never mind her business acumen and hard work on behalf of the music store. Nico, with his rarified connections and aspirations, would immediately end their business relationship. Inez and Antonia would have to move. And it wouldn’t stop there. If that and all the rest of Inez’s past came out publicly—former saloon-owner, divorcée with an adulterous background, questionable morals—and let’s not forget that I am responsible for several deaths. All justifiable, but still.

  She would never live it down.

  Word would inevitably get to the women in San Francisco she had formed business connections with. Inez thought of Mrs. Young—a milliner she had recently agreed to finance—the printers Fleury, Mrs. Nolan, and the laundresses Mollie and Bessie May. Such revelations would spell the end of those partnerships and others. It would be the end of her new life, and Antonia’s as well.

  They would have to leave San Francisco.

  But for where?

  “Jesus.” Inez put her head in her hands. “If you didn’t tell him, how did he find out?”

  “I don’t know,” said Flo, miserably. “But he has a man with him, hired from Leadville, who came with us and is also looking for Robert.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is a mouthful, Wolter Roeland de Bruijn.”

  Inez frowned. “From Leadville?”

  Flo nodded. “He came to town after you left, I think. Anyhow, he, or someone else, dug up a lot of information. As I said, he’s looking for Robert. He’s looking for you, too, because Harry has this crazy notion that you will be able to find Robert. And there is another complication.”

  Inez slowly lowered her hands to the table, palms flat on the surface as if to draw strength from the warm, polished wood. “Another complication? What, then. Spit it out, Flo.”

  Flo sighed and the worry lines deepened, making her look older. “Phillip Poole, the father of Robert’s Leadville fiancée, Vivian. He’s here too. I heard Harry and de Bruijn discussing this, when they thought I couldn’t hear. Poole is also looking for Robert, and he’s sworn to shoot him on sight, if he gets the chance. So, we cannot waste any time.”

  Inez stared hard at Flo, waiting, in case there was more. She finally said, “Anything else I need to know about this convoluted, sorry situation, Mrs. Sweet?”

  Flo leaned forward. “The upshot is this. We need to find Robert, before de Bruijn or Poole does, and convince him to at least talk to Harry, warn Robert that Poole is here, and that he is in danger for his life. If we don’t succeed, who knows what Harry will do or think? If de Bruijn finds him first, Harry might think we lied about not knowing where Robert was, that we knew all along and helped hide his son. And if Poole finds him first and carries through on his threat, I don’t even want to think what Harry might do. Neither outcome bodes well for you or for me!”

  Chapter Six

  Inez’s mind skittered around like a trapped rat. “Back up. This agent of Harry’s, what is his name, again? De Broin? Broon? Brown?”

  Flo wrinkled her nose. “Mostly I hear others say ‘de Brown,’ but it isn’t exactly that. He answers to it, or anything close.”

  Inez continued. “Tell me about him. Is he a private detective? A Pinkerton?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is he ‘finds’ things. At least, in Leadville, that was his service. If you, say, lost money to a confidence man, or your wife to a lover, you’d go to him.” She shrugged one shoulder. “He doesn’t draw a line between the paupers and the silver barons. If they are willing to pay the price he names, he’ll find whatever was lost. Well, Harry lost his son, so…”

  “Where is this de Bruijn now?”

  “Right now? I left him with his newspaper in the lobby of the Palace Hotel where we are all staying. I told him Harry said I could go shopping for hats. He waved me away, saying I should be back before the dinner hour.”

  Realization slapped Inez like a cold ocean wave. “He could have followed you here! If he and Harry didn’t know where I was before, they will now.”

  “No! I was very careful. I went to a couple of millineries first before taking a hack.”

  Inez was not convinced, but there was nothing to do about it now. “Well, perhaps there is nothing to worry about, but at least forewarned is forearmed.” But armed with what? She brushed that question aside. “Describe Robert for me.”

  “He’s the spitting image of Harry,” said Flo. “Just picture Harry twenty years younger, and you’ll have him.”

  Inez shook her head. “I need details. Mustache? Dark hair? A limp? A lazy eye? Give me something to work with, Flo.”

  “I don’t have a likeness,” she snapped, then lowered her voice again. “For what it’s worth, he is about as tall as you are, dark hair, light eyes, well-formed, prone to shooting off his mouth without thinking about the consequences.”

  “Which describes a great many young men,” Inez said under her breath.

  Flo pondered a moment longer. “The only other thing I can tell you won’t help one whit, unless you’re planning on stripping down every likely young man. One of my girls told me he has a birthmark, here.” Flo passed a hand over her left breast. “Quite large. A firemark, almost purple.”

  “You’re right. That will not help me.” Inez looked at the door leading to the showroom. Nico’s voice, words indistinguishable, the tone amiable, filtered through. She thought she heard John Hee reply.

  “You should leave,” said Inez abruptly. “I don’t like the idea of you staying here a moment longer than necessary. I will ask some of the musicians I know and see if the name Robert Gallagher sounds familiar. I’ll take a good hard look at the Roberts of my acquaintance. Keep in mind, I can’t go chasing after these gentlemen, I must wait until they come to me. I have a business to run, and generally stick close to the store. I am here in the office in the mornings, settling accounts, giving lessons.”

  Then, she remembered her promise to Carmella to accompany her on the morrow. “Except for tomorrow morning. I have a previous engagement.” She stared at the door that led to the showroom. Murmurs drifted in from the other side. Was that another male voice in the mix? Maybe William Ash had come to check on his clarinet? If so, she wondered if Nico would mention the Long Bridge discovery to him, the possibility that the body might be Jamie Monroe. It was not a task she wanted to shoulder, telling Jamie’s circle of friends and acquaintances of his possible demise. I am putting the cart before the horse. Nothing need be
said until we know whether the victim is Jamie or not.

  Inez continued, “I will most likely see a fair number of the regulars today. The theaters and music halls are closed on Mondays, and private fetes are rare the first part of the week. I’ll ask around and do what I can to see if anyone knows a Robert Gallagher.” She fought down a rising tide of panic. “Flo, it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack!”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open, too,” Flo promised. “I told Harry that I would promenade around and be on the lookout for him. I have a couple of ideas of places to try. High-class bordellos and such. I do hope he shows up and this nightmare is over soon.”

  Inez said, “We need to have a way to get in touch with each other, in case you or I hear of anything. If you must reach me, you can send a runner to the store, but be discreet! I recall from my earlier stay at the Palace that they are part of the telephone exchange, as we are here.”

  Inez silently thanked Nico for his fascination with “curiosities” of all kinds, including those of a technological variety. He had had a telephone installed as soon as they became available, although it seldom rang. Occasionally a call came through from a patron asking if Nico was available to perform for such-and-such an event on a particular date. More often, Inez used it to arrange for a Sunday drive to the coast by Point Lobos and Seal Rocks.

  “You can use the telephone to ring up the store and say you want to talk further about the lessons. It’s trickier if I need to reach you. I wouldn’t want this de Bruijn or, God forbid, Harry, to intercept a message with my name.”

  Inez pondered, then went to her desk and searched for the business card she had in mind. When she found it, she brought it to Flo. “If I need to reach you, I’ll send a boy with a message to the Palace Hotel that this milliner, Mrs. Young, has a hat that she thinks you might like. I would want to know that you indeed received the message. If you send the messenger back with a reply that you hope it is in purple and white, I’ll know all is well and you will come as soon as you can.”