Kathleen Catches a Killer

by M. Louisa Locke

  When she got to the bench, she hung the lantern on one of the branches where it cast a warm glow over the yard, reminding her of the parlor with the tree with its lit candles. And that reminded her that she should double check to make sure all the candles had been properly snuffed out after all the boarders went up to their rooms.

  She’d asked Mary Margaret to do this, but the girl was so preoccupied, she might have forgotten. Seemed every morning edition of the local papers had another story about how a Christmas tree candle fell over or a cinder from a fireplace popped out and landed on a pile of fallen needles and ignited some terrible fire, burning down the house while the occupants were asleep. Kathleen even kept a large bell by her bed, seeing it as her responsibility to make sure everyone got out in case a fire got started in the boarding house. She would definitely check the parlor before going to bed and also make sure the front door was properly locked.

  Sitting down next to Patrick, she leaned her head against his shoulder as he put his arm around her.

  “Was Mary Margaret still up?”

  “Yes. She’s going to be really disappointed that Stanley didn’t see Mrs. Ashburton.”

  “Sweetheart, can you forget Mary Margaret and her mistress for these few minutes that I have you all to myself?”

  “Yes, but…”

  Patrick touched her cheek and said, “You’re the one who’s always saying, ‘no buts,’ my dear. Seems like the past month, with my extra job and all, I’ve neglected you. Then tonight, I know I went on and on about the Christmas Day Killer. Not exactly conversation for a birthday celebration.”

  “Oh Patrick, I love hearing about the cases you are working on. And I’m proud of you. I guess I just get a little jealous. My work’s not near as exciting. Believe me, you don’t want to know how many of Mr. Nate’s shirts I got mended while he was out of town or how dirty the curtains from the Stein’s rooms were.”

  “I want to know everything about your life. I mean it. I been thinking about what you said when I started working nights. How you didn’t want to spend the next few years never seeing me. Thought about my mother and father. My pa working delivery most nights, my ma working…well, between her sewing and us kids…working all the time. It’s like they forgot why they were ever together. Even now, when my wages help out, and Pa has been able to shift to days, and Ma doesn’t have to work as many hours, as far as I can see, they don’t have anything to say to each other. In the evening, Pa has a beer and then falls asleep in his chair. My mother sews and sighs.”

  Kathleen gave him a squeeze and said, “Never you fear, that’d never be us. We both like to talk too much. But I hate how tired you’ve been. I worry it might make you less careful when you’re on your rounds. I mean, I understand you promised Mr. Livingston, but after New Year’s Day, are you going to stop working security for the Silver Strike?”

  “Well, yes and no. Mr. Livingston said he’d be glad if I could cover an occasional shift on Saturday afternoons, after I get off work. You’re always working then, and the extra money’d be nice. But I promise that’s all.”

  “Patrick, that’s wonderful. I’ve missed you coming by, especially after work. Gives me something to look forward to, and I know your aunt likes it when you do.”

  Kathleen also knew she and the older woman shared an unspoken thought every time they saw Patrick step through the gate from the back alley…that he’d made it safely through another day.

  “Well, I probably wouldn’t need to work a second job, even Saturdays, if I get a promotion to the detective department, with better pay. Then I’d be able to afford something better than that stupid purse I got you for Christmas.”

  “It isn’t a stupid purse, it’s just what I needed to go with my brown tweed, and you know that because I told Mrs. O’Rourke how upset I was when the strap on my old one broke. And I am sure she told you when you asked her what to get me!”

  Kathleen had started to give him another hug when she saw he had a funny look on his face as he pulled out a small box. He said softly, “I’m hoping this birthday present will make up for the purse, although it was Mrs. Dawson’s not Aunt Bea’s suggestion this time.”

  “No Patrick, you shouldn’t have! I mean…I’m…”

  He put his finger over her lips and said, “Shush, Acushla, don’t you worry. It’s not a ring. I heard you loud and clear last month. No engagement, no marriage, not now. Not until you’re sure Ian is taken care of. I get it. But that doesn’t mean I can’t give you jewelry, does it?”

  And as she opened the box with fingers that shook––she told herself it was with relief––she saw he’d bought her a pair of cameo earrings that matched her new pin just perfectly. And for the next few minutes, she was able to demonstrate whole-heartedly how happy she was with her birthday present and how much she appreciated that he wasn’t going to push her into making a commitment that she longed for but knew she couldn’t yet afford.

  Chapter 8

  Thursday morning, December 30, 1880

  “Good morning, miss,” Kathleen said. “If you’d clear a space for me, I’ll put the tray down so’s I can light the fire. Right cold this morning.”

  She had brought a tray with toast and tea for Laura, who’d not made it down to the dining room for breakfast. The young woman was sitting up in her bed, surrounded by scattered papers and books. Kathleen suspected that when she was done studying last night, she had simply turned off the lamp and crawled down in the blankets, not bothering to dislodge what she’d been working on.

  “Oh, Kathleen, I didn’t mean for you to lug a tray up here. I could have come down to the kitchen. I think I woke up at the usual time, and I had every intention of getting up, but then it was such a treat to close my eyes again…just for a minute. And that seems to have been two hours ago.”

  “No bother, miss. It’s rare that you get a chance to lie abed. But I thought you were done with your tests before Christmas?”

  “Oh yes, the fall semester’s ended. But I don’t think I did as well as I hoped in my final Latin examination, so I am trying to get ahead. Got Jones, the same instructor, for spring semester. I guess I thought I would dazzle him with the progress I made over the holidays.”

  “Well, I think it’s real brave of you to go to the University when most girls don’t even go to high school.”

  “I don’t know about brave…more fool-hardy.” Laura shrugged as she put sugar into her cup of tea.

  “Mrs. Dawson told me that some of the male students give you and the other young women a hard time,” Kathleen said as she gathered up the underthings that Laura had flung over the back of a chair.

  “Oh, I don’t pay them any mind. Most are only trying to get us to take notice of them. But when you are in a large class, like my Latin class, with only three other women, it’s hard to hide when you aren’t prepared!”

  “I can’t even imagine it. All those eyes on you.”

  “Just between you and me, Kathleen, I found standing up in front of a class of forty-five seventh grade students as a teacher a lot more frightening…at least until I got to know them. Now, it’s time for me to get dressed. You don’t mind staying for a moment to help me do my hair, do you? I forgot to braid it last night before I went to sleep, and I’m afraid it’s pretty tangled.”

  Kathleen, who quite liked brushing and fixing Miss Laura’s hair, which was wonderfully thick and went all the way down to her waist, nodded her assent and poured the pitcher of warm water she’d brought up with the breakfast tray into the washbasin in the corner of the room. As Laura washed her face and hands and brushed her teeth, Kathleen wondered what would be like to go to school.

  She’d never been.

  By the time she was six, she had her little brothers Colin and Aiden to take care of, and her mother was pregnant with Ian, so soon she was taking care of him as well, while her mother worked full-time.

  She’d been surprised when Mrs. Dawson explained to her that there was a law in California that children ha
d to be in school until they were fourteen. But no one in her old neighborhood seemed worried they would get in trouble for keeping their children at home or sending them out to work. Her first employers certainly had never asked her age, even though she started working when she was twelve.

  She had learned her letters from a woman who lived next door to her family for a couple of years. When her brothers started school, she got them to explain the words and numbers they brought home on their slates. Best of all, in the house where she worked right before she came to work for the O’Farrell Street boarding house, the old grandfather had a fondness for penny dreadfuls and had her read them out loud to him every night. He didn’t seem to mind if she pronounced all the words right. Yet she knew that she didn’t understand everything she read in the newspapers, and it was embarrassing when she had to count on her fingers to make sure the grocer was giving her proper change.

  Colin and Aiden couldn’t wait to leave school, but Ian was different; he liked school and was smart as a whip. That was why she gave most of her wages to her uncle Jack, so he would let Ian stay in school. But, if she had to, she would tell him about the law and let him know she wouldn’t hesitate to inform on him if he tried to pull anything over on her. Maybe she needed to have that talk with him now, make sure he wasn’t behind Ian’s decision to start to selling papers in the morning.

  Shaking away her worries, she said, “Mrs. O’Rourke asked if you knew exactly how many people you were inviting for New Year’s Day.”

  Laura, scrabbling through the papers beside her, pulled out a small sheet and said, “Here’s my list. I even printed up invitations at work and mailed them yesterday. I’m just asking Kitty, Ned, Celia, and, of course, Seth Timmons, although knowing him, he won’t show up. And Iris, my forewoman, and Nan, the other typesetter, from work.”

  “Is Miss Celia really going to come live here? That’s what Mrs. O’Rourke said.”

  “I’m hoping so. She’s saved up enough money so she can afford to go to the University full-time this spring. But it will help us both financially if we share the cost of a room. And it will be good to have a study partner around all the time.”

  Laura handed Kathleen the list and said, “Here you go. Do you know if anyone else is inviting people from outside the boarding house?”

  “The mistress told me that she and your brother have extended invitations to a few of their clients and their spouses, as well as their friends the Newsomes, and Mr. Nate’s uncle and the other law partner. And I think that Mrs. Hewitt invited some of her fellow teachers. But Mrs. and Mr. Stein have to spend most of the day calling on people who are involved with his business, so they’ll be out all day. I don’t know about Mr. Chapman or Mr. Harvey, although I doubt if they will have invited anyone. Mrs. O’Rourke thinks we may have as many as thirty or more people coming.”

  “My goodness. Back at the ranch, we spent New Year’s Day going into town and seeing a few people from church. This isn’t going to be too much work for you all, is it? Especially for Mrs. O’Rourke.”

  “Don’t you worry about Mrs. O’Rourke. She’s in fine fettle. She’s the one who convinced the mistress to have an ‘at home’ event this year. Told her that back when her aunt and uncle were alive they might have as many as fifty couples call during New Year’s Day. You know how she loves to cook for a big crowd.”

  “Well, I certainly am looking forward to it. Will your friend Mary Margaret still be here to help out?”

  “Oh yes. She’s a good cook herself, so she will be a big help in the kitchen.”

  “She hasn’t had any success finding a new position?”

  Kathleen frowned and said, “No, and I’m afraid she isn’t going to be serious about looking for one until she’s convinced her old job is really gone. Which isn’t going to happen until she, or at least someone she trusts, speaks to Mrs. Ashburton.”

  “Mrs. Ashburton didn’t show up for morning services yesterday?”

  “No, and Mary Margaret insists this means the son is up to no good. To make matters worse, first thing this morning, when I took Mary Margaret with me to pick up some fresh vegetables at Rileys, our local grocers, Riley himself asked Mary Margaret if her mistress had died!”

  “Oh my heavens, why did he think that?”

  “He said he’d been puzzled on Tuesday when his delivery boy brought back a list from a man who said he was Rafe Ashburton that didn’t have any of the usual things Mrs. Ashburton ordered. No eggs, no wheat flour or oats, no butter, no fruits or vegetables. Instead, the order was for baked beans, canned ham, potatoes, and two bottles of his most expensive whiskey and beer. He said that when he heard later in the day from someone that Mary Margaret was working for our boarding house, he figured the only explanation was the old lady had died and her son had inherited the house.”

  “Mary Margaret must be beside herself with worry,” Laura said. “But didn’t you tell me yesterday, before I left for work, that Stanley, that nice policeman for our neighborhood, was going to stop by to see if she was all right?”

  Kathleen then told her about Stanley’s visit and how he and Patrick seemed to believe that Mary Margaret and she were making something out of nothing. “But you know, Miss Laura, the more I think about it, the more I agree with Mary Margaret. There’s something wrong.”

  Laura, who’d quickly taken off her nightgown and pulled on her chemise, drawers, and under-petticoat, now stood still as Kathleen tightened the strings at the back of her corset. With just the slightest intake of breath, she said, “It certainly doesn’t sound like the son is taking the dietary needs of an older woman into consideration, but I don’t know that this means there is anything seriously wrong. I mean, it’s not like she’s a prisoner.”

  Kathleen helped Laura pull her satin underskirt over her head, fastening it at the back, and then she got the brush as Laura put on the bodice of her brown wool polonaise and began to fasten the long row of buttons in the front.

  Starting to pull the brush gently through the young woman’s hair, she said, “But what if she was a prisoner? What if he has her locked in her room?”

  “But, Kathleen, Officer Stanley heard her speak to her son, and what about the fruitcake?”

  “I dunno. Maybe the son remembered his mother offered everyone fruitcake this time of year, so he took a chance on mentioning it. And I’m not sure Stanley really heard the mother speak. Maybe the son was just pretending to be speaking to his mother.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  Kathleen said in a hurry, “This morning, when I came into the kitchen, I heard Mrs. O’Rourke talking to little Tilly, who was standing in the pantry trying to find a jar of preserves. And it came to me all of a sudden that I didn’t really know if Tilly was there or not because the whole time it was only Mrs. O’Rourke who was speaking. Not a peep out of Tilly.”

  Laura turned around and said, “Kathleen, that’s so clever. You’ve given me the shivers.”

  “And Miss Laura, I then remembered Officer Stanley said he was at Mrs. Ashburton’s house between six and six-thirty, so the son supposedly went up to talk to his mother at that time. The son said she was sitting up reading in her bedroom, which is at the back of the house. But at quarter after six, I was coming down the stairs from the top floor, and I stopped and looked down the hill at the Ashburton house. Mary Margaret had pointed out to me that we could see Mrs. Ashburton’s bedroom and sitting room from the third floor landing of this house. And while the curtains were open, there wasn’t a speck of light coming from those rooms, not like there would be if she was up reading. So what if he was talking to an empty room?”

  Chapter 9

  Thursday morning, December 30, 1880

  “Miss Laura, are you sure this is a good idea?” Kathleen trotted to keep up with Laura’s long stride.

  “Yes I do. I think your idea of stopping by Mrs. Ashburton’s house with some soup and soft rolls was excellent. At the very least, if your suspicions turn out to be unfounded, the poor wom
an will get a decent meal.”

  “But I think we should wait until the mistress comes back tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh fiddlesticks! Why should Annie always have all the fun investigating things. Furthermore, if it turns out that this Rafe Ashburton is some sort of hoodlum who’s mistreating his aged mother, better that we find out as quickly as possible.”

  Kathleen wished that Mrs. O’Rourke hadn’t taken Mary Margaret with her this morning on her grocery shopping trip, leaving little Tilly to finish up the breakfast dishes. She felt sure the housekeeper would have squashed this plan in a hurry if she heard about it. At the very least, Mary Margaret would have insisted she be the one to accompany Laura…which right now sounded like a good idea to Kathleen.

  “But what if he doesn’t let us in?” Kathleen asked as they waited to cross at the corner of Ellis, being careful not to spill the crock of soup in her basket when they stepped down into the street. There was always beef soup stock simmering on the stove top in the winter and soft rolls left-over from breakfast, so it hadn’t taken but a moment to put together the basket. Laura needed to be at work in an hour, so she wouldn’t hear of waiting until Mrs. O’Rourke returned.

  “Well, even if all he does is take the basket from us to get us to leave, we would now have an excuse to come back for it, and maybe we will have better luck the next time.”

  Kathleen felt a wave of relief. Perhaps that would be what happened. And she did want to get a chance to at least look at this Rafe Ashburton. Mrs. Kantor, Officer Stanley, and the grocery and butcher delivery boys, all described him as rather a dandy. Clean-shaven, except for a small mustache, hair cut very short, well-dressed, at least according to the delivery boys, who said he was wearing a silk vest and cravat, with a diamond stick pin. Not someone who looked like some down-on-his-luck prodigal son, and certainly not the scruffy ruffian Mary Margaret had described him being the first night when he threw her out. However, even Mary Margaret admitted he cleaned up well after she saw him when she tried to deliver Mrs. Ashburton’s medicine yesterday. But her friend said that a man could change his appearance with a good barbering, but could not change his character. “Handsome is as handsome does,” she’d said, not for the first time.