“Good afternoon, Miss Woolson, I am Gideon Manning,” he said, coming over to shake my hand. “My sister-in-law mentioned that you’re representing Mrs. Sechrest’s interests in her divorce petition.”
Returning the young man’s handshake, I said, “Yes, Mr. Manning. That’s why I’ve come to see you this afternoon. I apologize if the questions I must ask appear overly candid, but the circumstances leave me no choice.”
The unemployed tutor regarded me seriously. “I understand, Miss Woolson. I wish to do everything I can to help Mrs. Sechrest.”
“I’m relieved to hear that, Mr. Manning.” I reached into my briefcase and pulled out my notebook. Obtaining his permission to jot down any pertinent facts concerning the case, I said, “Now then, I understand you were recently dismissed as tutor for Mrs. Sechrest’s two young sons by her husband, Luther Sechrest.”
The young man sank into the chair opposite me, his expression grim. “Yes, I was.” Once again he studied me, as if trying to judge how much he might safely confide. At last, he seemed to make up his mind. “Has Mrs. Sechrest mentioned the reason for my dismissal?”
“Yes, actually she has,” I said. “I understand Mr. Sechrest has accused you of carrying on an improper relationship with his wife.”
“That’s exactly what he inferred.” His voice betrayed anger and a sense of injustice. “I assure you it’s not true. Not one word of it! I cannot understand a man who would slander his wife in such a despicable manner, especially when he himself is so untrue to his marriage vows. Of course, for men, it’s different,” he added with a note of derision, unwittingly echoing Mrs. Sechrest’s recent sentiments. “They’re judged by an entirely different set of standards than their wives. Still, it’s unforgivable to put those poor boys through such an ordeal.”
“I quite agree, Mr. Manning. That’s why I’m determined to do everything in my power to ensure that those children are returned to their mother, and that these slanderous allegations are proved to be completely without merit.”
“I pray that you will succeed, Miss Woolson. Mrs. Sechrest is a loving, dedicated mother. Unfortunately, quite the opposite is true of her husband. During my two years service in their home, I observed little indication that Luther Sechrest cares one whit about those boys. He leaves the house before they’re up in the morning and returns home long after they’ve been put to bed at night. I’m convinced he’s merely using those children as weapons against his wife.”
“Sadly, that’s often the case in divorce actions,” I said unhappily. “When one or both parents use their offspring as bargaining chips, or to achieve a power advantage over the other, it’s the children who suffer.” I glanced down at my notes, primarily to regain my composure. The welfare of children caught in the middle of a rancorous divorce contest was a cause I hoped one day to address.
A child’s raucous laughter came from upstairs, followed by a dog barking in excitement.
Gideon Manning smiled affectionately. “My three-year-old nephew, Simon,” he explained. “He and his dog, Muffin, can get carried away at times. Soon little Lenny will start to walk, and I shudder to think of the bedlam my brother and sister-in-law will be forced to endure.”
His expression belied his words; he looked as if he were describing a slice of paradise, the life, perhaps, he envisioned for himself one day.
Almost regretfully, I went back to the task at hand. “Have you ever known Mr. Sechrest to use corporal punishment on his children?”
“No, I can’t say that I have.” His face grew hot with justifiable anger. “He seems to have reserved that particular hell for his wife. Have you seen her bruises, Miss Woolson? Only a cowardly brute would sink to such depths of depravity.”
“What about his job, Mr. Manning?” I continued, not allowing myself to be sidetracked by yet another issue close to my heart. “I understand he’s employed as foreman at the Leighton Mining Company?”
“That’s his official title, but for all intents and purposes, he runs the company. Mr. Leighton is in his eighties now and has no children, so he depends on Sechrest to make all but the most important business decisions. There’s talk that he may leave the plant to Luther when he dies, but that’s mainly conjecture. I’ve never met Mr. Leighton personally.”
“What does the company do?” I asked, honestly curious.
He smiled a little sadly. “Ironically, the boys asked me that very question several weeks before Mr. Sechrest terminated my services. They seem to have a very sketchy idea of their father’s responsibilities at the plant.” His eyes took on a distant look, as if he were reliving that lesson with the children, and perhaps others. Then, with a sigh, he explained. “Leighton Mining works with limestone shipped in from various West Coast quarries. Depending upon how it’s processed, it has any number of uses, including the manufacture of paper, glass, soap, textiles, and concrete, to name just a few. Chiefly, though, it’s used in construction. In fact, many train stations, banks, and office buildings here in the Bay Area are made primarily of limestone.”
“How interesting,” I said, realizing that my knowledge of this industry was more limited than I’d realized. “Mrs. Sechrest tells me that you provided services for her husband other than tutoring the children. Is that correct?”
He gave a wry chuckle. “Let me put it to you this way. Mr. Sechrest made certain I earned every cent of my salary. When I wasn’t busy with the boys, I did his accounts, along with a good deal of his correspondence.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Frankly, I think Mr. Sechrest is marginally illiterate. He can read at an elementary level, and do simple sums, but I suspect that’s the extent of his abilities. Not that the man is stupid. Actually, he’s exceedingly clever, if not exactly intellectual, if you take my meaning.”
“Yes, I do,” I said thoughtfully. “Given his limited education, how does he manage to run Mr. Leighton’s company?”
“Evidently, Mr. Leighton employs an accountant who takes care of the company’s finances, and of course an attorney reads and approves all of the firm’s contracts. And as I say, Sechrest is a clever man. He always makes certain to have someone on hand to help him if he runs into a problem, even if that person doesn’t realize exactly how he’s being used.”
I phrased my next question carefully. “Did you ever come across anything that might be interpreted as . . . illegal?”
He looked surprised. “It’s uncanny you should ask me that, Miss Woolson. Actually, it’s a question I’ve often asked myself. Of course I was hardly privy to all of Mr. Sechrest’s business affairs, but a few things struck me as strange.”
“What sort of things?” I asked, allowing myself a faint ray of hope.
“Well, I’m almost certain he kept a second set of books. Mind you, I have no proof, although one day I did get a look at an open account book on Mr. Sechrest’s desk. I was surprised, because, you see, the official account ledger was in my hand at the time. That and the way he hurried to cover up the book convinced me he was up to no good. I also wondered at the way Sechrest smirked whenever he mentioned the company books to his friends. They always laughed, as if he’d just told them a good joke.”
“But you never actually saw anything incriminating on paper?” I asked, trying not to reveal my disappointment. If I were to have a chance of nullifying Sechrest’s accusations against his wife, I’d have to bring more than hearsay or speculation into the courtroom.
He started to shake his head, then seemed to remember something. “Now that I think about it, he also dictated some rather strange letters to me.”
“Oh? In what way were they strange?”
“They seemed to contain information about recent shipments. The problem was, they weren’t addressed to any of the company’s usual clients, although some went to very highly placed men. And the details were often sketchy. For instance, there was never a proper order number, nor a list of what products had been shipped. And they were written cryptically, and not on the company letterhead.”
&nb
sp; “Did Mr. Sechrest retain copies of these letters?”
“I’m not sure if he kept them, but I always made a duplicate. He usually put them in the bottom drawer of his desk, which is locked, or in the wall safe in his study.”
“A safe? Do you have any idea what he keeps there?”
“I’m afraid not. I wasn’t even aware of its existence until I happened to enter the study one day when it was open. Naturally, I’ve never examined its contents.”
I didn’t say it aloud, but I would have given a pretty penny to see the contents of that safe. Unfortunately, no judge would issue a warrant to search a man’s private safe just because his wife’s attorney hoped to find ammunition to use against him in a divorce case.
“Oh, there’s one more thing. Because I occasionally made entries into the account book, I had a fairly good idea what Sechrest earned managing Leighton Mining. I found it curious that he regularly spent well in excess of his salary.”
I sat up straighter. “Mrs. Sechrest mentioned that, as well. Have you any idea how he earns so much extra money?”
“I have no idea.” He gave a bitter laugh. “As I said, I wondered more than once about Mr. Sechrest’s business ethics.”
“Will you please do me a favor, Mr. Manning?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll do anything to help Mrs. Sechrest.”
“That’s good of you. What I’d like is a list of all the people you remember writing to for Mr. Sechrest. Hopefully, they’ll lead us closer to the source of this mysterious money Mr. Sechrest earned.”
His eyes lit up with hope. “I never thought of that, Miss Woolson. I promise to get to work on it right away.”
“Excellent.” I handed him my business card so that he would know where to reach me, then put aside my notebook. “My last question is very important, Mr. Manning. In fact, it’s central to Mrs. Sechrest’s case. She mentioned that you and she occasionally spent time alone together, either in the house or taking long walks in the park.”
His face flushed. “Yes, we did. We were pleased to discover that we shared a great many interests in common.”
“So Mrs. Sechrest told me. The problem, of course, is finding witnesses willing to swear that an innocent friendship is all you shared.”
He turned an even darker shade of red. “You’re very blunt, Miss Woolson. I’ve stated that I am prepared to testify on Mrs. Sechrest’s behalf.”
“Which, in the end, will come down to your word against Mr. Sechrest’s. I do not mean this as a slur on your profession, or your integrity, Mr. Manning; however, Luther Sechrest is not only the boys’ father but their sole provider, as well as a prominent member of the community. That carries tremendous weight in a child-custody hearing.”
“In other words, they’ll believe him over me.”
“Once again, I apologize for speaking so directly, but your actions with Mrs. Sechrest were exceedingly ill-advised. It is, as you pointed out, a double standard. However, the fact remains that even the hint of a scandal will almost certainly cost any woman the custody of her children.”
“Then what are we to do? I swear we did nothing improper. Mrs. Sechrest is a wonderful mother, and a virtuous, lovely woman. The boys miss her horribly. It would be monstrously unfair if the court gave those children to her husband. He—he hardly knows they exist!”
“You’re right, Mr. Manning,” I replied, feeling the same sense of helplessness. “It would indeed be monstrously unfair.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was nearly five o’clock by the time I arrived at my office from the Mission District. Wearily, I unlocked my door and, taking off my wrap, collapsed into the chair behind my desk. It had been a tiring day and, all in all, a frustrating one, as well. Frederick was in all probability still in jail, Madame Karpova had been denied bail and had been returned to her cell, and Cecil Vere’s murder was being treated as a sad but all-too-common waterfront tragedy. To top it off, I could think of no way to prove Alexandra Sechrest innocent of the adultery charges her husband had leveled against her.
I had just rested my head back against the chair and closed my eyes when the sound of a man’s voice almost caused me to jump out of my skin.
“So, you’re finally back.”
“Samuel!” I cried, spying his grinning face in the doorway to the back room. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Sorry, little sister,” he said, placing a cup of hot tea in front of me. “But you shouldn’t hand out keys to your office if you don’t expect visitors.”
“I expect visitors to announce themselves and not pop out at me like a jack-in-the-box.” I placed both of my hands around the cup in an effort to warm them. “However, I do approve of visitors who serve me refreshments.”
“Don’t mention it.” He sat in the chair across from my desk. “You look worn out. What have you been up to all day?”
“First, give me an update on Frederick. Has Papa been able to get him out of jail yet?”
Samuel’s smile faded. “Unfortunately, no. Although he managed to have his arraignment hearing set for tomorrow afternoon.”
“Good heavens! Two days and nights in jail. I wonder how Freddie’s handling it?”
“Not well, according to Papa. He’s proclaiming his outrage to anyone within hearing distance. And his innocence, of course.” Despite his glib response, Samuel looked worried. “I’m afraid Father’s got his work cut out for him.”
He took a sip of his tea, then placed the cup in its saucer on the desk. “All right,” he said, obviously trying to lighten the heavy mood that had settled upon us. “It’s your turn, little sister. Tell me about your day.”
Starting with Madame Karpova’s hearing that morning, I went on to describe my visit with Annie Fitzgerald, and the stop I’d made to see Mrs. Sechrest at Annjenett Fowler’s safe house.
“Gideon Manning seems like a nice young man,” I said, completing my narrative with the Sechrest’s ex-tutor. “Clearly he’s in love with Alexandra, but I’m not sure he even realizes it yet.”
“If the judge in the divorce hearing picks up on that, it isn’t going to help your client.”
“I know. Yet I have no choice but to call him as a witness. I believe Alexandra and Mr. Manning when they say they did nothing improper. I’m not sure either of them could tell a lie if their lives depended on it.”
“So, as it stands, Mrs. Sechrest will most likely lose her children.”
“I’m afraid so. Unless I can somehow pull a miracle out of my hat by Friday.”
Samuel’s reply was cut off by a knock on the door. Before either of us could answer, Eddie bounded into the room, closely followed by Robert.
“I was comin’ for my readin’ lesson when I met Mr. Campbell outside.” The boy beamed at the sight of my brother. “How are ya, Mr. Samuel? Did you bring any more of them Police Gazettes with you? I’m learnin’ an awful lot from ’em.”
“Eddie, I thought we had an agreement,” I said. “Once you finish your Rollo books, I’ll let you read Tom Sawyer. It’s far superior to that awful rag Samuel gives you.”
Eddie did not appear convinced, but he wisely chose not to argue the point. While Samuel retired to the back room to brew more tea, Robert sank into the room’s only other chair.
“Where have you been all day?” he asked. “I came by twice this afternoon, but no one was here.”
Since I had no wish to discuss the Sechrest case with counsel for the opposition, I evaded his question by asking why he’d wanted to see me.
“I heard about your brother’s arrest,” he told me as Samuel reappeared carrying another cup of tea. “What makes the police think Frederick’s involved in the mess over the new City Hall project?”
“That’s what we’d like to know,” Samuel said before I could answer. “Freddie has any number of faults, but taking bribes isn’t one of them. I’m convinced he’s been set up.”
“By whom?” I asked. “And why? If you’re right, they couldn’t have found a more unl
ikely candidate.”
“You and I know that,” said Samuel. “But whoever’s behind this obviously feels he can get away with it.”
“Have you seen Frederick yet?” I asked my brother.
“For a few minutes earlier this afternoon. Papa was in and out of the jail most of the day. Fortunately, he isn’t hearing a case in county supreme court until tomorrow afternoon, so he’s made Frederick his number-one priority.”
“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have on my side than your father,” Robert said with genuine respect. “Oh, by the way, I also came by earlier to see if you’d picked up the Coptic translations.”
The translations! In all the excitement, I’d completely forgotten about them. Opening my briefcase, I pulled out the notes Mr. Ferrier had given me the previous day and spread them out on my desk.
“The translation itself appears excellent,” I said. “The problem is that all the names are written in code, so even in English, it’s difficult to make out who Moss was referring to.”
Information from #8. Sky god has new mistress. Seen together at El Dorado.
Black Douglas’s wife has secret lover. #10 saw them together at Murphy’s.
Information from #3. Janus seen with new gentleman friend at Nancy’s. Should put end to political aspirations.
Where did Napoleon suddenly come up with money for new house on Russian Hill?
“I see what you mean,” Robert said at length. “First, he writes in Coptic, then assigns everyone a nickname. I assume the numbers signify one of his spies.”
“Of whom it seems he had many,” Samuel put in dryly.
“Sky god, Black Douglas, Janus, and Napoleon?” Robert mused. “And ten to twelve more on the other pages. Where do we begin?”
The Cliff House Strangler Page 26
