Bickers let out an exasperated sigh, shrugged, and said, “Suit yourself. Follow me.”
He pulled out a set of keys and opened the door to the vault room. Once inside the door, he took out a box of matches and lit the flame in the gas fixture on the wall, throwing the small room into stark relief. Violet moved quickly past him towards the back wall where a table stood.
Bickers went over to the large iron safe and started doing something with the combination. When the door finally swung open, he leaned forward, and after a few moments, he pulled out a metal box and brought it over to the table near Violet.
Before he could open up the box, she said, again rather loudly, “Alec said you loaned him this money so he could buy some stocks. Is that correct?”
Bickers looked surprised, but to her frustration, he only nodded.
She tried again. “But the stocks were worthless…so why did you loan him the money?”
“Perhaps I didn’t know the stocks were worthless.”
Violet’s frustration mounted at his lie. But at least he didn’t contradict her statement that he’d loaned Alec the money. That was key.
Violet moved slightly so that he had to step away from the box, and she said, sounding as innocent and naïve as she could, “But Mr. Bickers, I don’t understand. If you thought the stock was so valuable, why didn’t you buy any for yourself? Isn’t that what a good businessman would do? Alec said you told him that you’d heard from Mr. Trumpeter that the certificates were going to triple in value. That it was a sure thing.”
Bickers laughed at her and said, “Nothing’s a sure thing.”
“But I thought you were Alec’s friend? He trusted you.” Violet let a whine enter her voice—again modeled after her mother. “Alec also said you assured him that he could get back the money he lost on the stocks by playing the roulette wheel at the Golden Belle Saloon. Said you’d noticed something called ‘the house’ lost every time someone bet on a particular combination of colors and numbers. But you must have gotten it wrong because he kept losing. So it seems to me it is your fault he lost his savings and can’t pay you back.”
Bickers sneered, “Is it my fault that Alec believed me? You would think that the stocks would have taught him that lesson. But your brother is an idiot.”
Violet suppressed the brief thought that Alec had indeed been an idiot to believe this man. But she knew that she needed to goad Bickers into losing his temper, a tactic she’d learned from watching her mother maneuver her father into saying something he then regretted.
She pointed at Bickers and said disdainfully, “It seems to me that you are the idiot because Alec said you stole the money you loaned him from the city tax funds. And now you can’t pay the money back. So if I don’t give you this money—you will be in big trouble.”
Bickers lifted a hand as if to slap her, but instead he snarled, “Is that what your precious brother said? Sounds like he didn’t tell you that if you don’t hand over the money it will be him that ends up going to jail. Not me.”
“But why? He didn’t take it, did he?”
Violet held her breath. This was the most important admission she needed from him.
“No, but that’s not what my dim-witted uncle is going to think.” Bickers gave her a nasty condescending smile, clearly feeling on safe ground. “My uncle is going to think that your brother is the one who stole the funds when I tell him how worried I was about how he kept losing at roulette night after night. How I begged him to stop.”
“But is that true?”
Violet thought desperately for something to say to get Bickers to admit to the truth. As she saw him begin to reach again for the purse and the money he so desperately needed, she got her inspiration. Trying to sound as earnest as possible, she put the purse behind her back and said, “Did you beg him to stop? Please, Mr. Bickers, I have to know the truth. I can’t possibly spend my dowry money to rescue my brother if he’s turned into a hardened gambler. That would be immoral!”
“Oh my stars, you are as laughable as your brother,” Bickers said, his face reddening. “Of course I didn’t beg him to stop. I got a dollar for every ten he lost at the Golden Belle, just as I do for every other gullible local man I bring into the saloon to drink and lose their money.”
Violet let her mouth drop in exaggerated surprise. “Mr. Bickers, are you saying the owner of the Golden Belle pays you to get boys like Alec to gamble? Does that mean that Mr. Trumpeter paid you to get him to buy the stocks as well?”
“No, my dear woman, I pay Trumpeter to sell stocks I’ve bought for cents on the dollar to resell them to fools like Alec, and I am the one that gets to keep the profit.” Bickers snapped his fingers at her impatiently and said, “Now hand over that money!”
A sound behind him caused Bickers to start and turn around. Violet saw his eyes widen as Chief of Police Haskell entered the room, followed by his uncle, whose thunderous expression did not bode at all well for his nephew.
Haskell walked over and clamped his hand firmly on Bicker’s shoulder, saying, “It appears to me that Mrs. Dawson was correct earlier. You are the idiot, and I am arresting you for the embezzlement of city funds, stock fraud, and collusion with a corrupt gambling organization.”
Violet smiled.
Chapter 8
Saturday evening, August 14, 1880
San Francisco
“Nate, I keep seeing Violet’s triumphant smile as she walked out of that bank. I knew right that second she’d been successful,” Annie said as she pulled the pins out of her hair and put them into the small porcelain bowl that stood on the dresser in her O’Farrell Street bedroom. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Nate was leaning over the washstand to splash water on his face.
When they got to San Francisco around four this afternoon, they found Nate’s sister Laura at the train station with a cab to meet them. She’d wanted “first crack” at them, in her words, before they encountered the gauntlet of everyone else at the boarding house who were waiting to hear all about their visit to the ranch. Not surprisingly, the tale of Violet and how she saved her brother Alec from certain ruin ended up completely derailing any discussion of the wedding trip itself––much to the relief of Annie, who was determined to keep the precious memories of the past week private. Now, hours later, she and Nate were finally alone.
With that thought, she lightly touched the battered comb that lay beside her brush on the dresser, feeling a ridiculous wave of affection for this simple implement––purely because it was her husband’s.
“It was nothing to the smile on Billy’s face when Violet told him she was expecting,” Nate said. “I thought it was very smart of her to spring that surprise on him just as he was trying to digest the news that not only had his brother-in-law tried to kill himself in the upstairs of their new home, but that his wife had single-handedly defeated the villain who’d been responsible for everything.”
“Yes, very smart,” Annie replied. “I just wish she didn’t feel she had to justify her actions to her husband or apologize for not waiting until he returned so he could have taken care of things. Although I noticed your mother did step in pretty sharply when Billy started down that path.”
“Yes, and once Billy fully understood what Violet had accomplished, he seemed proud of her. Told me that I wasn’t the only one with a clever wife. The person who didn’t come out of this looking very good was Alec. I don’t know how he’s going to live with the knowledge that he needed his sister to rescue him from his own stupidity.”
Annie, thinking about her conversation with Violet on the way to the bank, shook her head. “I’m afraid he’s spent a lifetime of using his charm and his sister’s courage to solve his problems. And, thanks to you, he isn’t going to suffer much from the after effects of the whole affair.”
Nate smiled at her and said, “It wasn’t hard to talk Eagan into restoring the funds Alec lost gambling at the Golden Belle so he can still come up to San Francisco to pursue a degree this fall. Much
easier than having to explain why both of his cashiers left at the same time. There are going to be enough rumors flying around about Bickers once he testifies at the coming trial.”
Annie knew Nate was being modest about the role he’d played in cleaning up the whole mess. He had worked tirelessly last evening and again this morning to help convince Bickers to cooperate with the authorities, while making sure Alec was protected. He’d drafted the subsequent agreement between Eagan and his nephew, whereby Bickers admitted to “borrowing” the bank funds (which Eagan was going to replace out of his own money) in exchange for being willing to testify against Mr. Trumpeter for stock fraud and against Garret Driver for running a crooked gambling enterprise. Eagan further agreed to pay his nephew’s way to Europe after the trial…with Bicker’s promise he would never reveal the truth about the missing funds or return to the States––although Annie wasn’t sure how Eagan would be able to enforce this last part of the bargain.
Annie, who had started brushing her hair, stopped and said, “I think that Laura’s a little sorry that she missed all the excitement by not coming to the ranch with us, and it certainly has given her a new perspective on Violet.”
“Yes! The look on her face as you told her what happened at the bank. She kept shaking her head and saying, ‘Who would have thought that our proper little sister-in-law would have that degree of spunk to her?’ The truth is, I think we all…except for my mother…vastly underestimated Violet.” Nate draped his towel carefully over the bar at the end of the washstand.
Her new husband’s neatness charmed Annie…obviously his mother had trained him well.
Thinking of Abigail, Annie said, “Well, if the whole sorry affair with Alec makes Laura less reluctant to visit home, it will have all been worth it. Your mother really misses her.”
“I know…I told my sister tonight that she should at least go down for a day or two before the fall term at the university starts. By the way, my mother told me as we were leaving that she couldn’t be happier about our marriage. I don’t know if it was your helping Violet save Alec…or your willingness to pick cutworms off the tomato plants…but you have certainly completely won her over.”
“Oh Nate, I do love your mother so. And I am glad we went ahead with the wedding when we did. Having this week at the ranch and getting to know your parents was the best wedding trip possible.”
She put the brush down and started to plait her long hair but stopped, remembering that her husband preferred her curls to be loose at night. Kathleen, her maid, would scold her in the morning when she had to help Annie tame the snarls to pin it back up.
But I’m not married to Kathleen.
Annie smiled as she thought of Kathleen coming up with the breakfast tray tomorrow so that she and Nate could discuss their plans for the day as they ate together. There’d been a time when she thought that being able to eat her breakfast in this room in splendid solitude was the pinnacle of happiness. Now, she knew that nothing in her life was as satisfying as being able to share the room, the breakfast table, and the battered old mahogany bed with Nate Dawson.
If I was able to learn to be less independent, perhaps in time Violet will learn she doesn’t need to apologize for her own strengths.
Annie shrugged, deciding she’d thought enough about her sister-in-law for one night. She leaned over to blow out the flame in the lamp on the dresser and joined her husband in that battered old bed to make some more precious memories.
The End
The fifth full length novel in the series, Pilfered Promises, which comes after this novella, is now available. Click here or scroll down to read excerpt.
Excerpt
Pilfered Promises
A Victorian San Francisco Mystery
Book Five
* * *
by Mary Louisa Locke
All rights reserved.
Prologue
Friday evening, November 12, 1880
San Francisco,
The flickering light from the lamp was just enough for Marie to see her way over to the bedside. As she leaned over to pull up the quilt to cover her sleeping child, she softly rubbed its threadbare border against her own cheek. Conjuring up her grandmother’s presence, she imagined that the familiar spicy essence of the old woman still lingered in the blue and brown patches that formed the Evening Star pattern on the quilt––the quilt her grandmother had given her on her tenth birthday. The quilt lovingly assembled from the silk and satin scraps rescued during a life-time of sewing elegant dresses for vain and thoughtless women. The quilt that her grandmother had promised would one day grace Marie’s marriage bed.
Not the first or the last of the failed promises in her life.
She tucked the ends of the quilt around her daughter and carefully lifted an errant curl tangled in the lace collar of the child’s nightdress. Feeling the heavy, silk-smooth strand slip through her fingers, Marie smiled. Her daughter’s hair, the color of dark honey, and her eyes, the blue of the bluest evening star in the quilt, assured a bright future for Emmaline.
Brighter than her own.
No. She would not feel sorry for herself. Every choice she’d made in life had been made with eyes wide open…aware of the sacrifices…prepared for the disappointments. But she would not disappoint this precious child.
They would be so angry when she told them of her decision. Say she’d broken her promises. But the only promises she needed to keep were to her daughter. They were the only promises worth keeping.
Chapter One
“CHARGED WITH SHOPLIFTING The Wife of a Respectable Business Man Accused of Theft”––New York Times Dec 19, 1880
Saturday Morning, November 113, 1880
“Mr. Dawson, sir, this policeman has asked to speak to you.”
Nate looked up to see his law clerk standing in front of a man wearing the dark navy blue uniform of a San Francisco patrolman. Registering the officer’s copper-colored hair and mustache, he stood up.
“Thank you, Rodgers. Officer McGee, what can we do for you?”
Annie, Nate’s wife, rose quickly from one of the sturdy wooden chairs facing his desk when she heard McGee’s name mentioned. “Patrick, has something happened? Is your Aunt Bea all right? Kathleen? One of the boarders?”
“Come on in, man, and tell us why you are here,” Nate said, sharing Annie’s fear that someone had been injured at their O’Farrell Street boarding house. Walking around his dark walnut desk, he put his hand reassuringly on his wife’s shoulder.
“Ma’am…sir. Please, I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s not anyone. I mean it is someone…”
The young man wiped his forehead and took a deep breath. “Sir, it’s Mrs. Dawson. I believe she’s your sister-in-law. She’s asked for your help.”
Annie exclaimed, “Violet? She’s in town?”
Nate felt as confused as his wife. Violet Dawson was married to his younger brother Billy, and they lived on the outskirts of San Jose, a couple of hours down the San Francisco peninsula by train. He couldn’t think why Violet wouldn’t have sent a letter or a telegram ahead of time if she needed to consult with him.
“Yes, ma’am, she is, and she needs Mr. Dawson’s help.”
“What kind of help? Has there been an accident?”
His sister-in-law was pregnant with her second child, and Nate suddenly thought of all the things that could happen to someone traversing the crowded San Francisco streets—attacks by rabid dogs, runaway carriages, a purse snatcher, a fall from a moving horse car.
“No sir. No accident. And it isn’t Mrs. Dawson, sir, that’s in trouble. It’s her mother. A Mrs. Kemper, I believe, who has the problem.”
Nate had only met Violet’s mother a couple of times, but he knew she frequently traveled up to San Francisco to shop, so it made sense that Violet would agree to accompany her mother. But if not an accident, then what?
Annie, pouring out a glass of water for the young policeman, said, “Please, Patrick. Do explain. What trouble has
Mrs. Kemper gotten into? And how might we be of help?”
McGee took a long swallow, wiped his mustache, and nodded his thanks, handing the glass back to Annie. “Well, you see, ma’am,” he said, taking another deep breath. “Mrs. Kemper and her daughter were shopping at the Silver Strike Bazaar, that big new store on the corner of Powell and Sutter. I’ve been assigned to that beat. So if there is any disturbance, they call me in. This morning, one of the store’s floorwalkers came and got me. Took me up to the owner’s office––Mr. Robert Livingston, a nice old gentleman.”
Here Patrick paused. Nate saw his face flush. The young man was embarrassed. Why? Whatever could have occurred?
When he didn’t continue, Nate prompted him. “You were called into Mr. Livingston’s office. And is that where you encountered Mrs. Dawson and her mother, Mrs. Kemper?”
“Yes, sir.” Patrick nodded. Then in a rush he said, “It seems that Mrs. Kemper was caught trying to leave the store with some items she’d not paid for. She’s been accused of shoplifting.”
To be continued…
The fifth full length novel in the series, Pilfered Promises, is now available as well.
Click here or scroll down to read excerpt.
Other Works by Author
Victorian San Francisco Mystery Series
Maids of Misfortune (Book 1)
Uneasy Spirits (Book 2)
Bloody Lessons (Book 3)
Deadly Proof (Book 4)
Violet Vanquishes a Villain (Novella)
Pilfered Promises (Book 5)
Kathleen Catches a Killer (Novella)
Boxed Set (Books 1-4)
Dandy Delivers (Novella)
Scholarly Pursuits (Book 6) Fall 2018
Violet Vanquishes a Villain Page 9
