Dead ends. More dead ends. “Anything else?”
“Yep. When I was out in the station room, I saw that Mrs. Davies is here.”
Nick smiled, which raised Taylor’s eyebrows. “You don’t have to keep looking for where Li Sha was staying, Taylor. I suspect Mrs. Davies has found out for us.”
Taylor showed her in.
“I have come to admit I was mistaken, Mr. Greaves,” Celia Davies said, her pale eyes steady on his face.
Her accent was more distinct than before. Maybe that was what happened when Englishwomen admitted they were wrong.
“About my brother-in-law,” she added.
“Listen, I need to get out of here,” said Nick. “The stench is turning my stomach. Care to walk and tell me what you’ve learned?”
“Are we going anywhere in particular?”
“Anyplace that’s not here.”
Nick collected his hat from his desk and guided her out. From the doorway, Taylor watched their passage with an irritating smile.
“Taylor, what are you smirking at?” asked Captain Eagan, stepping through the barred door between the main room and the jail cells.
A bear of a man, he had heavy black sideburns that he kept meticulously trimmed and broad shoulders. His irises were so dark you couldn’t distinguish them from the pupils, which made him difficult to stare at. The few policemen in the station scrambled out of his path as he wended his way between desks.
“Uh, nothing, sir,” Taylor answered, and scuttled to his desk.
“Greaves, I was just coming to talk to you about that Chinese girl’s murder,” said Eagan.
“We can talk later, Captain. I have a witness to interview.”
Eagan scanned Mrs. Davies. “Make it quick. I don’t want you wasting time on this case. You’ve got better things to do.”
Eagan’s priorities never did include giving a damn about the Chinese.
Nick indicated to Mrs. Davies that she should use the alley door, and he stomped up the steps behind her.
“Your superior?” she asked. The sunshine was glaring, and she squinted as she looked at Nick. “He has quite the most magnificent black whiskers.”
“Yep, that’s him,” said Nick, striding toward Kearney. “But I wouldn’t call Eagan’s whiskers magnificent.”
“Perhaps extravagant is a better word,” she said as they wove through the lines of parked hacks and smaller, cheaper one-horse cabs that clogged the street in front of city hall. “Your captain bears a strong resemblance to a physician I knew at the army hospital in Philadelphia. A domineering man who refused to listen to anyone.”
“Especially you?”
She smiled ruefully. “Especially me. Although the sister I served under in Scutari, during the war in the Crimea, was even more intimidating than that doctor.”
“I can’t imagine you being intimidated by anybody, ma’am,” he said, guiding her out of the path of a Mexican cowboy who was clomping along the sidewalk, his sombrero flapping and his spurs jangling.
“When I was younger I could be intimidated. Absolutely. I was only seventeen when I went to the Crimea, and pretending to be much older. I was always afraid I’d be found out and sent home to England.” The smile faded. “Perhaps I should have been.”
He ushered her through a gate in the iron fence surrounding Portsmouth Square. The flag waved on a tall pole, and gravel walkways radiated from the center, where a marble fountain spit water. Across the way, a clutch of eastern tourists in their freshly purchased traveling outfits headed to Chinatown with a policeman as a guide.
“Explain to me about your brother-in-law,” he said as they strolled. The wind teased loose strands of her hair and carried the scent of lavender to him.
She told him what Dora Schneider knew about Li Sha and Tom Davies. That, in the days before she’d been killed, they’d fought about the baby and he had beaten her. That Li Sha had gone to Miss Schneider’s for refuge. Mrs. Davies also told him about the girl’s quest for money the night she’d died because she’d wanted to leave town.
When Mrs. Davies finished, she turned to stare at him, hoping for . . . hoping for what? That he would ignore the information she’d provided and somehow save Tom Davies?
“I’ll have to bring Tom in, Mrs. Davies,” he said.
“There could be another explanation,” she said. “The person she approached for money might be responsible. Or that person is, at the very least, the last to have seen her alive. He may know who killed her.”
“Could be,” Nick agreed.
“Furthermore, Li Sha didn’t come to me or Barbara, or Dora, not that Miss Schneider has much money to give to anyone. Which leaves a reduced number of individuals to inquire after.”
“Such as?”
She paused to think while the bell on a nearby church tolled the hour, followed by another church bell down the road. San Francisco didn’t lack for places of worship, which sprouted like weeds. Places for all the sinners who drank and gambled and whored in the Barbary and along the docks to turn back to God. As far as Nick could tell, the effort wasn’t working.
“Not Mr. Lange,” Mrs. Davies said. “He didn’t mention anything about Li Sha asking him for money when I spoke to him yesterday. By the way, Mr. Lange claims Tessie doesn’t know anyone in the Barbary.”
“He might not want folks to know.”
“True.” She frowned. “I also learned from Dora that Tessie Lange and my brother-in-law were once involved romantically. At first, I presumed this meant that Li Sha wouldn’t ask Tessie for money. But now I suppose Li Sha could have reasoned that Tessie would happily supply funds in order to get her chief rival out of town.” She paused and gazed up at him. “But why kill Li Sha if she was already intending to leave?”
He liked the logical way she thought.
“Just because Li Sha currently wanted to leave town doesn’t mean that would be the situation forever,” he said. “After she had the baby, it was always possible she could change her mind and come back to be with Tom.”
“I see.”
“Any other folks she might’ve gone to?” Nick asked.
“She might have gone to the Chinese Mission. They don’t usually provide the girls with money, however,” she said, looking uncomfortable admitting that the missionaries didn’t trust what the Chinese women would do with it.
“When Taylor asked the reverend who runs the mission if Li Sha had stayed there recently, he claimed they hadn’t seen her for weeks.”
“So, if not them, Li Sha might have approached one of the Palmers. Perhaps Mr. Palmer.”
“Who?” he asked. “Mrs. Davies, if you really want to help, the best way is to tell me everything you know about her.”
“You have attempted to be rid of me on numerous occasions, Mr. Greaves,” she responded. “I regret I have not previously enumerated her every acquaintance.”
“All right, all right. Mr. Palmer.”
“You haven’t heard of him?”
“You’ve discovered a gap in my knowledge, Mrs. Davies.”
She resumed walking, the gravel crunching beneath her sensible boots. He fell into an easy pace at her side.
“Joseph Palmer is a very successful land speculator and developer. He provides funds for my clinic and many other benevolent organizations in the city. Li Sha met him once, along with his wife and daughter, at a charity event at the Chinese Mission,” she said. “Li Sha was well aware he supported my clinic, and Barbara and I spoke of him often in her presence. She might have believed his generosity would extend to providing her with money, if she asked.”
“Would he have?”
“It does not matter, because according to my cousin, Mr. Palmer was away from town Monday evening.”
“I’ll go talk to him anyhow. See what he has to say.”
Her steps slowed. “I shoul
d warn you that Joseph Palmer will not be happy for the police attention.”
“Is he friends with Captain Eagan or Police Chief Crowley?”
“Probably both men. Which is why I’m surprised you had not heard of Mr. Palmer before.”
“They don’t exactly invite me to their parties.” Rich and powerful men, as thick as thieves. Not that Eagan was rich. But if you were a businessman in this town, it didn’t hurt to have friends on the police force.
“And Tom?”
“I haven’t changed my mind about arresting him.”
“I truly hope I didn’t miss warning signs that Tom could be violent.” She closed her fingers tightly around the straps of her reticule. “Li Sha trusted him because of me. Because he is my husband’s brother. I need to believe I could not have prevented her murder. Because I fear if he is responsible, I could have.”
“It’s not your fault, Mrs. Davies.”
“Convince me that is true, Mr. Greaves.” Her gaze was unfaltering. Beneath a clear sky, her eyes were more blue than gray. “If you do nothing else, convince me that is true.”
• • •
Addie met Celia at the front door just as she arrived home. “Mrs. Palmer is here, ma’am. In the parlor.”
Proof hung on the hook in the vestibule—Elizabeth Palmer’s massive tartan-plaid burnous scarf, which she used as a morning wrap.
“Did she bring Emmeline?” asked Celia.
“No, the poor bairn must still be ailing,” said Addie, collecting Celia’s shawl. “Miss Barbara is with Mrs. Palmer. ’Tis odd how they’re behaving, though. Usually they’re friendly enough, but today they could be sitting on thorns in there.” Addie leaned closer and lowered her voice, even though the pocket door to the parlor was shut. “Nae that I can blame Miss Barbara one bit if she’s become uncomfortable with that woman.”
“Elizabeth is not so bad,” Celia said.
“You’d think different, ma’am, if you were in my shoes.”
Elizabeth Palmer made nearly everyone uncomfortable, especially servants. Celia had heard that in the past two years alone, the Palmers had engaged four separate housekeepers, a Chinese boy, and one maid of all work. The latest had left just last week, to be replaced by yet another young woman. Elizabeth expected the utmost out of everyone, and sometimes her standards were too high.
High standards that would extend to Celia’s dusty boots.
She dropped onto the chair by the door and fumbled with the bootlaces, and ended up tightening the knots rather than loosening them, hindered by the corset, which prevented her from bending down.
“What did the detective have to say?” Addie asked, crouching at Celia’s feet and undoing the laces for her.
“He intends to arrest Tom,” she answered, leaning back in the chair. “We should be thankful Patrick isn’t here. He would be livid.”
The Davies temper. She had never before imagined that it could be fierce enough to kill.
“We could talk to Madame Philippe,” Addie offered. “She’s an astrologer. She could tell us who did it.”
“An astrologer, Addie?” Had they already arrived at the point where an astrologer was their best hope for a solution? “You don’t believe in such things, do you?”
“Weel, my mother always claimed the auld woman who lived at the edge of the village had the second sight,” said Addie. “Besides, Miss Lange sets great store by what the woman tells her. She’s mentioned Madame Philippe to me more than once when I’ve gone to the shop for you. I think it canna hurt to visit the woman.”
“Miss Lange uses her?” Celia asked. Here was an interesting turn. She wondered if Tessie had ever spoken to Madame Philippe about Li Sha. It could be worth a visit to find out. “Perhaps we should go, Addie.”
“Then I’ll make an appointment, ma’am,” said Addie, smiling.
Her boots removed, Celia tucked her feet into the soft leather mules lying nearby and stood, smoothing her skirt with her hands. She slid open the door and entered the parlor, where Barbara and Elizabeth Palmer blinked at each other over cooling cups of tea.
“Cousin Celia, there you are!” Barbara said, relief causing her voice to rise. “I told Mrs. Palmer you wouldn’t be much longer.”
“Good afternoon, Celia,” said Elizabeth, who was dressed as perfectly as ever. She wore a gown of dove gray silk appliquéd with ebony velvet, which fell in folds and ruffles that enhanced her fine figure. A beautiful woman with enviable cheekbones, she was several years older than Celia but did not look it.
Celia returned Elizabeth’s smile. The Palmers attended political events and magnificent galas during New Year’s festivities and had a ten-dollar private box at Maguire’s Opera House, unlike Dora and her friend, who were satisfied with the twenty-five-cent gallery seats. Elizabeth Palmer socialized with the grand and great of the city—an impressive elevation from her rumored humble beginnings—but there was an uneasiness in her manner, a fretfulness, as though she feared her world might crumble.
And Celia felt sorry for her.
“I apologize that I wasn’t here when you arrived, Elizabeth,” she said.
“Your cousin has been as charming as ever, even under these . . . difficult circumstances.”
Barbara stared down at her lap.
“Might I refresh your tea?” Celia asked Elizabeth.
“No need,” the woman answered, waving her hand toward the full cup on the marble-top rosewood table between the chairs. Celia took the chair opposite her, self-conscious over the condition of her own dress, with its repaired tears and a stain along the hem that Addie hadn’t been able to completely remove. At one time, Celia had worn gowns as fine as Elizabeth’s. Those days, however, were in the distant past.
“I was just telling your cousin how much we miss her visits.” Elizabeth turned her radiant smile on Barbara. “Emmeline asks for you especially, Barbara. But her asthma has been so bad lately that we’ve had no visitors. She’s been ill for several days now, longer than usual. Those doctors are just useless.”
The Palmers’ fourteen-year-old daughter had always been fragile, with frequent bouts of severe asthma. Celia had offered to examine the girl, but her offers had received cool dismissals. Among the prosperous of San Francisco, male physicians were much preferred over the care of a woman who ran a free clinic.
“I gather Emmeline’s illness is what kept you from the society meeting on Monday evening,” said Celia. “I was wondering, because Barbara and I always see you there.”
“That’s how ill Emmeline has been. She hasn’t been out of the house in weeks.”
“Some fresh air might help in this case,” suggested Celia.
“I don’t dare take her out,” said Elizabeth.
Every other child Elizabeth Palmer had borne had died in infancy, and consequently her only daughter was cosseted and fussed over. More than was good for her, in Celia’s opinion. “And it’s a good thing I didn’t take her to the meeting on Monday. Mrs. Douglass told me that the ladies weren’t very welcoming to you, Celia.”
“Barbara and I felt compelled to leave, actually.”
“Well, I have good news that should take your mind off their unkindness,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Palmer has recommended we help with Li Sha’s funeral expenses. Whatever the cost.”
“Are you certain? Your husband has been more than generous to us already.” In addition to supporting the clinic, he paid for the piano lessons Barbara received from Emmeline’s music tutor, lessons Celia could never have afforded with the stipend Uncle Walford had left her.
“How kind!” Barbara’s eyes shone. “Isn’t Mr. Palmer just the best of men, Cousin Celia?”
“Yes, he is,” said Celia, looking away from the rapt expression on her cousin’s face.
Elizabeth waved an elegant hand, pleased by the compliments. “It’s nothing, Barbara.”
&nb
sp; Celia recalled the more elaborate caskets at Atkins Massey’s Coffin Warerooms, the trappings they could now afford. Not that Li Sha would have expected trappings or desired an elaborate casket.
“Please extend my thanks to your husband,” said Celia.
“I shall.” Elizabeth smiled and took a sip of her tea. “I’m sure I don’t have to say how shocked we are about Li Sha’s death. To think we’ve met somebody who has been murdered. And I’d had such hopes life would turn out well for that girl. She was a protégée of yours, wasn’t she?”
“More than a protégée. A friend.”
Elizabeth Palmer’s eyes, a pale brown the exact shade of café au lait, peered into Celia’s. “Do the police have any idea who might be responsible?”
Celia tensed. Nicholas Greaves would not like her to discuss the case, even though the news of Tom’s arrest would soon be in every paper in town. “Why do you ask me?”
“You identified the girl’s remains, didn’t you? I presume that means you’re in close contact with the police.”
Celia wondered where Elizabeth had learned she’d been to the coroner’s. It had not been mentioned in the papers. “The police are pursuing several leads, I believe.”
“Anybody we know?” Elizabeth always endeavored to be the first to have heard the best gossip.
“I’m not at liberty to say,” said Celia, noticing that Barbara had turned pale.
“Of course.” Elizabeth looked disappointed.
“However, I have learned that Li Sha planned to leave San Francisco. She intended to meet with someone in particular in order to get the money to do so,” she said. It was more than she should have said. “Do you have any idea whom Li Sha might have turned to? Did she ask you or your husband, by any chance?”
“She didn’t approach me,” Elizabeth said. “And Joseph was down in Santa Clara County looking at some farm property and did not return until midday Tuesday.”
“So he was gone,” said Barbara.
“I hate to say this, Celia, given that he’s your brother-in-law, but don’t you suppose it’s possible Li Sha told Tom Davies of these plans to leave him? And then—I know this is dreadful—but then he killed her in a rage?” Elizabeth lifted a hand to her throat and curled her fingers around the cameo locket pinned to her collar.
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