Maids of Misfortune: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by M. Louisa Locke

  "A gentleman? Did she say who?" Annie asked.

  "Naw. She likes to keep her secrets. I wondered for a minute if this fellow weren't him." With this he jerked his chin in Nate's direction.

  "She'd been hinting for some time she had some gent sniffing around. I just thought she was trying to pay me off for not always being square with her. Talked about the presents he gave her. Never saw any sign of them, so I thought it was all talk. Then when she went off to the Cliff House, well, you know the reputation that place has. Made me wonder. I went to visit her yesterday evening. I said I didn't like it. We had a real go around about it. Truth is, she's a bit put out with me. Got her eyes on better things, she says. Little fool. She'll come back, she always does. Meanwhile, I'm not crying."

  At this juncture the young man gave the girl at his side a squeeze, producing a sharp squeal.

  "If you want to see her, she said she'd be free sometime tomorrow afternoon. I was going to go, give her a chance to apologize, but I've contracted a spot of work to do. If you see her, tell her if she needs someone to help her spend her newly acquired wealth, I'm the man."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sunday, early afternoon, August 12, 1879

  Annie sat next to Nate in a carriage drawn by a rather lively pair of matched bays, on the way across the peninsula to the Cliff House Inn to find the Voss family's former servant, Nellie. This establishment, with its views of seals disporting themselves on the rocks just off shore, was a favorite destination for Sunday drives. As a result, the road curving through the Golden Gate Park was crowded, even though the day was partially overcast.

  The night before, Annie had been surprised, but very pleased, when Nate had invited her to come with him to find Nellie. By the time they had finished questioning Jack O'Sullivan, it was nearly eleven, and Annie was ready to drop. Every muscle she had used ironing and scrubbing ached, and her head had begun to pound. Not wanting to cut into Kathleen and Patrick's fun, she had announced that she would hire one of the hansom cabs standing outside the hotel and go home by herself. As she expected, Nate insisted on accompanying her. She had been too tired to even attempt polite conversation, much less speculate on what they had learned from Nellie’s boyfriend, so the short ride to her house was completely silent.

  When they had arrived at her home, Nate had cleared his throat and said, "Mrs. Fuller, I would expect that you might like a chance to interview Nellie Flannigan yourself. So I was wondering if you would do me the honor of accompanying me tomorrow afternoon to the Cliff House. I thought I might hire a carriage. I could pick you up a little after noon. That should give us plenty of time. If this would be acceptable, that is."

  Annie had felt a burst of optimism, thinking that tomorrow they might actually find out something that would help solve the puzzle of Matthew's death. She had replied with perhaps more enthusiasm than was proper, saying that she would be delighted and that she was sure that Beatrice would fix them a splendid lunch and that they could have a picnic as well.

  So here they were, driving towards the Pacific on a beautiful summer day. Since the team was fresh, Nate concentrated initially on controlling them, letting conversation lapse. Annie bided her time, silently admiring his handling of the reins. She supposed if he grew up on a ranch he was experienced with horses. Like his dancing style, his driving was confident and light-handed.

  This thought, of course, put her in mind of last night's events and how they parted. She had no idea what had possessed her, and she hoped Mr. Dawson didn’t feel she was too forward in her invitation to a picnic. So far today there was nothing in his behavior towards her to suggest otherwise. She felt, however, it would be important to establish the businesslike nature of the outing right at the start. As a result, as soon as a slight slowing of the carriage and a relaxation in his posture suggested Nate could now be safely engaged in conversation, Annie broke the silence.

  "Mr. Dawson, I have been thinking about who else, besides Jeremy, might have been unhappy about the plans Mr. Voss announced at dinner the night he died. I can't really see why Mrs. Voss would be unhappy, except perhaps on behalf of Jeremy. What about his sister? I wonder what Miss Nancy would do if the house were to be closed up while Mr. Voss and his wife were traveling."

  Nate shifted the reins from one hand to the other and said, "I'm not sure what you are getting at. You aren't suggesting Miss Nancy murdered her brother because he was going to close up the house?"

  Annie thought to herself that Nate obviously hadn’t had much conversation with Miss Nancy, but he did have a point. "I know it seems absurd. But what if she held some deep-rooted sense of grievance, and his thoughtlessness on this occasion proved the last straw. After all, according to my friend, Mrs. Stein, it was Miss Nancy's dowry that had subsidized his trip out west and formed the initial capital for the furniture business. Without a dowry, she never married. Instead she took care of her aged parents until they died and then came out west and kept house for her brother. No life of her own, no home of her own. And now, her brother announces he's closing up his house, without a thought to what she might want. Well, I know I'd be furious."

  Nate laughed but then replied more seriously. "I don't know that I agree with you. Seems to me he took pretty good care of his sister all these years. Gave her a roof over her head, something important to do. Not as if he made her take care of the house single-handedly. And he thought enough about her to leave her some shares of the company."

  Nate stopped, apparently struck by a thought. "Now, I suppose that might be a reason. If she knew about the will, she might have killed him to get her hands on her inheritance. Of course, that brings us back to the same old question of what happened to Voss’s assets. Too bad you aren't really clairvoyant."

  Annie chuckled and said, "I know. When I'm being Sibyl I think that all the time."

  Conversation ceased as Nate maneuvered around a slower carriage containing a large boisterous family who were clearly on a Sunday outing. Since the sun had finally broken through the usual morning mist, Annie wondered if she should put up her parasol, since the small straw hat she wore sacrificed function for fashion, doing little to shade her face. All of her freckles would come out by mid-morning if she didn't, and Beatrice would scold.

  Oh, well, she thought, it really was a nice parasol. It was made of the same pink chambray as her dress, and she particularly liked that the bands of ruching on it matched the flounces her skirt and that the rose satin ribbons that twisted down its handle were repeated in the overskirt decorations. Both the parasol and the dress had been birthday presents from Mr. and Mrs. Stein, and, together with the stylish hat, they made Annie feel quite the picture of modern womanhood.

  She hadn't had an occasion to wear the outfit before now, and Kathleen had surprised her this morning when she had laid it out for her to wear. All had become clear later when Beatrice had made much ado about how nice she looked and what a pleasant day it was for a picnic with a fine gentleman like Nate Dawson. Not even Annie's fervent assurance that the ride was strictly on behalf of her investigations into Matthew's death had done anything to wipe the pleased look off Beatrice's face.

  In trying to put up the parasol without distracting Nate from his handling of the horses, Annie was reminded of how intimate an experience riding in a carriage could be. This carriage, a lightweight two-seater with its top folded back, seemed very small. The low bustle at the back of her dress required that she sit slightly sideways on the narrow seat; as a result, the motion of the carriage frequently jostled her knees against her companion’s leg. When they swept around curves she even had to put out a hand against him to steady herself. The muscles in his upper arm suggested that his ranching days weren’t completely behind him.

  Realizing that she had become uncomfortably warm, it was August after all, Annie let her shawl slip from her shoulders. She thought that Nate, encased in the double layer of wool suit jacket and vest, must be terribly hot. Noticing a small sheen of moisture on his upper lip, she ti
pped her parasol so that it would shade the both of them.

  Nate glanced over at her then and smiled. "Thanks. Looks like we'll have a nice day after all. We should be at the coast in ten minutes or so. The fog is almost gone, so the view should be spectacular. Have you been to the seal rocks often?"

  Annie shrugged and said, "Not really. I have a vague memory of visiting them once when I was a child. You know, I was born in San Francisco, but we moved to Los Angeles when I was only six, so most of my memories are from visits to my aunt and uncle during the summer. I did get out once last winter. Mr. and Mrs. Stein took me for a ride. But the day stayed cold and foggy, so we didn't see much. I'm afraid that working as Sibyl and doing what I can to help Beatrice run the boarding house doesn't leave much leisure time."

  Annie stopped speaking. Just mentioning the boardinghouse stirred up the frightening thought that she might lose it. Driscoll would soon be in San Francisco, maybe as early as next week, and she still had no clear idea what to do. If only Matthew's assets could be found, for his family's sake, as well as hers.

  Clearing her throat, Annie said, "Mr. Dawson, do you think that the Voss family will be able to survive financially if the money and assets are not recovered?"

  Nate looked surprised at her change of subject. "I'm not sure. Not that they will be poor. Certainly, in time, we should be able to recover some of the paper assets, declare them stolen, get new documents issued, and so forth. But that can be a very time-consuming process."

  "How long?" Annie asked.

  "Could be six months to a year, particularly with the irregularities surrounding Mr. Voss’s death. There may be some difficulty proving they were stolen. I am afraid that would go for your mining stock as well. But even worse for the family is the fact that I think we will have to assume the money is gone for good, unless someone is charged with his death and the money is still in the murder's possession and can be recovered. That leaves the profits of the company, or sixty percent of the profits, to be exact, which is simply not sufficient for the three of them to maintain their current standard of living."

  Six months, Annie thought with despair. Would Driscoll be willing to hold off for six months until she could claim the stocks? Or would a bank be willing to loan her money on such a risky proposition? She wished that she could ask Nate about her legal options, but she felt too embarrassed to admit that she had such a mercenary motive for trying to find out what happened to Mr. Voss. Even if she knew in her heart that it was of secondary importance to her, he might not see it that way.

  Noticing that Nate was looking at her curiously, she tried to restart the conversation. "Do you think selling the company would help? Mr. Voss clearly indicated the furniture business had picked up. That was why he felt comfortable speculating in stocks."

  "That's a bit of a mystery,” Nate replied. “Uncle Frank swears that his business partner said the company was doing well when he first talked to him on Tuesday. Yet when I talked to him again on Friday, Samuels seemed to be supporting the suicide because of financial difficulties theory. Said again that Matthew hadn't mentioned word one about buying him out and that he doesn't believe that Matthew had the resources to do so."

  Annie interrupted. "Did you tell him about the investments Mr. Voss had been making?"

  "Yes, but it was a little awkward. I thought it better not to mention you as the main source of our information. I mean Sibyl. So I remained rather vague, and I don't think I was very convincing."

  "You mean you felt silly telling him you heard it from a fortune teller!"

  "No," Nate replied sharply. "Don't be so touchy. I was just afraid he would want to track you down himself, and I thought that might prove very sticky! Don't you agree? In fact, I think we may have a little trouble with the police in the matter of Sibyl. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last evening, but it seems they just got around to reading Mr. Voss’s will. Wanted to know who Sibyl was, so I told them she was a business advisor. Somehow I don't think that sat very well with the Chief Detective."

  Annie's heart constricted. "Mr. Dawson, do you think they will insist on talking to me? I really don't want to. The papers might get hold of the information and make the connection between Sibyl and myself. It's not that I am ashamed of what I do. And of course my boarders have been fully informed. It's just that I would feel uncomfortable if the knowledge was widespread. And to be in the newspapers.…"

  Annie stopped, abashed by the note of fear that had crept into her voice. But she knew that any chance of getting a loan or even a mortgage on the house to pay off her debt would fly out the window if she became the object of notoriety.

  Nate slowed the horses to a walk and turned to her, sounding distressed. "Please, Mrs. Fuller, don't worry. I am sure we can put off the police. I didn't mean to alarm you. I just wanted you to understand why I hadn't brought up Sibyl to Mr. Samuels.”

  Annie replied softly, "I'm sorry. Yes, of course you were right. Why do you think he is insisting it was suicide? You would think he'd be glad to hear that his partner didn't kill himself and that there is at least the possibility of the family recovering some of the assets."

  "Yes, I thought it was odd too. He tended to go on and on about the problems of doing business on the west coast. Lectured me about the high cost of wages and the trade unions. Kept calling them 'damned radicals.' I know my uncle thinks he's very sound, but I find his manner extremely patronizing. I wouldn't mind if he turned out to be the murderer. Too bad he was out of town."

  Annie laughed. "My goodness, Mr. Dawson. How fierce. He really must have upset you!"

  Nate sounded a bit sheepish when he replied. "Well, he kept treating me like I was a child, when I'm nearly thirty. I've been practicing law in California for almost seven years, and there is no reason for him to treat me like I'm wet behind the ears. But I guess that isn't a good reason to suspect a man of murder."

  "No, but, Mr. Dawson, it should give you a clue to how I feel when people assume I know nothing about business because I am a woman."

  "Well," Nate laughed, "I can promise you I'll never make that mistake again." He then rushed on, saying, "Mrs. Fuller, I wonder if you would consent to calling me Nate. I would hope that you are feeling friendly enough towards me to have gotten past the formality of last names. I mean no disrespect by it…but if we are going to continue to work together to solve this puzzle, well.…"

  As Nate's explanation petered out, Annie, without thinking, placed her hand gently on his arm and said, "Yes, I'd like that, but only if you agree to call me Annie. I don't know why, but I feel like I've known you forever."

  Annie surprised herself by that last statement and paused. What she had said was true. She found it difficult to believe she had met Nate Dawson only six days before and that this was only the fourth time she had been in his company. She felt surprisingly comfortable in his presence, even when she was furious with him, and all this formality of last names seemed so stuffy. Yet, she didn’t know when she had ever called a man by his first name, except for her husband, that is, and that was only after they married. For older men, even those like Mr. Stein or Matthew Voss to whom she felt very close, the age difference was a barrier. They might call her by her first name, as Mr. Stein did, out of affection, but it would be disrespectful for her to reciprocate and call him Herman.

  What about men her own age? Truth be told, she had never had a male friend before. She had been her father’s hostess from the age of fourteen, but that meant making small talk with men her father’s age, or trying to get his tongue-tied clerks to speak a few words when they came to dinner. There were the young men she met at social functions, but their conversation hadn’t gone much beyond vapid comments about the weather. John had been her first real beau, and their courtship had been a whirlwind that ended four months later in marriage. She had fooled herself that the stiffness of his conversations with her was the result of natural reserve, and that after marriage they would develop the kind of warm friendship she believed had exi
sted between her father and mother. This was the first of many disappointments in her marriage. To be fair, she had probably disappointed John in many ways as well.

  Snapping back to the present, she told herself that it should be perfectly proper for two adults of the opposite sex to develop a friendship. It was nearly the eighteen-eighties after all, and being a mature widowed woman should provide some advantages. She looked over at Nate and saw a hesitant look on his face, and she smiled encouragingly.

  He then took up his earlier topic saying, "Now that I think of it, Samuels said something that made me curious. Part of his diatribe on labor costs was directed at the furniture factories owned by the Chinese merchants. He said they hurt the Voss and Samuels Company through unfair competition because they used contract labor. Almost as an aside, he remarked that Mr. Voss's manservant, Wong, could tell a tale or two about what went on among the Chinese who make up the Six Companies. Seemed to imply that if there was wrong-doing, Wong might be involved."

  "But hadn’t Wong left the house before Mr. Voss died, and weren’t the doors still bolted in the morning, so he couldn't have gotten back in during the night?" Annie responded.

  "Yes,” Nate replied. “Additionally, Wong's movements after he left are fairly well accounted for. Seems that he is a well-known and recognized figure to all the police on their beats between O'Farrell Street and Chinatown."

  "And did they report seeing Wong that night?"

  "Sure did. One police officer saw him walking down Geary on Sunday evening around eleven o'clock. Like Samuels, he has an alibi as well, although Detective Jackson didn’t seem convinced he could trust the word of the men who said Wong was with them in a night-long card game. The Detective seemed quite put out that he couldn't immediately haul him in for questioning."