Maids of Misfortune: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by M. Louisa Locke

  Hearing the slight whisper of Wong’s cotton slippers on the stairs, Annie, without looking up, said. “So, Wong, what lovely offering has one of the neighbors delivered to us this time?”

  “Miss Lizzie, Mrs. Voss has requested that we delay the dinner preparations and has asked that Miss Cartier, that she….”

  Startled by the odd tone in his voice, Annie looked up from her cutting board to see Wong standing at the bottom of the back stairs, apparently staring into space, one of his long graceful hands touching the base of his throat just where the two sides of his mandarin collar met, and he seemed to have lost the rest of his sentence.

  “Wong, what ever is wrong? I am sure that dinner will be fine; we have barely started. Who was at the door, was it someone for Cartier? How odd!”

  “Miss, I am sorry, I did not make myself clear. It was a Chief Detective Jackson and his sergeant. They came to inform Mrs. Voss that Miss Nellie has died. I find myself very distressed by the news. I am to prepare tea, and you are to go to Cartier’s room and ask her to come down to speak with the Detective. They wish to talk briefly with everyone in the household who knew Miss Nellie. I can only assume that there is something out of the ordinary about her death.”

  With that statement, Wong moved over to the stove where he began to fill the kettle from the hot water reservoir. Annie rose and started to go over to him, but something about the stiffness of his back stopped her in her tracks. What could I say? He worked beside Nellie for over two years. Coming on top of the loss of a master that he had served for goodness knows how long, what must he be feeling?

  She realized that most of the day she had been able to push thoughts of Nellie’s death away; as if it hadn’t happened as long as the people around her didn’t know it had happened. But here it was, all the pain and sadness and guilt she had been feeling just twenty-four hours ago. The tragedy of a young woman’s death, made real by the evident pain of an old Chinese servant. How she wished she could tell him the truth, confess her guilt over the maid’s death, promise him that Nellie’s murderer would not go unpunished.

  Wiping the tears that had come unbidden to her eyes, Annie cleared her throat and said, “I am so sorry, Wong. I will get Cartier. But please let me serve the tea when it is ready. Then you can do what is needed for dinner.” And I can at least give you some time to grieve in peace, she thought.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  A few moments later Annie stood knocking on the door to Cartier’s third floor room.

  “Please, Miss Cartier, you are wanted in the parlor.” The sound of the key in the lock alerted Annie that the door was about to be pulled open, so she stepped back into the hall.

  “Yes, girl, what is it? I thought I explained to you when you first arrived that this is my hour to rest before I must prepare the mistress for dinner. You’d better have a very good excuse for disturbing me. Heaven knows why they hired you? You are hopeless. Even that impertinent girl that ran off was better trained than you!”

  Cartier stood, her back straight, looking down at Annie with her usual expression of condescension. She had changed from the outfit she was wearing that morning, and this time her dress was of watered silk. The rich dark purple of the material glowed in the afternoon sunlight, yet was properly somber for a house of mourning. The dress set off the woman's pale skin admirably, as did the rich chestnut curls that served as bangs that framed her face. Her eyes were a dark shade of brown, her nose was straight and aristocratic, and her lips were soft and full, except when they thinned in disdain, as they did now.

  Initially with no more idea than of wiping that sneer off of Cartier’s face, Annie decided to see if she could create a little fear in the woman, saying in her best Lizzie voice, “Lordy Miss Cartier. I’d be sore ‘fraid to speak ill of the dead like that! Not when there’s a copper downstairs asking to speak to you about that Nellie, so’s that’s why I knocked. But I can go down and tell’em you aren’t to be disturbed. ”

  The effects of these words were so dramatic that Annie actually felt a bit ashamed. Cartier staggered against the doorframe and her hands flew up as if to ward off a blow. Annie noted that all color had fled her lips, which she licked nervously, eyes darting to look down the hall to the front stairs. Yet, while Annie watched, Cartier visibly gathered herself together, stood up straighter and said, “Heavens girl, don’t be ridiculous. Of course I will go downstairs to attend my mistress if she wishes it. I can assume that she is in the front parlor? Now get yourself down stairs to the kitchen and make yourself useful. I would strongly suggest that you keep that wretched little nose out of my business if you know what is good for you.” And with that she pulled the door to her room closed behind her, carefully locked it, and swept down the front stairs.

  By the time Annie had made it down from the third floor to the kitchen, Wong had assembled the tea tray. It was really too heavy for her to carry safely up to the first floor by herself, but she nearly grabbed it from Wong in her anxious desire not to miss what was going on. Instead, she picked up the tablecloth and napkins and indicated that Wong precede her up the stairs. When they got to the front formal parlor the door was still slightly open, and they could hear Cartier’s raised voice from within. Annie didn’t bother to knock but marched right in, sketching a curtsey and announcing, “Tea, Ma’am,” as she made her way over to the tea table, hoping that Wong was following her lead. She knew this was completely inappropriate behavior for a servant. However, apart from Miss Nancy, who had given Annie a ferocious frown, everyone else in the room seemed enthralled by Cartier, who held forth in the middle of the room.

  “…are unbelievably insulting. I have never been so outraged in my life. Mrs. Voss, I can not believe you would let this person speak to me in this way. This is not the treatment I am used to, and I can assure you such disgraceful behavior would have never had happened in the Burnett-Jones household. My former mistress knew my value. My day off is sacred, and it is no one’s business but my own….”

  At this point Annie looked up from the table cloth she was straightening and saw that Cartier had extracted a delicate lavender handkerchief from some where about her person and was pressing it against her lips. Her magnificent bosom was heaving and there were two bright spots of red in her cheeks, which did not compliment the deep purple of her ensemble. Stealing glimpses at the rest of the room’s inhabitants as she began to unload the tea tray, Annie noted that Mrs. Voss had moved next to Cartier and was ineffectually patting her on her shoulder, while Miss Nancy looked for all the world like she had just discovered a disgusting insect in the middle of the parlor floor.

  The two gentlemen in the room were exchanging amused glances. Annie immediately recognized Chief Detective Jackson from the newspapers, whose illustrators had found his generally leonine profile of high forehead, unruly head of hair, exuberant side-burns and large mustache easy to caricature. In person the reddish hair, liberally streaked with grey, and the sharp white teeth that his faint smile revealed, made the comparison with the king of the jungle even stronger. He looked to be somewhere in his fifties, above average in height and solidly built. The browns and grays of his smart four-buttoned, cutaway suit complimented his coloring in a way that showed a remarkable eye for detail. His sergeant, in contrast, was non-descript. An older man in his sixties, with close-cropped grey hair, abbreviated mousey mustache, regular features, he was wearing an undistinguished dark grey suit. Annie doubted if he would ever get his picture in the papers.

  Yet it was the sergeant who had the temerity to address Cartier again. Waving his small worn black leather notebook, he said, “Miss, we meant no insult. But duty requires that we investigate when there is some question about a death. Now, if you please, will you give an accounting of your whereabouts and actions during the day light hours of Sunday, August 12th. That would be yesterday. In addition, we would be interested if you have any information that might indicate the recent state of mind of the former parlor maid, Miss Nellie Flannigan."

 
Annie, placing the last cup and saucer on the table, heard a sharp intake of breath, she thought from Cartier, when Mrs. Voss’s said, “Please Mr. Jackson, can’t we postpone these questions. We are all distressed to hear the news of Nellie’s death. I am sure….”

  Miss Nancy broke in impatiently. “Oh, Amelia, don’t be such a hypocrite. The girl was pert and sly and I know you were as relieved as I was when she ran off. But she’s dead, god rest her soul, so we should answer these men’s questions and let them go. I’m sure they have better things to do, like finding out who killed our Matthew, than stand around an listen to a common servant putting on airs. So, my good man, you want to know what I did yesterday. I got up at five-thirty in the morning, read the Bible, and after breakfast I left the house to attend church. My sister-in-law was supposed to go with me, but being such a delicate person, she decided at the last minute not to go. I arrived at St. Catherine’s shortly before the eleven o’clock service started, but I found that I was not in the proper frame of mind, so I took the Geary Street car to Laurel Hill and took some flowers to my brother’s grave. I got back to the house around 2:30 and had Wong bring me tea in my room, where I stayed until dinner. And, before you ask, no, I didn’t meet anyone that I knew while I was out, and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Nellie since she left our employ, without notice, on Monday last.”

  Miss Nancy glared at no one in particular and strode over to the tea table and began to pour herself a cup of tea.

  “Miss Voss, thank you for your cooperation,” the Chief Detective responded. “Now Mrs. Voss, what did you do after your sister-in-law left for church? I’m sure we can all sympathize with how difficult this past week has been for you.”

  Mrs. Voss made a little dismissive motion with her right hand, moved slightly away from Cartier, and then began haltingly to speak, her voice so soft that Annie found herself leaning forward to try and catch her words.

  “Thank you, Chief Jackson. I had intended, as my sister-in-law mentioned, to go to church. Cartier, my maid, had helped me get dressed and had already left for her day’s outing when I realized I just wasn’t ready to face anyone outside the family circle. So, instead, I sat in my room and tried to read a little. But I was feeling restless and really quite annoyed with myself for my failure of will, so I left my room and went to Matthew’s…to my late husband’s dressing room where I knew I would find Wong. I had asked him at breakfast to begin to sort through my husband’s things. I had planned to pack up most of his clothes to give to charity, but thought that I might box up and keep some of his favorite….”

  Mrs. Voss’s voice faltered and she began to weep silently into a black embroidered handkerchief that Annie was surprised to see had not yet slipped to the floor, where most of Mrs. Voss’s handkerchiefs ended up resting. The Chief Detective made a move towards her, but stopped when she held up a hand and began to speak again.

  “See, how silly of me. This is exactly what happened when I joined Wong. Standing there in that small room, surrounded by all his suits and shirts, smelling his pipe, I just broke down. I told Wong it was too soon, and that perhaps we should put off making any decisions. I found that I felt very tired. You see I haven’t been sleeping well. Anyway, I told Wong that I was going to retire to my bedroom until two, when he could bring me some tea. As for Nellie’s state of mind, I have no idea, Mr. Jackson. I thought she was happy with us, and I am still mystified by her decision to leave so abruptly last week. Perhaps if I had known she was unhappy, I could have done something.” Here Mrs. Voss’s voice broke again.

  “There, there, Mrs. Voss. No need to get upset. I am sure that you are a very kind and sympathetic mistress. But, could you tell us exactly when this conversation with your manservant took place?” the Chief Detective asked gently.

  “Why I think around eleven o’clock. Yes, when I lay down I heard the chimes from the clock in my sitting room. I fell deeply asleep and was rather disoriented when I awoke. I remember being surprised when I got up to discover it was already three o’clock, so I rang the kitchen and Wong came up with the tea tray in a few minutes.”

  Abruptly, the attention of everyone in the room shifted to Wong, who was standing quietly next to the door to the hallway, waiting to be dismissed.

  “Three o’clock, an hour late you say?” Chief Detective Jackson barked out. “Well, Mr. Wong, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Sir, I did come up to Mrs. Voss’s room at two and knocked lightly on her door. But when I got no reply, I returned to the kitchen to await her call.”

  “So you say, and what exactly did you do between eleven and three o’clock?”

  “Well, sir, I took a few of the pieces of my late master’s clothing down to the kitchen with me after Mrs. Voss retired. Some of the suit coats needed to be cleaned. I straightened up the kitchen, then went out to the vegetable garden out back, to do a little weeding, but came back in around noon because I didn’t want to miss the bell if Mrs. Voss should change her mind and wish for lunch. I stayed in the kitchen doing some mending in preparation for washday. Except for when I went up to check on her at two, I didn’t leave the kitchen until I took up her tea at three. Oh, and Miss Cartier returned from her afternoon out at four. I was once again in the kitchen working on dinner when she came to the kitchen door to be let in.”

  “So, you were actually alone between eleven and three, and we have only your word for it that you were even in the house?” Chief Jackson said, sounding skeptical.

  “Yes, sir, unless someone in one in the neighboring houses happened to see me when I was in the garden.”

  “Oh, Chief Detective Jackson, I am sure that Wong is telling you the truth! You might just as well say that you have only my word that I didn’t slip out of the house during those times, and I am sure you don’t mean to suggest that, do you?” Mrs. Voss then let out a charming little laugh and walked over to the tea table, where she turned and said, “Please Chief Detective, may I offer you some tea? I have been very remiss as a hostess. And if you are finished asking Wong questions, I really must insist that he return to the kitchen, where I fear the dinner preparations have been put sadly awry.”

  Cartier at that moment chose to delicately clear her throat, and Annie wondered if the lady’s maid was actually feeling put out at having temporarily lost her audience. Whatever her intention, this sound diverted everyone's attention from Wong, who, Annie noticed, wasted no time in slipping out the door.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Voss,” Cartier said, while she held the back of one hand pressed against her forehead. Her voice revealed just the tiniest hint of a sob in it as she continued, “I really do believe that I must ask to be excused as well. One of my headaches, you know. I am feeling quite faint.”

  Again it was the sergeant who responded to Cartier, and Annie wondered if this in itself was a kind of insult, that somehow Cartier did not warrant the attentions of the Chief Detective.

  “Miss Cartier, we will be glad to let you retire, just as soon as you have answered our questions. Mrs. Voss has said that you had left the house by eleven o’clock and Wong has verified that you came back at four. Did you perhaps attend religious services?”

  “Well, yes I did. I attended the eleven o’clock service at Grace Cathedral; I find the Anglican High church liturgy so uplifting,” Cartier answered, appearing to find some solace in the upper-class nature of her religious affiliation.

  “And did you stay for the whole service, and perhaps sit with an acquaintance who can vouch for you,” the sergeant responded encouragingly.

  Cartier hesitated a fraction before responding. “Well, actually I sat alone at the back of the church because I knew I would have to leave before the service was over. I was meeting a friend for lunch at noon, and that’s really all I have to tell you about my afternoon. It was such a beautiful day that I chose to walk home, which did take some time, and I believe I did arrive at the house sometime around four.”

  “Splendid. Then if you would be so kind as to give us that
friend’s name and address and the name of the restaurant, you can be on your way.” The Sergeant stood beaming at Cartier, his notebook at the ready. Cartier, in contrast, frowned and began to dither.

  “Well, that is simply impossible, I couldn’t…who I met with is really none of your business, it’s my private…well, actually who it was is quite beside the point. They were unable to keep the appointment. I waited…I don’t know why they didn’t show, there must have been a…in any event I ended up simply walking the grounds. I was at Woodward’s Gardens; there was a band. I enjoyed the music and walked among the flowers. Then, as I said, I walked home. Now, Mrs. Voss, if you please, I must insist that I be given permission to retire to my room. Being hounded like this is beyond anything.”

  The Chief Detective intervened at this point, forestalling Mrs. Voss, who had begun to speak. In a bluff hearty tone he said, “Well, well, Miss, don’t fret. I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for why your friend failed to show. And I am sure we can find someone who can remember you strolling the grounds, a fine figure of a woman such as yourself, unescorted in a public garden. Now if you would just tell us a little about the girl, Nellie Flannigan. Was there anything bothering her that might explain the frame of mind she was in when she left here? You being the other female servant in the house, stands to reason you would be the one closest to her, a friend she might confide in. For instance, did she communicate with you at all once she left? Maybe write a little note to tell you how she was getting on at her new position, eh?”