Worthy Brown's Daughter

by Phillip Margolin

  “An excellent course of action, Orville,” Denton said.

  “Good lawyers are hard to come by,” Matthew said. “Heather needs you.”

  When Orville hesitated, Matthew removed a pistol from the pocket of his sack coat. “You are clearly my superior in a court of law. Please accept the fact that I’m more at home than you in a place like the Barbary Coast.”

  Orville sighed. “You’re right, but promise me you’ll take no risks.”

  Matthew smiled. “I’m as fond of my skin as you are of yours. But to assure my survival, I do need to bring one thing with me.”

  “And that is?” Orville asked.

  MATTHEW KNEW HE HAD CROSSED the border between morality and sin when the cobblestoned elegance of Montgomery Street gave way to muddy thoroughfares and plank sidewalks crowded with degenerates, low- and highborn, seeking out the most vile and degrading vices. As Matthew was navigating his way through the crowds that streamed past the brothels, dance halls, cheap hotels, gambling dens, pawnshops, and saloons that lined Davis Street, a queued Chinaman, his eyes glazed by opium, lurched into his path. Matthew stepped back against the peeling paint on a clapboard wall and paused to get his bearings. A sudden lull in the street noise brought the strains of an obscene song to his ears. Though the words were raw, the voice that sang them had a certain style. He turned toward the music and noticed a handbill tacked to the wall. It advertised the headline act of the saloon against which he was standing. The handbill pictured a sensuous woman mounted by a massive grizzly bear. At first, Matthew thought the woman was being mauled by the creature, but the text clarified what was really happening and explained that those wishing to witness the act live need only enter the premises of the Dancing Bear.

  Matthew steeled himself and pushed through the saloon doors just as applause and a chorus of appreciative whistles were directed at the scantily clad woman who had sung the bawdy ballad Matthew had heard from the street. Men and women were three deep at the bar. Matthew saw an opening and wedged himself between a brooding, bearded man who was working on a frothy mug of beer and the back of a fleshy woman who was chatting up an inebriated sailor. He shouted a question, and the bartender pointed toward a balcony that overlooked the barroom.

  Three different women accosted Matthew as he traversed a sawdust-covered floor made sticky by spilled liquor and the occasional spray of blood. He politely refused their advances and was halfway up the stairs when the saloon’s main attraction took the stage. The buxom maiden in the handbill turned out to be a scrawny, pockmarked woman who simulated the sex act with bored detachment, and the proud grizzly was a pathetic, muzzled brown bear with patches of hair missing from its shabby coat and a drugged look in its dazed and sleepy eyes. The maiden’s dance with the fierce grizzly was as big a fraud as Sharon Hill’s marriage contract.

  Matthew climbed over a drunken sailor who lay crumpled against the banister at the top of the stairs. There were several rooms on the second floor, but the one he wanted was at the end of the hall. Matthew knocked, and a deep, rumbling voice invited him in. The dim light of a solitary desk lamp provided the only illumination in the room. Stuffed behind the desk at the end of the room was a fat man whose triple chin and folds of fat obscured the natural shape of his face. Behind the fat man stood a muscular behemoth who looked as dangerous as Francis Gibney. Matthew let his hand caress the outline of the pistol stowed in the pocket of his coat.

  “Mr. Hoxie?”

  The fat man nodded.

  “I’m Matthew Penny, an attorney from Portland, Oregon,” he said as he presented his card. “I’m here on behalf of a client to discuss a business matter.”

  “Please sit down,” Hoxie said after glancing at the card. “I’ve heard that Portland is quite the up-and-coming town, but I’ve never had the pleasure.”

  “That may change sooner than you think,” Matthew said.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m here as a representative of the estate of the late Benjamin Gillette. A woman named Sharon Hill claims to have entered into a marriage contract with Mr. Gillette, which you allegedly prepared. I’m interested in any information that can shed light on the validity, or lack thereof, of the contract.”

  “Then we have a problem. I did prepare the contract for Miss Hill, but discussing it would involve a breach of an attorney-client confidence.”

  “The attorney-client privilege does not cover fraud.”

  Hoxie’s bodyguard straightened up like an attack dog on alert, but Hoxie merely smiled and folded his hands across his stomach. “Are you suggesting that there’s something wrong with the contract?”

  “Something is unquestionably wrong with the contract,” Matthew said in an amiable tone. “The signature of Benjamin Gillette is an obvious forgery. Every lawyer who has compared it with Mr. Gillette’s real signature has refused to represent Miss Hill.”

  “I was under the impression that Caleb Barbour was representing Miss Hill.”

  The mention of Barbour’s name made Matthew dizzy, but he hid his emotions.

  “Mr. Barbour is dead,” Matthew said.

  “Oh?”

  “And I don’t think it would have helped Miss Hill if he was her attorney, especially since we can prove that Barbour was Hill’s lover. And that is not the only thing we know about Sharon Hill, who has tried to portray herself as an unfortunate orphan.

  “Before traveling to San Francisco, we employed the services of an investigator who looked into Miss Hill’s background and the background of people with whom she associated, including you. This investigator reported that Miss Hill and a Mr. Warren Quimby were living together when Mr. Quimby died under mysterious circumstances. Poison was suspected by some. Miss Hill was present when Mr. Gillette died under circumstances remarkably similar to those surrounding Mr. Quimby’s death. The only thing Benjamin Gillette and Warren Quimby had in common was Sharon Hill.”

  “Where is this headed, Mr. Penny?”

  “Do you gamble?”

  Hoxie laughed. “Asking a resident of the Barbary Coast if he gambles is like asking a priest if he prays.”

  “I’m guessing that Miss Hill paid you to prepare her marriage contract and to arrange for Benjamin Gillette’s signature to be forged, but I’m also guessing that your expected remuneration does not stop there. By all accounts, you are a shrewd man, and I’m certain you know how rich Miss Hill will be if the contract holds up in court and she inherits Benjamin Gillette’s fortune. So you’re probably counting on a large sum of money if Hill prevails.”

  Matthew paused and stared at Hoxie long enough to remove the smile from the lawyer’s lips.

  “A bet on Hill winning in an Oregon court will be a very bad bet. Sharon Hill is despised in Portland, and Heather Gillette is the daughter of one of Oregon’s most respected citizens. Everyone knows the marriage contract is a fraud. The public is outraged by Hill’s suit. In order for Hill to prevail at trial, you will have to testify under oath in Oregon that you saw Benjamin Gillette affix his signature to the contract. I can promise you that you will be arrested for perjury and worse if you do so. No one will help you in Portland. You will be out of your element.”

  “Are you trying to frighten me, Mr. Penny?” Hoxie asked calmly.

  “I told you that we employed an investigator to learn as much as we could about this matter and the people involved in it. So I know that you are not a man who frightens easily. I am simply pointing out that it is better to go with a sure thing than gamble on a very, very long shot.”

  “And what would this sure thing be?”

  “Telling the truth. Reject whatever Hill has promised you to secure your perjury in favor of upholding the ethics of our profession and doing the right thing.”

  Hoxie smiled.

  “Upholding the ethics of our profession is always foremost in my mind, Counselor, but you did say that this was a business discussio
n, and in business a man always seeks a profit. So besides the, uh, spiritual benefits of doing what you ask, would there be any material advantage to me if I follow the path you propose?”

  Hoxie watched carefully as Matthew withdrew from his jacket a pouch filled with gold coins that Harold Denton had given him. He placed it on Hoxie’s desk. Hoxie looked at the pouch but made no move to touch it.

  “What is this?” Hoxie asked.

  “A fee for this consultation. Should an appearance in an Oregon court cause you to incur expenses or business losses, you may expect to be compensated.”

  “I see.”

  “When considering the course of action you wish to take, I would ask you to remember that it is always better to have powerful friends than powerful enemies. Especially when you can secure these friendships simply by telling the truth.”

  “You’ve made some excellent points, Mr. Penny,” Hoxie said as he pulled the pouch toward him.

  “All I ask is that you consider them seriously,” Matthew answered as he rose to leave.

  CHAPTER 52

  A clock chimed, and Sharon Hill’s stomach tightened. Jed had gone to the dock two hours ago to meet the steamer bringing Bernard Hoxie from San Francisco, and he should have returned by now. If Hoxie was not on board, if he did not testify . . . She stopped these negative thoughts to keep herself from going mad. Hoxie had to come; he had to.

  A cloud of dust signaled Tyler’s return, and Hill raced downstairs and onto the porch.

  “Did he come?” she asked, her fists clenched at her sides as she fought back her panic.

  “He’s at the Evergreen; I just left him. Everything will be fine.”

  Hill closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Thank God,” she sighed.

  Tyler placed his hands on her shoulders. “You must take hold of yourself. We will prevail.”

  “Are you certain?” Hill asked as she clutched his forearms.

  “I’m certain,” Tyler reassured Hill, who did not know about his bargain with Thornton.

  “We must win,” Hill said. She sounded desperate. “It’s the only way to silence everyone. Once our title to Gillette House is clear—once we control Ben’s enterprises—no one will dare to treat us this way.”

  Tyler nodded, but he was not certain that even that great change of fortune would save them from the ostracism Portland society had imposed.

  “I hate them. We’ll take everything from them, Jed, everything.”

  “Sharon,” Tyler said helplessly as she stormed into the house. He followed her, wanting to hold her but knowing that she would push him away if he tried. He understood her suffering. When they walked the streets of Portland, society passed them by as if they did not exist. Tyler had not received a single social invitation since Hill had moved in. Even Mrs. McCall had given notice because of the scandal. Sharon had no one but him, and he had no one but her.

  Hill was sitting on the bottom step of the hall stairs, her head in her hands and her hair in disarray. Tyler sat beside her.

  “What will I do if we lose?” she cried.

  He wanted to tell her that they would have each other even in defeat, but he was afraid of what she would answer if that was the best he could offer.

  “It will be all right,” he said instead. “Hoxie is here We have the contract. It will be all right.”

  CHAPTER 53

  The loft of the Coleman Barrel Company was packed with spectators, and Matthew was lucky to find a seat in the rear of the courtroom. Once he had settled onto the bench, he saw Roxanne Brown leaning against the wall on the other side of the loft, and he looked away quickly.

  W. B. Thornton, who had just been appointed to fill out Jed Tyler’s term on the Oregon supreme court, was hearing the case.

  “Call your next witness,” he told Tyler.

  “I call Mrs. Gillette.”

  “Objection,” Orville said. “Mrs. Gillette passed away several years ago. I ask the court to instruct Mr. Tyler to refer to his client as Miss Hill.”

  “Yes, Mr. Tyler,” Judge Thornton said. “The purpose of this lawsuit is to decide if Miss Hill has the legal right to be called Mrs. Gillette.”

  “Very well, Your Honor,” Tyler conceded, certain that Thornton was ruling for Heather Gillette now so he would seem even handed when he ruled in Sharon’s favor at the end of the case.

  Hill walked from her seat at counsel table toward the witness stand. An angry murmur passed through the loft. Hill kept her eyes forward, aware that no one in the courtroom wished her well.

  “Miss Hill,” Tyler asked after some preliminary questions, “did you take a trip to San Francisco with Benjamin Gillette?”

  “I did.”

  “What was the purpose of this trip?”

  “Ben told everyone it was a business trip—and he did conduct some business while we were in the city—but the trip was our honeymoon.”

  Judge Thornton gaveled for quiet as an angry buzz filled the courtroom.

  “Please tell the judge the steps you and your betrothed took to solemnize your marriage.”

  “The California Civil Code permits a marriage by contract. With this in mind, we contacted Bernard Hoxie, a California attorney, and asked him to prepare a marriage contract.”

  “I hand you plaintiff’s Exhibit twelve. Please identify it for the court.”

  “This is the marriage contract between Ben and me.”

  “Did you see him sign it?’

  “I did.”

  “Where did you and Mr. Gillette sign the contract?”

  “In the office of attorney Bernard Hoxie.”

  “Was Mr. Hoxie present?”

  “Yes. He watched us sign the document.”

  “After you two signed the contract, did you consummate the marriage?”

  Hill lowered her eyes. “We did, that night at our hotel.”

  “Was Mr. Gillette happy with his decision to wed?’

  When Hill answered she was smiling. “Very! He looked forward to the time we could make our nuptials public so I could move into Gillette House and we could spend every possible moment together.”

  “Why didn’t you let everyone know about the marriage?” Tyler asked.

  Hill looked at Heather. “His daughter disliked me for some reason and Ben hoped to reconcile her to our match first.”

  “No further questions,” Tyler said.

  “Your witness, Mr. Mason,” Thornton said.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Miss Hill, other than you and Mr. Hoxie, who knew of this so-called marriage contract?”

  “Only my late husband.”

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  “I have nothing on redirect,” Jed Tyler said, surprised by the brevity of Orville’s cross.

  “Any further witnesses, Mr. Tyler?” the judge asked.

  “We call Bernard Hoxie, Your Honor.”

  Matthew had given Orville a full account of his meeting with Hoxie, but an attack of nerves still gripped Orville when the lawyer hoisted up his massive body and waddled to the witness stand. Hoxie was a vile human being who was fully capable of any deception, so Orville had no idea in which way the witness would lean. He was fully prepared to destroy Hoxie during cross-examination, but he hoped that would not be necessary.

  “How are you employed, Mr. Hoxie?” Tyler asked.

  “I am an attorney and a member of the California Bar.”

  “In your capacity as an attorney, did you make the acquaintance of my client, Sharon Hill?”

  “I did.”

  “Tell the judge about your business dealings with Miss Hill.”

  Hoxie swiveled his head so he was addressing Thornton.

  “Miss Hill came to my office and asked if I would draw up a contract of marriage between her and Benjamin Gillette.”

 
; Tyler crossed to the witness and handed him Exhibit 12. “Do you recognize this document?”

  “Yes, sir. It is the contract I prepared for Miss Hill.”

  “Is this Miss Hill’s signature on the bottom line?”

  “It is.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She signed the contract in my presence.”

  “And is this the signature of Benjamin Gillette?” Tyler asked, turning so he could witness the reaction of Orville Mason and Heather Gillette.

  Hoxie studied the signature. “I presume so.”

  Tyler’s features clouded. This was not the testimony they had rehearsed.

  “Well, sir, you saw Mr. Gillette sign this contract, did you not?” Tyler asked.

  “No. That’s why I said that I presume Mr. Gillette signed. You see, I gave the contract to Miss Hill. She wanted to take it to her hotel so she and Mr. Gillette could read it in case they wished to make corrections or additions.”

  “But Mr. Gillette and Miss Hill discussed the preparation of the contract with you in your office, didn’t they?” Tyler said, flashing a menacing look at Hoxie.

  In return, Hoxie offered Tyler a bland smile. “No, sir. I never met Mr. Gillette. He wasn’t with Miss Hill when she consulted with me about the contract. When Miss Hill returned to my office, she was alone and Mr. Gillette’s signature was on the document. She assured me that it was genuine, that she had seen Mr. Gillette sign the contract.”

  “Liar!” Sharon Hill shouted as she sprang to her feet.

  “Restrain your client, Mr. Tyler,” Thornton ordered, alarmed by Hill’s look of insane rage.

  “This is no good, Sharon,” Tyler whispered.

  Hill pointed a finger at Heather. “How much did this whore pay you?” she screamed.