Deadly Proof: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (29 page)

The door swept open, and Annie stood in the vestibule, silhouetted against the golden glow of the oil lamp on the hallway sideboard.

“Darling, you are soaked. Come in this minute,” she said, pulling him into the house. “I sent Kathleen off to bed. Beatrice put her to cleaning the upstairs carpets today, and she was exhausted.”

He took his hat off, saying, “I am sorry I am so late. But I wanted to get all my regular work cleared away so I could begin to concentrate on writing my opening speech for the trial next Monday.”

“That’s all right; I am just glad you came.” Annie took his hat, placed it on the sideboard, and led the way into the small parlor. “Why don’t you take off your coat and drape it over this chair? There’s a small fire going, so it should dry quickly.”

Nate shrugged out of his frock coat and positioned it over the chair back. When he turned around, Annie was staring at him.

“You know,” she said, “I don’t think I have ever seen you in your shirt sleeves. Well, except for that time you were being patched up by Mitchell in your landlady’s kitchen.”

She moved close and slid her hand over his rib cage, between his vest and his shirt, murmuring, “I’ve wondered if that knife wound left a scar.”

The warmth of her hand radiated through to his skin, setting off a fire that flickered along every nerve. The embrace and kiss that followed left him breathless, and as he ran his thumb over her soft lips, hoping he’d not bruised them, he whispered, “Three weeks, my love, and you will see for yourself.”

*****

W
hen the clock on the mantel chimed ten, Nate groaned. He sat with his arm around Annie’s waist, her head nestled against his shoulder, and he didn’t want to move or speak. He certainly didn’t want to think about the upcoming trial, but he also knew he’d feel better once he talked about it with Annie.

She sat up and said, “What is wrong? Are you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all, except in my mind.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I talked to Chief Jackson today, and he was kind enough to tell me who the district attorney was going to call to give their testimony in the trial.”

“Anyone you didn’t expect?”

“Not really. Dart will call Griggs because he was the last to see Rashers alive. Seth and Dunk because they alibi each other, and Seth can testify to what Florence looked like and said when she left Rashers’ office. The constable who was the first on the scene and the doctor who did the autopsy are both on the list. And Mrs. Rashers.”

“Oh dear. I rather hoped she wouldn’t be called.” Annie idly turned her engagement ring around her finger. Then, sounding excited, she said, “I meant to tell you that when I saw her yesterday she sounded like she wished she’d never intervened with the district attorney. Not that she doubted her accusations against Florence, but that she now realized that the publicity surrounding the trial was not going to be particularly good for the firm or her husband’s reputation.”

“She is probably Dart’s main witness. He’ll be depending on her testimony to explain why such a loyal employee would suddenly murder her boss. I will, of course, object most vigorously to anything she says that is hearsay.”

“It seems to me that her opinion that Florence was in love with Rashers wouldn’t be admissible without something to back it up.”

Nate nodded and said, “That won’t keep Dart from playing the up the old ‘woman scorned’ idea. Interestingly, Jackson asked me again about the galley proof of the invitation to the Bon Voyage party. I guess he must feel this is the crucial evidence that corroborates Mrs. Rashers’ story...proves Mrs. Sullivan knew about the trip and that she would have to find a new job before he returned.”

“But didn’t Griggs tell you that Rashers was going to promote Florence, not fire her? Can’t you ask him about that during your cross-examination?”

“I can. But from what you’ve said about how he’s been fawning over Mrs. Rashers, I’m not sure I should count on him. He wouldn’t be the first witness to conveniently forget what he said earlier to the defense counsel.”

Annie frowned and then sighed, confirming his fear that Griggs might turn into a hostile witness.

“The witness that worries me the most is the Sullivan’s maid,” he said. “And she is on the list as well.”

“Because of the argument she overheard Florence and her husband having the night of the murder?”

“Yes. I assume that Dart thinks her testimony will confirm the widow’s claim that Mrs. Sullivan was obsessed with Rashers.”

“But couldn’t the fight just be about him not wanting her to work such long hours—leaving him to care for her mother?”

“That is what I will try to get the maid to say. But you see, I’m not sure that’s true.” He wished he’d thought to write everything down immediately, since he couldn’t remember exactly what the maid had told him. He saw Annie looking up at him, her warm brown eyes gleaming in the firelight.

She said, “If Dart calls Alan Sullivan to testify, do you think he can get him to say he was worried there was something going on between Florence and Rashers?”

“California criminal law excludes a husband from testifying against his wife—unless they both agree, so at least I don’t have to worry about that.”

Nodding, Annie said, “Ah...yes I guess I knew that. But couldn’t Mr. Sullivan be a positive help—I mean if he insisted that there was nothing going on between his wife and Rashers?”

“Cranston warned me that it is never a good idea to call the spouse to testify. Most jurors assume the spouse is lying, and you never know what dirty little marital secret the prosecutor will bring up that will end up undermining your case.”

Annie looked pensive. She then said, “I suppose this is a reason why it might not be such a good idea to get someone like that box factory woman up to testify––even if she could show that Rashers wasn’t quite the paragon of virtue his wife claims he was.”

This reminded Nate of the visit from his sister earlier this evening. “Did Laura tell you her wild theory that Iris Bailor might be the murderer—trying to protect her friend the illustrator?”

“No! Oh my, why does she think that?”

“She found out Iris and Miss Granger had a fight that Friday night, and while the illustrator has an alibi, Miss Bailor was evidently out somewhere.”

“And Laura thinks she was off killing Rashers?”

“Yes. I told her that this was highly unlikely. But I confess it did occur to me later that this would explain why Mrs. Sullivan doesn’t want me to pursue any other suspects. What if she knows something...like Iris had threatened to go speak to him?”

Annie shifted in her seat next to him. “I’ve hardly seen Laura the past few days. She is off to work early, then home to study. She did ask me to tell you to take your time with the jury selection the first day of the trial. Her entrance examination time is set for one o’clock next Monday afternoon, and she will be devastated if you have given your opening statement before she can get back over from the university.”

Nate was startled. He hadn’t really thought about his sister being part of the audience. Of course she would want to be there if she could, as would Annie. But should he ask either one to forgo their own work? Especially since he knew Annie was anxious about saving up money to pay for the wedding. Yet, it would really help to know that if he looked up while giving his opening speech that he would see Annie’s encouraging smile...

Annie interrupted this thought, saying, “What about the building’s porters? Are they testifying? Did Seth Timmons find out anything from them?”

Nate shook his head. “Dart is having Crockett, the night porter, testify, I guess to confirm that Seth, Dunk, and Griggs left together at six-thirty and that Florence arrived at seven-fifteen. But Seth sent me a note this morning saying that he talked to both the day porters and the night porter, but none of them saw anyone behaving suspiciously. But it was the Friday before the July Fourth weekend, and there were more people on the streets and going in and out of the building than usual.”

“Oh, dear. I forgot about that. The Fourth seems a lifetime away by now.”

“Unfortunately, despite two and a half weeks having passed, we still know practically nothing about what happened that night. Oh, were you able to get in to see Mrs. Sullivan yesterday?”

“No, when I arrived she was meeting with her mother—which I saw as a good thing. But I left her a note that I would try to drop by on Thursday or Friday. I hope she agrees to see me because I found something I really want to ask her. You know that I found evidence that Rashers was in the process of raiding another firm’s customers again?”

“Yes, that could be vital information. Did you figure out whose firm he’d been targeting?”

“I did. This morning, I asked Mrs. Richmond, the WCPU owner, and found out that the three new clients were former customers of Neppier and Son, an old print shop run by a man in his late sixties, James Neppier.”

“So Neppier could be a potential suspect.” Nate wondered if he should try to get an interview with him.

“Maybe, but Mrs. Richmond said that the three clients were small fry—their loss alone shouldn’t ruin Neppier. However, she thought it could push the firm to bankruptcy if Rashers was successful in winning away Neppier’s two largest customers, the
Daily Alta
, and the Union Insurance Company.”

“Is there any sign that Rashers was trying to get these two customers to jump ship?” Nate felt a spurt of hope. He would much prefer to undermine Rashers’ reputation by calling a desperate and angry printer to the stand—even if he turned out to have an alibi—than some working woman like Miss Von Klepp or Iris Bailor.

Annie said, “I didn’t find them mentioned in the correspondence. But I did find some odd entries in his desk diary that suggest he was meeting secretly with someone. Different hotels, different times, but no name given—which was unusual. I thought these meetings might be with someone who was feeding him inside information about those two firms. Then it would make sense that Rashers would want to keep these meetings secret.”

“And you think that Mrs. Sullivan might know who he was meeting?”

“Yes, I was hoping she would at least have a good idea.”

All at once, Nate thought of a different reason for these meetings being secret, and he said, “But isn’t it even more possible that Rashers was keeping these meetings secret because they were with someone with whom he was having an affair? And couldn’t that person be Mrs. Sullivan herself?”

Annie said, “All the more reason for me to ask her about the meetings. As Madam Sibyl, I’ve learned to figure out what someone is thinking from their facial expressions, so I think I should be able to tell if she were the person Rashers was meeting. And wouldn’t it be better for you to learn before the trial started that she had started back up with him?”

Nate stood up and went over to poke at the remaining embers in the grate, suddenly feeling cold in his shirt sleeves. Annie rose and came over to stand beside him.

She said, “I know this is hard. But even if she was having an affair with him, this doesn’t mean she killed him. As you said at the start, it isn’t your job to judge her but to defend her, which I know you will do to the best of your abilities.”

“That’s just it. What are my abilities? I don’t know, and I am deathly afraid Dart is going to make mincemeat of me.”

Annie touched his shoulder and said, “You are just getting nervous because this is your first solo trial.”

“With good reason. Let’s look at the facts. The prosecution has a grieving widow who will testify that Florence Sullivan was obsessed with her husband, a murder weapon that probably belonged to my client, and an eyewitness who saw her come out of the dead man’s office all covered in his blood, with the incriminating invitation that she typeset lying under the victim’s body. And, just as Mrs. Pitts Stevens feared, the press have already convicted her in their pages.”

“Nate, I am sure it isn’t as desperate as all that. You can convince the jury otherwise; I know you can.”

“With what? I have nothing but some medical testimony that the assault
could
have come earlier, a couple of employees who say the accused
didn’t seem
to be in love with her boss, and a client whose whole demeanor makes her look guilty as all get-out.”

Friday, afternoon, July 23, 1880

––––––––

“It is well known to every printer that one of the heaviest items of expense in publishing a daily paper is the cost of white paper.”
San Francisco Chronicle,
April 22, 1880

––––––––

A
nnie lengthened her stride as she turned onto Market Street from O’Farrell and felt some of her tiredness slip away. Fridays were always busy for her. A number of her male clients liked to meet early in the day so they could then meet with their brokers before the stock exchange got into full swing. Then she had a ten o’clock appointment with J. T. Green, the financial secretary of the Widows’ and Orphans’ Aid Association of the Police Department of San Francisco. This was a new job for her, one that she owed to Beatrice O’Rourke, who was the widow of a former San Francisco policeman and an old friend of Mr. Green’s. A welcome addition to her coffers as well, since Beatrice seemed daily to be adding to the number of expensive delicacies she was planning for the wedding reception dinner.

During lunch she worked on catching up on her reading in the
California Farmer and Journal of Useful Sciences
and the
Commercial Herald and Market Review
, where she found many of her investment tips. Then she combed through
Langley’s San Francisco Directory
and
McKenny’s Pacific Coast Directory
to track down who among the employees at the
Daily Alta
and the Union Insurance Company might have been meeting secretly with Rashers in the weeks before his death. She found four possibilities and was going to run their names by her boarder Herman Stein when he got back in town tomorrow from one of his frequent business trips to Portland.

Then at three, as she did most every week, she met with Gracie McRath, a young, newly married woman who was having trouble dealing with Malvina, her sister-in-law who lived with them. Gracie began meeting with Madam Sibyl last fall, but she seemed relieved in March when Annie told her she was now seeing clients as just Mrs. Fuller. Gracie told her she’d lived in fear that Malvina would find out she was seeing a fortuneteller. Now she could just say she was visiting her old friend, Mrs. Fuller.