Deadly Proof: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (38 page)

Annie smiled but didn’t say anything, having learned that she got more information from this woman if she didn’t ask too many questions.

Mrs. Rashers laughed. “It turns out that my husband was in negotiations with Jack Neppier—the owner’s son. I knew he was up to something when he agreed to take that trip with me.”

“I am amazed that he would want to leave in the middle of negotiations?”

“It turns out that they were to settle everything the weekend of July Fourth. And we weren’t scheduled to leave until late August. Plenty of time for Jack, Mr. Neppier, to become familiar with our business. You see, part of that agreement was that Jack would take over running the business on the day-to-day basis while Joshua and I were back east.”

“So you didn’t know about all of this before your husband died?”

Mrs. Rashers sighed. “Joshua was so pig-headed about keeping me out of his business. I confess I thought his insistence that we wait until August to leave was just his way of getting out of going. And he’d been so secretive...I thought...well, never mind what I thought.”

Annie suspected that what Mrs. Rashers thought was that her husband was having an affair with someone—like Mrs. Sullivan. Or Orrie Childers?

The widow shrugged and took a sip of tea. She then said, “When you pointed out to me that Joshua seemed to be targeting Neppier’s, I asked my lawyer, Mr. Glasser, to make some discreet inquiries. Jack later told me that he’d been in flat despair when he heard of my husband’s murder—thinking everything had come to naught.”

“So did he contact you?”

“Yes, and with Mr. Glasser’s help we have worked out a very satisfying agreement. Since I have recommended that we continue to hire you as our accountant, I guess I can tell you the terms.”

Annie couldn’t help but wonder how much of Mrs. Rashers’ good humor was due to the agreement and how much was due to the attentions of Jack Neppier, who was clearly a very personable young man. She said, “Mrs. Rashers, thank you for your confidence in me. Yes, I would be very interested in hearing the details of the agreement.”

“As you concluded in your report, the current value of Neppier and Son is about a third of the value of Rashers. But they have several very important customers that Jack has promised to bring with him into the new partnership. So he will own forty percent of Rashers and Neppier. I will remain the majority owner, but he will take over the daily management of the company for an additional fixed salary.”

“That sounds very equitable. But how can he promise the equipment or the customers without his father’s consent?”

“That is where I have to thank Joshua’s sharp business practices. As you pointed out, he’d already been winning away some of Neppier’s business, so Jack was able to persuade his father that I would be willing to follow those very same practices, if necessary, and that they could ultimately lose everything.”

Catherine Rashers smiled sweetly and said, “So his father has agreed to retire and sign over everything to Jack, who I am sure will take good care of his father in his waning years.”

It sounded to Annie like the partnership between Catherine Rashers and Jack Neppier was a match made in heaven—and that she didn’t think she would find working for them as an accountant to be very congenial.

More to the point, what if Mrs. Rashers’ alliance with Jack Neppier had actually begun before her husband’s death? Could they have schemed together to kill Joshua Rashers? This could explain why Annie had never felt Mrs. Rashers was sincerely that upset about his death or fearful about her economic future.

As Annie was about to announce that she needed to leave, she remembered she had promised Laura that she would try to find out what Mrs. Rashers’ attitude towards Seth and his future employment was—if she even knew about his arrest yesterday. So as she rose, she said, “Mr. Griggs mentioned that you were going to make an announcement this afternoon to the whole staff. I hope that he also alerted you to the fact that Mr. Timmons might be late arriving for his shift. He is taking his university entrance exams today—several of my young friends are taking these exams as well—and they happened to mention that he’d gotten permission from his foreman to come in later than usual.”

“Oh yes, I do believe Griggs mentioned that last Friday, but I thought that Mr. Timmons was helping the police with their inquiries into Miss Childers’ death.”

Annie looked over at the widow but saw no hint that she saw the questioning of one of her employees for the murder of another as particularly worrisome. She replied, “Yes, but it was my understanding that since he left work at eight on Saturday night, before Miss Childers arrived, he wasn’t able to help them.”

“Well then. That is all right. When I was going over the list of employees with Jack, he pointed out that he’d actually interviewed Mr. Timmons—and was very impressed. Felt that his expertise with the Babcock printer would help us take care of the
Alta California
account. We will have to expand, of course. Mr. Glasser is looking into whether or not we can take up some of the empty space across the hall.”

As Annie got to the office door, she turned and said, “I did want to extend my condolences to you on the loss of Miss Childers. So distressing, especially for you so soon after the death of your husband.”

She expected a similar reaction to Griggs’ own patently insincere response, but it appeared that she underestimated the widow’s honesty. Mrs. Rashers simply shrugged and said, “I am afraid she wasn’t much of a loss. As far as I could tell, the only thing she was good at was distracting the male employees. Now I don’t have to fire her.”

Monday, evening, August 2, 1880

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“We also condemn the practice of allowing visitors at the jail at all hours of the night and in large numbers, as been the custom.”
San Francisco Chronicle
, November 6, 1880

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A
nnie almost fell asleep in the cab on her way to Old City Hall, lulled by the rapidly darkening twilight sky, the sway of the carriage, and the steady clip, clopping of the horse’s hooves. She tried to calculate how much sleep she’d gotten since yesterday morning and only came up with three hours.

Last evening, she and Laura hadn’t made it back to the boardinghouse until after two in the morning. As a result, she’d only been asleep three hours when Kathleen came into her bedroom with her morning tea. After dressing, Annie took her cup and piece of toast downstairs to the kitchen to let Beatrice and Kathleen know the bare bones of what was going on—including the warning to Kathleen that Sergeant Thompson was going to come by at about seven to interview her about seeing Seth deliver Laura home.

By that time it was nearly six and the sun was, thankfully, well up, so she had no trouble finding a cab at Taylor and Market to take her to Kitty’s house on the western edge of Nob Hill to deliver a note from Laura asking her to bring the carriage to the jail. She handed the note to Kitty’s startled butler and was home in time to accompany an impatient Laura back to the city jail to meet Nate.

After leaving her meeting with Mrs. Rashers, Annie had a full day of appointments with clients. She’d hoped to get a nap in before her last appointment of the day, but Mrs. Stein, who’d heard from Beatrice about Laura’s crusade to free Seth Timmons (and her scandalous few hours alone with him in his rooms) knocked on her bedroom door, all upset. It took Annie a good half hour to assure the kind woman that Laura’s reputation wasn’t ruined beyond all help and that they didn’t need to spirit the girl home to her parents in disgrace. By that time all chance of a nap was gone.

Sighing, Annie admitted to herself that this felt like one of the longest days of her life, and all she really wanted was to go to bed and sleep. But she’d told Nate she would meet him at seven this evening to talk to Florence Sullivan. And while she could have sent a note saying she was too tired...this case was so important to Nate, she couldn’t not be there. Maybe Mrs. Gross, the women’s matron, would offer her some strong tea and she wouldn’t embarrass herself by falling asleep in the middle of a jail cell.

*****

N
ate gave Annie a swift kiss on the cheek when she alighted from the cab at the back entrance of the jail. The lights from the cells illuminated the alley, and they could hear the rise and fall of men’s voices, punctuated by the raucous sound of singing by one inmate who’d clearly reached the social stage of his inebriation.

Troubled by the dark smudges under her eyes, he said, “Sweetheart, thanks so much for coming. I know you must be exhausted. But you are so much better with Mrs. Sullivan than I am, and I really need her help if I am going to convince the police there is a killer out there responsible for both Rashers’ and Miss Childers’ deaths.”

“I am tired, but you know me,” Annie said. “I can’t stand the idea of missing out on anything. Which seems to be a similar trait in your sister. She is going to stop by here after she finishes up at the WCPU tonight. Said it was because she couldn’t wait to hear what we learned.”

“How did her exam go? And did they get Mr. Timmons there in time for his?”

“I saw her very briefly this afternoon because she only came home long enough to change and get a bite to eat before heading off to work. But they did get him there in time. Laura said he returned to the city as soon as his exam was over so he could get in a few hours sleep himself before starting his night shift. I gather he didn’t indicate how he felt the exam went. And she said she had no idea if she answered a single question correctly...it was all such a blur...and that her friend Ned swears he started translating a piece into Latin when they had asked for Greek.”

“I bet they all did fine. If I remember my own undergraduate exams, it seemed like there was an inverse ratio between how I thought I did and how I really did. The more despair I felt after the exam, the better grade I got.”

“Well, they can always take the exam over, and if either she or Seth fail—they certainly will have a good excuse. But it would be a shame.”

A few minutes later, they were being led down the corridor to Mrs. Sullivan’s cell, which after nearly a month of incarceration, seemed like her permanent home. The matron told them that Mr. Sullivan had been with his wife for most of the day—just going off a half an hour earlier to make it to work at seven.

Mrs. Gross said, “I don’t know what you two said to her this morning to get her to see him...but I thank you. For most of the women under my charge, their husbands are the reason they are here...and a little time away from the beatings and the drink—with three square meals and no responsibilities—is a gift. But I could see Mrs. Sullivan was just wasting away. Even the visits from her mother weren’t helping much. This evening I saw the first smile from her, and it did my heart good. Whatever happens from now on...I think she’ll make it through.”

As they entered Mrs. Sullivan’s cell, Nate had to agree that the change in his client was remarkable. There was color in her cheeks and a warm smile of greeting.

“Mr. Dawson, Mrs. Fuller, thanks for coming this evening.” Florence Sullivan indicated that they should sit as usual on the bed opposite as she sat down. “Now that I have been able to see beyond my personal fears, I am ready to fully cooperate with you. I am sorry I was being so difficult. Will you forgive me, Mr. Dawson?”

Nate said, “Of course. I can’t even imagine what all this has been like for you. However, the trial is less than ten days away. We need to make some decisions. First of all, I assume you have no reason now to reconsider changing your not guilty plea. Mrs. Fuller did tell you about Mrs. Rashers’ suggestion that she would try to get the district attorney to change the charge to manslaughter if you agreed to plead guilty.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t consider it. I should never have even contemplated admitting to something I didn’t do. I sincerely thank you, Mr. Dawson, for making sure I didn’t commit such a sinful and stupid act.”

Nate, not comfortable revisiting this topic, said, “Unfortunately, even if Mrs. Rashers is now regretting the publicity, she will be expected to testify.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be good for me to testify, myself?” Mrs. Sullivan asked. “I guess the jury wouldn’t believe me if I said that at the time of his death I no longer cared for Joshua and wanted nothing more than to leave his employ. All they would hear is that I did in fact have an illicit relationship with him at one time.”

Nate, remembering his instructions from Mrs. Emily Pitts Stevens to avoid turning the trial into a debate over free love, nodded and said, “I am afraid you are correct. I believe my best tactic in defending you is to get various employees to testify to your general character and the responsibility that Rashers gave you—taking care of the books, training the apprentices, and so forth—rather than have anyone speak to your personal relationship with Rashers. And of course to point out that it would have been possible for someone else to enter the shop and attack him before you even arrived there.”

Annie added, “Mrs. Sullivan, Mr. Dawson is hoping you might be able to suggest other viable suspects. If he can provide evidence that someone else had the motive and opportunity to kill Rashers—and Miss Childers—this would help tremendously.”

Mrs. Sullivan shook her head and sighed. “You see, the difficulty is that while Joshua wasn’t an honorable man—he was extremely charming. Most people, like the young apprentices he paid so badly, steadfastly refused to see his culpability.”

“He didn’t charm Iris Bailor,” Annie said. “In fact, it was my impression that because she knew about his treatment of you—and her fears that her friend Miss Granger was falling under his spell––that she positively hated him.”

Mrs. Sullivan looked surprised. “Oh, Iris did hate him.” She paused then said, “I suppose I can think of circumstances where she might strike out at him in anger. But to let me take the blame for the murder? I just don’t believe it. I know her so well that I feel sure I would be able to detect if she were carrying around that sort of guilt.”