Deadly Proof: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (8 page)

“Yes,” Nate replied. “Uncle Frank said things got really nasty, and a faction in Pitts Stevens’ own suffrage organization turned on her. Laura, I need to remind you that is important that you keep any information about her role in this case secret.”

“I know, Nate.” Laura stopped, not wanting to sound defensive. “When I talked to my forewoman, Iris Bailor, I didn’t say who hired you. But I think she was going to go and try to see Florence Sullivan at the jail this evening.”

“Well, good luck to her,” he said. “I confess I didn’t have much success with her yesterday, and she refused to see me this afternoon when I visited to report on the results of the grand jury.”

Nate told them about his visit the day before and his difficulty in extracting any useful information about what happened.

“Every time I tried to bring the subject back to Rashers or the night he was killed, she got agitated. Kept saying there wasn’t anything I could do for her. Finally, when I asked if she wanted me to contact her husband, she threw me out of the cell. The fact she won’t let her husband in to see her is disconcerting, I must say.”

“Do you think she’s guilty?” Laura interjected.

“I don’t know,” Nate replied. “And it isn’t really relevant what I think. But I need to know the details. If she killed him in self-defense, then I could mount a case of justifiable homicide. Or if she was wants to plead guilty, then I might be able to get the district attorney to change the charge to voluntary manslaughter.”

“What would be the difference between second degree murder and voluntary manslaughter?” Laura asked. This was really the first time she had ever gotten Nate to talk seriously with her about a case. Maybe he’d come to accept the idea that she wanted to follow him into the legal profession.

“Well, if the case goes to trial and she is found guilty of second degree murder, her prison term will be at least ten years and could be much longer. But under California law the sentence for voluntary manslaughter is less than ten years. Then it would be my job to convince the judge to give her much shorter sentence than that. I think that Dart would support me if that were the case. He’d probably rather get a conviction, even for a lighter sentence, than risk losing because the person being prosecuted was a woman.”

Annie broke in and said, “But what if she isn’t guilty!”

“If she didn’t kill him, she needs to help me out,” Nate responded, sounding exasperated. “Her arraignment in front of Judge Ferrel is day after tomorrow. I need to know what she is going to plead.”

Laura leaned forward and said, “Iris Bailor insisted that she can’t be guilty. That Mrs. Sullivan wouldn’t ever hurt anyone. However, she also said that she had reasons enough to kill him, but that she wouldn’t. I couldn’t help but wonder what those reasons were.”

“I spent the afternoon going over the evidence that the district attorney submitted to the grand jury, and it looks to me like he is going to argue that Mrs. Sullivan was in love with Joshua Rashers. That she killed him in a fit of passion when she discovered that he was going to leave on a three-month trip with his wife, expecting her to have found a new job before he returned.”

“Was this all based on Mrs. Rashers’ testimony?” Annie shifted in her seat and frowned. “Did she actually accuse her husband of having an affair with Mrs. Sullivan?”

“Oh, no, her testimony to the police was that he was a completely faithful husband but that he was just too kind-hearted. She said he finally came to realize that Mrs. Sullivan would never leave him alone if they continued to work together.”

“Well,” said Laura, “that is not the impression of him that Iris gave me. She intimated that he was a complete scoundrel. I’ll ask her if she knew if Rashers and Florence were having an affair.”

“No, Laura, under no circumstances should you do so. I should have never even mentioned anything about the case to you, so just stay out of it.”

With a flash of anger, Laura told her brother he had no right to tell her what she could and could not do and to stop shouting at her.

But before she could go on, Annie reached over and caught her hand, saying, “Dearest...you must know how both your brother and I can’t forget what happened to you this winter. Nate is just concerned that you not get involved in something dangerous.”

Nate added stiffly, “Laura, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. But a man has been murdered, and I don’t know who the killer might be. If it isn’t Mrs. Sullivan, it could be anyone. As far as we know, Rashers could have enemies throughout the printing business—someone like your forewoman, for example, could be a suspect.”

Laura started to protest that Iris couldn’t possibly be involved when she remembered another woman she’d admired who’d turned out to be a very different person than Laura had ever imagined. So she bit her tongue.

After a pause, Annie said, “What are the next steps you’re going to take?”

Nate looked over at Laura, and when she forced herself to give him a slight smile, he answered Annie, saying, “When she refused to see me this afternoon, I wrote a letter telling her of the indictment. I told her that I would be asking to have the arraignment postponed for a week, unless I heard differently from her. I will work on writing up that request tomorrow morning. I want to consult with Cranston about the best arguments to use.”

Laura, without thinking, asked, “You are assuming she won’t contact you, aren’t you?”

He turned to Laura and said, “Yes. I kept thinking that she reminded me of some terribly frightened and wounded animal that had decided to just hide and lick its wounds. Laura, do you remember a couple of summers ago how the collie, Daisy, acted after she was kicked by the bull? At first she just hid under the kitchen cupboard when we brought her in the house. Sat there panting, and if we tried to pull her out, she snarled and snapped ferociously.”

“Mother said we needed to let her be; she was in shock,” she said.

Laura had raised Daisy from a pup, and by the time of this accident, the collie was about ten and slowing down, which was why the bull had gotten her. She remembered how desperately she wanted to get her out so she could tend her wounds, but her mother convinced her to just sit nearby, talking soothingly to her.

Nate said, “Then, finally Mother said it was time...if we let her alone
too
long, she would just give up, so she let that pushy barn cat who was always sneaking in the house at night into the kitchen.”

“That’s right,” Laura said, then laughed, seeing the scene in her mind. “Daisy knew the cat wasn’t allowed in so she would herd her right back out again––every time. Oh, Nate, that’s what got Daisy up and going. She just couldn’t stand letting that old cat get the better of her, so she dragged herself out to chase her and then let us clean the wound.”

Annie said softly, “So you are just letting Mrs. Sullivan lick her wounds for now, Nate.”

He nodded. “Meanwhile, I am going to find out as much as I can on my own. I am hoping if I can find evidence that suggests plausible alternative explanations for what happened, she might then be willing to consider there is some hope and let me help her.”

Annie asked, “How are you going to do that?”

“Tomorrow morning, I plan on visiting Mrs. Sullivan’s home and see if I can speak with her mother and husband. In addition, I wrote to Mrs. Rashers yesterday, and, much to my surprise, she’s agreed to meet me her at her husband’s firm in the afternoon. I would like a chance to hear her accusations directly, see if I can get any more details that I can then try to verify. I do wish you could come with me to that interview, Annie, but I couldn’t think of a reason to bring you.”

Annie chuckled and said, “I could be your corresponding secretary, taking down the interview in my little notebook. Oh, I wish I could, but you know that I meet most of my remaining Madam Sibyl clients on Wednesdays.”

“That’s all right. Anyway, from the transcript of her testimony I read today––I got the impression that Mrs. Rashers rather liked playing for a male audience.”

“Oh, ho. You watch yourself, Mr. Dawson.” Annie shook her finger at Nate.

Laura watched this interchange between them with pleasure, glad that these two people had found each other. Until last summer when he met Annie, she thought Nate was destined to turn into an old settled bachelor like their Uncle Frank. She knew that he’d been hurt by someone back east when he was in law school, but she thought that the problem was deeper than that. She once told their mother that Nate was too romantic by half––expecting to find a woman who combined both beauty and intelligence. In Annie Fuller he’d found that ideal, although Laura was sure that he hadn’t counted on the woman of his dreams being quite so independent.

Nate continued to detail his plans, saying, “While I won’t try to talk to the employees while I’m there—I do hope that having seen me talk to Mrs. Rashers will make them more open to entertaining my questions later if I contact them. Chief Jackson was kind enough to give me their names and home addresses.”

Nate leaned towards Laura, with an odd smile, and said, “You will never guess whose name I found on that list of employees. Your old friend from Normal School, Seth Timmons. In fact, he is the primary witness who found Mrs. Sullivan coming out of Rashers’ office, all covered in blood. How is that for a coincidence?”

*****

A
s Annie walked down the flight of steps to the basement kitchen, she heard Laura talking with Beatrice and Kathleen about Seth. After his sister left them in the parlor, Nate told Annie he was worried that now that Laura knew Seth Timmons was involved that she’d never leave the case alone. Annie thought he was right, but she didn’t know what they could do about it.

She did, however, agree with his request that since she already had a meeting scheduled for tomorrow with Mrs. Richmond, the WCPU owner, that she would try to talk to Iris Bailor herself while she was there. Then she walked him out to the porch, wishing they hadn’t had to spend the whole evening talking about his case.

“...this woman, Florence Sullivan, a typesetter like me, has been accused of murdering her employer,” Laura said, her excited voice making her sound younger than her twenty years.

“Mercy me, Miss Laura,” said Kathleen. “And you’re saying that the man who discovered the murder was Mr. Timmons, who went to that teachers school with you. The one who got hurt when...”

“Kathleen,” admonished Beatrice, “pay attention to what you are doing, girl. You are dripping suds all over the floor.”

The young maid, who’d been up to her elbows in dish water when Laura came in with her news, squeaked her apologies and hastily turned back to the sink filled with pots and pans from dinner.

Annie, knowing that Kathleen would mop up the kitchen floor anyway once the dishes were done, looked over at Beatrice, puzzled by her sharp words. Seeing the concerned look the motherly woman was giving Laura, Annie realized she was trying to avoid mention of the events of last February––events that they all knew still gave Nate’s sister bad dreams.

Laura said, “Oh, I am sorry, Mrs. O’Rourke, I didn’t mean to interrupt Kathleen’s work.”

“Now Miss Laura, don’t you apologize. You know you’re always welcome down here with us,” replied Beatrice. “You just sit down with Mrs. Fuller, and I will get you both a cup of tea. Then you can tell us all about Mr. Dawson’s new case.”

Beatrice bustled around, taking down the old brown kitchen teapot and spooning two large heaps of the imported China tea leaves into it. Then she poured in hot water from the kettle that stood at a boil on the back of the stove. While the tea steeped, Annie and Laura told them what little they knew so far about Rashers’ murder and the odd discovery that Seth Timmons was a primary witness.

Meanwhile, Laura concluded her tale by saying, “It isn’t just the coincidence of Seth being involved that is so unexpected
––
it’s that he is working for a printer, just as I am. Although, I gather from what Nate said, he is operating a press rather than typesetting.”

Annie asked, “He never mentioned having any printing experience?”

“I don’t think so. But during all those buggy rides we took last fall back in Cupertino, I don’t believe he ever said more than one or two sentences at a time—and never anything personal. I knew he was a former union soldier, that he’d run cattle in Texas, and, of course, that he was working to get his teaching certificate, but nothing about him working for a newspaper or anything. Then again, I don’t think I ever mentioned working at the
San Jose Mercury
, either. Mostly I talked about my students and how frustrated I was with teaching in a one-room school.”

Annie watched Laura closely. She thought that Nate’s sister had stronger feelings for Seth than she would admit––even to herself. Not surprising, after the heroic role he’d played in the events of last winter. However, as far as Annie knew, Laura hadn’t seen him since he walked her home once from school at the end of last February.

Kathleen, who had finished washing the pots and pans, came over to the table, drying her hands, and said, “Mebbe it’s fate. Mr. Timmons was there last fall looking after you when that nasty boy you were teaching tried to bother you, then you both turned up teaching in San Francisco so he was here when...you know, and now he’s turned up again.”

Annie, seeing Laura frown, said quickly, “Well, Nate hopes to interview Mr. Timmons tomorrow, so we will know more of what he has been up to after that. Nate also asked me to see if Mrs. Richmond, who owns the WCPU, has any insight into the murdered man, since they were competitors in the printing business.”

Seeing that Laura was about to protest, Annie added hurriedly, “I think that in his rush to keep his little sister from playing detective, he’s forgotten his determination not to drag me into one of his cases again.”

“Oh, Annie, my dear,” exclaimed Beatrice, “you don’t mean you’re going to take on investigating again––not with the wedding coming up so soon!”

Much to Annie’s relief, the introduction of the topic of the wedding nicely distracted Laura from further discussion of what she should or shouldn’t be doing in regards to her brother’s case. Yet as the three other women began to quiz her about where the ceremony was to be held, what she was going to do about a dress, what flowers would be available in late summer, Annie found herself more and more uncomfortable.