Maids of Misfortune (24 page)

As Annie wrote out Beatrice’s name and the boarding house address, she thought hurriedly how to write the message in such a way that if Nate was already there, he would be alerted to the fact that he and his uncle were needed at the police station. She finally determined that the blunt truth would work best, so she wrote under the address, “Will not be home this pm. Master taken by police for questioning. Mistress requests my presence.” She hoped that Wong would not take exception to her revealing Jeremy’s business to her friends, but she didn’t know any other way to insure that Nate would get the message without actually telling Wong she knew Mr. Dawson and where he would be at this hour. Wong simply nodded when she gave him the message and slipped quickly out the back door. She wished she had a clue to what he was thinking about the accusations against his new master or about her presence in the household.

During the next few hours, time limped along like an arthritic ancient. It took forever for Wong to return from the telegraph office, and Annie became increasingly ineffective in her attempts to carry out all of his instructions for the meal. Serving the dinner itself seemed to last for days, with Annie's shoulders and arms stiffening up more and more with each course. By ten o'clock, they finished washing the dishes, and Annie found herself sitting at the kitchen table with her head held between her hands, trying desperately to stay awake. When the doorbell rang again, Wong went up to answer it. Jeremy hadn't come home yet, but there was no reason for him to ring the bell. Annie got up and began to pace, waiting for Wong to come back and wondering what was going on.

Wong returned and started to brew another pot of coffee, reporting, "It was Mr. Dawson. He and his uncle have just come from the police station. I'm to take some of Master Jeremy's clothes down to him tonight on the way home. They're keeping him overnight."

Annie took a deep breath. "Then they’ve arrested him? Oh, Wong. This is awful. I can’t believe he would kill his father.” As she spoke, she realized she had never really believed Jeremy could have been the murderer. She wanted desperately to talk to Nate and find out what was going on.

As if in answer to her unspoken wish, Wong continued. "I don't know if he is arrested. Maybe Mr. Dawson will inform you. He asked me to request that you meet him at the back gate at 10:45. He wants to speak to you."

Wong did not look up from his task; neither did his voice express any surprise or curiosity when he conveyed this message. Annie didn't know what to say. The explanation for why the family's lawyer would want to hold a private conversation with her was too complicated, and she didn't want to insult Wong with lies. So after a pause, she just said, "I see. Well, if you see him before that, tell him I'll be there. If any one can find a way to protect Mr. Jeremy, I am sure that Mr. Dawson can do it."

Wong finished with the coffee and took it upstairs, saying he would go on up and gather together Jeremy's things. Annie later wondered if she had possibly fallen asleep, because before her tired brain had gone beyond repeating to itself that Jeremy was innocent, Wong was back down beside her with a packed bag in one hand and the tray of coffee cups in the other.

After putting the coffee cups into the dishpan to soak and getting on his jacket, Wong spoke again in his inflectionless voice. "Mr. Hobbes and Mr. Samuels have left the house, and Mrs. Voss and the old Miss have retired to their rooms. Cartier has also gone to bed. The front is locked, and you are to let me out the back and lock up after I have gone. I believe that it is now time for your meeting with Mr. Dawson; I will tell him you are on your way as I go by."

And with this, Wong took down the key from its hook next to the back door, unlocked it, and gave the key to Annie before slipping out into the night.

Chapter Thirty-three

Wong’s exit from the kitchen galvanized Annie into action. She dashed to the washbasin in the corner, where a small mirror hung. She flung some of the water in the basin onto her face and, while toweling it dry, peered to see how she looked. The light in the kitchen at night was too poor for her to see very well, and she chided herself for even caring. She then hastily poked and prodded at her hair to try and produce some semblance of neatness. All she succeeded in doing was dislodging a few more pins, and a few more strands escaped from the braid coiled at the nape of her neck. Muttering a very unladylike phrase, Annie hurried to the door, snatched a shawl that hung over a kitchen chair on the way, and stopping to make sure she had the back door key in her pocket, she too slipped out into the night.

As she stood for a second on the top doorstep to let her eyes adjust to the darkness, Annie looked around. It was a typical August night for San Francisco: cold, foggy, damp. No stars were visible, and the moon was a faint, misty sliver. There was a slight breeze, and shadows loomed and clumped and slithered in various parts of the yard, causing Annie to rethink her decision not to bring a lamp. But no, the chances of someone seeing its light from the house and coming to investigate were too great. Making her way down the path in the faint moonlight, she tried to think of what she would say to Nate. She smelled the acrid scent of smoke and located the tiny glowing ember of a cigar about a foot away from her. She whispered Nate’s name. The ember arced over the back gate into the alleyway, and then a tall shadow detached itself from the universal blackness and came toward her, slowly revealing the figure that was becoming so familiar.

Without thinking, she ran up to him and placed her hands against his chest, as if to steady herself, and said, “Oh, Nate, I’m so glad you’ve come. What are we going to do? The police can’t really think Jeremy’s the murderer. Tell me, is there anything I can do to help?”

Annie’s rush of words faltered as she felt Nate stiffen and then pull away from her. Chagrinned, she scolded herself for her behavior.
What was I thinking of, throwing myself at him
! Yet for a brief moment, she'd felt his warm breath against her cheek. Annie thought sadly that it must have been her imagination.

Trying to cover her hurt, Annie resumed her questioning. “Have they arrested Jeremy? What did they find when they searched the house? Please tell me. I need to know.”

Nate responded in a tense, quiet voice. “It looks bad. They haven’t formally arrested him, but they will probably press charges sometime tomorrow. Really don’t have much choice; the evidence is pretty strong against him. Someone has testified that they saw Jeremy last Sunday afternoon on a path above the beach where Nellie was killed. And when they searched the house, they found a small bloody wooden club stuffed down among the paint rags in his room. They figure this was used to knock out Nellie.”

Annie gasped. “No, Nate, that’s not possible. Jeremy couldn’t have killed her. That would mean he killed his father as well, and I just can’t believe that.”

Nate interrupted her, “That’s not all. They also found a bundle of bank notes and some of the stock certificates that were missing. Even more incriminating, they found a small vial of potassium cyanide in his room, the poison used to kill his father.”

Annie, speechless for a moment, began to crumple her shawl in her hands. Then she fired off a series of questions, giving Nate no chance to answer them. “Where did they find the bank notes and stock certificates? Patrick said the police got some sort of letter in the mail. What did it say? And where do they think Jeremy would have gotten the cyanide? How could they think that anybody would be so stupid as to leave that kind of evidence around? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

Nate put a hand out and briefly touched her shoulder, saying, “Slow down. One question at a time.”

Annie paused, catching her breath. Nate’s hand had felt so warm through the thin damp wool of her dress that she realized how chilled she was, and she pulled the shawl around her shoulders, shivering.

Nate continued. “First of all, they found the money and assets stuck among his bills in his desk. The vial of cyanide was among his painting gear. And yes, there was a letter, anonymous, that purported to be from someone who Jeremy had approached about selling some non-negotiable bonds.”

Annie burst out, “Someone is trying to frame him. All of this is a lie. Yesterday, I went through his rooms from top to bottom, and there weren’t any stock certificates in his desk, and there certainly wasn’t any blood-stained wooden club. As for the vial of cyanide, I can’t believe that if he were guilty of poisoning his father that he would keep the cyanide in his rooms. He had nearly two weeks to get rid of it. Where would he have gotten cyanide in the first place?”

“Well, the police say the vial came from the furniture factory. Evidently, they use potassium cyanide in the furniture-making process.”

Annie snorted. “Well, that just proves the cyanide wasn’t used by Jeremy. As far as I can tell, before today he has rarely set foot in the place, and I don’t see him being able to recognize any chemical from the factory, much less knowing it was a poison.”

“I’m sorry, but the police don’t see it that way. Turns out that the factory uses the cyanide in the mixture of certain pigments and stains for some of the finished furniture. So Jackson figures that, as an artist, Jeremy would be familiar with cyanide and its effects on the human body. And as for his hiding the money and missing assets in his room, well, I suppose he might have hidden them somewhere else but thought that enough time had lapsed that it would be safer to have them closer to home.” The neighbor’s dog barked again, and Nate turned aside, looking at the back gate.

Annie grabbed Nate’s coat lapels, pulling him back around while she furiously spat out, “Look at me! You believe he did it, don’t you? You’ve always believed it was him. I can’t believe you would be so stupid.”

Nate grabbed her hands and held them to his chest. “Listen to me, Annie; don’t jump to conclusions. I’m just as upset about all this as you are. You didn’t have to sit and explain all this to his mother. God, I felt helpless, and she was so brave. But even if you are right about none of this making sense, we have to be realistic. I am telling you how it looks to the police. And on the surface, the evidence seems fairly overwhelming.”

He then let her go, and Annie turned slightly from him and wiped her eyes with the edge of her shawl. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to him and said as calmly as possible, “All right, I’m trying to get this straight. What did Jeremy say to their questions? He didn’t confess to the police, did he?”

Nate sighed. “No, but he just said he was innocent, over and over. And you would think that if he was the murderer, he would have come up with a better story by now, although I am pretty sure he was lying about one thing. But then that didn’t make sense either.”

“What do you think he was lying about?”

“About his whereabouts Sunday afternoon when Nellie was killed. He told the police that he went down town and wandered around, but I don’t know; something was wrong. He stiffened, and, when Jackson pressed him, he got angry. It was the only time he showed any real emotion throughout all the questions. He even seemed quite calm when they took him over the night of his father’s death. He stuck to the tale he had told the police earlier, about walking all the way down to the docks and back that night. He didn’t seem uncomfortable with that story, even though it was as weak and unsubstantiated an alibi as the one he had for Nellie’s death. I think he is hiding something about Sunday, but if he isn’t Nellie’s murderer, I don’t know what it is.”

Annie thought for a minute. “Maybe he was doing something else he was ashamed of Sunday. I don’t know, maybe he was drunk in some dive or in a prostitute’s crib on the Barbary Coast. Doesn’t want it to come out. Of course, it would be idiotic of him to withhold information that would prove him innocent, but I could see him doing just that in a misguided attempt to keep from embarrassing his mother or his finance, can’t you?”

Nate sounded skeptical. “Remember, they have a witness that says Jeremy was near the Cliff House on Sunday afternoon.”

“But
we
were there, and we didn’t see anybody. Who said they saw Jeremy?” Annie cut in.

“A man who works as a hostler for the Cliff House. Said he was taking a walk along the cliffs that overlooked that part of the beach. Said he saw a young man, dark curly hair, mustache, scrambling up to the road to the north. They brought him to the station house tonight, and he said it was definitely Jeremy that he saw.”

Annie exclaimed, “That’s ridiculous! How could he be sure from such a distance? Jeremy’s looks are not all that distinctive. Most of the young men in this city have mustaches, and I dare say half of them have dark curly hair. Besides, how do we know we can trust that someone who works for the Cliff House is telling the truth? Maybe he was bribed to say he saw Jeremy.”

“But by whom?” Nate shot back. “I don’t have any strong faith in the integrity of the hostlers of the Cliff House, but who would do such a thing?”

Annie sniffed impatiently, “The real murderer. Who else? And for the same reason, the real murderer must have sent the anonymous letter and planted the bank notes, the bloody club, and the poison. To shift the blame on Jeremy.”

Nate repeated, “But who? Who could do all those things?”

“Cartier, Mrs. Voss’s maid, could. She was in the house the night Matthew was killed. She could have poisoned Matthew in order to get the money or let in an accomplice to do the job. Her room is the only one I haven’t been able to search, so maybe she had all the missing assets the whole time. Did I tell you she passes messages to someone through the meat delivery boy and that she was supposed to meet someone on Sunday on her afternoon off, but he didn’t show? Maybe her mysterious
friend
couldn’t meet her at Woodward’s Gardens because he was busy killing Nellie.”

Annie felt her excitement rising. “Listen, I just had a thought. It was Cartier’s night out last night, and some man picked her up in a carriage. If that man was her accomplice, either he or she could have mailed the anonymous letter to the police. Then Cartier came back to the house last night around 8:30, cancelling her night out. Maybe her accomplice gave her the evidence, forced her to plant it in Jeremy’s room. It would have been easy; her room is right across from his. Oh, this makes perfect sense.”

“Slow down, Annie. Do you have any proof of this? What am I supposed to do? Tell the police that the parlor maid, who just happens to be the same person who was with me when I discovered Nellie’s body and just happens to be the mysterious Sibyl they have been looking for, suspects the lady’s maid because she keeps her door locked and came home early from her night off? Face it, Annie, Jeremy is still the most obvious suspect as her accomplice.”

As Annie started to protest, Nate silenced her. “Please, just let me review the facts, which is what the police are going to consider, not speculation on what might have been. Matthew Voss came home Friday night, evidently with a great deal of money and his paper assets, having planned on meeting Samuels the next night to buy him out. At dinner on Saturday, he announced his plans, including his decision that Jeremy was to end his artistic career and take over the business. According to Nellie’s statement to the police, Jeremy and his father quarreled, his father threatened to cut him off if he didn’t submit, and then Jeremy left the house around seven. Nellie left the house around eight for her night out; Wong followed her around eleven, by which time the three remaining women in the house had already retired to bed. Voss was alive at this time, since he locked the door behind Wong, as was his habit. Jeremy says he returned around twelve o’clock, letting himself in with his own key, and that his father’s study lights were on but that he didn’t go in to see him, he just went up to bed.

“Sometime between eleven and the next morning, someone poured Voss a shot of whiskey laced with cyanide. He was found dead the next morning by his wife, and since the doors and windows were all still locked, the assumption must be that either one of the three women in the house or Jeremy killed him. And do you honestly think that any jury would believe that his wife or sister or the lady’s maid got up, came down stairs, and convinced Matthew Voss to have a drink? I don’t think so. But a jury could certainly be led to believe that Jeremy might have spent the time between seven and twelve o’clock working himself up into a rage and getting the cyanide. Then, when he got home, he could have pretended to make up with his father, offered to have a night cap with him, poisoned him, and then carefully set up the scene for a suicide by taking the money and other assets and hiding them.”

Annie remained absolutely still during Nate’s recital, but now she whispered urgently, “Do you believe this is what really happened?”

Nate shrugged, ramming his fists once more into his pockets. “Annie, I just don’t know. Contrary to your belief, I don’t want it to be him. He’s my client. And if he is guilty, it will destroy Mrs. Voss. But I can’t ignore the reality that Jeremy had a reason to kill Voss and certainly the best opportunity.”

Annie’s stomach lurched, and she suddenly feared she might become ill. She walked shakily over to a garden bench, sat down, and hunched over, pressing her hands to her cheeks, taking in deep breaths, trying to quiet her nausea.

“Annie, are you all right?” Nate sat down beside her on the bench.