Murder on Nob Hill (5 page)

She smiled as the sense of this plan became clear, then removed a silver dollar from her reticule. “I would be pleased to have you represent my affairs, Miss Woolson.”

When we presented ourselves at Mr. Shepard's law offices, the

ferretlike clerk I had encountered the previous day scurried off in a flurry of agitation. He’d scarcely left the room when I felt the small hairs on my neck begin to prickle.

Annjenett leaned closer. “There's a man staring at you, Sarah. I remember seeing him yesterday. He's—very noticeable.”

Even before I turned, I knew it was the orange-haired associate attorney, ensconced in his cubicle of an office, eyes boring into my back in the rudest possible manner. I was annoyed to feel my pulse rate unaccountably increase. The man's audacity knew no bounds!

Furious, I returned his rude stare until, with a fierce frown, he bent his head to the jumble of papers and books spilled across his desk. For the life of me I couldn’t understand why Joseph Shepard would employ such a man. If someone had been foolish enough to cast Paul Bunyan in the role of an attorney, he couldn’t have appeared more incongruous than this churlish giant!

Joseph Shepard's arrival cut short my musings. With an ill concealed glare in my direction, he took Annjenett's hand.

“My dear Mrs. Hanaford. What a pleasure to see you again so soon. Although I’m sorry to inform you that, as yet, I haven’t been able to reach Mr. Wylde.”

“I’m not here to discuss Mr. Wylde,” Annjenett informed him. “Miss Woolson wishes to call your attention to one or two items in my husband's estate.”

Although I was prepared, it was nonetheless disconcerting when he produced that awful noise in the back of his nose.

“Not only can I think of no possible reason to discuss Mr. Hanaford's affairs with Miss Woolson,” he informed us. “It would be unprofessional to even contemplate such a thing.”

“Since Mrs. Hanaford has retained me to handle her affairs, I’m afraid you will have to contemplate it,” I told him evenly.

I wouldn’t have thought it possible for the man's face to become any more suffused with color, but I was mistaken. It was now positively purple, and the noises issuing from his mouth did not in any way resemble the English language. Since he seemed incapable of coherent speech, and we had once again become a spectacle for the entire office—including the irascible junior attorney—I was forced to take the matter in hand.

“Shall we adjourn to your office, Mr. Shepard? I would prefer to discuss my client's affairs in a more private forum.”

“Your client.
Your
client—!”

In the back of the room, I observed the ill-mannered associate guffawing in his glassed den. Since I had no wish to afford him further amusement at my expense, I motioned Annjenett in what I thought must be the direction of the senior attorney's office. As I’d anticipated, Mr. Shepard had little choice but to follow. At the end of the hall, he unceremoniously motioned us into an over-furnished office of pretentious proportions.

“See here, Miss Woolson,” he began, seating himself behind a heavy oak desk. “You go beyond the boundaries of legal propriety.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Shepard,” I replied calmly. I was determined—not only for my own pride, but because my client had expressed such a high regard for my abilities—that no matter what the provocation, I would conduct myself in a professional manner. “I seek only to settle Mrs. Hanaford's affairs as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

“That is precisely what this firm has endeavored to do,” the senior partner snapped. “May I remind you, madam, that we have represented Mr. Hanaford and his bank for close to twenty years?”

“Regretfully, Mr. Hanaford is no longer with us. His widow, on

the other hand, faces a domestic crisis that can no longer be ignored. Yesterday, I became aware of certain documents that will enable her to attend to these responsibilities while awaiting the resolution of her husband's estate.”

Shepard's small eyes gleamed. Clearly he thought he had me at last. My ignorance of the law had betrayed me. His jowls quivered as he hastened to point out the folly of my feminine naivete.

“Such a discover y would be truly remarkable,” he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “since I hold all documents related to the late Mr. Hanaford's estate. I can’t imagine what you think you’ve found that can abridge the due process of the law.”

Silently, I placed before him the papers I had uncovered in Mr. Hanaford's safe, then watched his expression change from smug dismissal to unmistakable shock. “Where did you find these?”

Briefly, I explained the events of the previous afternoon. “You may either transfer Mr. Hanaford's funds directly to her account at the bank,” I looked to Annjenett to make certain this arrangement was acceptable, then at her nod added, “or we’ll be happy to accept a note from you in that amount.”

Shepard looked stunned. “You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, sir, I never make light of the law.”

“Then you have taken leave of your senses. That is a very great deal of money.”

“It is indeed. Money which rightfully belongs to my client.”

I watched the attorney fight down his fury. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely in control. “Miss Woolson, your behavior is not only impertinent, it is unethical. You’ve preyed on this poor widow's bereavement by making her believe that you—with no experience of the law—can accomplish what one of the oldest and most respected firms in San Francisco cannot. You, a—a woman moreover!”

I drew myself up until my eyes were level with the attorney's. He had touched upon a nerve that begged, nay,
demanded
a response.

“It is true that I lack experience of the law, Mr. Shepard. But who is to blame for that? How is any woman to receive practical experience when no man will hire her? But you are mistaken if you assume I lack knowledge. My father has more than done his duty toward his children. Now I propose to use that knowledge to rectify a grievous oversight.”

“Really, madam, you go too far!”

“On the contrary, sir, I fear my breeding prevents me from going far enough.” I gathered up the papers that would soon make Annjenett Hanaford a wealthy woman in her own right. “Today is Friday. We understand it may take a day or two to arrange for such a considerable amount of cash. We’re willing, therefore, to give you until Wednesday of next week to complete the transaction. I trust that is satisfactory?”

“I assure you, Miss Woolson, there is nothing satisfactory about this business.” He glared at me for a long moment, then turned to Annjenett. “My dear, I shudder to contemplate what your late husband would think of this. I daresay he would turn over in his grave if he knew you were contemplating leaving this firm. And for a— a woman who is foisting herself off as an attorney.”

For the first time since entering the office,Annjenett spoke, and I was pleased to note her resolute expression. “I appreciate the help you have given me since my husband's death, Mr. Shepard, but I am determined that Miss Woolson shall continue as my personal attorney.” She hesitated. “I can, however, think of a compromise. If you were to take Miss Woolson on as an associate, there’d be no need for me to leave this firm.” She smiled, and it would have required a harder heart than Joseph Shepard's to resist such charm. “It would please me very much if you would agree.”

“I, ah, that is—” The attorney stumbled to a stop and I watched a plethora of emotions cross his round face. In the end, I wasn’t surprised when greed won the day.

“Such an arrangement will be fraught with difficulties,” he told her unhappily, “particularly for Miss Woolson. I fear she’ll find few friends among the staff. The hours are long and strenuous, the work difficult. Much of it, for that matter, will undoubtedly be beyond her comprehension.

As I began to protest this latest affront, he interrupted, saying, “I cannot imagine that any clients, other than yourself, will desire Miss Woolson's services.” He paused, plainly waging one final internal battle, then continued, his voice edged with distaste. “However, for your sake we’ll give it a try. At least for a week or two.”

Annjenett gave him her most heartwarming smile. “That's most kind of you, Mr. Shepard. I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

Shepard grimaced. Even a client of Mrs. Hanaford's importance could not convince him of this unlikely possibility. Regarding me balefully, he rose and led us out of the office.

It took me but a moment to realize how loose this arrangement was to be. Judging by the speed with which we were being herded down the hall, I had the impression Joseph Shepard would be happy if his first female attorney were an unseen, as well as silent, associate. I immediately set out to rectify this miscalculation.

“I shall require an office,” I declared, refusing to be led another inch until this matter was settled to my satisfaction.

Shepard turned and stared at me incredulously. “An office?”

“Unless you would prefer me to conduct my practice from the clerk's anteroom. Which I’m prepared to do, if necessary.”

You might have thought I’d suggested opening a tea shop on the premises. After a half-stifled noise from his nasal region, he spun around and marched back down the hall, throwing open a
door and motioning us inside. The room we entered was small and gloomy; the only light came from two small windows placed high on one wall. There was an old, very dusty desk and two straight-back chairs, one of them missing a leg. I guessed that, until recently, this space had been used as a storage room.

“You may work here in the unlikely event there is a need,” he said crossly. “I do not expect Mrs. Hanaford's affairs will require your presence more than once or twice a month, if that.”

This was another point I thought best to set straight. “On the contrary, I intend to carry my share of responsibility. I shall put in a full day's work, each and every day of the week.”

When he appeared incapable of a reply, I decided this was as good a time as any to outline my goals. “I’m primarily interested in issues pertaining to women, although I’m prepared to handle other cases as the need arises. Of course, I’ll have to do something about this room.” Ignoring the man's incoherent sputters, I regarded the spartan chamber. “Several ideas spring to mind.”

“May I ask, madam, why you should presume to have ideas about my office?” The irksome junior attorney stood in the doorway holding an armload of books. His fierce turquoise eyes darted from me to the senior partner. “More to the point, what are you doing here in the first place?”

“There's been a change of plans,” Shepard told him shortly. Looking as if he might choke on the words, the senior partner explained that I would be joining the firm as an associate attorney. “On a trial basis,” he hastened to add. “Miss Woolson will be— representing Mrs. Hanaford's interests.”

The younger man emitted a half-strangled oath, then moved forward in such a rush that the books he carried tumbled onto the floor before he could reach the desk. “Good lord, man, have you taken leave of your senses?”

The senior partner was clearly at the end of his tether. If he could not take his wrath out on me for fear of losing one of his most valued clients, there was nothing to prevent him from venting his fury on a hapless junior attorney. “Whom I hire or do not hire is patently none of your concern, Mr. Campbell,” he pronounced through clenched teeth.

“It is certainly my concern if this woman is to be placed in my office,” the younger man argued. “I’ve waited more than two years to move out of that fishbowl. We had an agreement.”

“You forget yourself, sir,” Shepard snapped with growing fury.

I had grown weary of this juvenile squabbling. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” I said to the red-haired associate. “I’m Sarah Woolson. And this is Mrs. Cornelius Hanaford. You are—?”

I’d caught the man off guard. “Robert Campbell,” he replied. “But I have no intention of allowing some supercilious female to—”

“Your intentions are of no interest to me, Mr. Campbell. Despite your appalling manners, however, I believe in honoring a bargain. If you were promised this room, then you shall have it. I have no objections to using your cubicle until more suitable arrangements can be made.”

“I require no favors from you, madam,” said the ungrateful man, his Scottish burr becoming more marked by the minute. (Absently, I noted that his accent seemed to become more pronounced in direct ratio to the state of his perturbation.) “Trust a woman to intrude her meddlesome nose into affairs that in no way concern her.”

“Trust a man to behave as if he were the only creature fit to inhabit the earth. I offer you justice and you thank me by behaving in the most overbearing, impertinent—”

“Enough!” Joseph Shepard glowered at both of us. “Miss Wool-son will take this office. You, Campbell, will return to the room you’ve been using. Not one more word,” he continued before the junior associate could protest. “The matter is settled.”

His face dark, Campbell turned and stormed wordlessly from the room. Joseph Shepard mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “Rest assured I will report this business of Mrs. Hanaford's separate property to Mr. Wylde.”

“You must do as you see fit, Mr. Shepard,” I told him. “However, it will not alter the fact that we expect payment of Mrs. Hanaford's money by Wednesday of next week. I shall file the appropriate papers at the courthouse this afternoon.”

I nodded to Annjenett and we started for the door. “I’ll see you first thing Monday morning, Mr. Shepard. Good day.”

Joseph Shepard was beyond speech. I caught a last look of him staring after us, openmouthed, as we marched through the antechamber and took our leave of the office.

Y
ou were splendid,” Annjenett proclaimed as we reached her waiting carriage. “Please, let me give you a ride. You mentioned you were going to the courthouse?”

Before I could reply to this generous offer, a handsome gentleman, dressed in a stylish dark blue frock coat and jaunty necktie, approached us. Although I was certain I hadn’t met the man before, he seemed oddly familiar.