Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (45 page)

Maybe he felt embarrassed, assuming that she would have told everyone about what occurred last night. It couldn’t be pleasant for a man to think that other people knew he had proposed and been rejected. But was that even what had happened? While she certainly hadn’t responded the way he had wanted, had she actually said no? How could she, when he hadn’t really proposed, just told her he wanted to marry her?

You really made a mess of it didn’t you, Nate,
she thought, now able to see a glimmer of humor in the whole ridiculous situation. No wonder he didn’t want to come to the house. Could the reference to the Framptons have been just an excuse to get her to meet elsewhere? He wouldn’t be that devious, would he? Or stupid. Surely he’d realize how angry she’d be if it turned out to be a ruse. Then again, last night he had proved how little he understood her, so maybe he was being that foolish.

Sell the house, quit working!
All she had to do was think about this and her blood began to boil. Yet, absurdly, it was his blithe assumption she wouldn’t mind if he moved away to live in Sacramento for years before they married that had gotten her most upset last night.

Annie closed her eyes for a second, feeling sick when she remembered the panic and pain she’d seen in his face, knowing that, however misguided he had been about what she wanted, he did care for her, and that her response had hurt him.

No, I will not go into this meeting feeling sorry for Nate Dawson,
she chided herself.
He had said he had information on the Framptons, and she would make sure they stuck to that topic. They would be in a public place, and it would be completely inappropriate to talk about anything personal.
Yes, that’s the approach I will take.

Annie noticed that the car had made the turn on Washington and they were now going right through the middle of China Town. This early in the evening lights still streamed out from every storefront, and the narrow sidewalks and alleys were crammed with people and livestock, illuminated by brightly-colored paper lanterns. She thought of Wong, the one resident of China Town she knew, and how wonderful it would be to see him, with his grave smile, get on the car. Would he be shocked if she sent him a letter? When the car turned to go up Stockton, they left China Town behind, and the incline began to steepen somewhat. As the car slowly rumbled through the intersection with Broadway, she got up and made her way to the front of the car, ready to get off at Vallejo, where Nielson’s was located.

She wondered whether Nate had chosen this restaurant because it was near the boarding house where he and his uncle lived. Could someone who had been attending the Frampton séances have agreed to meet him at his home to talk to him? Perhaps he thought he could then convince this person to meet her at a nearby restaurant, knowing she would be reluctant to have anyone come to her house, but be equally unwilling to meet them at his home. In those circumstances, the restaurant made sense.

When she stepped down from the car and watched it continue on its way up Stockton, she noticed how much darker it was here in the residential section of the city. The street lamps were further apart, the few stores were shuttered, and only an occasional beam of light spilled out from the narrow row house windows. Ready to cross Vallejo, she looked to the left and had her breath taken away by the sight of what looked like a ladder of lights climbing into the sky. In a moment, she realized she was looking at the gas lamps climbing up the steep eastern front of Russian Hill. When she looked to the right, she saw a similar effect as Vallejo made its way up the slope of Telegraph Hill. From comments Nate had made about the steep climb to his boarding house, she concluded that he lived three or four blocks from where she was standing.

However, he was probably already at the restaurant, and she really should get going. She began to walk quickly towards Nielson’s, which was on the corner of Columbus Avenue and Vallejo. The restaurant had a nice green-striped awning and gilded sign that glittered under the corner street lamp, and there was a couple just coming out of the entrance, letting loose a burst of conversation and clinking china. Annie hesitated when she got to the door of the restaurant. She had assumed that Nate would be waiting for her outside, and she didn’t want to go in if he wasn’t there yet. Looking at her watch again, she saw it was now almost twenty-five minutes after eight. Given how late she was, he might have simply gone inside.

Just as she put out her hand to grasp the brass door handle, a young boy ran up and said, “Mrs. Fuller? The gentleman asked me to give you this and said could you come straight to the house, he’s waiting there.”

The boy was just a little taller than Jamie, and he wore an enormous cap that nearly covered his eyes. She noted that his hand was very grubby as he thrust a small folded square of paper at her, which she took with surprise. She looked at the paper, and then thought she ought to give the boy a coin for his trouble, but when she looked back up from her purse she saw he’d flown, running down Columbus, quickly disappearing from view.

How odd!
It’s not like Nate to be so rude. Maybe this is his way of throwing my desire for independence in my face.

She unfolded the paper and saw the number 506. This must be the number of his boarding house, and it would put the house well up the hill. She picked up her skirts and, waiting impatiently for a hansom cab to pass, she crossed Columbus and walked quickly by a large imposing cathedral, which she registered distractedly as St. Francis of Assisi. Once she crossed Grant, she stopped to look for the numbers on the doors to her left. There wasn’t another street lamp between the one she was standing under and one way at the top a very long and steep block, and the moon wasn’t visible yet, so she wanted to get her bearings before she went any further. She was definitely in the right block.

She began to climb past a series of row houses, whose front stoops came right down to the sidewalk. Both sides of the street featured the same architecture, as if they had all been built at the same time, and there didn’t seem to be anyone out and about at this time of night.

A disconcerting slab of emptiness loomed ahead, as if one of the houses had disappeared, and Annie found her heart beating more rapidly until she figured out that it was the entrance to a tiny alley. She hurried past the dark void and felt better when she saw by the house numbers that she was more than halfway to her destination. She was surprised to see the entrance to a second dark alley, just about six houses up from the first, but was heartened to see that several yards up one of the houses had a lighted lamp next to the door.
I bet that’s Nate’s boarding house. H
e would have certainly made sure the light was on for me.

“
October: On the 11
^th
an unknown man died in the City Receiving Hospital from injuries received at the hands of parties unknown.”
—S
an Francisco Chronicle
, 1879

Nate was out of breath, cursing at what just three weeks out of the saddle and behind a desk had done to his stamina. He’d gotten a horse car pretty quickly to take him back to the center of the city, and there he’d made the decision to head up two blocks on foot and pick up Columbus Avenue, the new street that cut diagonally up from Washington to North Beach, like a miniature Market Street. Assuming that Annie had taken the Omnibus, which ran on tracks that still followed the old indirect zigzag path, he hoped to reach the restaurant about the same time she did. Within sight of his destination, he looked at his watch and saw it was twenty-five after eight. He had certainly made good time, but he was feeling winded and very disheveled.

Coming up to the intersection at Vallejo, he couldn’t see any sign of Annie standing outside Neilson’s. Maybe he had actually made it here before her. As he crossed the street, he looked west to see if she was walking up from the stop on Stockton, but the sidewalk was empty. However, as he looked to the right to make sure there weren’t any carriages coming down the hill, he saw the figure of a woman pause under the street lamp at the corner of Grant and Vallejo. He was sure it was Annie; he would recognize that erect carriage and absurd hat anywhere.

Why was she going up Vallejo? Would she be looking for him at his boarding house? Could this all be some elaborate scheme on the part of her matchmaking friends to get the two of them together?

Nate smiled at the thought. He could believe it of Mrs. O’Rourke, Mrs. Stein, and Kathleen to plan something this outrageous. They were formidable women.
But, oh, how angry Annie would be!
Yet, it really didn’t make sense that they would trick her into meeting him at his home. They were much too careful of her reputation.

Nate’s anxiety, which he had been holding at bay ever since Kathleen told him about the telegram, spiked, and he picked up his pace. Annie was now almost half way up the hill, just past the first of the two alleys that branched off Vallejo, and she seemed to be speeding up. He was now close enough to shout, and he had just opened his mouth to do so when a dark figure darted out of the second alley, and, in a blink of an eye, Annie disappeared.

Time first slowed to a nightmare pace as Nate sprinted up the half a block to the second alley, then it sped up as he rounded the corner and saw Annie struggling with a man trying to pull her deeper into the dark shadows of the alley. His only thought was to distract her attacker, giving Annie a chance to escape. So, he came at him from behind and wrapped his arms around him, pinning the man’s arms and using his own greater height to lift him off his feet. He felt more than saw Annie break away, because suddenly the man felt lighter and began to twist and kick in his arms. Nate shouted at Annie to run as he threw the assailant to the ground, just as he would do with a calf ready to be branded. He followed the man down and was trying to grab his arms and flip him so that he would be face down when he felt a sharp stab down his left side. Nate, seeing the knife in the man’s right hand, worked to get control of that arm while the assailant began a series of sharp jabs at his kidneys.

Nate had never tried to do serious damage to another human being; in fact, most of his fights had been with Billy, and he was always trying not to hurt him. But, when he heard Annie scream and realized she was still in danger, he knew this was a fight he needed to win, at all costs. So, he smashed his right fist into the man’s face, and, using the brief disorientation this caused, he grabbed the wrist that held the knife and snapped it, taking the knife from the now useless hand and throwing it down the alley.

Annie’s attacker, who was now screaming, head-butted him in the face and kneed him in the groin, the combination temporarily weakening Nate’s concentration. Before he regained his breath and his focus, the man lurched out from under him, gave him a savage kick in the ribs, and then ran down the alley, disappearing around the corner. Nate was trying to straighten out of the fetal position and stand when Annie appeared at his side. He gasped out, “Help me up. I need to follow him.”

“
No, Nate, let him go. You’re hurt and in no shape to run after him.”

With sheer will power, he refrained from checking his privates and got to his feet, using Annie’s shoulder to help him rise to a semi-standing position. His head swam, and he thankfully leaned on Annie, taking shallow breaths to combat the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. In a few moments he felt able to stand up straight and he cupped her face with his hands, whispering, “Annie, love, are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

She rubbed her cheek against his left hand, like a cat, and said softly, “I’m fine, just shaken. Oh, Nate, who was he? Who would have known about your telegram telling me to meet you here?”

“
Annie, I swear, I never sent that telegram. Thank heavens I happened to come to your house right after you left, and Kathleen told me about the message. This was clearly a trap of some sort.”

Having noticed a streak of dark wet material along her cheek, he said anxiously, “Annie, is that blood? You
are
hurt. He had a knife. Did he cut you?”

“
I don’t think so. We need to get in better light. Nate, it’s your hand, there is a deep wound. We need to get you to a doctor.” Annie pulled out a handkerchief from her coat and pressed it into his palm, closing his fingers over to keep it in place.

She then began to tug at him, pulling him out of the alley onto the sidewalk. “Hurry Nate, where’s the nearest doctor in this part of town?”

Nate put out his hand to slow her. “Annie, I’m sure it’s just a scratch. Look, my boarding house is right up the street. Let’s go there. One of the other boarders is a medical student. He can take a look at me, and we can make sure you are all right, as well. Would that be acceptable? I will ensure that my landlady attends us. It will be entirely respectable.”

Annie turned quickly, gave his arm a little shake, and said, “Nathaniel Dawson, you are the most absurd man I have ever met. You just saved my life and almost got killed in the process, and you are worried about propriety? Sometimes I want to kill you myself. Now hurry up, if you bleed to death I swear I will never forgive you.”

For Annie, the next few minutes were a jumble of confused impressions that mostly focused on her unfavorable comparison between Nate’s boarding house and her own. A faint unpleasant smell of cabbage overlay a mustiness that suggested a house where windows were seldom opened or carpets cleaned, and the front parlor that Nate led her into was crammed with very ugly furniture, which appeared to be from the previous century. The maid that Nate summoned was slow to arrive, surly, and only when Nate yelled at her did she grudgingly go upstairs to get the medical student and the owner of the boarding house to come downstairs.