Bloody Lessons: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by Locke, M. Louisa

  Annie had taken one look at the scene and gone over to pull the damp cloak off Laura’s shoulders, handing it to Beatrice and asking her to fix a pot of strong tea. She then removed Laura’s gloves, rubbed her hands, and urgently asked if she had been hurt. Did she need to see a doctor? When Laura whispered no, that she had just been frightened, Annie led her over to the rocking chair, taking the shawl from its back and wrapping it around her young boarder. Next, she’d instructed David Chapman, one of the other boarders who’d followed her into the kitchen, to go out to the alley and check to see if the man who had accosted Laura was gone. Chapman, a tall, awkwardly put together man in his early thirties, had nodded, picked up the lantern that the maid Kathleen held out to him, and gone briskly out the back door.

  As Beatrice handed Laura a cup of tea, Annie tried to stifle her anger and turned to Jamie, asking him to tell her exactly what had happened.

  The boy took a deep breath. “Oh, Mrs. Fuller, you see, I’d run ahead down the alley. We were on our way home from Clement Grammar. Mother asked me to wait and come home with Miss Dawson. I asked if it would be all right to come the back way since that’s the way I usually come, and she said yes. I would have never have done so if I’d known what would happen. I would never have put Miss Dawson in danger. I should have stayed with her the whole way. It’s what a gentleman would do. I am ever so sorry.”

  Annie moved quickly to give the young boy a hug, fearing he was going to dissolve in tears, saying, “Jamie, dear, I am sure Miss Dawson isn’t blaming you; just tell me what happened next, there’s a good boy.”

  He visibly pulled himself together and continued. “Miss Dawson waved that I should go on, so I ran down the alley and into the yard through the back gate. Dandy was there waiting for me. I just popped my head in the kitchen, Mrs. O’Rourke and Mother were there, and I told them I was going to walk Dandy back up the alley to meet Miss Dawson. I snapped the lead onto his collar, and we went back out the gate. Couldn’t have been but a minute. As we entered the alley, Dandy began to bark. He jerked so hard on the lead he pulled it right out of my hand and ran snarling into the fog. I was afraid there was another dog, and I didn’t want Miss Dawson to get frightened, so I ran right behind him, yelling for him to stop. I couldn’t see a thing; night had come on so sudden. I think I fell once.”

  Jamie looked down at the mud on his knees, shaking his head. “Then a light went on in the second story of the Sanderson’s house. You know how their house goes almost all the way back to the alley. I could just make out that there was some man who had grabbed Miss Dawson. They were struggling, and Dandy was leaping and snapping at the man, you know how high he can jump. The man kicked at him, but then I heard a shout from the Sanderson’s, and the man just turned, ran back down the alley, and disappeared. Maybe I should’a gone after him, but I went to Miss Dawson. She was crouched down and holding Dandy to her. He was licking her face. I put him back on the lead and brought Miss Dawson home.”

  “Oh, Jamie, it looks like you and Dandy saved the day once more.” Annie smiled warmly at him. “You did just right. Beatrice, do get down a treat for Dandy. He certainly deserves it, and maybe he will settle down.”

  The small black and white dog, who Jamie said was a Boston terrier, had been barking and leaping, as if to illustrate his prodigious ability to spring up four times his diminutive height. When Beatrice pulled out the jerky she kept in a jar on the windowsill, Dandy trotted over, his tiny crooked tail whirling, and sat down at her feet, his wide mouth open in a doggy smile.

  Now that the kitchen was finally quiet, the only sound the bubbling of the celery soup on the stove, Annie turned back to Laura and said, “Do you know who the man was? Did you recognize him?”

  Laura shook her head in the negative and whispered, “I never saw his face. It all happened so quickly.”

  Annie turned to Jamie, whose mother had pulled him close to where she was sitting at the old, scarred kitchen table, and said, “Could you tell anything about him? How tall he was, anything?”

  “He was taller than Miss Dawson but not by much. He had on a hat, pulled low, and I think he was wearing a scarf, so’s you couldn’t see but a bit of his face.”

  “What about his clothes? Did he seem to be some sort of street tough?” asked his mother.

  Annie nodded at this astute question. The young hoodlums of San Francisco, with their short dark jackets and tight, light-colored pants, had a style as distinct as that of the city’s prosperous gentlemen. When Jamie shrugged, she turned back to Laura. “Did you have any impression of him at all? Young, old, well-dressed?”

  Laura shifted away from her and said, “No, no, I can’t think. He was strong. I couldn’t move. I didn’t see anything. Then Jamie yelled, and Dandy came running up, and the man was gone.”

  “Did he say anything? Do you think he was trying to rob you?” Annie asked.

  “Yes, no, he was saying something…low, filthy words. I don’t remember. I don’t know what he meant.” Laura then sat up straight and began to rise, saying, “Oh! My satchel, it fell to the ground. All my school books were in it. Whatever will I do if it is gone? I must look for it.”

  As if on cue, the back kitchen door opened, letting in cold, mist-laden air. David Chapman entered, holding the lantern in one hand, and in the other he shook a leather satchel in triumph. “Miss Dawson, look what I found, kicked under the bushes behind the house three doors down.”

  The entrance of Chapman with her satchel seemed to galvanize Laura. She stood up, took the satchel from Chapman, moved over to the kitchen table, and rapidly pulled out four books, stacking them in a pile. She upended the satchel, and a small notebook and some sort of official record book fell out, followed by a small beaded purse. She opened up the purse, seemed satisfied with its contents, and sighed, clearly relieved.

  Annie came over to her and quietly said, “Is everything there?”

  “Yes, everything seems fine. I don’t know why I was so worried. I only had a few coins, and who would want a bunch of grammar school books?”

  Kathleen interrupted, her blue eyes bright with concern and her dark curls bouncing round her ears, saying, “But Miss, the man wouldn’t know that. It must’ve been some good-for-nothing hooligan. Thought you might be carrying something valuable. I think we should send for Patrick, don’t you, Mrs. O’Rourke?”

  Patrick McGee was Beatrice O’Rourke’s nephew and a member of San Francisco’s police force, as Beatrice’s departed husband had been. He was also Kathleen’s devoted beau, and Annie wasn’t surprised at her suggestion.

  “Isn’t he stationed past Van Ness?” Annie responded. “I don’t suspect his superiors would be pleased he left his post. But I do think that we should tell Mr. Stanley, our own patrolman, what happened. Mr. Chapman, could we impose on you again and ask that you go out on O’Farrell and look for him?”

  “Oh, Mrs. Fuller, is that necessary?” Laura agitatedly pushed the books and notebooks back into her satchel and held it to her chest as if it were a shield. “There is so little I have to tell him. I just want to forget about it.”

  Annie was torn. She sympathized with Laura’s desire to put the incident behind her, which was exactly how she would have responded if something similar––when something similar––happened to her, but she also felt that the younger woman wasn’t being completely forthcoming. She didn’t know Nate’s younger sister that well, having met her less than two weeks ago. But from the way that Nate had always described Laura, Annie would have expected her to be more angry than frightened, at least once the first shock was over. Her behavior made Annie feel uneasy. If only Nate were here. This thought prompted her to look at the kitchen clock. It was a little before six. Nate should be here by eight at the latest. Annie no longer scheduled clients for Wednesday evenings, since this was the one night Nate could routinely get away early enough from the law offices to see her during the week.

  She made a swift decision. “Laura, you don’t have to speak to Mr. Stanley.
I will. In fact, why don’t you go on up to your room, and Kathleen will prepare a bath for you.”

  Laura visibly relaxed and smiled at her. “Oh, a bath sounds lovely. But I know it’s near dinnertime. I don’t want to be a bother.”

  Beatrice came up to her and patted her on the shoulder. “Now dearie, don’t you worry. There’s plenty of hot water in the stove’s reservoir; it won’t take a moment for Kathleen to fill the hip bath. Mercy me, half of the boarders who are home are standing right here in the kitchen, so’s none of them are going to fuss about dinner being a tad bit late. Besides, all I have left to do is the chops, and that won’t take but a moment. Now Jamie, my boy, why don’t you let your ma take you up to change out of those muddy pants, and you can tell Miss Minnie and Miss Millie dinner will be at quarter past. Dandy, our hero, can stay down here with me.”

  Annie’s heart warmed as she watched the older woman take command. Beatrice had first been a parlor maid in the home of Annie’s aunt and uncle, back when Annie was a young girl. Then she left service and became the respectable wife of a San Francisco police captain. When her husband was killed in the line of duty, she again returned to the O’Farrell Street house, this time as the housekeeper and cook, a position she retained when Annie inherited the house two years ago. She was in her late fifties, short of stature, excitable, opinionated, cheerful, and of unwavering good sense, and Annie loved her.

  Chapman, hearing the voice of authority, nodded to Mrs. O’Rourke and politely permitted Barbara Hewitt and Jamie to precede him up the back stairs. Kathleen went into the laundry room to get the tin hip bath, and Annie went over to Laura and put her arm around her. “You will feel more yourself once you have a bath and get warm. After you are done, you can join me in my room for a light supper. Before you know it, your brother will be here. I am sure you will feel better then.”

  “Oh, no. I can’t see Nate, not tonight. I don’t feel strong enough…he’d see…” Laura stopped speaking and gave a little shake, pushing her hair back from her face. She began to speak more calmly. “Please, would you tell him what happened? Tell him that I am perfectly well but that I retired early. I know how upset he will be, and I don’t feel strong enough to deal with reassuring him that I am all right. And I am; I’m perfectly all right.”

  Annie said she understood, which she did, having had her own difficulties telling Nate things she knew would upset him. But as she watched Laura leave the kitchen to go to her room, Annie couldn’t help but feel that Nate’s sister was anything but all right.

  Chapter Three

  Wednesday, late evening, January 7, 1880

  "Mrs. Upham Hendee, Business Medium, 207 Kearny street. Circles Tuesday and Friday evenings, Sittings daily." ––San Francisco Chronicle, 1880

  “What the hell? Why would anyone…was she hurt?” Nate stopped, feeling like he had been punched in the gut. His little sister, attacked. He couldn’t breathe.

  Annie slid closer to him on the parlor settee and squeezed his hand, saying, “She’s fine. She will probably have a few bruises, but Kathleen who attended her at her bath reported that she didn’t see any cuts or swelling.”

  He put his other hand over hers, its warmth providing a small comfort. He took a deep breath and said, “Good, good. And this happened in the back alley? When?”

  “Yes, Nate. I told you. Laura and Jamie were coming back from school a little before five.”

  Nate thought about the thick fog he had waded through this evening on his way from his law offices to Annie’s house. How dark it had seemed walking the half a block up from where he got off the horsecar at Taylor. The alley would have been pitch black. He imagined how frightening it would be for his sister to have a man lunge out of the darkness at her.

  He felt a new spurt of anger. “It would have been dark by then; why the devil did they come the back way?”

  “Since he doesn’t have a front door key, Jamie is used to going that way when he comes home. Honestly, I would never have considered the alley dangerous before. Kathleen takes that route all the time when she leaves the house, and I do when I am planning on going south to Market Street.”

  “In the dark?” Nate realized how sharp he sounded, and he tempered his tone. “I mean, what kind of lighting is back there?” He knew questioning Annie’s judgment on safety issues would just get him into trouble, given their past history. But hang it all, this was his precious little sister!

  Annie stirred and pulled her hands away, fiddling with the small brooch at her neck. “The houses on each side of the alley do provide some illumination. However, I see your point. With night coming on, in the fog, I would probably not have chosen to go that way, and Kathleen is usually being escorted by Patrick when she comes home that way at night.”

  Nate sighed. “I suppose Laura wouldn’t have thought anything about going down a dark alley, since that is the condition of most country roads. Even San Jose isn’t that well lit, not like San Francisco.”

  “Jamie was very upset. Not just that it was his idea to go that way but that he ran ahead to the house, leaving Laura alone in the alley for a moment. He felt he’d failed to act the ‘gentleman!’ Sweet boy. Frankly, if he hadn’t gone right back to the alley, and Dandy hadn’t made a racket attacking the man, I am not sure the outcome would have been as benign.”

  The memory of Annie struggling last fall with an unknown assailant filled Nate’s mind, and he blurted out, “Do you think this had anything to do with the Framptons and what happened in October? Could the man have been after you?”

  Annie shook her head slowly. “I hadn’t thought of that. I don’t see why it would. Laura is taller than I am, and her hair is much darker, although in the fog that might not be obvious. Oh Nate, I would feel awful if she had a fright because of me! What are we going to tell your parents? I promised so faithfully she would be safe with me!”

  Nate pulled her into his arms and said, “Now, Annie. We don’t know that you were the target. I just can’t think why Laura would be. It was probably just some ruffian looking for a few coins. I imagine Laura is going to have something to say about whether we can tell my parents about this. She didn’t have any idea who the man was?”

  “No, she said she couldn’t see him because he grabbed her from behind, so she had no idea what he looked like or who he was. But…”

  Nate looked down at Annie, who was fingering one of his lapels, a mannerism he had come to associate with her when she was worried. When she didn’t go on, he said sharply, “What is it? Do you think she knew who he was?”

  Annie shrugged. “I don’t think so. I just felt there was something odd about her reaction. Of course she was shaken up, but I expected her to be more outraged. I guess I had built up this image from all you had told me about her, that she was fearless…”

  Nate chuckled softly, pulling her tighter. “Annie, my love, just because you are capable of facing down murderers and assailants with aplomb doesn’t mean every woman is as brave or as foolhardy as you are.”

  Annie laughed, turned further into his arms, and rested her head on his shoulder. As they sat entwined, Nate breathed in her distinctive spicy scent, rubbed his chin against the silk of her hair, and welcomed the comfort of having the woman he loved in his arms. He had met Annie Fuller last August, less than six months ago, when the death of one of his law firm’s clients brought them together. At first, he’d been confused by how attracted he was to a woman who flouted societal norms left and right. Annie was independent to a fault and an assertive advocate of women’s rights. She had even been educated in the masculine world of high finance by her father, a famous stock broker. Yet none of this had protected her from the financial ruin and death of her husband that had left her an impoverished widow, dependent on her in-laws back east.

  Two years ago, Annie had inherited this house in San Francisco, turned it into a boarding house, and created the role of Madam Sibyl, clairvoyant. She’d explained to him that, while she didn’t believe in the palmistry and sta
r charts she used with clients as Madam Sibyl, this was the only way men would take a woman’s business advice seriously, and she needed the money to supplement the income she got from the boarding house. He pictured how she had looked as she defended herself, her cheeks flushed, her delicate chin thrust up, her brown eyes darkening with defiance.

  Nate had come to admit that some of the very characteristics that made him uncomfortable also made Annie more attractive to him. They were some of the very same characteristics she had in common with his sister, whom he teasingly called his little Susan B. Anthony. Annie was correct; he would have assumed that Laura would respond to a threat, particularly one by a man, by getting angry. But he wasn’t sure he still understood her; she’d seemed different over the holidays, more subdued than usual. That was, until she got the letter about coming to San Francisco. Then the old Laura had reappeared.

  He said, “Annie, do you think that Laura is hiding something? She didn’t write to me very often last fall. Normally, when we are apart, she writes about once a week, letters filled with all her doings and little enthusiasms.”

  “Oh Nate, from some of the things she has said to me this week, she didn’t feel her first teaching assignment went at all well. She might have been embarrassed to admit this to her big brother. At her age, you often think you are invincible, that you can do anything. Then you hit your first obstacle. It can knock the stuffing out of you.”

  Nate smiled, thinking of his first trial. What a disaster. Thank goodness his Uncle Frank had finally brought a new partner into the firm. Able Cranston was a first-rate defense attorney, and Nate had already had the opportunity to second him in two trials. He was learning a good deal that only practical experience, not law books, could teach him.