by Rhys Bowen
He looked surprised now. “What put that idea into your head? Did your husband mention anything to you that he didn’t tell us?”
“Not at all. He said nothing of his reason for coming here. It just struck me as an interesting coincidence that he was sent to a city at the same time as a famous opera singer, and was killed just before that singer’s arrival. What’s more I spotted my husband at the Palace Hotel, which is where Caruso and the other opera singers are staying.”
“You spotted him?” He looked up sharply. “When was this?”
“At the movie theater back in New York. They were showing news from around the world and featured Caruso’s upcoming visit to San Francisco. And when they went inside the Palace Hotel, I saw my husband standing at the bar.”
“Interesting.” I could see he was considering this. Then he shook his head. “But I can’t see…” He broke off. “Who would want to assassinate an opera singer? A head of state I could understand, but Caruso? What would be the point?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “We have problems in New York with an Italian gang called the Cosa Nostra. Maybe they have some kind of score to settle with Señor Caruso.”
“Why didn’t he tell me this when we spoke? Why make up a story about land fraud? He would obviously have had my support in stopping an attack on Caruso.”
Reluctantly I had to agree. He gave me an understanding smile. “I can only imagine how painful this is for you, Mrs. Sullivan, and how you’d like to do something to make things better, but I really don’t see what there is to be done. If there were a clear hint of wrongful death, you could be sure I’d have my men onto it right away. As it is, there’s really nothing we can do. So please, go home to your family and try to get on with your life.”
I decided to strike while the iron was hot. “And the other thing I want, Chief Dinan, is to get permission to have my husband’s coffin dug up and shipped back to New York. I want him buried beside his father. I know that’s what his mother will want too.”
I realized as I said it that I would have to tell her soon and it would break her heart. Her only son. Her pride and joy. But would it be kinder to wait until I returned home and then give her the bad news in person, rather than the shock of a telegram?
“I don’t think that’s an impossible request,” he said. “But there are formalities that have to be gone through. Let us get this opera performance over and I’ll have time to set it in motion.”
I stood up then and thanked him. He shook my hand again. “Anything else we can do, please let me know.”
I came out to the street at least feeling hopeful that I’d be able to take Daniel’s body home. It wasn’t much but at this moment I was clinging to any thread of the positive. I rode the cable car up California Street to Bella’s house. She was dressed and sitting in her octagon room, checking a list. She looked up as I came in.
“My dear Mrs. Sullivan. How are you holding up? Did they take you to see Daniel’s grave? I’d be happy to have a suitable tombstone erected for you, at my expense. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”
“I want him brought home to New York,” I said. “And the police chief seemed optimistic that he could arrange it.”
“Well, that’s good news.” She patted a seat beside her. “Have you eaten? Would you like another tray in your room or shall I have Ellen prepare something for you in the dining room?”
“Thank you. I would like a little something. Just a sandwich. But first I must go up and see Liam.”
“He’s not there,” she said easily. “Li Na took him out.”
“Took him out? Where?” The words came out sharp and raw.
Bella Rodriguez shrugged. “I’m not sure. She said it would be good to give him fresh air and to allow him to run around.”
“She had no right to do that,” I snapped. “I thought my son was safe here. And now she’s taken him God knows where.”
Bella moved across and put a hand on my shoulder. “My dear Mrs. Sullivan, please do not distress yourself. I’m sure your son is quite safe with Li Na. Ellen would not have selected an untrustworthy nursemaid.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “It’s possible that my husband’s death was not an accident. And if that is true, then perhaps someone might want to harm me or my son.”
“Why would they want to do that?” She looked puzzled.
“I don’t know. Why would someone want to push Daniel over a cliff? Who even knew that he was in California?”
“You’re overwrought,” she said. “Nobody seems to think that your husband’s death was anything other than an accident, I’m sure. And Li Na will take good care of your child. So please, calm down. Would you like to borrow my smelling salts?”
“I don’t use them,” I said, shaking her off. “And I’m not about to faint and I’m not hysterical. It’s true, I am overwrought, but who wouldn’t be? If you’d traveled across the country looking forward to seeing your husband, only to find him dead and buried, how would you feel?”
A slight smile crossed her lips. “In my case I’d be feeling relieved. My husband was a dominating bully,” she said. “Like most men he seemed to think that I was a helpless little lady, quite unable to think for herself and only on this earth to provide comfort for him.”
“I gather from Tiny that you did not enjoy living on a ranch.”
“I couldn’t get away fast enough,” she said. “I longed for fine dresses, good company, and all I got was a lot of cows and flies.”
In spite of my tension I had to laugh. “So why did you marry him?”
“He was a slick talker and I needed to get away from home,” she said. “I regretted it instantly. You are lucky to have had a happy marriage and a delightful child. I was never blessed with children.”
As she said those words I was reminded of a similar conversation back in New York. Mrs. Endicott had said she had not been blessed with children and her husband was also of the dominating kind. And I’d promised I’d look out for him in California. I had spotted him at the hotel, but frankly at this moment I no longer felt up to paying him a call or delivering his wife’s best wishes. All I wanted was to take Liam, Daniel’s coffin, and myself back home to New York.
Bella stood up suddenly. “Here they are now. You see, all that worry for nothing.”
The front door was opened and I heard Liam’s laughter as they came in. I rushed out to join them. His face was sticky, his cheeks were pink, and he grinned at me.
“We running on grass,” Li Na said. “And feed birds. And eat Chinese candy. Have good time.”
“He certainly seems to be enjoying himself,” I said and watched her carry my son up the stairs. I followed her up to see Liam settled. He showed little interest in having me around so I returned to my own room. Soon Ellen brought up another tray for me with little ham sandwiches, a pickle, and a glass of lemonade.
“Ellen?” I asked as she was about to leave. “Do you know more than you’re telling me? Do you have a reason to believe my husband’s death was not an accident?”
She looked around warily, as if afraid of being overheard. “When he go out at night someone follow him.”
“Do you know who followed him?”
“A man. I go now.” She scuttled off, leaving me wondering. Was she talking about a nameless man watching on the street, or was it someone from this household, someone who had a reason for wanting Daniel out of the way? But that was absurd, wasn’t it? Bella could not have been kinder to me and could not possibly have any reason for wanting Daniel harmed. But Tiny? He had been on Bella’s ranch in New Mexico, but for how long? Was it possible that he’d gone to New Mexico to hide out after some kind of crime? Was he possibly Daniel’s land swindler?
Seventeen
After a short rest I came downstairs again to find the household busy with preparations. I heard voices and noises of clanging and banging, the scraping of chairs. I traced it to a splendid drawing room on the other side of the front hall. Two
maids I hadn’t seen before were dusting, polishing, and rearranging furniture. Before I could speak to them Bella reappeared, carrying a big display of spring flowers in an ornate glass vase.
“On the piano, I think, Alice,” Bella said, handing the flowers to her. She smiled when she noticed me. “I hope our noise did not disturb you, dear Mrs. Sullivan,” she said. “I’m afraid we’re having a little soiree this evening. The mayor and the city attorney are coming as well as some prominent people who are in town for Caruso, so I couldn’t put them off, could I?”
“Of course not,” I said.
“I do hope you will join us,” Bella said.
“Oh, I don’t think…” I began, but she waved this aside. “It will do you good. Make you forget your troubles for a little while. I have to say with all modesty that I give splendid parties, don’t I, Tiny?” she asked as Tiny came into the room, carrying more chairs. He only grunted and put the chairs down.
“Not there, Tiny. Over by the window,” Bella said. She turned to me. “Why do men have no idea about how to arrange a room for good conversation? But I think he does it deliberately. I know he hates these gatherings, especially when I include intellectuals and thinkers. Poor Tiny. He was designed for the wide open spaces, I fear.” She watched his back as he left the room again.
“Then why not let him return?” I asked.
“Let him return? You make it sound as if I keep him here. No, Mrs. Sullivan, he is here because he chooses to stay, I can assure you. Nobody else would pay him so well for so little.” She took my arm. “Let’s leave these girls to finish their work, shall we, and I’ll have some tea sent to the octagon room. The fog hasn’t come in yet and the view is quite lovely as the sun goes down over the ocean.”
I was steered to the room on the other side of the house and plied with tea and small Chinese almond cookies. The view was as spectacular as she had predicted. The water in the Bay sparkled. The sun hung like a red ball above a bank of white fog. I tried to enjoy what I was seeing but I was too numb to do more than stare out of the window. Afterward I went up to see Liam, who was waking from his nap. He did seem such a happy little boy, and he was already attached to Li Na. When he was having his supper I went down to change for the evening. I really didn’t want to be part of a gay soiree but Bella had insisted. “There will be some of your fellow countrymen there,” she said. “Father O’Brien from Star of the Sea Church is a delightful young man. Highly educated and interested in music and theater, and he has told me that he has a distinguished professor from Dublin staying with him. The man was actually a friend of the composer Bizet, can you imagine? And of course Caruso has chosen Carmen for his first performance.”
Neither Bizet nor Carmen meant much to me. I had been to a few theaters in New York but opera was outside my sphere of experience. But I could tell that Bella thought this was most impressive, so I had agreed to come down for at least part of the evening.
“I don’t suppose they’ll stay long,” she said. “Father O’Brien will have to be up early to say mass and the professor is very old, so I hear. But I think it will do you good to be in company, especially of Irishmen.”
So I was not allowed to refuse. I put on the one evening gown I had brought with me. When I looked in the mirror to put up my hair I could imagine Daniel coming up behind me, slipping his hands around my waist, and kissing the back of my bare neck. I turned away, unable to bear it any longer.
I heard the front doorbell ring, the sound of voices and laughter. More and more people arrived. I knew I’d have to go down but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. In the end there was a tap on my door and Francis was standing there. “Missy Bella want to see why you not come to join party. She send me to bring you down now,” he said, and escorted me down the stairs.
The drawing room was now full of people. The overhead chandeliers were twinkling with electric lights. Waiters were moving through the crowd with trays of champagne. The noise level was overwhelming and I would have turned around and escaped back to my room had not Bella spotted me.
“Here she is now,” Bella said, coming toward me with hands outstretched. “My dear Mrs. Sullivan, come and meet everyone. I have to tell you that we have here the cream of San Francisco society gathered. Our beloved Mayor Schmitz and his wife.” A vibrant and handsome man with a red beard stood up to shake my hand.
“Welcome to our city, Mrs. Sullivan,” he said. “And this is my right-hand man, City Attorney Abraham Ruef.”
This man was dark-haired with a sallow complexion and his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He bowed solemnly. “How do you do? I’m told you’ve had tragic news. I’m sorry you’ll have such bad memories of our city.”
“We’re going to do our best to see she also has some fond memories,” Bella said, whisking me away again. “Come and meet some fellow wanderers from the British Isles. Here is Mr. Douglas, from Scotland. If anyone can understand his accent, it will be you.” She laughed and moved on, leaving us together.
“You’re Irish?” he asked me. He had a bushy red beard that covered half his face.
“I am.”
“Fellow Celts,” he said, nodding approval. “This is nae my kinda gathering, I can tell you. Give me a simple ceilidh at home with whiskey and songs and bagpipes anyday. Do you nae miss your home, lassie?”
“I do, sometimes,” I said. “But my home is now New York.”
“New York? That was a place I couldn’t wait to get out of. I don’t go much for cities. Give me the wide open spaces.”
“What sort of business are you in, Mr. Douglas?” I asked.
“Land, lassie. Agricultural land. I’ve acre upon acre planted in the Central Valley. That’s where the wealth of California is going to come from. Not minerals, but crops. With the right management we can feed the nation.” He gave a satisfied grin. “This is the place of opportunity all right. Take me. I came with nothing and now I have a house on Nob Hill. And one in Sacramento.” He moved closer to me. “Take a look around the room,” he muttered. “Everyone you see here came to California and seized opportunity. The folks you see here are worth millions. That young man with his back to you is Mr. William Crocker, with his wife. He’s the son of our famous railroad baron, of course, and currently occupies that wee house on the top of the hill.” He grinned, sure that I’d had the Crocker mansion pointed out to me. “And that man he’s talking to is James Flood, son of the silver bonanza king. And the older man talking with Bella is Spreckels—you know, Spreckels sugar?”
I didn’t really know any of them but I nodded politely.
“You enjoy mixing with these people, do you?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Like I said, these musical evenings are not my cup of tea, but every time I’m invited to something like this I’m reminded of how far I’ve come from that little stone cottage in Scotland.”
I nodded with understanding. “I’ve had the same feelings in New York.” I glanced at the doorway as a short and dapper man sporting a neat little beard came into the room with an elegant woman in gray silk on his arm. He was wearing a uniform with a good deal of braid on it and in spite of his height he carried an air of confidence and authority. “Who is the man in uniform?” I whispered to Mr. Douglas.
“General Funston,” Mr. Douglas said in a low voice. “Head of the Presidio here. Also not the sort of man you’d expect to see at a gathering like this. He’s very much a no-nonsense sort—outdoorsman. More my type. But I gather his wife likes opera and there is to be a performance this evening. Probably that will be when I’ll make my excuses and leave. Can’t stand the row they make.”
I had to smile at this. I watched Bella come over to greet the general and his wife and I sensed the tension in the room as he shook hands with the mayor. So the army and the city were not all together happy neighbors. I had to admire the way Bella played the gracious hostess, drifting among the crowd, making sure everyone was introduced and having a good time. And yet I also noticed that her fists were tightly clenc
hed, even though she appeared smiling and relaxed. So she too felt some strain this evening.
My Scottish gentleman had wandered off and I was standing there with that lost and embarrassed feeling one has at a party where one knows nobody, when Bella came up beside me again, this time with an older woman. “I’ve found someone else you have to meet, dear Mrs. Sullivan. This lady is the widow of Mr. Wheeler, a British gentleman who made his fortune in the shipping business. Trade to China, wasn’t it, Elsie?”
“It was.” The older woman nodded to me. “And now he goes and dies on me and leaves me in this godforsaken place.” She spoke with an accent that betrayed origins in the north of England. Although she was dripping with jewels she was wearing black and suddenly it hit me. I was now a widow too. I should be wearing black as well. Thank heavens the dress I had brought with me was dark green and not my more flamboyant blue one.
“And if I might whisk Mrs. Sullivan away for a minute, I’ve just spotted her fellow countrymen over there in the corner,” Bella said. She took my arm firmly. “Come with me.”
She steered me across the crowded room. A young priest rose to his feet as I approached.
“This is our dear Father O’Brien,” Bella said. “Such a talented young man. He has the loveliest tenor voice. In fact it was suggested that the opera house save its money and have Father sing instead of Caruso.”
Those around us broke into laughter. The young priest blushed with embarrassment.
“Really, Mrs. Rodriguez, you shouldn’t say such things,” he said. “My voice is good enough for a rendering of ‘Danny Boy’ at an Irish gathering, that’s all.”
“Too modest.” Bella shook her head. “And he’s also a whiz at amateur theatricals. You should have seen him in The Pirates of Penzance last year. He brought the house down.”
The young priest was still looking distinctly embarrassed. “Enough of this, Mrs. Rodriguez. Mrs. Sullivan, let me introduce you to someone who is really distinguished,” he said. “This is Professor Flannery from Dublin who is staying with us at the rectory at the moment. He is an authority on modern opera and has been sent by the Irish newspapers to report on Caruso’s performance.”