“Did the drafting of your closing argument go well? Was Cranston able to give you good advice?”
“Yes, he did,” Nate said, “but let me say hello to Mitchell and Timmons first before I tell you.”
“Kathleen has some news as well, so let’s go over to the small parlor, that way we can still officially say we are chaperoning, but we can give the couples a little privacy.”
She then went over and told Tilly, who was now gathering up the plates and mugs, that once she was done helping Beatrice in the kitchen she could retire for the night. “And Jamie, why don’t you go down and get Dandy and take him out for the night? Your mother and Mr. Chapman will be home from the theater any minute. And Kathleen, could you come over to the small parlor? I would like you to tell Mr. Dawson firsthand what you saw today.”
Leaving Kitty and Mitchell sitting beside each other at the upright piano looking for music, and Seth and Laura chatting away while folding up the tissue paper the ornaments came in, Nate and Kathleen followed Annie across the hall.
Nate got the logs in the fireplace burning merrily, while Kathleen told him about seeing a young man steal a whole lot of expensive items at the Silver Strike.
She said, “It was like watching a play, sir. This girl, Cherry, set up such a fuss, dropping change, getting the clerk all flustered, and attracting the attention of everyone nearby. Just so’s the man could take the things with no one the wiser. Then he walks out as calm as can be.”
“Oh my. Did anyone else see this?”
“No, Miss Dawson and Miss Blaine were still in the millinery department. But as soon as I told them what happened, Miss Dawson knew just what to do. She went over to Biddy and asked her to take us down to the first floor and introduce us to Mr. Jenkins. She told him how she was your sister and that she had important information that the police needed to know about a shoplifter I had just seen.”
Kathleen went on to tell how she had to first tell her story to Jenkins, who then took them upstairs to Miss Birdsoll’s office and asked her to call Sergeant Thompson. “Miss Dawson talked into that funny box on the wall and told the Sergeant what I saw, and she said he was very pleased.”
Annie added, “The man was long gone, but Laura had the bright idea of buying some paper and pencils, and since Kitty is very skilled at drawing, while they ate lunch she used Kathleen’s description to create a picture of the man.”
“Sir, it were wonderful the way she did it. Better’n a photograph because it made him look so alive.”
Annie smiled at her maid then said, “Patrick came by this evening. He didn’t have much time because he was due back at the Silver Strike, but he thought Kathleen would like to know what was happening. After Laura’s call, Sergeant Thompson instructed Patrick to get out of uniform and go to the store. He picked up the picture Kitty drew from Miss Birdsoll and then proceeded to follow the cash girl Cherry when she ended work. See if she’d lead him to someone who matched the picture.”
“And did that happen?”
“Yes, Patrick said that she took a horsecar down south of Market and met the man in a back alley. He said it looked like the man handed her over some money. He’d probably already fenced the goods. The sergeant told him to follow the man to see if he was meeting any other girls and to find out where he lives.”
Nate nodded. “Clever. Important to discover if this man is part of a larger ring. Cherry sounds like small potatoes. Could even be other Silver Strike staff working with him. Did Patrick find anything more out?”
“He followed the man to a boarding house down off Mission. Seems like that is where he lives, so he reported back to Thompson. The plan is for Patrick to go early Monday morning to that man’s lodging and try to follow him during the day. See if he goes to any other stores, and see if he can spy out any other staff working with him.”
Nate turned to Kathleen and reached out and shook her hand, saying, “Well, Miss Kathleen. Between you and Mr. McGee, you may have given the police a chance to break up a gang of thieves and save Mr. Livingston a good deal of money over the next few weeks. Well done!”
Chapter 22
“GREAT BARGAINS in DRESS GOODS: WE ARE NOW OFFERING A LARGE line of FINE NEW DRESS GOODS at less than cost of importation.”––San Francisco Chronicle December 1, 1880
Monday morning, December 13, 1880
“Millicent, look at that doll sitting in the rocking chair in the store window. Doesn’t it look just like the one with the painted china face I got for Christmas…back in 1814? You were so jealous. Mrs. Dawson, it may be hard for you to believe, but Millicent could throw a mighty effective tantrum when she was younger. I’ll never forget. Such a to-do. I was ten and she was six and she’d only gotten a rag doll that Aunty Lottie made for her. She was so upset…although in time she came to love that doll to bits. She sewed your initials on the apron for you, didn’t she, sister? Aunty had made one for me when I was that age, and made a boy doll for Jasper that year too. Father made him put it away because he didn’t think it right for a boy to play with a doll. Aunty let him sleep with it when Father was on the River. Aunty was Jasper’s nursemaid, but she was also the one who taught both Millicent and me to sew.”
Annie watched fondly as Miss Minnie stared into the Silver Strike shop window as if it could transport her back to that long ago Christmas. And her elderly boarder had been correct; she had a very hard time imagining the quiet Miss Millie having a tantrum. She took a peek at her watch, not wanting to rush the two women, but she only had two hours free to take them on the promised tour of the store’s dressmaking department and they wanted her to pick out the material for her new dress first.
Before she could say anything, Miss Minnie shook her head and took her sister’s arm, pulling her toward the store’s entrance, saying, “Oh, that was a time. You were so young you probably don’t remember, Millicent. Father’s first steamboat was requisitioned by the army to help transport the Tennessee militia down to New Orleans a week before Christmas. Our older brother went with father and they didn’t come back until General Jackson had whipped those British in the great battle three weeks later. Mother tried to shield us from how worried she was, but I could tell she was frightened. Aunty’s husband was on that boat as well. She’s the one who explained to me why Mother was crying.”
As they entered the Silver Strike Bazaar, a floorwalker who was standing right inside to help direct people to the correct departments gave Annie a warm smile, murmuring, “Is there anything I can do to assist you, Mrs. Dawson?”
“No, thank you, I am actually going to do some more shopping today, Mr. Summerstone.”
Annie was proud of herself for remembering the man’s name, but that was in part because he was one of the people present the morning that Marie Fournier died and had been able to provide Mr. Jenkins with an alibi. Between 6:30 when the Villeneuves went down the stairs and 9:30 when Emmaline found her mother’s body, Mr. Summerstone was up on a ladder decorating the tree on the first floor. And he swore that he could see Mr. Jenkins that whole time. Annie doubted that was strictly true, but she never had taken Mr. Jenkins seriously as the murderer.
She led the Moffet sisters through a throng of shoppers to the counter where the wool cloth was displayed. Every year her wealthiest boarders, the Steins, gave her a new dress for Christmas, made by the Moffets. She’d tried to get the two sisters to hold off working on her present until after the holidays were over, since she knew that in addition to their regular clients they were working on the dress for Kathleen. And she knew the Steins, who were away up in Portland, wouldn’t mind. But Miss Minnie insisted that they at least get started on the outfit so they could give her a first fitting before she and Nate went down to his parents’ ranch after Christmas.
“Now Mrs. Dawson, you said that you were interested in something in green?” said Miss Minnie as she directed a tall male clerk to bring down several bolts of cloth to show them. “We will want a light-weight cashmere to take you easily into spring.” She ra
n her hands quickly over the cloth laid before them, frowning and dismissing two, which she had the clerk remove even before Annie had a chance to look at them. “Those were too heavy, but these three are the right weight. Do any of them appeal to you?”
Annie had decided she wanted a wool dress to supplement her tired old brown polonaise. Something she could wear at home, or out shopping, but good enough to entertain clients. She had her navy and her new ivory and blue silk dress for when she felt the need to dress up, and then the royal blue velvet for evening wear.
With this in mind, she looked at the three choices in front of her, but shook her head. One reminded her too much of celery…a vegetable she’d never been fond of…and one was so dark a green that it was almost black. After having been forced by a lack of funds to wear her black mourning clothes for nearly five years, she had an instinctive dislike of anything that reminded her of that time. The third was all right, what she would call an olive green, but not very exciting.
Miss Minnie said, “That’s right, dear, you need to fall in love with the material. Sir, can you bring us that forest green, and the light green next to it? And if you could locate a silk that would match them both, that would be very helpful.”
Annie ran her hand over the dark green wool when it was presented to her, thinking that the color was so vividly reminiscent of fir trees that it tricked her into thinking she smelled pine resin. Then she laughed out loud when she realized she really was smelling pine, surrounded as they were by the holiday greenery that was hung everywhere in the store. She looked at the lighter shade, which was more like a forest in sunlight and said, “I quite like both of these, Miss Minnie. Would you do the underskirt in the lighter shade?”
“Yes, that is what I would suggest. Later on, if you wished to have us make an overskirt in the lighter color for summer, we could do that easily enough. You could order the yardage now, and we could add it to your bill for Kathleen’s dress, which is almost done. Ah, yes, that silk is a perfect match, young man. What a good eye you have. Don’t you agree, Millicent?”
Annie stroked the soft wool one more time, finding it so comforting she didn’t want to let it go. Oddly, the sapphire stone in her engagement ring didn’t clash as much as she would have thought it would, and the richness of the green made her gold wedding band glow.
“Now dear, you go on and find Miss Bridget, while Millicent and I order the material and find thread and buttons and such. You mentioned wanting to look for something for Mrs. Stein. She said the other day that she wished she had a travel bag for her knitting. Didn’t she, Millicent? I believe you might find just the thing over with the yarn.”
Annie nodded and went to find the knitting department, musing at how brisk and to the point Miss Minnie was when she was acting in her professional capacity. And the knitting bag was an excellent idea. Mrs. Stein would undoubtedly be accompanying her husband on his business trips to Portland more frequently, with her newest grandchild living there. She wished she could think of something special to buy the Misses Moffet. She worried about them. They worked so hard. And with Miss Minnie’s eyesight going, and both of them suffering from the swollen joints and knuckles caused by a lifetime of sewing, they were going to have to slow down eventually.
Mrs. Stein said she’d talked to them about bringing in an apprentice…someone to do the majority of the sewing, letting them do the design and finishing work. But Miss Minnie just said they were doing fine. Such a shame they’d lost the little home they’d bought with the money they’d made from decades of scrimping and saving. All because their shiftless brother Jasper had mortgaged it, leaving them homeless when he died. Annie had faced a similar future when her first husband committed suicide, but she was young and had the good fortune to inherit her aunt and uncle’s home. No wonder Mrs. Fournier had been desperate when something similar happened to her. Hard to fault her for doing whatever she could to hold on to her shop.
Twenty minutes later, Annie stood with a knitting bag, all nicely wrapped in brown paper, looking for Biddy at the notions counter, where a whole row of clerks served a press of women shoppers.
“Mrs. Dawson, were you looking for me?”
Annie turned to see Biddy standing beside her. “Yes. Miss Minnie and Miss Millie are just finishing up. Are you sure Mr. Jenkins isn’t upset with me taking you away to accompany us on the tour of the dressmaking department? All the staff on this floor look run off their feet.”
“He just asked that I be back by twelve. He is so pleased that the police are close to rolling up the gang who has been shoplifting here that he’s actually in a very good mood. They told him that they expect arrests by this evening.”
“What about Cherry? I didn’t see her on this floor.”
“Oh, he sent her to work in the wrapping department, under the eagle eye of one of his trusted clerks so she can’t get into trouble. Stupid girl thinks it means a raise in her pay packet.”
“Good. I would hate her to tip off the man who actually stole the goods, especially if he is the head of the ring.”
“When I told Mr. Jenkins exactly what Kathleen witnessed, he said he’d now know what to watch for. He also got Monsieur Villeneuve to assign that Mr. Rutgers, the floorwalker, up to the third floor. Keep him away from Cherry, although I think he’s blameless of anything more than being a fool.”
“I suspect you’re right. Oh, here come the Moffets.”
Miss Minnie and Miss Millie slowly wended their way through the packed aisles toward them, their cheeks pink and their eyes snapping with excitement. Miss Minnie said, “Oh Mrs. Dawson, Miss Bridget, what a ‘tight squeeze’ as my mother would say when we attended a crowded ballroom. And with those musicians playing, well, it makes this seem even more like we’re in one of those long-ago parties, doesn’t it, Millicent? And now Mrs. Dawson, you lead the way and let’s see if we can’t help you solve the little problem of why such an excellent store is being sold inferior cloth.”
“Monsieur Villeneuve, I must tell you how impressed my sister and I are with your workshops. So beautifully ventilated and lighted, with all the modern machines. And the pleasing colors. I understand that you had much to do with designing these rooms. I can tell you have the soul of a great artist. No wonder Mrs. Fournier was able to create such wonderful dresses for you in such warm and inviting environs. And we are so grateful you have taken the time to show us around.”
“Mademoiselle Minerva, Mademoiselle Millicent, it is entirely my pleasure. It is you who are the artists. I was only in this fair city but a month when I first heard of the Moffets, dressmakers superior. The daring use of plaid, the short-waisted basque, the sleeves so wide when only a hint of this style could be found in the great houses of Paris.”
Annie stood with Biddy and watched this polite exchange of compliments with some amusement. She’d never quite believed Miss Minnie’s stories of the gracious life she and her sister had lived before their beloved papa lost his fortune when his steamship exploded. But as the elderly lady matched the Frenchman’s extravagant gallantry with abundant southern charm, she could finally envision her as one of those beautiful, haughty belles of the ball, with her little sister beaming on from the sidelines. Although Miss Minnie insisted that it was Miss Millie who’d been the family beauty.
She was glad the sisters were enjoying themselves so much, but she was afraid they were never going to get rid of Villeneuve so they could ask the workers some questions about the inferior quality cloth, and they were running out of time.
Then Miss Millie touched her sister’s arm and nodded at Annie, and Miss Minnie said, “Monsieur Villeneuve, my sister reminds me that you are a busy man, and we must not keep you from your important duties. Before you go, however, I wonder if we might impose on you to show us the room where you store your material? Last month you were featuring a walking suit made out of a very unusual shade of rose wool, and we would so much like to determine where you were able to purchase that cloth.”
“But of course
. Mademoiselle Bridget can take you through to the room where we keep that inventory. Each bolt has a number on it, and there is a ledger with a list of those numbers and where we got the material…number of yards ordered, number of yards used. If any is left. We are at, what do you say, sixes and sevens, with Madam Fournier’s…death. What we are to do without her genius, I do not know.”
Monsieur opened up the door to the storeroom and bid them adieu. As soon as he disappeared out into the corridor, Miss Minnie said, “Now, Miss Bridget, which seamstress has been here the longest and might be most familiar with the inventory system?”
“Miss Triple, Mrs. Fournier’s assistant. She is wonderful at the technical end of sewing and helping train the new seamstresses, but I don’t think she ever does any of the design work.”
“Could you introduce us to her? I have a few questions I would like to ask.”
Miss Triple turned out to be a short, heavy-set woman in her fifties, with a sweet motherly air. She, like Monsieur Villeneuve, was familiar with the Moffets’ reputation as designers, and she quickly understood the import of Miss Minnie’s questions.
She said, “I am so glad that someone is going to look into the problem with the quality of the cloth we have been getting. I know it distressed Marie…Mrs. Fournier. But she said she couldn’t do anything about it. ‘My hands are tied,’ were her exact words.”
“And you say there are examples of inferior materials still in the storeroom?” Miss Minnie said. “Could you show us?”
The storeroom was quite large, with bolts of cloth stacked on rows of deep shelves. Miss Triple showed how the inventory was arranged by type of cloth, color, and the purpose of the material, whether it was destined to be used in making men’s shirts, children’s clothes, ladies’ dresses, or reserved for Marie Fournier’s custom work.
“Here is a bolt of what was supposed to be fine linen for the higher end men’s shirts. You can see the way the weave is so loose here, the way it frayed when the tailor’s apprentices cut it. Mrs. Fournier had them make it up into some boys’ shirtwaists so Mrs. Martell could include them as part of her end of summer sales in the children’s department. That way the material wouldn’t be such a loss in terms of revenue.”
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