Maids of Misfortune: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by M. Louisa Locke

  Amelia Voss slipped over to the desk and, opening a top drawer, pulled out several sheets of paper and a pen. After laying them on the desk, she moved without a word back to the sofa, but remained standing beside it. Samuels had Annie sit at the desk, cutting the cloth that bound her arms behind her; then he leaned over her shoulder and whispered in her ear. "Now, Lizzie, my love. You will write what I tell you to. Don't fret about your spelling; this isn't grammar school. But don't think of resisting. You'll do it for me in the end. But you can do it after a lot of pain, or not. It's your choice."

  Annie took up the pen and was surprised to see her hand wasn't shaking. Samuels pointed to the top of the paper with the knife and said, "Start here, write ‘I Lizzie.’ Why, Lizzie girl, I don't know your last name. That will never do. Write it down for me."

  Annie's mind went blank. What name had she given when she took the job? No one ever called her anything but Lizzie. Did she give her own name?

  Samuels' voice thundered in her ears, "Write, damn you or I'll break your fingers one by one." He took her left arm and pulled it behind her, grabbing her hand and squeezing her fingers between his own until she heard herself cry out in pain. But internally Annie was still calm. She saw that she had blotted the paper with ink, and that a tear had fallen on top of one of the spots of ink, reminding her for all the world like an inky blue sun being eclipsed by a watery transparent moon.

  A terrible gut-wrenching shriek from behind her followed by a muffled thud shattered her peace and brought her senses sharply back into focus. The pressure on her hand ceased and, as she turned in her chair, she saw that Samuels, cursing horribly, was warding off a series of blows that Miss Nancy was raining down upon his head with her holy book. Annie shouted out a warning as she saw him lift up his right hand, which was still holding the knife, and aim it in a swiftly descending arc at the older woman's chest. Miraculously, the knife buried itself in the Bible Miss Nancy had thrust forward in protection. With an infuriated bellow Samuels pulled his arm back to strike another blow. But the knife stayed lodged, bringing the book with it, and the additional weight of the Bible on the knife carried Samuels' arm up and back over his shoulder, propelling both the book and the knife out of his hand. They sailed past Annie and crashed against the curtained windows.

  Before Samuels could go after his weapon, Annie stood and picked up the chair she had been sitting on, swinging it at him with all her strength. The chair was one of the Voss and Samuels Company's finest decorative chairs, and Annie found no difficulty in slamming it hard against his legs. She heard a distinct crack as it connected with one of his kneecaps. Samuels screamed in pain and as he bent over to clutch at the knee Annie swung again, this time aiming at his head, which was now within her reach. The chair bounced back with a thunk from the solid contact it made with Samuels' skull, and Annie saw a dazed expression temporarily replace the fury in his eyes. As he staggered backward in confusion, Amelia Voss tossed a crocheted afghan that had been on the sofa over his head, successfully entangling his arms and hands in its folds. As Mrs. Voss held on to the ends of the blanket, pulling it tighter around him, Annie again swung the chair, this time onto his back. Samuels toppled to the ground, still struggling with the blanket.

  Annie swung the chair down onto his prostrate body two more times, while Miss Nancy shrieked encouragement. Suddenly, Mrs. Voss shouted, "the carpet," and Annie saw that she was pushing tables towards the edge of the room. She thought for a moment that Mrs. Voss had gone mad, then the ingenuity of the plan struck her. She shoved the chair at Miss Nancy and said, "Keep at it," and then she ran to help Mrs. Voss.

  It seemed to take forever to shift the heavy sofa and to tip back the legs of the desk and corner cabinet so the carpet could be freed from under the furniture, ignoring as they did the objects that slid off and crashed to the floor. All the while Annie kept looking over her shoulder, afraid that Samuels would get free. But each time he would begin to rise he would be knocked off balance again by Miss Nancy's thrust and parry with the chair. Finally the thick Persian carpet was clear, except for Samuels who was still thrashing and screaming near one edge.

  When Annie turned to look at him she saw that he had managed to pull the afghan from his head and grab onto one of the chair legs. She ran over to help Miss Nancy pull the chair away from him. He rose, with a bellow, but then his face twisted in agonized pain as his knee gave out from under him. Annie once more swung the chair at him, causing him to roll into a defensive ball. She then ran to Mrs. Voss, who was struggling to lift the end of the carpet, and, with muscles that screamed from the week of hard domestic work, Annie flung the edge of the carpet over Samuels and the three women began to roll it and him over and over. Before they knew it, they had him completely bundled up; and they were sitting on the rolled up carpet that humped and lurched and howled beneath them, holding onto each other, laughing and crying triumphantly.

  And that is how the four men, Nate, Jeremy, Patrick, and Wong, found the three women when they finally broke through the door that they had been battering at for some time. The men stood a minute, looking at the women in shocked silence, while the women turned and stared blankly at this unexpected arrival of the cavalry. Then Wong pointed at the carpet, saying with satisfaction, "Samuels?" Annie responded with a giggle, and the tableau unfroze, releasing the men into action. Jeremy ran over and helped his mother to her feet, while Miss Nancy leaped up and gave Wong a gigantic hug, and Patrick bent over the carpet and poked it warily with his nightstick.

  Meanwhile, Nate strode over to where Annie was rising unsteadily from her seat on the carpet. He lifted her unceremoniously into his arms and carried her out of the room, dumping her back on her feet in the hallway before he began to berate her.

  “My God, Annie, I thought Samuels had killed you. I finally broke his alibi, but it took me until this afternoon. Then I had to make it back from Redwood City; it took forever before I could convince the police to set Jeremy free. I had prayed you were safe at home, but then we met up with Patrick and Wong on the way here. Wong said Samuels had a knife on you. And the door, we couldn’t get the door open. We could hear screams. I thought he was killing you.”

  The whole time Nate spoke, he was swiftly examining Annie for injuries. Finally he began to wipe at the mingled tears and smears of blood on her cheeks and to pat the cuts on her neck with his handkerchief, as he muttered fiercely, "You're bleeding, you little fool."

  Annie just laughed and said rather shakily, "I’m fine, really I am. You needn’t worry about me." Then Nate, evidently further enraged at this response, growled savagely, pulled her close and began to kiss her, confirming quite nicely Annie's earlier speculations on how lovely his lips would feel against her own.

  Epilogue

  Friday morning, August 24, 1879

  WOMAN’S BODY FOUND IN TRUNK screamed the headline on the first page of the Chronicle. Annie idly calculated how big the trunk would have to be to fit an entire adult female body. Oh, the body was cut up into several pieces, that would make it easier, she thought. Well, this poor woman, who ever she was, had certainly relegated the Voss’s tragedy to a back page. Annie found the short story she was looking for on page seventeen. Under a headline that simply said Prominent Businessman Confesses, there was a short piece about Malcolm Samuels pleading guilty to the manslaughter of Nellie Flannigan, a Cliff House waitress. No mention of Samuels’ murder of Matthew Voss, the discovery of the missing assets and most of the money, or the role that a housemaid named Lizzie had played in solving the crime. It had taken a good deal of effort on the part of Nate and his uncle, as well as old friends of Matthew’s, like Herbert Stein, to ensure that the Voss family name had disappeared quietly and quickly from the story of Samuels’ arrest.

  The police had cooperated, since it was going to be easier to get Samuels to admit to Nellie’s death, which he could claim was accidental, than to Matthew’s clearly premeditated murder. Annie suspected that Jackson also preferred to settle the case quickly
since he had initially charged the wrong man and hadn’t been involved in the capture itself. Embarrassing to let the press get hold of the story that a desperate criminal had been subdued by three women and household furnishings.

  Annie smiled at the memory. She hoped that the cooperation that Miss Nancy and Mrs. Voss had demonstrated that night would continue. Miss Nancy’s decision to step forward and take over the running of the factory would at least keep her away from the house a good deal, which should ease tensions somewhat. Jeremy would still have to be involved in the business, at least until a replacement for Samuels could be found, but his marriage was to go forward. Evidently Judith’s mother had been pressuring her to break the engagement, and the mysterious man Annie had run into Saturday night had been sent by Jeremy’s fiancé, Judith, to set up a secret meeting between them. That was why Jeremy acted so oddly when questioned about the afternoon Nellie died. He had been with Judith and was protecting her good name. What a young romantic fool. But she suspected his father would have been very proud of him.

  The sound of the door opening caused her to look up. Seeing Kathleen standing there, she folded the newspaper and put it on the table in front of her.

  “Mr. Driscoll to see you, Ma’am.” Kathleen’s prim and proper curtsy contrasted with the saucy wink she gave Annie, who had to take a deep breath to forestall a nervous giggle. She then flashed a glare at Kathleen that said silently, behave yourself, while out loud she said calmly, “Thank you Kathleen, and please show Mr. Driscoll in.”

  Annie had chosen the small parlor where she worked as Sibyl for this confrontation, although she was not dressed as the clairvoyant. At the thought of how Driscoll would have reacted to Sibyl, she was forced to repress another giggle, a sorry indication of how nervous she felt. Annie rose to meet the man who had followed Kathleen into the parlor, and permitted him to take her hand in greeting.

  "My dear Mrs. Fuller. How honored I am that you would see me. I realize that I am a bit earlier than I indicated I would be in my letter. But my travel plans changed slightly. When I got to San Francisco, I just had to rush round and see the wife of one my dearest friends, may he rest in peace."

  Hiram Driscoll bowed deeply over her hand, and Annie barely repressed a shudder. On the surface he presented a perfectly ordinary appearance. In his early thirties, he was of moderate height, slightly stocky, and his rather unassuming sideburns and mustache nicely complimented his thinning brown hair. His most distinctive features remained his incredibly intense blue eyes. Eyes that always had left Annie feeling naked and vulnerable. Maybe some women liked being mentally undressed; Annie didn't.

  What she found truly inexplicable was that husbands had seemed to encourage Driscoll's attentions to their wives. In fact, men in general, her late husband included, appeared totally besotted by him. They competed for a place at his table at cards, counting their losses as gains; they took his tips on races, blaming the horse not the tip when it came in last; and they praised his business acumen, ignoring the fact that the advice he handed out seldom proved beneficial to anyone but himself.

  Pulling her hand from his, where he had held it just that faction too long to be polite, Annie murmured, "Oh, Mr. Driscoll, why wouldn't I be delighted to see such a good friend of my husband? It's been ever so many years, I declare, I'd despaired of ever making your acquaintance again. But please do be seated and tell me to what I owe this pleasure."

  Annie marked a slightly startled look in Driscoll's eyes, followed by a perceptible frown, as he made his way over to the chair she'd indicated for him on the other side of the table. She had confused him. He didn't know whether to take her words at face value. Driscoll undoubtedly expected to meet the same shy, inexperienced woman he had known back in New York over five years ago. Then, although she'd disliked and distrusted him, she had been still trying to save her marriage; so she had tried, evidently successfully, to hide her disdain. John had made it crystal clear from the beginning he wouldn't tolerate any public display of her own intelligence, exploding in anger the one time she had timidly ventured an opinion at a social gathering. No doubt Driscoll, a man of supreme self-confidence, had assumed her reticence in his company meant either stupidity or awe.

  Sitting down across the table from him, Annie decided to pretend a profound naiveté, so she just stared, wide-eyed, at Driscoll, waiting for him to take the lead.

  He crossed his legs and straightened his cravat, plainly unnerved by her unwavering gaze.

  He then said, "My dear Mrs. Fuller, I must say how pleased I am to see you looking so well. I'm delighted to have this chance to see you again. I am just sorry we have to introduce such an unpleasant subject as business into the conversation. But then, there it is."

  Driscoll's speech faltered. Annie wondered speculatively just how he was going to explain trying to collect on a six-year-old debt from a dead man's wife. She smiled encouragingly at him.

  He cleared his throat. "I know this must be distressing for you. But it has to be done. You see, John got in such terrible difficulties before he died, but then those were difficult times for us all. And when he asked for my help, I couldn't turn him down. So, despite my better judgment, I made him a small loan. Never, ever could I have foreseen what would... well, such a tragedy. I was devastated, truly devastated."

  Annie slowly slid her hands together where she could hide their tendency to curl into fists. Driscoll's portrayal of himself as the faithful friend was proving very difficult to stomach. But, keeping to her role, she only nodded and murmured, "Please, don't distress yourself. You were only too good, and I know John would wish me to thank you for your generosity."

  Driscoll appeared stymied by her thanks, again straitening his cravat. Then he seemed to gather himself for the last difficult hurtle.

  "Mrs. Fuller, please, I don't deserve your thanks. It was the least I could do. I just wish I could have done more. But now, well, as dear John's widow, you can do something for me. You see, I would never have asked it of you, if I weren’t pushed to the limit myself. But I'm afraid I must ask you to pay me back. I've gotten in a bit of financial difficulty myself, and I know John would wish you to help out one of his best friends. As a sort of testimony to that friendship."

  Annie stared, not needing to feign astonishment. The outrageous audacity of the man! Driscoll seemed to feel that her expression denoted bewilderment, so he spelled out his meaning in simple terms, so the poor widow would understand him.

  "Mrs. Fuller, I am asking that you pay off the loan. My letter explained this. The total sum is significant, but I am afraid I must insist on immediate repayment. I simply cannot continue to carry this debt. I'd be ruined."

  Be ruined! What a hypocrite! Annie became impatient with this game; the man made her positively ill. So, she decided to force the issue of the house out into the open. Cocking her head to the side and frowning, she said, "But Mr. Driscoll, John's father must have explained to you that there was nothing left after John died and his debts were paid. Nothing!”

  Driscoll leaned over, reaching out to pat Annie’s hands consolingly, and it took all her resolution not to pull back in revulsion. His voice was warm and comforting as he responded, "Oh, Mrs. Fuller, don't worry. I've found a solution that will benefit us both. You see, you have this nice little house here, and this will make everything right. If you turn the deed over to me, I will be glad to accept it in exchange for the amount you owe me; even though I'm afraid the value of the house is considerably less than the debt. But no matter. What is money between old friends?"

  Annie stared at Driscoll, speechless at the gall of the man, and Driscoll continued, "Now don't worry. It's all very simple. I have the documents right here. All you need to do is sign, and I'll take care of everything else. And, I know you're worried about where you will live, but that's the beauty of my little scheme. You don't have to move! Since I don't live in San Francisco, and long distance investments are such a worry, I've decided to ask you to remain here, as my manager of sorts. I'd b
e glad to pay you a small fee for your help, and of course your board would be free, as well. So as you can see, really nothing will change."

  Like hell nothing would change, Annie said to herself. Just that you would now own the house, to sell whenever you please. In the meanwhile you'd get the income from the boarders and pay me a pittance to be the boarding house keeper, no doubt firing Beatrice as an unnecessary expense.

  Annie took the papers that Driscoll had taken out of his suit jacket and pretended to look vaguely at what was clearly a document for conveying title to her property to Driscoll. Then she responded in a soft hesitant voice, “But Mr. Driscoll, I still don’t understand. Papa Fuller explained it all to me, right after the funeral. How I had to sell my house, all my furniture, even my dresses to pay off all the debts John owed. I remember he put a notice in the paper, so that we could be sure all of the creditors would know to make their claims. Didn’t you see the notice?”

  Driscoll replied patiently, “Yes, Mrs. Fuller, I was aware of Mr. Fuller’s bankruptcy action, but I didn’t want to add another burden to your poor shoulders during that difficult period of mourning.”

  “Oh, Mr. Driscoll that was kind of you, but I’m afraid that might have been a mistake. It did seem unfair to me at the time, but John’s father explained that there was only so much money to go around, and that only those creditors who put in a claim would get any of it. You really should have put in your claim then, I believe it was for $300? Then you at least would have been able to get some of your money back.” Annie smiled sadly at him.

  “Yes, at ten cents on the dollar, no thank you!” Driscoll snapped. Leaning forward, he took out another piece of paper and waved it in front of Annie. “Listen, Mrs. Fuller, I don’t think you have quite grasped the situation. I have a piece of paper here that says your husband owes me $300 plus interest, which means you, as your husband’s heir, owe me $1,380. Do you have any other assets besides the house that you could use to pay me that amount?”