The Russian Hill Murders (8 page)
Read The Russian Hill Murders Online
Authors: Shirley Tallman
“I’ve never been a big believer in coincidence, Sarah,” he said. “It’s been my experience that when something seems too improbable to be true, it usually is.”
“Are you suggesting, Samuel, that Reverend Halsey caught something from Mrs. Godfrey the night of the dinner?” Celia looked to her husband. “I didn’t think heart disease was contagious.”
Charles’s smile was rueful. “It isn’t—at least, not as far as we know. But even if there was some truth to the notion, Halsey was
never close enough to Mrs. Godfrey that evening to catch anything, not even a simple cold.”
never close enough to Mrs. Godfrey that evening to catch anything, not even a simple cold.”
“Have they ordered an autopsy?” I asked Charles.
He nodded. “It’s not an uncommon procedure when a victim dies suddenly, or if he hasn’t been under a doctor’s care.” He cleared his throat. “I know it’s tempting to imagine a connection between Mrs. Godfrey’s and Reverend Halsey’s deaths, but when I said people die of heart attacks every day, I was serious. Caroline Godfrey was being treated for a severe coronary condition. Josiah Halsey was a religious fanatic, not the sort of peaceful life one associates with good health and longevity. And don’t forget, he was at an age when heart attacks among men are not unusual.”
“All right, Charles,” I put in. “But what about the excessive amount of nitroglycerin found in Mrs. Godfrey’s system? How do you explain that?”
There was an instant outcry from Samuel and Celia, and Charles explained Mrs. Godfrey’s autopsy results.
Celia shook her head, sending soft blond curls bobbing about her worried face. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand any of this.”
Samuel drained what was left of his brandy, then placed the glass on the table and said, “I think what it means, my dear sister-in-law, is that, tempting as it is to jump to conclusions, we shall have to postpone further speculation until Reverend Halsey’s postmortem is completed.”
I
arrived at the office the next morning to find Hubert Perkins, the head clerk, waiting to pounce on me.
arrived at the office the next morning to find Hubert Perkins, the head clerk, waiting to pounce on me.
“Mr. Shepard wants to see you in his office,” he said. He drew out his fob watch. “You are fifteen minutes late.”
“If I am, Mr. Perkins,” I retorted, weary and in no mood for verbal sparring, “it is hardly your concern.”
The clerk’s face flushed with anger. “Punctuality is always my concern, Miss Woolson. Mr. Shepard is waiting.”
“I’m afraid he’ll have to wait a few more minutes,” I said, refusing to be rushed. “I must go to my office first.”
Ignoring Perkins’s high-pitched protests, I made for the former storage room set aside for my use. Frankly, I was still troubled by our late-night conversation the evening before. I wanted to believe Charles was right; people died of heart attacks every day. Just because it happened to two people whose paths had so recently crossed did not mean their deaths were connected, much less suspicious. Why,
then, couldn’t I get Caroline Godfrey and Josiah Halsey out of my mind?
then, couldn’t I get Caroline Godfrey and Josiah Halsey out of my mind?
Realizing I couldn’t put my employer off any longer, I removed my hat and coat and prepared to walk into the lion’s den. Opening my employer’s door, I found that he was not alone. Seated across from him was Pierce Godfrey.
Belatedly, I remembered the purpose of Godfrey’s visit. So much had transpired since our talk in the carriage the day before, I’d forgotten his promise to speak to Joseph Shepard about my acting as his company’s attorney.
“For heaven’s sake, come in and close the door,” Shepard barked, when I stood uncertainly in the doorway. One look at his face told me he was not pleased with his early morning visitor. In fact, his expression put me in mind of a sadly failed Yorkshire pudding. “You’ve met Mr. Godfrey.” It was not a question so much as a criticism.
“Yes, we’ve met. Good morning, Mr. Godfrey.”
Pierce, who stood as I entered the room, gave a small bow. “You’re looking well this morning, Miss Woolson.”
“Thank you. I’m feeling well.”
Shepard, who had remained seated at my arrival, glared at me. “Let us get on with this, shall we?”
Pierce assisted me into a chair. As he did, I wished I’d been a fly on the wall to witness my employer’s reaction when Pierce announced that he wished to hire me as his attorney. The senior partner must have come close to apoplexy. Even now, the vein in his temple pulsated with suppressed anger.
“Mr. Godfrey has come on extraordinary business, Miss Woolson.” Shepard’s jowls quivered with indignation. “I’m astonished you led him to believe you’d be willing—much less qualified—to act as legal counsel for his firm.”
“It is Mr. Godfrey’s choice, Mr. Shepard,” I replied.
“Then you should have spared no effort clarifying the situation. Such an arrangement is out of the question!”
“And why is that?” Pierce inquired politely.
Shepard clamped on his pince-nez and subjected the younger man to a squinting appraisal. “Why it—it’s unheard of, that’s why. Good Lord, man,” he sputtered as if Pierce might be suffering from failing vision. “She’s a woman!”
Pierce smiled. “So I’ve noticed. Still, I’m confident that her gender has not adversely affected her brain, which I’ve found to be first-rate. I’m sorry if this upsets you, Mr. Shepard, but I’ve made up my mind. I will settle for no one but Miss Woolson to represent my company.”
“But she has no experience whatsoever in corporate law.” Pierce gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Perhaps not, but I’m sure she’ll learn quickly. After all, she passed her California Bar Examinations.”
“Her father is a judge. She had help.”
“I’d be surprised if she didn’t,” Pierce agreed. “On the other hand, I doubt if Judge Woolson was permitted to take the examination for her. She accomplished that on her own—and did exceedingly well, I might add.”
I shot him a surprised look. “How do you know—”
He smiled. “Miss Woolson, much as I admire you, I would never consider hiring an attorney without assuring myself of his—or her—qualifications. You have nothing to be ashamed of, I assure you. Your scores were in the top percentile. I’m sure you agree, Mr. Shepard, that is impressive.”
“I—I—”
Shepard’s fleshy face had turned a shade of bright red, and I found myself tensing for the inevitable explosion. Sure enough, he
began that dreadful sound at the back of his nose, building in tempo until it trumpeted forth in full volume. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pierce staring at him as if fearing the man had taken leave of his senses.
began that dreadful sound at the back of his nose, building in tempo until it trumpeted forth in full volume. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pierce staring at him as if fearing the man had taken leave of his senses.
Ironically, Shepard’s resistance to Pierce’s request was the final incentive I needed to accept the position. “When would you like me to begin, Mr. Godfrey?” I asked, carrying on with the conversation as if my employer weren’t sitting there braying like a donkey.
“Actually, I was hoping to go over some of the details today. Then, on Wednesday, I’d be pleased if you’d accompany me to Henry Finney’s shipbuilding firm, where we’ll sign the final contracts.”
Shepard’s annoying outbreak had gradually abated, but his pale eyes bulged with righteous ire. “No! Not under any circumstances. Not only is Miss Woolson unqualified for the position you’re suggesting, but surely you must realize no company would enter into negotiation with a woman!”
“I have already apprised Mr. Finney of my decision to retain a woman as my legal representative. I realize, of course, that Miss Woolson is a recent associate, but given your firm’s reputation, I’m sure you would never hire an attorney whose abilities were less than exceptional.”
Finding no ready retort to this statement, Shepard had to content himself with casting another withering look in my direction. Since I had more or less relied on subterfuge to obtain my employment in his firm, I averted my eyes.
Pierce seemed to take my employer’s silence as tacit agreement. Standing, he extended his hand across the desk. “Thank you, Mr. Shepard, it’s been a pleasure. I look forward to working with Miss Woolson and with your firm.”
Subjecting me to one last, furious glare, Shepard turned back to Pierce, his expression one of scornful misgiving.
“I fear you will regret this decision, Mr. Godfrey. Don’t say I didn’t warn you—”
There was a knock on the door. Before Shepard could respond, Robert entered, his sharp gaze going first to me, then to Pierce.
“Yes, Campbell,” Shepard snapped. “What is it?”
“Mr. Wilton is waiting to see you in the outer office,” Robert said. “Perkins says he doesn’t have an appointment.”
“Why didn’t Perkins inform me of this himself?” the senior partner demanded, no doubt feeling the need to take his foul temper out on someone.
Again, Robert shot me a quick look. “I, ah, was on my way to Miss Woolson’s office and offered to deliver the message for him.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Shepard got up from his desk, pausing in front of Pierce. “I’ll bid you good day, Mr. Godfrey. If your arrangement with Miss Woolson does not prove satisfactory, please inform me. Our firm employs a number of excellent attorneys who are at your disposal.” With that, he turned and marched out the door.
The three of us stood awkwardly in Joseph Shepard’s wake. When neither man spoke, I broke the silence.
“You remember Robert Campbell, don’t you Mr. Godfrey?”
“Yes, of course,” Pierce said, reaching out his hand. “Good to see you again, Campbell.”
Robert returned his shake. “Godfrey,” he responded a little stiffly.
I wanted to kick Robert in the shins. Surely he could show more civility than that. And why did his face look as if he’d just bitten into a sour lemon?
“You said you were on your way to my office, Robert?” I said, working to make my tone pleasant.
“I, ah, had a case I wanted to discuss with you.” His eyes flickered to Pierce, then quickly back to me. It didn’t require a mind reader
to know he was dying to find out why Pierce had come to see Shepard. “I see that you’re busy. We can do it later.”
to know he was dying to find out why Pierce had come to see Shepard. “I see that you’re busy. We can do it later.”
“I’d appreciate that, if you don’t mind,” Pierce told him amiably. “I am going out of town later this afternoon, and I’d like to familiarize Miss Woolson with some documents.”
“Of course,” Robert said, walking to the door. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Leading Pierce to my office, I partially closed the door behind us (yes, upon occasion even I find it expedient to obey the social proprieties) and slid the typewriting machine to the far corner of my desk. Taking out a sheaf of papers, Pierce spent the next hour explaining them to me at length. It was nearly noon when we’d finished.
“All this work has given me an appetite,” he said. “I’d be pleased if you’d have lunch with me.”
I was tempted to accept his invitation, then remembered the hospital tour scheduled for that afternoon. There was also the matter of his behavior. Even now that I’d been retained as his attorney, his manner toward me tended to be less than professional. No, if this business relationship were to succeed, firm lines must be drawn.
“I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible, Mr. Godfrey. Perhaps another time.”
His intense blue eyes remained on mine longer than was necessary. “As you wish, Miss Woolson. I’ll pick you up at your house at ten o’clock Wednesday morning.”
“I shall be ready,” I answered, matching his tone. “I hope you have a pleasant journey.”
I stood watching him walk out with long, confident strides. As he disappeared into the hall, I wondered what in heaven’s name I’d gotten myself into.
T
hat afternoon, Margaret Barlow gave us an interesting tour of the new Women and Children’s Hospital. Her mother, Adelina French, Reverend Nicholas Prescott, Mama, Celia and several other board members had also joined the group.
hat afternoon, Margaret Barlow gave us an interesting tour of the new Women and Children’s Hospital. Her mother, Adelina French, Reverend Nicholas Prescott, Mama, Celia and several other board members had also joined the group.
The old warehouse was a beehive of activity. On the main floor, workmen scurried about tearing down walls and erecting others to form a floor plan very different from the original structure erected thirty years earlier. The first ward had already been completed, and several of the dozen or more beds were occupied. Nurses bustled about tending the patients, all of them women who would soon be in labor.
“Babies have a way of ignoring construction schedules,” Margaret told us with a smile, “so we completed this room first.”
“That was a wise decision,” Reverend Prescott put in, regarding the room with approval. “It’s important that the new mothers have a clean bed and a roof over their heads.”
Margaret gave the minister a grateful smile. “It’s still a bit chaotic, but we will soon put things to right.” She led us around a pile of rubble. “Most of the initial renovations will take place on this level and will house the larger wards. Fortunately, there are rooms on the second and third floors functional enough for immediate occupancy. Eventually, of course, they’ll be remodeled as funds become available.”
She led us to a storage area that had been converted into a modern hospital kitchen. There were exclamations all around when our eyes lighted on a brand new Sterling Range, a huge cast-iron stove with nickel paneling and beautifully decorated tile. Equally impressive was the tall, cylindrical hot-water heater standing next to it. Considering the hours it took to heat water on a stove—even a
stove as large as this—the water heater would be a marvelous laborsaving device for the staff. But how had the hospital managed to come up with the money to purchase two such costly appliances?
stove as large as this—the water heater would be a marvelous laborsaving device for the staff. But how had the hospital managed to come up with the money to purchase two such costly appliances?
Adelina French must have noticed our astonishment. “Mr. Leonard Godfrey donated the stove and the water heater to the hospital in honor of his late wife. I can’t count the times Caroline told me, ‘Proper healing requires proper food.’” Adelina turned her head, but not before I saw tears brimming in her green eyes.
Reverend Prescott gently touched the woman’s arm. “I was not well acquainted with Mrs. Godfrey, but I’m sure she would be pleased with your efforts,” he said softly.
As he spoke, a small, wiry Chinese man entered carrying a sack of flour over one shoulder. He wore an interesting mix of East and West: the dark tunic and pants common among the city’s Chinese but, instead of the usual slippers, heavy brown boots and a very Western-looking bowler hat. Unable to see his long hair queue, I assumed it was tucked beneath the hat. When he saw us, his face twisted into angry lines, as if resentful we had invaded his domain.
“This is our cook, Chin Lee Fong,” Margaret said. Chin executed a stiff bow, hardly pausing as he walked to the pantry to dump the bag of flour against the wall. Behind him, a thin young woman of about nineteen came in carrying pots and pans. The girl had a pale complexion and large, impudent-looking hazel eyes. A riot of red curls popped out here and there from beneath a starched white cap. “And this is our kitchen maid, Dora Clemens.”
The young woman stopped in her tracks, regarding us with bold interest. She paused when she came to Reverend Prescott, and her sharp face broke into a saucy grin. Ignoring the rest of us, Dora executed a suggestive little curtsy, plainly intended solely for the attractive minister.
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