Deadly Proof: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (2 page)

“He’s probably finding it difficult to push through the crowds,” Annie added. “I would imagine that the July Fourth parade is over by now, and the horse cars must be packed with people returning home.”

Annie shivered and looked up to see that one of the tiny clouds that had been scudding across the sky all day was stalled in front of the sun. This was her third summer back in San Francisco, so she thought she would be used to how chilly it could get in July. As a child, she’d found it odd to pack wool dresses for her annual summer trip to visit her aunt and uncle in the city. The summer-time temperatures at her own family’s Los Angeles ranch routinely hovered in the high nineties, with scorching winds out of the eastern deserts.

The winds that swept over the San Francisco peninsula were just as strong, but they came from the cold Pacific to the west, and today she was having trouble keeping her reddish blond curls from escaping the pins anchoring them up under her hat. She was glad she decided to wear her wool navy for the picnic, never mind that it wasn’t the least summer-like or that Nate had seen it on her a thousand times.

“Thank goodness Kathleen had the presence of mind to suggest that we bring all those old horse blankets we found in the attic to sit on,” Annie said, pulling her shawl up around her shoulders. “At least the ground isn’t damp, but I don’t know what it will be like later if the fog moves in.”

Kathleen grinned at her and went on placing the various food baskets they had brought onto the corners of the blankets to keep them from blowing away in the gusts of wind that skittered across the park.

Hard to believe that nearly two and a half years had passed since Kathleen had shown up––looking about twelve––to work for Annie. Equally hard to believe she’d been skeptical when Beatrice said the petite girl would be able to help them turn the old home Annie had inherited into a boarding house. Today, Annie believed there wasn’t a thing on earth Kathleen couldn’t do if she put her mind to it. And, at eighteen, she was definitely no longer a child.

“Well, dearie,” said Beatrice, interrupting Annie’s thoughts, “at least it isn’t blazing hot like last year, when half the grand ladies riding in the procession fainted before the whole march was over. Patrick was assigned to the parade route last year. Do you remember the stories he told us?”

“Yes, I do. If I recall correctly, he came by after the parade was over. Of course, at the time I thought he was just being kind, stopping by to see his aunt.”

Annie smiled at the blush that stole across Kathleen’s cheeks at her comment. Patrick McGee, Beatrice’s nephew, had been “walking out” with Kathleen over the past year. He had promised to swing by the park tonight on his supper hour––no doubt why Kathleen was wearing her best dress, the light gray herringbone wool that showed off her neat and definitely womanly figure, and why she had refurbished her straw hat by replacing the daises with pink artificial roses.

Beatrice and Kathleen had been baking and cooking all day in preparation for this excursion, and the three of them took a cab to the park early, before the parade downtown ended, so they could stake out a fairly flat section. They found a nice place, partially shaded by an oak tree near Eddy Street, the northern boundary of the park. However, it was now nearly three, and in the last ten minutes, a steady stream of other picnickers had begun to arrive, which was why Annie thought the parade must have ended. Along with Nate Dawson, they were expecting six other friends and boarders to join them.

Peeking into the basket sitting next to her, Annie said, “How many pies did you make this year, Beatrice?”

Pulling out a stack of checkered napkins, the motherly, gray-haired woman said, “I made four. Two cherry, one strawberry rhubarb, and one apple.”

“That should do it, but I might want to have a slice of that apple now, just to make sure I get a piece.”

“You keep out of that basket and leave that pie alone,” Beatrice said, gently slapping at Annie’s hands. “I know you, my dear, you...oh my heavenly stars!”

Annie looked up quickly to see what had upset Beatrice, and she saw the older woman was staring at her hands...well, staring at the ring on her left hand, to be precise. It was now Annie’s turn to blush.

“Well, Bea,” she said, “I wondered how long it would take for you to notice.”

Kathleen, who’d rushed over, said, “Oh, Mrs. Fuller. What a lovely blue color that center stone is. And are those diamonds?”

Annie looked down at the small square-cut sapphire that was set in a filigree of tiny gold flowers, each with a chip of diamond. She nodded and smiled. “Yes, Mr. Dawson gave it to me last night. You both had already gone to bed, and then this morning, everyone was so busy getting ready for the picnic and parade that I thought I would wait to show it off until we were all together.”

What she didn’t say was that she’d wanted more time to keep her feelings about last night’s events to herself. All of Annie’s life, she had been forced by circumstances––her mother’s early death, her strange upbringing by her father, her miserable first marriage, and her widowhood––to rely on herself. Her father, when he was alive, was really her only friend, and even with him she’d felt shy about sharing her emotions. Since she moved to San Francisco and set up the boarding house, all that had changed. Now she was surrounded by loving friends who cared about her.

But sometimes she found that very affection uncomfortable. As a result, when Nate left the boarding house last night, she realized she didn’t want to tell anyone how deeply moved she’d been when he slid the engagement ring on her finger––his voice trembling as he confessed how much he loved her, how much he hoped she was pleased with the ring.

She wasn’t even able to find the words to tell Nate why it was so precious to her—particularly compared to the flashy, expensive diamond ring her first husband, John, gave her. She knew that Nate had been working tirelessly the past four months to save enough money for a proper engagement ring. Yet how to explain to him that if it had been no more than a band of tarnished silver, she would still love it? How could she explain to anyone that the ring’s modest size and understated tastefulness made it perfect, whereas John’s ring––furnished by his father as a symbol of his family’s wealth––had only brought her happiness once—when she sold it to fund her trip out west to start her new life?

“Annie love,” Beatrice broke into these thoughts, “now that the secret is out, do tell us exactly what happened last night, before everyone else arrives.”

“Oh, ma’am yes, do,” chimed in Kathleen. “What did he say? Was the ring a surprise? Is it what you expected? Did he go down on one knee like they do in the stories?”

Beatrice interjected, “Now Kathleen, you know that Mr. Dawson and Mrs. Fuller have been formally engaged since February. But Annie, what I want to know is, does this means you two have finally set the date for the wedding?”

Annie looked down at the ring again, then looked up at the smiling faces of her friends and said, “No, Kathleen he didn’t go down on one knee, but the ring was certainly a surprise. And I think it is very beautiful. Yes, Beatrice, we have decided the wedding is to be sometime the second week of August. That’s the one window of time his parents and brother and sister-in-law have between the hay harvest and the fall round-up. And a month should be enough time for us to plan a simple wedding, shouldn’t it?”

*****

J
efferson Square Park was considerably more crowded by the time the first group of friends and boarders returned from watching the parade. The first to arrive were three of her boarders, Mr. David Chapman, and Mrs. Barbara Hewitt and her son Jamie, along with her maid Kathleen’s younger brother Ian. They’d all been invited to see the parade from the upper floors of the firm where Chapman worked.

Annie, watching the boys tell Kathleen and Beatrice about the parade, said to Barbara Hewitt, “They certainly seemed to have had a splendid time. How long did the march go on? I expected you all would get to the park earlier. Were the crowds just awful once the parade ended?”

Nate was now two hours late, and she was trying not to worry that more than crowded horse cars were the cause. What if he’d gotten cold feet after last night? Setting the date making their future together all too real. No, she was being silly.

“My goodness, yes. While the tail-end of the procession passed us around three, just getting across Market Street took forever.”

Annie turned to Jamie who had come up beside them, saying, “What was your favorite part of the procession?”

“Oh, the wagon with the mining camp. They were so jolly. There was a fiddler, and they were doing some sort of jig. You should have seen the cart that was supposed to be the North Pole with the ship the
Jennette
that is stuck up there. The ice looked so real, and there was a polar bear and everything.”

“My, that does sound wonderful. I gather there were a good number of bands. We could hear some of them as we left the boarding house. They must have been quite loud.”

“Deafening, some of them,” said Barbara. “Each trying to outdo the next.”

“Well, from where you were watching the parade, you were probably getting them coming and going,” Annie said. “I am just glad everyone had a good time. Jamie, why don’t you go and ask Mrs. O’Rourke to start distributing the food? I expect you and Ian are pretty hungry after all that excitement.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jamie said with fervor and ran back over to Beatrice.

His mother laughed and said, “You would think they hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast, but Mr. Chapman was so thoughtful––providing lemonade and sandwiches for us all. I don’t see Laura yet. Is Mr. Dawson bringing her?”

“No, Laura was invited by her friend Kitty Blaine to attend the procession, and I do believe they were going to attend the literary and musical events after the parade. As for Nate, I don’t know what has kept him.”

Laura Dawson was Nate’s sister, and she’d moved into Annie’s boarding house in January when she came to San Francisco to take up a teaching job. They had become very close in the last six months, and Nate teased Annie that the only reason she finally consented to marry him was to get Laura as her sister-in-law. Annie was pleased she’d been able to help the younger woman get a job working for a local printer this summer so she could stay in the city.

Barbara pointed towards the street and said, “Look, isn’t that Laura getting out of that carriage? Oh, and there is Kitty behind her.”

Annie waved to the girls, who were alighting from Kitty Blaine’s fancy barouche. Laura, with her statuesque height and dark coloring, looked stately in her bronze and ivory basque-style suit. Kitty, tiny next to her friend, had chosen a walking dress in a daring shade of apricot that somehow complemented her pale skin and copper-colored hair. Both girls had parasols that matched their dresses, and the lace and ribbons on their outfits fluttered gaily in the western breeze.

“Oh, Annie, Barbara, what an extraordinary treat today has been,” Laura said, running up and giving each of them a hug. “Kitty’s father rented a room right at the corner of Third and Market, so we saw everything. And since we were at the beginning of the procession, there was lots of time for us to make it to the Grand Opera House down on Mission for the later events.”

Annie reached out her hand to Kitty, who hung shyly in back of Laura, saying, “Miss Blaine, so pleased you were able to come to our picnic. And I know that Mr. Dawson would like me to convey his thanks to you and your father for entertaining Laura today. He should be here soon to thank you himself.”

“It was all my pleasure, Mrs. Fuller. Father knew I wouldn’t want to sit with him on the viewing stand, and literary events aren’t exactly his cup of tea, so he was delighted I would have a companion for the day. And John the coachman did an excellent job of making sure we weren’t bothered by the crowds.”

Annie smiled inwardly, having met “John the coachman” several times when she went out to ask if he wanted something to drink while he waited to take Kitty home from visiting Laura. He was a slow talking but very polite giant of a man, who appeared quite capable of acting as chaperone to his mistress. She didn’t imagine even the most high-spirited of July Fourth revelers would dare harass any young lady under his protection.

Annie told Laura and Kitty to go over to say hello to Mrs. O’Rourke. “She and Kathleen seem to have cooked up enough for an army.”

To Barbara, she said, “Why don’t you rescue poor Mr. Chapman from the boys, while I see if Kathleen will make up a plate for Kitty’s coachman? I know from experience he won’t leave his horses, but it looks like he is planning on staying until it is time to take Kitty home.”

A few minutes later, Annie stood for a moment to look at the scene laid out before her. Beatrice had turned over the sturdy wooden crate she’d used to transport the plates and utensils for the meal and was sitting on it in queenly dignity under the shade of the oak. Meanwhile, Kitty and Laura were laughingly trying to sit upright on the ground in their fashionable attire, while eating from their heaped-up plates. Kathleen, whose dress was a bit more serviceable in the shape and volume of its skirt, was sitting quite primly, eating a ham sandwich and listening to Ian and Jamie, who were trying to eat and talk at the same time. David Chapman had piled several of the extra blankets up for Barbara to sit on and was holding her plate while she delicately picked at her potato salad.

All around her in Jefferson Square were similar scenes. Small children darted and shrieked around women in gaily colored outfits and men in their more somber hues. She heard snatches of songs from a group with a guitar, noticed an impromptu game of croquet at one corner of the park, and saw that the members of one of the parade’s bands were asleep under a tree in apparent exhaustion, their instruments at their sides. There were a couple of hours before the sun would sink behind the dunes to the west, but the shadows were long, and the light through the dark green shrubbery and evergreens of the park already began to take on the soft haze that meant the evening fog was massing along the coast.