“GOOD DETECTIVE WORK: Extensive Jewelry robbery and Recover of the Plunder”––San Francisco Chronicle May 27, 1880
Monday, late evening, December 13, 1880
Kathleen stood at the kitchen door and watched an almost full moon peep momentarily through the gathering clouds. A winter storm was coming. Not the light morning drizzle that had been falling the past two weeks, but, given the way the wind was bending the bare branches on the apricot tree, this was going to be one of those rare storms filled with thunder and lightning and cold pounding rain.
She better bring in more wood before going to bed since washday had depleted the bin beside the kitchen stove. She pulled her thick wool shawl across her chest and tied the ends behind her back, then picked up the lantern in one hand and the handles of the canvass hold-all in the other. Once she left the protection of the house and started across the yard to the woodshed, she could feel the wind tugging at her hair and the hint of cool moisture on her cheeks, which actually felt good.
The kitchen was still hot from a day with the stove going full bore to heat enough water for the laundry, and she’d almost fallen asleep a few minutes ago folding the towels that had been hanging on the drying racks next to the oven. Tilly had gone home right after the dinner dishes were washed, and Mrs. O’Rourke retired to her room in the attic around nine-thirty. That was an hour ago, and Kathleen should be in bed herself. She was certainly tired enough, and tomorrow she would have to finish the rest of the ironing. She’d gotten most of the men’s shirts done this evening, but she still had to do all the women’s delicate undergarments and nightgowns, as well as the sheets and table linens that hadn’t dried in time for the laundress to finish today.
Yet it had felt so glorious to have some time to herself…to just sit and think. Now, however, it was time to finish this last duty and fall into bed. Four-thirty, which was when she rose on wash and ironing days, would come all too soon.
About twenty minutes later, she brought in the last load of wood from the shed, not a minute too soon. The clouds had completely gobbled up the moon, large fat drops began to splash on the flagstones, and the wind was now ratcheted up to a howl. That’s why she didn’t hear the knocking on the back door at first. She was dampening down the fire in the stove so that there would be just enough residual heat to help the dough for morning rolls to rise when she thought she heard her name called. Looking around to see if someone had come into the kitchen, she finally realized that someone was knocking softly on the back door.
“Who is it?” she said, leaning her ear against the door.
“Patrick. Can I come in for a moment?”
She quickly unlocked and opened the door, and Patrick stepped into the kitchen, bringing in a swirl of leaves and rain.
“Patrick, you can’t stay. It’s too late.”
“I know; I’m sorry, but when I looked over the back gate and saw there were still lights on in the kitchen, I took a chance. I won’t stay long…but I just had to tell you!”
“Tell me what…oh, saints preserve us, you’re soaked! And you’ve dripped all over the floor. Take off your hat and coat and let me hang it on this rack by the stove before you tell me anything.”
Patrick was out of uniform, wearing his brown wool suit, but instead of his usual derby, he was sporting a ridiculous tweed cap, now sodden with rain, as was his shirt. She resisted the impulse to insist he take that off as well, knowing that he was just going to get wet again when he left. And it was going to be embarrassing enough if anyone came down to the kitchen, much less found them alone together with him in his undershirt.
“Now Patrick, tell me what’s got you so excited, then be on your way. And keep your voice down. Won’t do if anyone hears you.”
“Now darling, don’t be crotchety,” he said, pinching her cheek. “You’re looking at the man who cracked the case and helped roll up a serious shoplifting gang, what’s been stealing from all the big stores. With your help, of course.” He gave her a cheeky smile.
“Patrick, really? The police made arrests already? I thought you were supposed to just follow that man I saw at the Silver Strike, not actually bring anyone in. What happened?”
“Well, that was the plan, but Bertie…that’s the name of the man you saw nick all that stuff on Saturday…Bertie Throckmorton. Anyways, I was at his lodgings at seven this morning. He came out about eight, went down the street to a local cafe and had breakfast with two other men…dressed just like him. Fancy duds, stick pins and such…looking like some young dandies. While they were eating, I grabbed the local constable and asked him to get their names from the cafe owner after I left to continue tailing old Bertie. He found out all three were regulars at the cafe.”
“So these other two men were going into stores and stealing like the man I saw?”
“Seems like it. We learned later they met up each morning to divide up the stores so they weren’t all hitting the same place at the same time.”
“Ah, clever. Did someone catch them stealing like I did?”
“No, we didn’t have to. But you’re getting ahead of the story.”
Kathleen knew that she wasn’t going to be able hurry him, so she got up and put on the kettle, saying, “All right, go on.”
“So I trails Bertie, and by noon he’d made stops at the City of Paris and the White House. Same story as the Silver Strike. He’d wander around, even make a few small purchases, then some young looker working in the store would create a ruckus. At the City of Paris, the girl dropped change just like you saw Cherry do. At the White House, a clerk knocked over a display of books, and Bertie, a few counters away, slipped a fortune of small items into his coat.”
“So you stopped and arrested him?”
“Not at these stores. At the City of Paris, which he hit first, I got one of the porters to follow him in the store while I went upstairs to report to management what was going on. They let me call police headquarters. Sergeant Thompson told me to let him go and keep tailing him, cause they wanted to see who he was working with.”
“You called?”
“Yes, like the Silver Strike, the other stores have telephones. I’ve got to tell you, that really makes things easier. Otherwise I’d have had to use the old telegraph system…too slow. Thompson said that they are working on getting the call boxes tied up to the telephone system this winter.”
“So you just followed this Bertie to the next store?”
“Yes, down the street to the White House. And there I was able to phone in the description of the cash girl in the City of Paris so the Sergeant could send someone to pick her up. They’d already brought Cherry in for questioning. After I gave them my description of the two other men, Thompson sent a detective to watch Cherry, and sure enough she did her act with one of the two men who met with Bertie at the cafe. So the detective arrested both of them.”
“Oh my, Patrick. That’s wonderful.”
“Yes, pretty slick. And they found an inked cork with a pretty close copy of the Silver Strike’s cashier’s stamp in Cherry’s pocket. If a customer gave her the exact price for an article, she could pretend to go to the cashier but just pocket the money and come back with the receipt stamped by her fake stamp. So, of course, at the end of the day, when the cashier went through the clerk’s copy of receipts they would find the end total wouldn’t match what was in the cash drawer.”
“Oh, my. How clever. The mistress will be so pleased you discovered the source of that problem.”
Patrick nodded and went on. “By the time old Bertie got to the third place, Rosenbloom’s Fine Jewelry, the sergeant and one of his chief detectives had caught up with me. As soon as Thompson saw Bertie was going into the jewelry store, he sent the detective into the store behind him.”
“Oh, why didn’t he let you do it?”
“Thompson said Throckmorton might’ve been suspicious if he’d seen me anytime during the morning. But I think the main reason was I didn’t exactly look like the kind of man who could afford to buy his sweetheart some expensive jewelry. But that’s fine. What’s important is, sure enough, the female jewelry clerk distracted the store owner long enough for Throckmorton to swipe a couple of diamond rings. Thompson collared him as he walked out of the store. So, by early afternoon we had Bertie Throckmorton, Chester Kingsbury, the second man caught at the Silver Strike, Cherry, and the three other young women who were their accomplices.”
“That’s wonderful, Patrick. Were you able to find and arrest the third man?”
“Yes. Problem of course was that we didn’t catch him in the act, so there is no evidence he’s done anything wrong. Same problem with the other girls. They all started out saying they didn’t know a thing about any shoplifting ring.”
“But I saw Cherry! It was clear as day what she was up to.”
“I know, and if the case goes to trial, you might be called on to testify.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I’d want to do that.” Kathleen got up to get the kettle that was whistling and poured the water into the cup over the tea she’d spooned into the strainer.
When she brought the cup over to Patrick, he grabbed her and lifted her onto his lap, giving her a swift kiss. She hissed at him and jumped up to sit on the other side of the table.
Patrick grinned and said, “Don’t you worry. Probably won’t need to call on you. Two of the girls have already confessed with the promise of just having to pay a fine.”
Kathleen felt better, although it could be sort of exciting to tell about her role in helping break up a gang of thieves. Might get interviewed for the papers. She said, “Why did they confess?”
“It was Sergeant Thompson. He let me sit in with him during the interviews. You should have seen how clever he was at getting the girls to inform on each other. Since I’d actually seen Cherry with Throckmorton and we found the fake cork stamp, we have more against her so he started with her first. She got all uppity and said Bertie was her beau and there was nothing criminal about a girl meeting her fellow after work, and that he was going to marry her as soon as he got the money together.
“Then Thompson went in and talked to Hyacinth, the cash girl working at the City of Paris, who gave him pretty much the same story about Bertie being her ‘intended.’ Thompson said that was pretty strange, because he’d just talked to a girl named Cherry at the Silver Strike who said the same thing.”
“How’d she react to that?”
“Turns out Bertie had told her that his pal Kingsbury was betrothed to Cherry, and when Thompson shook his head and offered to bring Cherry in to confirm what he’d told her, Hyacinth spilled everything. The third man’s name, what specific goods they liked to steal, and even the name of the fence they used. And the name of two other jewelry stores they’d robbed.”
“Did they find any of the stolen goods?”
“A few items were found in the men’s rooms, but they probably passed most of what they got right on to the fence. There should be enough to help convict the three men, particularly with the girls’ testimonies. The fence is someone the police have had their eye on. Thompson sent men to round him up and search his rooms. I don’t know what they found. From what Mr. Dawson told me, it’s usually real hard to convict someone for shoplifting because you can’t prove that a pair of gloves or stockings or even a diamond bracelet you find in a man’s pocket or rooms were the exact ones that were stolen. Unless you have someone like you who can testify you saw them steal exactly those items.”
“That seems unfair. How is Mr. Livingston going to get his money back?”
“Well, he probably won’t. But darling, he won’t be losing any more money, thanks to you. And I got a chance to work out of uniform. Show them I am detective material. Might be that if I can help Mrs. Dawson figure out what’s happening to the missing inventory from the third floor as well, they might consider me for that side of the force next opening they have. Wouldn’t that be grand?”