Thursday evening, March 9, 1882
O’Farrell Street Boardinghouse
Annie sat in the nursery rocking chair with her warm and slightly damp-around-the edges child snuggled against her shoulder. She had taken advantage of the fact that she knew that Nate wasn’t going to be home until late tonight to have an early dinner, followed by giving her daughter a bath. This was one of her favorite times of the day.
Everyone was at dinner downstairs, so she didn’t feel self-conscious about singing the old lullabies her mother had sung to her, even when the memories brought tears to her eyes and a catch to her throat. Abigail didn’t seem to mind, her own eyes slowly drooping closed. In a minute, Annie would put her down in her crib, confident she would sleep soundly until Annie woke her at eleven for her last feeding.
Miracle of miracles, Annie didn’t find herself nodding off herself, which had been her pattern ever since Abigail’s birth. Instead, her brain clicked along on all its cylinders, as she thought about the meeting she had scheduled with Dr. Brown at the dispensary tomorrow afternoon. She hated to overwhelm the poor woman, who would be grieving over the news of Dr. Granger’s death, so she wanted to be organized.
At least Annie could assure her that the financial problems were solved, at least temporarily. That should go some way to combating Mrs. Branting’s attempt to undermine the board’s confidence in the consulting doctors. On the other hand, if the police hadn’t yet solved Dr. Granger’s death by next Wednesday, when the board met, Branting could very well hint that his death was connected in some fashion to the dispensary. That could be disastrous.
There was a soft knock on the nursery door, followed by Kathleen’s entrance. She whispered that Laura was downstairs, with two friends, and she had asked if Annie could join her. Annie nodded and got up slowly, gently putting Abigail down in her crib. Her daughter kicked once, yawned, and then went still, her chest rising and falling softly. Annie could feel the smile on her face, which echoed Kathleen’s as they stood together, looking down at the sleeping child.
Annie put her arm around the young maid’s waist, basking in the warmth of their shared love for Abigail. She’d been such a fool to feel jealous of Kathleen’s ease with her daughter, fearing that somehow if she let go of some of her responsibilities for caring for the child this would mean she didn’t love Abigail the way she should. As if love was something finite, quantifiable, accounted for in some ledger.
She gave Kathleen a hug and then left the nursery to see what her sister-in-law wanted from her.
Laura met her at the bottom of the stairs and pulled her a little of the way down the hallway where they wouldn’t be overheard by the boarders who were in the formal parlor.
She said, “Thanks for coming down. I gather Nate’s working late again. I thought you’d broken him of that habit?”
Annie rolled her eyes and said, “You’re a fine one to talk. I saw your light was still on last night at one when I went to use the bathroom. But yes, Nate is still at work. He’s finishing up a will he needs to complete so he can be sure to make it home early tomorrow. I plan on going to the dispensary in the late afternoon, with Kathleen, so I figured he could feed and entertain Abigail while Tilly handles serving the boarders’ dinner. It will be a good experience for him.”
“Oh, Annie, you know I was just teasing.”
Annie knew no such thing, but she said, “Who are these visitors I need to meet?”
“They’re friends of Iris, my forewoman at the printing press, Nellie and Lydia Granger.”
“What? Dr. Granger’s daughters? Why are they here?”
“They want to talk to you about their father’s murder. Iris told Nellie, the younger one who is the illustrator, about the investigative work you have done over the past few years. Nellie and her sister, Lydia, stopped by work just as I was finishing up my shift. They seemed so anxious to speak with you that I invited them to come home with me. That’s all right, isn’t it? I figured you’d be curious to hear what they had to say.”
Annie nodded. Laura knew her too well.
As they entered the small office, Annie hurried up to the two women who were standing next to the fireplace and said, “Good evening, I’m Laura’s sister-in-law, Annie Dawson. I am so sorry for your loss. I only met your father once, but I’ve heard such good things about him. Do be seated.”
The taller of the two women, a striking woman with jet black hair and dark blue eyes, stuck out her hand and gave Annie’s a hearty shake before sitting down on one of the two upholstered chairs grouped around the fireplace. She said, “Thank you so much, Mrs. Dawson. You are good to see us. I’m Nellie Granger, and this is my older sister, Lydia.”
Lydia Granger, a rather washed-out copy of her younger sister, smiled and gave Annie a gentler handshake before taking the other seat.
Annie said, “I know Laura hasn’t eaten yet, so I will be asking one of our maids to bring her a light repast. Could I tempt you to partake, at least have some tea?”
Nellie Granger said, “Tea would be quite appreciated. Wouldn’t it, Lydia?”
Annie pulled the cord next to the fireplace and then brought up one of the desk chairs to join the two women, while Laura brought the other.
Once everyone was seated, Annie said, “Now, how I can help you?”
Nellie said, “To be blunt, my sister and I don’t trust the police to get at the truth of our father’s murder, and we understand you have some experience in investigating such things. We would like you to help us find out who killed him and bring them to justice.”
Before Annie could respond, young Tilly knocked and came into the room.
As Laura jumped up to tell her what was wanted, Annie probed her own feelings about Miss Granger’s request. She had been about to say something about her investigating days being over now that she was a mother, how they should leave this up to the police. But she knew that wouldn’t be the truth.
When Tilly left and Laura came back to sit down, Annie said, “It’s been less than two days since the police started their investigation. These things take time. I know Sergeant Thompson, who is in charge of this case. He’s a good man.”
“That may be so, but the mayor’s gotten involved, and I fear that he is pushing the police to find a suspect quickly…too quickly. For example, they have had Father’s nurse and her son in for questioning, twice.”
“Miss Astrello, who works at the Pacific Dispensary?”
“No, Mrs. Tobin, who works in the mornings. She’s a widow who’s been with my father for nearly twenty years. The problem is that her son, Freddy, got into some trouble with the police a few years ago. One of the constables told your Sergeant Thompson that Freddy was picked up a couple of times when he was younger, stealing.”
“And is that true, do you know?” Annie asked.
“Yes, but he’s reformed. He’s had a good job working for a grocery store for years. Also, his mother says he was home with her all night. She wouldn’t lie, not even to save her son.”
Seeing Lydia move restlessly, Annie turned to her and asked, “Do you agree?”
Lydia said quietly, “Yes, I do. Mrs. Tobin is the one who came to Father when she discovered that Freddy had gotten in with bad company after his father died. Asked him for help. Father started taking an interest in the boy. That was ten years ago. Freddy has been on the straight and narrow ever since. Freddy adores…adored my father.”
Nellie added, “Besides, I don’t think that Father was killed by someone robbing the office. Miss Astrello went through the cabinet where Father kept his medicine this morning and nothing was missing. Thompson then questioned why Father didn’t have much money on him.”
Annie said, “Was that normal? I mean, after a day seeing patients, wouldn’t at least some of them have paid in cash?”
Nellie laughed. “Oh, no, poor Father could never handle money. Lydia handles all the finances. Comes into the office once a week to go over things with Mrs. Tobin, sends out bills, takes money to the bank. And the fact that he didn’t have much money in his wallet doesn’t mean a thing. He constantly gave out money to any waif he saw on his way to and from work or any patient he thought might not have the funds to buy the prescription he’d written out. Half the time when he left the office, he’d barely have enough to pay the twenty-five cents it cost to ride the horse car home.”
Lydia nodded vigorously in agreement.
Annie said, “Did you tell Sergeant Thompson this?”
Nellie said, “Yes.” She shrugged. “But, in truth, it isn’t their suspicions about Freddy that worry me the most. It’s all the questions they asked about the Pacific Dispensary.”
Annie’s heart sank. This was exactly what she had feared might happen when they told Thompson about the anonymous letters to the Chronicle.
She said, “What kinds of questions?”
“Questions about whether he had any conflicts with any members of the dispensary staff or with members of the board, disagreements over how the dispensary was being run. Thompson also asked about Father’s financial connections with the dispensary, whether or not he collected a fee from the dispensary for referring patients there. Can you imagine? That would be unethical!”
Annie could well imagine that some doctors, like Dr. Skerry, might try to make that very kind of arrangement with a medical institution. Maybe that was the reason she’d wanted to set up her own medical school and was so angry when the local doctors didn’t support her?
She said, “Did your father tell you anything about the problems between the Pacific Dispensary and the husband of one of his patients, Richard Truscott?”
Nellie said, “He didn’t say anything to me. But Thompson asked us the same question. Lydia told him that Father had mentioned that one of his patients, a Phoebe Truscott, had just returned to the dispensary and that there was some question about what had caused her symptoms.”
Annie thought this supported what Ella Blair had said about Dr. Granger not taking at all seriously the idea that Phoebe had been deliberately poisoned.
She said, “What about Charlie McFadyn and the girl Hilda? I believe it was you, Lydia, who discovered the girl near your home.”
Lydia responded quickly, “Father told me about how she was doing, but I gather from Thompson that there was some man, this McFadyn, who claimed that Hilda’s child was his, and that the man had created some disturbance in the dispensary. Father hadn’t told me about this, and it was only today that my brother gave me any details.”
Nellie broke in, “That was Father for you, wanted to spare Lydia’s feelings. Was my brother correct…some woman tried to drag Hilda away from the dispensary on behalf of this McFadyn? And that’s what precipitated the poor girl’s labor?”
Laura spoke up for the first time and said, “I hadn’t heard about this. Is the girl all right?”
Annie said, “Yes, so far she and the baby are doing well.”
She turned to Nellie and Lydia and said, “Did your brother know that Hilda’s decided to name the boy Harry, in memory of your father? She sees you, Lydia, and your father as her saviors.”
Nellie said, “Oh, Lydia, what a lovely tribute. We must go see the girl and little Harry.”
Lydia, dabbing her eyes, said softly, “Father would be so pleased. Yes, we should go tomorrow.”
Nellie then turned to Annie and said, “Do you think that this Charlie McFadyn may have been the one to kill my father? Thompson didn’t indicate any particular interest in him, besides asking if we had heard of him.”
Annie said, “It is my experience that Sergeant Thompson casts his net far and wide at first, so I wouldn’t read anything specific into what he did and did not ask you. He probably asked both of you about your relationship with your father and where you were the night he was killed. But that doesn’t mean he suspects either of you.”
Nellie nodded. “Yes, although I must say the way he asked me questions made me immediately feel like I had something to hide. And my brother…” She stopped and looked over at her sister, as if for permission to continue to speak.
Annie looked sharply at Nellie, who, up until now, had seemed so forthright. What was causing her hesitation?
Finally, she said, “Your brother?”
“Well, Harrison became quite belligerent with the sergeant when he asked him to account for his movements that night. I think that he’s feeling guilty because he and Father had been on the outs for the past month or so. Over stupid things like whose name should come first on the title page of the journal they both edit.”
Lydia said quietly, “Nellie doesn’t fully understand. She’s carved out her own area of success, quite distinct from Father. She doesn’t know what it was like to live perpetually in his shadow.”
Nellie looked at her sister with affection and shrugged. “Father was bigger than life. And I don’t know that any of us, his children, his employees, the staff of the dispensary, can be objective. That’s why we’ve come to you, Mrs. Dawson, as someone who can look at his life from the outside. See if there is something we are missing.”
Lydia leaned over to pick up a box that had been sitting at her feet and cradled it in her lap. She said, “This is Father’s memoir. He’s been working on it off and on for the past year. It’s all about his medical career, starting with his days in medical school at the University of Pennsylvania in the 1840s.”
Nellie added, “Lydia and I think that the clues to who wanted him dead might be found somewhere in these volumes. At first, I thought we could simply look at the most recent pages. But Lydia thinks, from something Father said on Monday, that he was upset about something from his past. We just don’t know what part of his past. Besides, neither of us is emotionally ready to read any of what he has written.”
Annie looked over at Laura, who lifted her shoulders slightly as if to indicate she didn’t know this request was coming. She said, “So you would like me to read what he’s written? Looking for what?”
“That’s it, we don’t know,” Nellie said. “I guess we hope that something or some person will jump out at you. Something that would explain why anyone would want to kill him.”
Annie said, “Did you tell Sergeant Thompson about this memoir?”
Nellie shook her head. “No, we didn’t. Frankly, we didn’t like the idea of the police reading it. We worried that they might take something he said out of context.”
Something like the tension between their father and their brother?
She understood their concern, but looking at the size of the box, Annie wondered exactly how many volumes Nellie was talking about. This could be a monumental task. Yet it was something she could do at home, in private. Nate would be pleased. He had already expressed his concern this morning when she mentioned she might try to arrange an interview with Dr. Skerry. He’d said sharply that she should leave the face-to-face investigating to Sergeant Thompson. She knew he was thinking about three of her earlier cases, where she had found herself in physical danger. But he couldn’t complain if she did her sleuthing from home.
Annie said, “All right, I’ll take a look. However, if I find something that I believe the police need to know about, I will have to tell Sergeant Thompson.”
Nellie glanced over at her sister and then nodded her agreement.
Annie added, thinking about her meeting tomorrow, “Would it be all right with you if I spoke to Dr. Brown and Dr. Blair about having this memoir? While I will try to skim through all the volumes, they might be able to suggest particular names to look for or the timing of specific events.”
“Yes, that is actually an excellent idea,” Nellie said.
As Annie took the heavy box from Lydia, she had the sudden thought that Dr. Granger might have mentioned Dr. Skerry in his memoir, elaborating on the reasons he and Dr. Brown had objected to her being accepted by the California Medical Society. Yes, this memoir might be the next best thing to actually talking to suspects.