Free Deadly Proof: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery by M. Louisa Locke Page B

remaining Madam Sibyl clients on Wednesdays.”
    “That’s all right. Anyway, from the transcript of her testimony I read today––I got the impression that Mrs. Rashers rather liked playing for a male audience.”
    “Oh, ho. You watch yourself, Mr. Dawson.” Annie shook her finger at Nate.
    Laura watched this interchange between them with pleasure, glad that these two people had found each other. Until last summer when he met Annie, she thought Nate was destined to turn into an old settled bachelor like their Uncle Frank. She knew that he’d been hurt by someone back east when he was in law school, but she thought that the problem was deeper than that. She once told their mother that Nate was too romantic by half––expecting to find a woman who combined both beauty and intelligence. In Annie Fuller he’d found that ideal, although Laura was sure that he hadn’t counted on the woman of his dreams being quite so independent.
    Nate continued to detail his plans, saying, “While I won’t try to talk to the employees while I’m there—I do hope that having seen me talk to Mrs. Rashers will make them more open to entertaining my questions later if I contact them. Chief Jackson was kind enough to give me their names and home addresses.”
    Nate leaned towards Laura, with an odd smile, and said, “You will never guess whose name I found on that list of employees. Your old friend from Normal School, Seth Timmons. In fact, he is the primary witness who found Mrs. Sullivan coming out of Rashers’ office, all covered in blood. How is that for a coincidence?”
    *****
    A s Annie walked down the flight of steps to the basement kitchen, she heard Laura talking with Beatrice and Kathleen about Seth. After his sister left them in the parlor, Nate told Annie he was worried that now that Laura knew Seth Timmons was involved that she’d never leave the case alone. Annie thought he was right, but she didn’t know what they could do about it.
    She did, however, agree with his request that since she already had a meeting scheduled for tomorrow with Mrs. Richmond, the WCPU owner, that she would try to talk to Iris Bailor herself while she was there. Then she walked him out to the porch, wishing they hadn’t had to spend the whole evening talking about his case.
    “...this woman, Florence Sullivan, a typesetter like me, has been accused of murdering her employer,” Laura said, her excited voice making her sound younger than her twenty years.
    “Mercy me, Miss Laura,” said Kathleen. “And you’re saying that the man who discovered the murder was Mr. Timmons, who went to that teachers school with you. The one who got hurt when...”
    “Kathleen,” admonished Beatrice, “pay attention to what you are doing, girl. You are dripping suds all over the floor.”
    The young maid, who’d been up to her elbows in dish water when Laura came in with her news, squeaked her apologies and hastily turned back to the sink filled with pots and pans from dinner.
    Annie, knowing that Kathleen would mop up the kitchen floor anyway once the dishes were done, looked over at Beatrice, puzzled by her sharp words. Seeing the concerned look the motherly woman was giving Laura, Annie realized she was trying to avoid mention of the events of last February––events that they all knew still gave Nate’s sister bad dreams.
    Laura said, “Oh, I am sorry, Mrs. O’Rourke, I didn’t mean to interrupt Kathleen’s work.”
    “Now Miss Laura, don’t you apologize. You know you’re always welcome down here with us,” replied Beatrice. “You just sit down with Mrs. Fuller, and I will get you both a cup of tea. Then you can tell us all about Mr. Dawson’s new case.”
    Beatrice bustled around, taking down the old brown kitchen teapot and spooning two large heaps of the imported China tea leaves into it. Then she poured in hot water from the kettle that stood at a boil on the back of the stove. While the tea steeped, Annie and Laura told them what