Read Online Murder on Nob Hill by Shirley Tallman - Free Book Online
Authors: Shirley Tallman
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help, you must tell me everything.”
Annjenett hesitated and looked toward Samuel, who, interested as he was in her narrative, instantly understood that she’d feel more comfortable if we were alone.
“I’ll see what I can find out about Mrs. Hanaford's arrest,” he said, knocking on the cell door to attract the guard.
I nodded my approval. “I’ll meet you outside.”
When he was gone, Annjenett said, “It was kind of you to come.”
“Kindness has nothing to do with it. It should be clear to any fool that you’re incapable of murder.”
Her hands moved nervously in her lap. “You may change your mind when you’ve heard my story.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” In an effort to help her begin, I said, “I understand your father was in debt to Mr. Hanaford's bank, and that this debt was forgiven upon your marriage.” I tried to keep my tone nonjudgmental, but some of my distaste must have shown.
“Please, Sarah, you mustn’t judge Papa too harshly. He hated marrying me to a man we both disliked so intensely. But Papa has a penchant for gambling, and Cornelius preyed on that weakness by lending him ever-increasing amounts of money. When my father realized what he’d done, it was too late. He was forced to agree to Cornelius's terms or risk losing everything.
I shook my head at this cowardice and she rushed on, “At first it wasn’t so bad. And I took hope from the fact that Cornelius treated me kindly. For the first year or two, I actually grew rather fond of him.”
“Then what happened?” I prompted when she faltered.
“Cornelius—began to make certain demands of me. He—” Her pale cheeks flamed into color.
I patted her hand. “I have friends who are married. I think I know what you’re trying to say.”
“Excuse me, Sarah, but I’m not sure you do. For a long time I didn’t either. I was too naive to understand that his—that my husband's appetites went beyond what is normally expected of a wife. I only knew that I found them coarse and humiliating. I tried to do what he asked, but it was never enough. Each time he came to my bed his demands grew more outrageous, more debasing. If I refused, he would sometimes strike me until I gave in.”
“Dear god!” Tears streaked down Annjenett's face and I felt beastly. “Please, believe me, my dear. I would never make you go through this if it weren’t so important.”
“It's all right, Sarah, I understand.” A smile touched her lips, but quickly faded. “Sometimes the beatings were so serious I was forced to stay in my room to hide the bruises from the servants. Then gradually, Cornelius came to my room less frequently. Over the past year he hardly came at all.
“At first it was a relief, but over time I began to grow lonely.
Then, about six months ago, friends asked me to accompany them to the theater. Cornelius was out for the evening and it seemed an innocent thing to do.”
Her blue eyes met mine. “We went to the Baldwin Theater. They were doing The Shoemaker's Holiday and Peter Fowler played Simon Eyre. Oh, Sarah, he was wonderful! Afterward, he joined our party for a late supper and we were surprised to discover that we’d both grown up in San Francisco, actually within blocks of each other. We wondered if we might have even played together as children. Peter was so easy to talk to and he made me laugh. Heaven knows I hadn’t laughed in a long time.”
“So you began seeing each other?”
She nodded. “I’m not proud of my behavior, Sarah, but for the first time in my life I had fallen deeply in love.”
“I’m not here to judge you, my dear. Only to clear you of these ludicrous charges.” I looked her in the eye. “Now, I want you to tell me what happened the night your husband was killed. What really happened.”
She looked at me miserably, then turned away. Suddenly, I understood. “He was there, wasn’t he? Peter Fowler, I mean.”
She nodded wretchedly. “Sarah, I swear he had nothing to do
Annjenett hesitated and looked toward Samuel, who, interested as he was in her narrative, instantly understood that she’d feel more comfortable if we were alone.
“I’ll see what I can find out about Mrs. Hanaford's arrest,” he said, knocking on the cell door to attract the guard.
I nodded my approval. “I’ll meet you outside.”
When he was gone, Annjenett said, “It was kind of you to come.”
“Kindness has nothing to do with it. It should be clear to any fool that you’re incapable of murder.”
Her hands moved nervously in her lap. “You may change your mind when you’ve heard my story.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” In an effort to help her begin, I said, “I understand your father was in debt to Mr. Hanaford's bank, and that this debt was forgiven upon your marriage.” I tried to keep my tone nonjudgmental, but some of my distaste must have shown.
“Please, Sarah, you mustn’t judge Papa too harshly. He hated marrying me to a man we both disliked so intensely. But Papa has a penchant for gambling, and Cornelius preyed on that weakness by lending him ever-increasing amounts of money. When my father realized what he’d done, it was too late. He was forced to agree to Cornelius's terms or risk losing everything.
I shook my head at this cowardice and she rushed on, “At first it wasn’t so bad. And I took hope from the fact that Cornelius treated me kindly. For the first year or two, I actually grew rather fond of him.”
“Then what happened?” I prompted when she faltered.
“Cornelius—began to make certain demands of me. He—” Her pale cheeks flamed into color.
I patted her hand. “I have friends who are married. I think I know what you’re trying to say.”
“Excuse me, Sarah, but I’m not sure you do. For a long time I didn’t either. I was too naive to understand that his—that my husband's appetites went beyond what is normally expected of a wife. I only knew that I found them coarse and humiliating. I tried to do what he asked, but it was never enough. Each time he came to my bed his demands grew more outrageous, more debasing. If I refused, he would sometimes strike me until I gave in.”
“Dear god!” Tears streaked down Annjenett's face and I felt beastly. “Please, believe me, my dear. I would never make you go through this if it weren’t so important.”
“It's all right, Sarah, I understand.” A smile touched her lips, but quickly faded. “Sometimes the beatings were so serious I was forced to stay in my room to hide the bruises from the servants. Then gradually, Cornelius came to my room less frequently. Over the past year he hardly came at all.
“At first it was a relief, but over time I began to grow lonely.
Then, about six months ago, friends asked me to accompany them to the theater. Cornelius was out for the evening and it seemed an innocent thing to do.”
Her blue eyes met mine. “We went to the Baldwin Theater. They were doing The Shoemaker's Holiday and Peter Fowler played Simon Eyre. Oh, Sarah, he was wonderful! Afterward, he joined our party for a late supper and we were surprised to discover that we’d both grown up in San Francisco, actually within blocks of each other. We wondered if we might have even played together as children. Peter was so easy to talk to and he made me laugh. Heaven knows I hadn’t laughed in a long time.”
“So you began seeing each other?”
She nodded. “I’m not proud of my behavior, Sarah, but for the first time in my life I had fallen deeply in love.”
“I’m not here to judge you, my dear. Only to clear you of these ludicrous charges.” I looked her in the eye. “Now, I want you to tell me what happened the night your husband was killed. What really happened.”
She looked at me miserably, then turned away. Suddenly, I understood. “He was there, wasn’t he? Peter Fowler, I mean.”
She nodded wretchedly. “Sarah, I swear he had nothing to do
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