Read Online The Cliff House Strangler by Shirley Tallman - Free Book Online

face. “Yes, I see something of your father in you. The same strong chin and bright, intelligent eyes. And now you’ve followed him into the law. My, my, women lawyers. Who would have thought?” She sat back, looking very tired. “Well, I’d best be on my way. It has been a distressing affair. One cannot deny that. Simply horrible. I just wish . . .”
    Her thin voice trailed off, and she wore the same faraway expression I’d noticed the previous night in the saloon.
    “What is it you wish, Mrs. Reade?” I asked. “Is there something I can get you? A glass of water, perhaps, or another blanket for your lap? It’s chilly this morning.”
    The old woman sighed and gave me a wan smile. “No, my dear, I require nothing more than to be away from here. I never thought to see such wickedness. And as I mentioned, my eyesight is not what it used to be. It is difficult to know what to make of it all.”
    “You’re quite right. The sort of evil we witnessed last night is very hard to understand.” I bade the widow good-bye, then stood back as the driver closed the folding carriage door and climbed up to his elevated seat at the rear of the vehicle. “Take care of yourself, Mrs. Reade,” I called out as the man clicked his horse forward. Shewaved her hand at me, then leaned back in her seat for the long drive home.
    As I watched one person after another come out of Lieutenant Ahern’s temporary office, I saw that Mrs. Reade was not the only one who carried the signs of last night’s tragedy. I doubted that anyone had slept well; I knew I certainly hadn’t, and judging by the dark circles under Robert’s eyes, neither had he. Senator Gaylord appeared to be in a foul mood, and his wife looked as if she, too, had spent a restless night. Mrs. Philippa Bramwell and her son Nicholas were somber and barely spoke a dozen words between them as they departed from the Cliff House in their cabriolet.
    After our own interrogations, Robert and I were allowed to leave, but it was midafternoon before Eddie’s brougham reined up in front of my Sutter Street office. We had dropped Robert off at his rooms so that he might freshen up before going to Joseph Shepard’s law firm. Since I had no clients scheduled for that day, I decided to go on as I was, without bothering to change from the gown I had been wearing the previous evening.
    Fanny Goodman, the plump middle-aged widow who ran the ladies’ millinery shop downstairs, was outside washing her storm-muddied windows when I arrived. As soon as she saw me, she dropped her rags into a pail of vinegar water and dried her hands on the starched white apron protecting her dress. Tucking a few strands of graying hair into the knot at the nape of her neck, she greeted me with a warm smile.
    “So there you are, Miss Woolson. When you didn’t come in this morning, I feared you might have taken ill. Seems like half the city is suffering from catarrh. I declare it’s all this wet weather we’ve been having. Seeps right through a body and into the chest.”
    “My health is excellent, thank you, Mrs. Goodman,” I said, returning her smile. “I’m afraid I was unavoidably detained.”
    It was obvious that Mrs. Goodman was dying to know what had been important enough to keep me from my law practice, such as it was. Although I’d grown to like and respect my downstairsneighbor since establishing my Sutter Street practice two months earlier, I was loath to relate last night’s adventure, lest I open myself to a flood of questions. It was a relief when Eddie joined us, thus diverting the good woman’s ever keen curiosity.
    “Good day, ma’am,” the lad said, tipping his cap courteously. His bright brown eyes gleamed mischievously. “I wonder, has it been a busy day for you, then, Mrs. Goodman?”
    Mrs. Goodman shook her head in mock disapproval, all the while grinning fondly at the boy. The milliner had no children of her own, and she had taken an immediate liking to my young hackman