Maids of Misfortune (9 page)

Chapter Eleven:
Very early Saturday morning, August 9, 1879

Annie found herself awake, her heart pounding. For some reason, she was curled-up in a tight ball under a thin, unfamiliar blanket. When she tried to straighten out, her body seemed to be frozen into a kind of
rigor mortis
. It was dark, and the material beneath her cheek was rough and smelled of carbolic soap. Where was she? Then she remembered. She was lying in a narrow bed up in the attic in Matthew Voss’s house. She vaguely recalled climbing the long back stairs to her room around ten o’clock, after having tidied up the tea things. She must have just stripped down to her chemise and drawers, too tired to properly undress. This was a mistake, since clearly the attic got very cold at night, even in the summertime, and the blanket was certainly inadequate.

It was still dark, so maybe it wasn’t time to get up yet. Stifling a groan, Annie tried to wake her protesting limbs from their premature death as she pulled her unresponsive body to the side of the bed. Barely enough moonlight came in from the narrow window under the eaves for her to make out the face of the traveling clock she had brought with her. She groaned more loudly when she saw it was only twelve-thirty. She had been asleep just long enough for every ache and pain of her over-worked muscles to flower into their full glory. Death didn’t seem like such a terrible alternative.

Annie slowly turned onto her back, pulled the blanket up, and tentatively stretched herself straight. Barring one excruciating moment when her right calf cramped, the new position was a definite improvement. Wishing to distract herself from her bodily complaints, she began to review what she had learned on her first day as a maidservant. She hadn’t been able to continue her conversation with Wong because, by the time she had finished getting Mrs. Voss ready for bed, he had already left the house. She could only hope he wasn’t planning on voicing his suspicions to Miss Nancy when he came back in the morning; it would be humiliating to be dismissed without having learned anything definitive. It had been his discreet knock at the sitting room door that had broken the appalling silence that had followed Nancy Voss’s extraordinary lapse into biblical prophecy. Wong had come to ask Jeremy to let him out of the house so he could return to his lodging in Chinatown.

Earlier in the day, Miss Nancy had explained that Mr. Voss had insisted the house remain locked at all times. This meant that if any servant wanted in or out, someone would have to be present to unlock and re-lock the bolt. Evidently, decades before, Matthew had been robbed during the daytime and consequently had been quite fanatical about taking this precaution. This must be why the police dismissed the possibility of an intruder.

Annie had used Wong's interruption to cover her stealthy movement from the sitting room into Mrs. Voss’s bedroom. She hoped that everyone, if they bothered to think about her at all, would assume she had been there the whole time. Jeremy and Miss Nancy must have left the sitting room with Wong, for almost immediately Mrs. Voss followed Annie into the bedroom and wordlessly began preparing to retire. Unfortunately, this had meant she hadn’t had time to search the bedroom for the missing assets.

Annie lay in the dark pondering the enigma of Mrs. Voss. She could swear she had seen a spark of intelligence in her beautiful eyes, and yet her conversation struck her as childish and naïve. Actually, much about the conversation she had overheard confused Annie. Why was Jeremy so adamant that his father's death was suicide? Could it be that he wanted to divert attention from the possibility that Matthew was murdered? But why would he then blame himself for his father’s death? And hadn’t Mr. Dawson said it was Jeremy who had insisted that Matthew was financially solvent? If so, what would the motive for suicide be? Then there was Miss Nancy’s extraordinary accusation. She couldn’t possibly mean that Mrs. Voss had killed her husband. Yet Mrs. Voss was afraid of something; her protests to Jeremy that everything would be just fine held a clear note of panic.

The one thing that had made sense to her was the idea that Matthew planned to buy out Samuels. This might explain what he had done with the assets he had been accumulating. In fact, she wished she could get word to Mr. Dawson about this, because it might be that Matthew had cashed in his assets in preparation for making an offer to his partner. But then where was the money?

Having thought of Nate Dawson, she experienced a twinge of uneasiness. It was possible that he might stop by the boarding house if he had any additional information about Matthew’s financial affairs, but she had left strict instructions with Kathleen and Beatrice not to divulge her whereabouts to anyone. The more disturbing thought was that he might discover her whereabouts himself if he called on the Voss household. He was such a mystery; so gruff and humorless at the law office, then quite personable on the walk home. She could just imagine what he would say about her decision to come to work as a maid. Unbidden, she had a vision of him standing at the Voss’s front door, frowning down at her from his superior height, those fierce brown eyes boring into her own.

Feeling inexplicably warmer, Annie sat up and hugged her knees. Thank goodness Miss Nancy had agreed to let her take Saturday night and all of Sunday off, despite the fact that she had just started work. Beatrice had made her promise that she would ask for this, saying that she would need the additional day to recuperate. At the time she had scoffed at Beatrice’s concern, but now the idea that she would be spending the next two nights in her own bed was heaven. Evidently the previous servant, Nellie, had gotten only Wednesday afternoons and Saturday nights off, but clearly Miss Nancy was so desperate to engage a new maid she hadn’t quibbled about this request.

Thinking about her night off led Annie to consider why the former servant, Nellie, had left her position so precipitously. Except for Jeremy’s brief mention of her looks, and a few disparaging comments by Cartier about her leaving without notice, there had been no mention of her or why she left.
I wonder what she was like? Did she like working here? Was she lonely?
Annie was afraid to ask Wong about her, because it might further his suspicions. Could it be Nellie was involved in Matthew’s death? Perhaps she had been bribed to let someone into the house before she left that evening––and was afraid she would be blamed for Matthew’s death? But then, how could this person have gotten out of the house without leaving one of the doors unlocked?

Cold again, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders, thinking how odd it was to be sitting on a narrow cot, under Matthew’s roof, seriously considering who might have killed him.
Oh, if only I could talk to Matthew about what happened!

She swung her legs to the edge of the bed.
This is useless,
she thought angrily.
Sitting here wishing I could talk to a dead man isn’t going to solve anything. I’m wide awake now, so I should be spending the time searching for the missing assets rather than in idle speculation. At least if I get up and move around, I will feel warmer!

Annie decided that she would change into her flannel nightgown and robe and slip quietly downstairs to Matthew’s study on the chance it was unlocked, since this seemed the logical place to start looking for the missing stocks and bonds. Miss Nancy had told her that she should use the water closet behind the stairs on the first floor for her personal use, so at least she would have some sort of an excuse for being on that floor if she ran into anyone. Kathleen’s comment about the “ruckus” that would result if Annie were found snooping rose unbidden in her mind. She paused for a second, her nightgown hanging from her cold fingers, then gave her head a shake.
What is the worst that would happen? Miss Nancy might give me a terrible scold. Or maybe I would be dismissed, which would be a shame. But that’s all! What else could possibly happen?

Chapter Twelve

Annie closed the heavy wooden door, very slowly, waiting for the soft snick of the latch. She then took a deep breath and turned around to get her first look at the room that was at the heart of Matthew’s domain. So far, her nighttime foray had gone remarkably well, including finding Matthew’s study door unlocked. Once she had gotten past the creaky attic stairs undetected, her progress the rest of the way down three flights to the first floor had been eerily silent. The pale glow from the hallway gas jets had helped. Miss Nancy had told her these lights were to be kept on low all night. Annie hadn’t been surprised to discover that Matthew’s house had been built to accommodate gas, but so far, none of the gas fixtures in all of the rooms she had entered had been turned on. Instead, the rooms continued to be lit by the old-fashioned oil lamps or candles. These were expensive alternatives to kerosene or gas, but Annie approved of the soft clear light they produced, and she was frankly glad that her own house didn’t have gas fittings. Her mother-in-law had installed gas throughout her New York City town house, and Annie had never liked the harsh glare they created. But in this case, the gaslight that burned in the hallways had made it possible for her to make it to the first floor study without bumping into anything.

With the door closed behind her, the only light came from the candle she carried, and the room seemed small and cave-like. Annie thought she detected the faint smell of wood she always associated with Matthew, but there was an underlying whiff of something metallic she didn’t think she wanted to identify. She listened intently for a second, but the thick silence reminded her of how little noise passed through these wooden doors, and she began to feel a little safer.

Lifting the candle up in front of her, she turned slowly to let the light slide over each wall. First, she saw floor-to-ceiling bookcases that marched along the wall directly to her right, wrapped around the corner, and continued along the street side of the room for about three feet. Next came the large bay windows that looked out to the street in front of the house. These were matched by another set of windows that overlooked the narrow passageway between the Voss household and the neighbors. Both sets of windows were curtained in some heavy dark material that kept out the slightest hint of moonlight. Moving a few steps into the room, she saw that in the corner between the two sets of windows stood a drinks cabinet, an armchair, and a small table with a lamp and a pile of papers on it. Continuing to turn to her left, she saw more bookshelves and a desk that jutted out perpendicular to the long interior wall. Moving closer to the chair near the windows, the candlelight throwing her shadow up the curtains to her left, she began to notice some additional details. There was a silver platter on the drinks cabinet, but it was missing the decanter and glasses she would have expected to see. When she leaned closer, she saw that the newspaper on the table next to the armchair was dated Saturday, August 4, which made sense, since this was the day Matthew died; she also noticed that there were several rings where the printing was blurred as if a glass had been repeatedly placed on top of the papers. She could imagine Matthew sitting in his study sometime on Saturday evening, having a whiskey, perhaps thinking about the reactions to his announcements at dinner.

Was the poison found just in the glass of whiskey or also the decanter?
This would make a difference. If it was also in the decanter, then any one of the servants, well, probably not Cartier, but certainly Nellie or Wong, would be a suspect, since they both would have been able to put the poison into the decanter at any time during the day. But then there would be no guarantee that Matthew wouldn’t offer the poisoned whisky to someone else, like Malcolm Samuels, if he had showed up for dinner.
I will just have to ask Patrick; he will know.

Patrick had come by to see his aunt Bea on the previous evening while everyone was sitting around giving Annie advice on how to be a good servant. He had been very willing to tell her everything he knew, despite his aunt’s patent disapproval. For example, she now remembered that he had said that a white packet had been found on the floor at Matthew’s feet, in the bottom of which they had found a residue of the poison.

“That’s what cinched it for Detective Jackson, Ma’am,” Patrick had said. “Proved it was suicide, finding the packet like that, where the poor man most likely dropped it before finishing off the fatal drink.”

As Patrick described what the police had found, Annie had thought to herself that the murderer had certainly done a good job of setting up the scene to look like suicide, note and all. Now she also realized that this meant that the person who poisoned Matthew had probably been in the room with him as he died or at least had access to the room after he was dead, in order to place the fake suicide note and the packet. This would make it less likely that either Wong or Nellie were involved, since Patrick said both of them left the house while Matthew was still alive and had arrived back in the morning after the body was discovered.

According to Patrick, Wong told the police that he had let Nellie out the back door at eight o’clock, as was usual for her night out, and Mr. Voss had let him out the front door at ten. This would seem to rule out involvement by these two servants. But what if Wong lied about letting Nellie out? Couldn’t she have simply hidden up in her attic room and then come down in the middle of the night and let someone, like Wong, back in? But then how would that someone have gotten Matthew to drink the poison? It was even possible that if Nellie stayed hidden in the house, she could creep downstairs in the early morning hours to see if Matthew had indeed had his poisoned nightcap and was now dead. Then all  she would have to do was plant the evidence to make it look like suicide, steal whatever money or documents were at hand, and sneak out of the house.
Oh dear, that was a problem. How could Nellie, or her unknown accomplice, have gotten out of the house without leaving some door or window open?
Annie was sure Patrick had said he had made a complete circuit of the house as soon as he was called in, and he didn’t find any openings, except of course for the front door, which Mrs. Voss swore was locked until she opened it to let Miss Nancy go get the police.

Patrick had clearly been very impressed by Mrs. Voss. He spoke about how brave and composed she had been to answer Detective Jackson’s questions, with her “poor husband’s lifeless body still lying right across the hall.” He said she told the police that she had been at the top of the stairs, after having just been downstairs to say goodnight to her husband, when she saw Wong leave and saw her husband lock the front door behind him. She thought that this was just about ten; she said she had then retired for the night. It wasn’t until she woke early in the morning that she discovered that Matthew had not come to bed. She said it was her husband’s habit to stay up until at least one in the morning, that he didn’t need much sleep, but that he had never before been absent when she awoke.

Annie thought it spoke well of Wong that his mistress would be so quick to verify that he wasn’t in the house. Patrick said she was less specific about the rest of the household. She wasn’t sure when either Cartier, who had seen her right before she retired, or her sister-in-law had gone to bed. She believed her son had gone out after dinner and wasn’t sure when he returned, although he was there the next morning when Matthew was found. Jeremy evidently told the police he had come in at eleven and gone right upstairs without speaking to his father. Not surprisingly, none of the four who were still in the house the next morning had any idea what the other three were up to during the rest of the night. Annie tried to imagine any one of them coming into Matthew’s study, pouring him a drink, and standing by to watch him die.

She shuddered, and her shadow danced crazily along the walls.
Better concentrate on finding Matthew’s missing assets. It's stupid to stand here wondering if anyone in this house hated him enough to kill him.
With that thought, Annie began to look around the room in earnest, looking first at the desk. Besides the lamp and an inkwell and pen, there was nothing on top of the desk. She refused to think about why the desk blotter was missing. She was very surprised when she opened the file drawer and found nothing in it. In fact, except for a few odds and ends––a ruler, magnifying glass, some pencil stubs, a box of matches––that she found in the shallow drawer underneath the desktop, the desk was empty.

This can’t be right
! Annie thought.
The police would have found the lack of any files suspicious!
Then she mentally kicked herself. Probably the police, or most likely Nate or his uncle, had taken the files to go over them. She would have to talk to him to find out if this had been his and his uncle’s handiwork. If it had been the police, maybe Nate could get access to the missing files and look through them. Then again, it might be that Matthew kept only household information in his study and that the place needing a more thorough search would be his office at the furniture factory. She couldn’t remember whether Nate had mentioned if he or Matthew’s partner, Samuels, had looked there.

Annie scanned the room again and thought with a sigh that the only place left to look was the bookshelves, which could take all night to search. She leaned over to look at the clock she had noticed on the desk and almost let out a gasp when she saw the hands at 4:30.
No, that can’t be right,
she thought,
not that much time has passed.
Then she realized that the clock was silent, probably hadn’t been wound since Saturday.
So what time is it?
No more than fifteen minutes could have passed since she entered the room. She stood and listened carefully, but she could hear only the sound of her own breathing.
Well
, she thought,
I should at least look closely enough to see if it looks like any papers have been stuffed between any of the books
.

Annie crossed over to the end of the shelves to the right of the door and had just raised the candle up high to get a better look at the top shelves when a soft sound at the door gave her barely enough warning to snatch the candle down and snuff out its flame. The door was shoved open to its full extent, effectively boxing her into a tight triangle, with her back against the wall, the bookshelves to her left and the door a few inches from her nose. Annie held her breath and hoped that the candle, which she held clutched to her breast, didn’t have enough heat left in the wick to set her robe on fire.

Clearly, whoever had entered the room had their own candle, since flashes of light cut through the edges of the door against the bookshelves and then jerkily stabbed through the long opening between the door and the doorframe. She slowly turned her head to the right so she could look over her shoulder through this opening. She was so relieved not to see an eye peering through the door hinge at her that she almost let out a sigh. Instead, all she could see was a narrow strip of the end of the book shelves on the other side of the door, but the concentrated brightness of the candle light indicated that the person who had entered that room was standing right next to those shelves.

There was a light click and then a sound of wood sliding against wood. A small rustling noise was followed by the sliding wood sound again. Before Annie had time to blink, a figure moved rapidly past the strip of light, closing the door behind them, and Annie stood alone in the dark, trying to make sense of the image that had flashed before her eyes.

She had seen a person in a dressing gown holding some sort of oversized folders or books. But that was all she could recall. No face, since the head had been turned away. A dressing gown, but that didn’t help; she couldn’t tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman. She did think that the person had been taller than she was, but that would only rule out Mrs. Voss, not Cartier, Miss Nancy, or Jeremy, and there was no one else in the house. Standing there in the dark, Annie finally took a breath. Minutes ticked by while the thump, thump of her heart was the only thing she heard. Then, as her heart and breathing slowed, she noticed the small sting on her thumb and forefinger where she had pinched the candle flame. A small bubble of relief tickled its way into a giggle, which she quickly stifled.

Annie finally got up enough courage to pull out her matches from her robe pocket and relight the candle, her hands shaking. Ruthlessly repressing the small voice in her mind that was saying,
That could have been the murderer
, she went over to the bookshelves and stood, moving the candle back and forth and looking for what might have made the sounds she heard. Running her left hand across the books in the middle shelf, she noticed a section that felt different. Instead of leather, what she felt was carved wood; as she looked more closely, she could see the wood was painted to look like books. She pressed and heard a click, and this whole section slid to the right to reveal a hidden shelf.
Oh, Matthew! How this hidey-hole must have delighted you
, she thought
.
She wondered if anyone had told the police about it. Certainly, his family, and Nellie, who would have discovered it during dusting, must know about it.

The candlelight revealed a metal box sitting on the hidden shelf, with its lid open, empty. Otherwise, there was nothing else in the hiding place. She didn’t think that the box was big enough to hold the items she saw being removed from the room, but it was certainly big enough and deep enough to hold a stack of property deeds, stock certificates, or even money. She didn’t think whoever had just been in the room had had time enough to open the box and take things out, so she had to assume it was already empty
. So what has just now been removed from the hiding place?
And why did anyone come down in the dead of night to get it?