the window, latching it tight, and spared a parting glance for the photograph Taylor had left on the chest of drawers. Another family shattered. Nick could give a lecture on that topic.
“Finish putting everything back in order here,” Nick said to the policemen. He’d stop at Joseph Palmer’s office on Sutter before returning to the station. “We’re done here. On your way to the station, Taylor, visit Dora Schneider’s place and pick up the carpetbag Li Sha left with her. In case there’s something interesting in it. Mullahey, get to work on that liquor-smuggling case Eagan wants you to handle, since he won’t be happy to know I’m making use of two policemen on this case.”
“Sure enough, Mr. Greaves,” said Mullahey. “Eagan’s none too happy any of us are botherin’ with this China girl.”
“Looks like we can wrap up this case pretty quick, though,” said Taylor.
Nick lifted his hat from where he’d left it on the table, right in front of the chair where Celia Davies had sat and comforted her brother-in-law. “I’m not convinced we’ve got the right man, Taylor. And I don’t care if Eagan’s happy or not. He can take my job if he doesn’t like what I’m doing.”
Mullahey hooted with laughter. “Don’t be tellin’ Eagan that, Mr. Greaves, ’cause he might just take you up on the offer!”
• • •
S tretching, Celia yawned into her hand. She dug a finger through her skirt and beneath the bottom edge of her corset, attempting and failing to reach an itch. “Gad.”
She lowered the wick on the lantern on her desk and stood. The examination room’s small china mantel clock showed the time to be half five. The sun would set in thirty minutes. Just enough time to do some gardening before eating a light meal and going to bed early.
Yawning again, Celia clutched her mother’s shawl tight about her, the soft fabric comforting, and scanned the shelves, making a quick survey of her supplies. She needed more bandages, but that looked to be all for now.
She crossed the room to shut the window blinds, her hand pausing on the cord. She leaned closer to the glass. A man stood outside, down the road a short distance, and he was looking at their house.
“I thought you might want some tea before you head out to the garden, ma’am,” announced Addie, bustling into the examination room.
“Addie, have you noticed a man watching the house?” Celia turned and asked her.
“What?” The tea tray thumped atop the desk, and Addie came to her side. “Where?”
“There.” Celia pointed, but the man was no longer lurking in the shadows across the street. “He’s gone now. But I thought . . .”
Addie peered around the curtains. “Are you certain you saw someone?”
“It’s nothing, Addie. I am mistaken. The strain of the last few days is making me see things.” She smiled at her housekeeper. “Or maybe I need spectacles.”
“And hide your lovely eyes?” Addie clucked over the idea and returned to the kitchen.
Once she’d gone, Celia scanned the street again. Nothing. With a quick tug of the cord, she snapped the blinds closed.
• • •
“ T hank you for your time, Mr. Palmer.”
“Anything to help the police, Detective Greaves.” Joseph Palmer had a deep voice, his consonants soft around the edges. Southern origins, Nick would wager. Palmer gestured toward a man standing near the windows. “This is my associate, Mr. Douglass.”
Mr. Douglass, robust and outfitted in a black cassimere frock coat and pants, inclined his head. “Detective.” He leaned against a silver-headed walking stick and eyed Nick, not in a friendly fashion.
“You might prefer to speak to me alone, Mr. Palmer,” said Nick.
Palmer slid a glance at Douglass. “We shall talk later about this matter.”
Douglass nodded. “Good day to you, sir,” he said. He exited the room, his walking stick tapping against the floor, and shut the door behind him.
Palmer pressed his fingertips together while
“Finish putting everything back in order here,” Nick said to the policemen. He’d stop at Joseph Palmer’s office on Sutter before returning to the station. “We’re done here. On your way to the station, Taylor, visit Dora Schneider’s place and pick up the carpetbag Li Sha left with her. In case there’s something interesting in it. Mullahey, get to work on that liquor-smuggling case Eagan wants you to handle, since he won’t be happy to know I’m making use of two policemen on this case.”
“Sure enough, Mr. Greaves,” said Mullahey. “Eagan’s none too happy any of us are botherin’ with this China girl.”
“Looks like we can wrap up this case pretty quick, though,” said Taylor.
Nick lifted his hat from where he’d left it on the table, right in front of the chair where Celia Davies had sat and comforted her brother-in-law. “I’m not convinced we’ve got the right man, Taylor. And I don’t care if Eagan’s happy or not. He can take my job if he doesn’t like what I’m doing.”
Mullahey hooted with laughter. “Don’t be tellin’ Eagan that, Mr. Greaves, ’cause he might just take you up on the offer!”
• • •
S tretching, Celia yawned into her hand. She dug a finger through her skirt and beneath the bottom edge of her corset, attempting and failing to reach an itch. “Gad.”
She lowered the wick on the lantern on her desk and stood. The examination room’s small china mantel clock showed the time to be half five. The sun would set in thirty minutes. Just enough time to do some gardening before eating a light meal and going to bed early.
Yawning again, Celia clutched her mother’s shawl tight about her, the soft fabric comforting, and scanned the shelves, making a quick survey of her supplies. She needed more bandages, but that looked to be all for now.
She crossed the room to shut the window blinds, her hand pausing on the cord. She leaned closer to the glass. A man stood outside, down the road a short distance, and he was looking at their house.
“I thought you might want some tea before you head out to the garden, ma’am,” announced Addie, bustling into the examination room.
“Addie, have you noticed a man watching the house?” Celia turned and asked her.
“What?” The tea tray thumped atop the desk, and Addie came to her side. “Where?”
“There.” Celia pointed, but the man was no longer lurking in the shadows across the street. “He’s gone now. But I thought . . .”
Addie peered around the curtains. “Are you certain you saw someone?”
“It’s nothing, Addie. I am mistaken. The strain of the last few days is making me see things.” She smiled at her housekeeper. “Or maybe I need spectacles.”
“And hide your lovely eyes?” Addie clucked over the idea and returned to the kitchen.
Once she’d gone, Celia scanned the street again. Nothing. With a quick tug of the cord, she snapped the blinds closed.
• • •
“ T hank you for your time, Mr. Palmer.”
“Anything to help the police, Detective Greaves.” Joseph Palmer had a deep voice, his consonants soft around the edges. Southern origins, Nick would wager. Palmer gestured toward a man standing near the windows. “This is my associate, Mr. Douglass.”
Mr. Douglass, robust and outfitted in a black cassimere frock coat and pants, inclined his head. “Detective.” He leaned against a silver-headed walking stick and eyed Nick, not in a friendly fashion.
“You might prefer to speak to me alone, Mr. Palmer,” said Nick.
Palmer slid a glance at Douglass. “We shall talk later about this matter.”
Douglass nodded. “Good day to you, sir,” he said. He exited the room, his walking stick tapping against the floor, and shut the door behind him.
Palmer pressed his fingertips together while
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