Scandal on Rincon Hill by Shirley Tallman

crime enough,” he said, his deep voice tight with indignation. “There is only one fit place for men such as that, in jail!”
    I started to speak in support of these sentiments, when I heard footsteps on the stairs leading up to my office, and an ever exuberant Eddie Cooper burst into the room. To my dismay, I spied a copy of the Police Gazette tucked beneath the boy's arm. If Eddie thought I could be persuaded to use this rag sheet in lieu of Mark Twain's exciting tale The Adventures of Tom Sawyer for his reading lesson, he was very much mistaken.
    The boy's eyes grew large when he saw Fanny and the tray of gingerbread on my desk. “Mornin', Mrs. Goodman,” he said, politely removing his cap as I'd instructed him when in the presence of a lady. “Mornin', Miss Sarah, Mr. Campbell,” he added as an afterthought, his eyes never leaving the food-laden tray.
    “I see we've come just in time,” my brother Samuel remarked, entering the room behind the boy. “Hello, Fanny, Robert. It's good to see you.”
    “And you,” Robert replied, shaking my brother's outstretched hand. Although the two men came from different countries, cultures, and backgrounds, they had formed a genuine friendship over the past year.
    “Fetch yourself a cup from the back room, Mr. Samuel,” Fanny directed him. “The coffee's hot and fresh.”
    She nodded toward the spare room that, as I have mentioned, I currently used for reading and brewing tea. Eventually, I intended this second room to serve as my law library, but so far I'd been able to stock it with only a handful of legal tomes, most of them borrowed from my father's home library.
    “What brings you here, Samuel?” I asked, reading the barely suppressed excitement on his handsome face. “Why do I have the feeling that this is more than a social call?”
    “I come bearing news,” he replied. “But first I must assuage mycraving for Fanny's excellent coffee and gingerbread.” He glanced teasingly at Eddie. “I don't suppose You'd care for a slice, would you, lad?”
    The boy grinned from ear to ear. “You know better than that, Mr. Samuel. No one bakes better gingerbread than Mrs. Goodman.”
    Fanny beamed at this compliment, while at the same time good-naturedly slapping at the boy's fingers, which had begun inching toward the cake plate. “Not so fast, young man. First, go wash those filthy hands.”
    The boy scooted into the back room where I kept soap, a basin of water, and a towel to freshen up during the day. He was back so quickly, I had to wonder how thorough a job he had made of it. Fanny must have been satisfied, though, for as soon as Eddie returned she began to cut him a very generous piece of the cake.
    “Now, eat this quietly and behave yourself,” she told him with a playful wink.
    “Thanks, Mrs. Goodman,” he said, accepting the plate. Grinning broadly, he carried the gingerbread over to his favorite perch on the windowsill. There he sat and, opening the rag sheet I was sure Samuel had just given him, began to devour Fanny's unexpected treat.
    “So, Samuel,” I said after we had all been served. “What's this news you're bursting to tell us?”
    “I should leave,” Robert said, once again rising from his chair, “before Joseph Shepard has a fit of dyspepsia. Trevor Lansing is still ill with catarrh, so I must take his place as second chair to Shepard in court again this morning.”
    “Please, Robert, just another minute,” Samuel said, holding up a hand. “I'm sure what I have to say will interest you, as well.”
    Robert nodded and sank back onto the edge of his seat. Despite his hurry, he looked intrigued, as did Fanny and I. “All right, but I really can't stay long.”
    We were all staring at Samuel, and as I watched his expression grow somber, I felt a sudden chill trickle down my spine.
    “What is it, Samuel? What has happened?”
    “There's been another murder,” he told us gravely. “And once again it's happened on Rincon Hill.”
    Fanny