Bloody Lessons: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery by M. Louisa Locke

Author:M. Louisa Locke [Locke, M. Louisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Victorian mystery, Cozy Mystery, Women Sleuth, Historical Fiction, historical mystery
Publisher: M. Louisa Locke
Published: 2013-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-four

Wednesday evening, January 28, 1880

"Wuld that I was an artist & had the material to paint this camp & all its horors or the tounge of some eloquent Statesman and had the prileage of expresing my mind to our hon. rulers at Washington, I should gloery to describe this hell on earth were it takes 7 of its ocupiants to make a shadow." Sgt. David Kennedy, Andersonville Prison diary, July 9, 1864 (Original spelling preserved.)

Nate walked steadily up Union Street toward Russian Hill. The incline was gradual most of the way, and he had only about eight more blocks until he reached his destination. He could use the exercise after eating one of his boarding house cook’s heavy and unappetizing dinners. The clouds, having broken up and dissipated during the day, left the night clear and cold, and street lamps created welcome pools of light at each corner. He’d gotten Seth Timmons' address today from the Board of Education offices on the third floor of the new City Hall. He hoped he would catch Timmons at home, although Lord only knew exactly what he was going to say to him. Did you attack my sister? What about the old familiar adage? What are your intentions in regards to my sister?

He was going to feel like a fool whatever he said, but he didn’t know what else to do other than meet the man in person and let him know that Laura wasn’t without her protectors in town. So far, he’d abided by Laura’s plea that he not tell his parents anything about the attack or any of the details surrounding Hattie Wilks’ death, but he wanted to be able to give a good accounting of himself if they ever did find out. Laura promised she would write their mother and tell her about Hattie, so he figured he would soon receive a letter from his mother asking for a report on how Laura was holding up.

Nate paused at the corner where the North Beach and Mission Street Railroad turned north up Mason, waiting for one of the cars to rumble past before crossing the street. He used the light from the gas lamp to check the time on his pocket watch. It was already seven, the sun long set. He turned up his overcoat collar since the next stretch of Union was steeper and the wind from the west was biting. A few minutes later, as he got to Taylor, he looked up to his left, where the house lights marched up to the rim of Russian Hill, and then to the right, where the hill plunged down to North Beach. He loved the views from this part of the city.

He took a deep breath and thought he could smell salt water. Angel Island looked like it had a few beacons lit on the headlands, but it was more likely to be the lamps on a steamer coming down the Bay. When he moved from the ranch to live

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