The Cliff House Strangler (41 page)

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Authors: Shirley Tallman

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Historical, #Legal

BOOK: The Cliff House Strangler
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“Get him!” Captain Gregory shouted, and he, Samuel, and the rest of the policemen sped after Ahern. While the desk sergeant was busy grabbing hold of Whitey, I ran through the door behind them, Eddie hot on my heels.

“Sarah, wait!”

I could hear the sound of Robert’s feet pounding after me, but I didn’t stop. When I turned the last corner leading to Madame Karpova’s cell, my heart leapt to my throat.

Captain Gregory and the four officers were standing stock-still in the middle of the passageway, their backs to me. Several yards farther down the corridor, I saw a pile of weapons lying scattered on the floor, as if they’d been kicked there. Behind the policemen stood Samuel, Yelena Karpova, and Nicholas Bramwell. As I moved quietly closer, Yelena turned her head for a moment, and I saw that her face was ashen, her eyes wide with terror.

It was only when I came even with the two of them that I saw the cause of Yelena’s alarm. Just inside my client’s cell, Lieutenant Ahern had pinned Madame Karpova in a chokehold around the neck. His free hand held a pistol pressed against her temple. Her face was a blotchy red; the lieutenant was holding her so tightly, it was obviously cutting off her air.

“Don’t move, any of you!” Ahern commanded nervously.

“You don’t want to do this, Lieutenant Ahern,” I said, keeping my voice nonconfrontational. “This woman has done nothing to harm you.”

The Irishman’s face blazed red. “Oh? You don’t think so? Well, let me set you straight, Miss Know-It-All. If this meddling charlatan hadn’t come to San Francisco, claiming she could see into the future and talk to the dead, my wife wouldn’t have gone to her blabbing all our private affairs. And that scheming, no-good Serkov wouldn’t have eavesdropped and then followed me all over town in order to ferret out even more secrets that were none of his damn business.”

“That’s how he discovered you were taking bribes to turn a blind eye to the new City Hall project, wasn’t it?” I said. “Then, when he was arrested, he promised not to tell anyone about the scam if you’d get him released from jail.”

“The bastard!” Ahern spat. “Moss was bad enough, but that idiot Serkov expected me to perform miracles. How the hell was I supposed to get him out of here without everyone knowing something was going on?”

“So you had to shut him up,” Captain Gregory put in.

I heard Yelena give a little sob at this, and her mother’s eyes went very wide, first in surprise, then in fury.

“How could I have killed him, Pete?” Ahern protested. “I was at a meeting with you and the mayor that day, remember?”

“Yes, but Cecil Vere was here—while you were making certain you had an airtight alibi.” The words were out of my mouth before I even realized they were there. It was as if a fog had suddenly lifted, and I began to see the jailor’s peculiar behavior after Serkov’s death in an entirely new light. “Cecil wasn’t upset because he’d failed to protect a prisoner, or because he recognized Serkov’s killer,” I continued, wondering why I hadn’t realized this sooner. “He was wretched because he
was
Serkov’s killer.”

“So what if he did kill the Russki?” Ahern said, fixing me with a murderous glare. “That doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it.”

“You had everything to do with it, Lieutenant.” I forced myself to look at Ahern’s face and not the gun he held to Madame Karpova’s head. “You paid Cecil to stab Serkov. And he accepted
because he was in love and needed the money to get married. But almost immediately, he was racked by guilt. You must have panicked, afraid he’d confess his crime, along with your role in it. In the end, you had to silence him, too.”

“It’s not my fault that chirky simpleton suddenly developed a conscience,” Ahern spat out. “Blubbering on about how wrong he’d been to take the Russian’s life. He didn’t leave me any choice but to get rid of him.”

My mind was racing, piecing details together as I went along, not entirely sure they fit, but blurting them out anyway. I was terrified of what Ahern might do to my client if I pushed him too far, but I could read in Olga’s dark eyes that she wanted me to take the risk. She knew as well as I did that we wouldn’t get another chance. And either way, her life hung in the balance.

Saying a silent prayer, I pressed on. “My guess is that you offered to pay Cecil to hang Madame Karpova, so it would appear as if she’d committed suicide out of guilt for killing Serkov. But Vere refused, didn’t he? And in the end, you were forced to do it yourself. You drugged her food, then because you were nervous one of the jailers might catch you in the act, you botched the job, and she survived.”

“If you don’t shut that cussed trap of yours, you’re going to have a dead woman as a client,” Ahern shouted. I was alarmed to see the gun against Madame Karpova’s temple begin to tremble. “Move out of my way—all of you!” he demanded. “If anyone tries to stop me, I swear I’ll shoot her.”

Sergeant Lewis hesitated, then moved aside, followed by Jimmy Wolf and the two uniformed officers. Captain Gregory stood firmly in place, refusing to retreat.

“You haven’t a chance of getting away, Frank,” he told his lieutenant. “Why don’t you do the smart thing and let Mrs. Karpova go? Then we can sit down, you and me, and talk this over. Just like the old days.”

“Sorry, Pete, but the time for talking is over. Now move!” The
pupils of Ahern’s eyes had become pinpricks, and they darted nervously around, as if he expected someone to jump him at any minute. Keeping his arm tightly clamped around Madame Karpova’s neck, he pushed her forward. “Last chance, Pete,” he threatened when the captain still wouldn’t budge.

I sucked in a gulp of air as I saw his finger tighten on the trigger. Gregory must have seen it, too, because he finally stepped back a few feet, clearing the way for Ahern and his hostage to pass. Never taking his eyes off us, Ahern began backing up the corridor. At the end of the hall, he’d be able to turn and escape out the back of the jail.

I felt someone stir behind me, and glimpsed Eddie heading in the direction of the lobby. I tried to grab him, but he was too quick. I could only pray that Ahern wouldn’t notice him. Still, I wondered fearfully, What in the world was the boy up to?

In front of me, Captain Gregory, Lewis, Jimmy Wolf, and the two patrolmen started to move toward Ahern. Seeing this, the lieutenant raised his gun and fired a shot. I heard Jimmy Wolf cry out, then drop heavily to the floor.

George Lewis gave a loud curse and, against Captain Gregory’s orders, started running toward Ahern. He had gone only a couple of yards when Ahern again raised his pistol, aiming it at Lewis’s heart.

Then the most peculiar thing happened. Just as Ahern was about to pull the trigger, he suddenly grunted and released his grip on his hostage. Staggering forward a step or two, he fell facedown onto the floor. The gun discharged, but thankfully the bullet lodged harmlessly in the ceiling.

Directly behind Ahern’s prone body stood Eddie Cooper, a huge grin on his narrow little face as he stared down at his victim. His homemade cosh still rested in his hand, at the ready in case he might need to use it again. I realized now why he’d slipped away and run toward the jail lobby. He must have circled
around the men’s cell blocks in order to come up on the lieutenant from the rear.

Good Lord! And to think I’d told the boy his cosh wouldn’t be needed. From now on, I vowed, I never wanted to see Eddie without it!

 

J
immy Wolf had been taken by stretcher to the nearest hospital, while Madame Karpova had been removed to a room, where she, too, was being examined by a doctor. The rest of us, still shaken by the ordeal, watched numbly while Sergeant Lewis handcuffed his former lieutenant, who had regained consciousness and was fixing us all with baleful glares.

As soon as Lewis hauled Ahern to his feet, Captain Gregory approached his old friend. “Frank Ahern,” he began, “in addition to the earlier charges made against you, I’m arresting you for the murders of Dmitry Serkov, Cecil Vere, Darien Moss, and Mrs. Theodora Reade. You are advised that anything you say will be duly noted and may be used—”

“Oh, but he didn’t kill Moss and Mrs. Reade,” I said, breaking in.

Annoyed, Captain Gregory turned to me. “Oh, really. And just who are you, miss?”

“I’m Sarah Woolson—Madame Karpova’s attorney.”

“Oh, yes, I remember hearing she had some woman representing her, but I thought it was a joke. Now what are you going on about? Ahern just admitted Moss was blackmailing him. And we know he had to get rid of Mrs. Reade because she was a witness to the murder.”

“You have the motives correct, Captain,” I said. “But I’m afraid you have the wrong villain. Lieutenant Ahern paid Cecil Vere to stab Dmitry Serkov, and then he killed Cecil to keep him from talking. And of course he attempted to strangle my client in her jail
cell. But he had nothing to do with the Cliff House murder, nor that of Theodora Reade.”

Captain Gregory was clearly losing his patience. “Then who the hell did kill Moss and Reade?”

“Actually, the murderer is right here,” I said. “Perhaps he’d prefer to tell you what happened. After all, it was his secret he was trying to protect.” I turned to the new attorney. “Do you want to tell them, Nicholas?”

Yelena started, then looked up at the young man with frightened eyes. “Nicholas, what is she saying?”

“Nothing, darling,” he told her, not taking his eyes off me. “She’s talking nonsense.”

“I only wish I were,” I replied sadly. “Unfortunately, Nicholas, you were responsible for strangling Darien Moss the night of the séance.”

“But why?” Robert demanded before Captain Gregory could gather his wits to speak.

“Because Moss had learned something about Nicholas which would have ruined him, and very likely devastated his entire family, as well. Certainly, if it became known, it would have prevented him from ever practicing law in this city, much less running for public office.”

All eyes were on Nicholas, whose face had drained of color. “Why are you telling these lies, Miss Woolson?”

I looked at the young man, so tall and handsome, sharp intelligence gleaming in his dark hazel eyes. What a tragedy, I thought, to possess all this talent, only to have his life cut short by the gallows. I sighed. “You know I’m speaking the truth, Nicholas.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he protested. “Why would I kill Moss? I have no ties to my father’s construction firm. I’ve certainly had nothing to do with the new City Hall project.”

“Oh, Nicholas,” I said wearily. “What Moss learned about you had nothing to do with the new City Hall enterprise and you know it.”

“Well then, what did Moss have on him?” Captain Gregory demanded impatiently.

“Wouldn’t you rather be the one to tell him?” I asked, but the young man merely glared at me and remained silent. “Very well, then, I suppose I must.” I turned to the captain. “I’m afraid Darien Moss discovered that Nicholas has a—” I cleared my throat. Normally, I would never have divulged such a sensitive and personal secret. I strongly believe that some matters are best kept private, and Lord help me, this was certainly one of those times. Yet in the interest of justice, I knew I must go on. “Shall we say, ah, that he has a preference for the company of other young men?”

“He what?” Captain Gregory said, looking confused.

“Sarah!” Robert blurted, his face red with embarrassment. “You’re not accusing Mr. Bramwell of being, er, a sodomite.”

“Lordy, the bloke’s a Mary?” said Eddie, clearly astonished. “Sure don’t look like any I’ve ever seen.”

“Nicholas,” Yelena asked in a small voice. “This is true?”

“No, of course not.” His face was flushed and damp with nervous perspiration.

“How did you come to that remarkable, and extremely unlikely, conclusion?” Captain Gregory cynically demanded.

“For several reasons,” I replied. “To begin with, Darien Moss referred to him as ‘Janus’ that night at the Cliff House. I had totally forgotten about it in all the excitement. When I did remember, I looked the name up in one of my father’s books and found that it referred to the Roman god Janus.”

“Janus,” Robert said thoughtfully. “Wait a minute. Isn’t he the god known as the guardian of portals? He’s always shown as having two heads, one in front, the other in back.”

I nodded. “It was Darien Moss’s none-too-subtle reference to Nicholas’s two natures, the persona he displayed in public, and his true nature, which he had to guard at all cost.”

“You based all this on the fact that Moss called him Janus?” Gregory asked skeptically.

“No, Captain,” I said, “There’s more. When Robert and I went back to the Cliff House a week or so later, we met Nicholas and some of his friends in the saloon. When Yelena’s name came up, Nicholas’s friends teased him about their relationship. Among other things, they wanted to know if he’d taken her to meet Nancy yet. There was something about their goading that bothered me. It was obvious they shared some sort of private joke. When I asked my brother Samuel about it, he told me that Nancy’s is a popular saloon frequented by gentlemen with, ah, the same tastes as Nicholas’s.”

“So that’s why you were asking me all those bizarre questions,” Samuel put in. “I couldn’t imagine what—”

Captain Gregory interrupted somewhat testily. “Wait a minute. Even if Bramwell is a—well, what you said, Miss Woolson, that doesn’t necessarily make him a murderer.”

“No, but the fact that he described Yelena’s face when the lightning struck during the séance does. He told me she wore an expression of horror, an expression, I might add, he couldn’t possibly have seen from where he was sitting. Only someone on Moss’s side of the table could have observed her face at that particular moment. And, of course, that’s exactly where Nicholas was standing, behind Moss, whom he had just garroted with the balalaika wire.”

“This is ludicrous!” Nicholas exclaimed. “I tell you I had no reason to kill Darien Moss. If I had the—the attributes you described, I hardly would have asked Aldora Radburn to marry me.”

“Did you ask her, Nicholas?” I inquired. “Or did your mother push you into it as a means of furthering your career? You went along with the match, intending, no doubt, to continue your own pursuits even after the marriage. Then you began to realize how domineering and forceful Miss Radburn is—perhaps too much like your own mother for comfort. Aldora would likely be the sort of wife to watch her husband’s every move, choose his friends, his clothes, even approve his clubs. You saw your plan of carrying on with your private life fading with each passing day. You must have
panicked as the wedding loomed closer. Somehow, you had to find a way out of the marriage.”

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