“Do you have any idea who wrote them?”
Amity hesitated for a moment before answering. “The penmanship isn’t familiar,” she said, which didn’t exactly answer Sabina’s question.
“How and where were they delivered?”
“To my home. Slipped through the mail slot.”
“What did the first message say?”
“Similar to the others — a warning that I would burn in hell for flouting the Lord’s command about submitting to the dominant male. I know our movement disturbs a number of men, and some women as well, but...”
“Are there any who have been particularly virulent in their opposition to your work?”
“No remonstrants,” Amity said, using the colloquial term for those old-line (Sabina preferred “mossbacked”) members of their sex who belonged to the Woman Anti-Suffrage Association. “But there is one male I’ve clashed with on more than one occasion.”
“And he is?”
“Nathaniel Dobbs.”
Dobbs, the city’s former Water Department commissioner, was head of the Solidarity Party, a quasi-political group known as the “Antis” for their determined and outspoken stand against anything of a progressive nature. The suffrage movement in general and Voting Rights for Women in particular were their primary targets, though as far as Sabina knew, Dobbs and his followers had thus far restricted their opposition to the picketing of suffrage rallies, bombastic verbal assaults, and inflammatory pamphlets and newspaper articles.
“Has Dobbs ever threatened you?” she asked.
“No. But he’s been unpleasant and insulting when our paths have crossed. He hates and fears women to an alarming degree.”
“Capable of violence, then?”
“Perhaps. I simply don’t know.”
“Did you show the notes to your husband?”
“No. Burton has been away on one of his buying trips, in Sacramento and the northern Mother Lode this time, for more than a month. He won’t be back for another week or so.”
“So you’re alone in the house.”
“Yes, except for Kamiko and our cook.”
Kamiko was the young Japanese woman who, as an abandoned immigrant child, had been given shelter by the Wellmans and become their ward. Now that she had matured, she acted as their housekeeper — by her choice, for Amity and Burton considered her their daughter, not a servant. She was well named, Amity had said once, for the English translation of Kamiko was “superior child.”
“Does she know about the messages?” Sabina asked.
“Yes. I showed this one to her and told her about the others.” Amity paused, nibbling at her full lower lip. “She’s afraid for me. And of something else, too, perhaps.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I had the feeling she was keeping something from me, some sort of secret concern.”
“As if she might suspect the identity of the message writer?”
“I can’t imagine how she could,” Amity said. “I questioned her and she denied it.”
Sabina had met Kamiko on the two occasions she’d accepted invitations to the Wellman home. The Japanese girl, while somewhat reserved, had been pleasant and friendly — not at all the so-called inscrutable Oriental. It was difficult to believe that she would withhold vital information from the woman who had raised her and whom she adored. Or, for that matter, that she or any member of her mostly Buddhist race could be responsible for threatening notes composed of dire biblical phrases.
“This is just a thought,” Sabina said. “Does Kamiko have a swain, a Caucasian of whom you don’t approve and who dislikes you as a result?”
“No. If she did have a swain, I would know it. And it’s my belief she would neither keep company with nor marry a Caucasian. Despite her Westernized upbringing, she is still very much a woman of her race.”
Sabina asked, “Is there anyone other than Nathaniel Dobbs, anyone at all, who might want to harm you? Someone affiliated with the Liquor Dealers League, for instance?”
Amity shifted her gaze away from Sabina to another group of cyclists flashing by. It was several seconds, with her eyes still averted, before she said, “No. Not where the movement is concerned.”
“For some other reason, then?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She’s lying. I wonder why. Something — a name, a dispute, an incident she’s afraid or unwilling to reveal? Kamiko isn’t the only one with a secret, it seems.
“What do you think, Sabina? Am I overreacting? Or should I be concerned?”
“Threatening notes are always a cause for concern. You might bring them to the attention of the police—”
“Oh, Lord, no. Policemen in general hold our cause in low regard; you know that. They would merely dismiss me as a hysterical female and do nothing.”
Sabina had no great liking for or trust in San Francisco’s constabulary herself, though she wasn’t quite as vehemently scornful in her feelings as John, who considered all but a select handful of police officials to be incompetent, corrupt, or both. In this case, Amity was no doubt right to want to avoid dealing with them.
“Is there anything you can do, Sabina? Any way you can find out who wrote the notes and whether or not the threats are genuine?”
“I could try, but—”
“I’d pay you, of course. Your usual fee for such investigations.”
“That’s not an issue. The fact is, attempting to track down anonymous notes with no more information than you’ve given me would be an extremely difficult undertaking. I could speak to Dobbs, but it would serve no real purpose. Even if he’s guilty, he would simply deny it.”
“Then there’s nothing to be done?”
“I didn’t say that. I could arrange to have an operative stay with you until your husband returns—”
“A male operative? No, that wouldn’t do.”
“Not a male, a woman,” Sabina said. “A highly competent former police matron who has done excellent work for our agency in the past.”
Amity considered this, nibbling again at her lower lip. Then, slowly, she shook her head. “How would it look to our sisters, to our opponents, if I were to have a bodyguard staying in my home and accompanying me to meetings and such? No, that won’t do, either. I’m a New Woman, and I won’t damage my reputation or the movement’s by acting like a weak sister in public or private. I’m not all that afraid for my life.”
“I never doubted your strength or your courage, Amity.”
“Thank you. So there is nothing else you can recommend?”
“Other than what we’ve discussed, and for you to be on your guard whether or not there are any more of these messages, I’m afraid there isn’t.” Sabina paused. “Well, that’s not quite true,” she said then. “There is one thing I can do, not as a detective but as a friend.”
“Yes?”
“Have a private talk with Kamiko, if you have no objection.”
“No, no objection. But what good would it do? She’d be even less likely to confide in you, a relative stranger.”
“That’s probably true, but it couldn’t hurt to try. I’m a different sort of authority figure and I have certain professional powers of persuasion. You mentioned that you’ll be busy tomorrow and the rest of the week preparing for Friday evening’s benefit rally in Union Square. I could drop by your house while you’re away—”
“I have a better idea,” Amity said. “If you have no engagement planned for this evening, why not come back home with me and we’ll have dinner together? I’ll tell Kamiko that I’ve confided in you, then make some excuse to leave you and her alone together.”