by Beth Byers
“I’ll help.” Gordie came forward, the lantern light revealing hollows under his eyes and a haunted look of his own. “He needs people who understand what he’s suffering, and doctors who have learned how to work with shell-shock victims.”
The sister nodded, and Lola caught the note of pit of the woman’s eyes. Anger flared inside of her.
“Don’t you do that. Don’t you dare do that.”
The woman gasped at Lola’s hard tone. “Do what?”
“Pity him. He doesn’t want your pity and he has enough shame for the two of you. He wants, he needs, your love.”
Tears broke from the woman’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Gordie interrupted and his own voice was stern.
“Then what do I do?”
“Stop hiding him away because you’re ashamed of him,” Lola scolded. The woman’s cheeks went crimson. “Let him get the help he needs.”
Mutely, the woman nodded.
“Give me your telephone number,” Gordie told her. “I’ll call to check on him tomorrow.”
“Today,” Lola whispered to him.
Gordie frowned. He took out his pocket watch. “Today,” he amended.
The woman asked for pencil and stationary and wrote down the number. Then, with an apprehensive look, she approached her brother, who stood between Mr. Abernathy and the police officer with his head hung in shame.
Lola made to follow, but Gordie caught her arm.
“Gordie—”
“She needs to try.”
They watched as the woman stopped before her brother and said a few words. He nodded without raising his head. She laid her hand on his arm, then slid it down to take his hand and spoke again.
Peter raised his head to stare at her with empty eyes. Then he looked at Gordie, who gave him a left-handed salute.
Peter straightened a little more. He went with his sister from the club as she put her arm around him.
Lola sagged with relief and exhaustion and the pain from her cut feet. Taking Gordie’s hand, she led him to the bar where Mickey was leaning against it.
“Lola, you’re hurt.”
“It can wait.”
The rest of the patrons had already left after giving their statements to the police officer, escorted out by one of the porters. Brandon and Willa were sitting at a table, heads bent close together.
Lola sagged against the bar then slid onto a stool, sliding a discarded torch out of the way. The light beam rolled across the different colored bottles behind the bar.
“Fine work there, me Rose,” Mickey said.
“How is your eye?”
He chuckled. “Not me first black eyes. Tis fine. But I’m thinkin’ yer in worse shape. I sent fer the good doctor.”
“Thank you. I believe I will have that drink.”
“What’ll it be?” the Irish bartender asked. “On the house, of course, fer savin’ me life.”
“I hardly saved it.”
Mickey leveled his gave at her.
“Well, I might have saved it a tad bit.”
He grinned his cocky grin. “Modesty?” He glanced at Gordie. “Our Rose is more shaken than I figured.”
Gordie chuckled. Lola rolled her eyes.
“What’ll it be, me brave rose?”
She considered a moment. “Whiskey. Neat.”
Mickey raised his eyebrow in surprise, but he set a shot glass on the bar and looked at Gordie.
“Make that two.”
The END.
The Lola Rose Mysteries:
Mystery at the Regal Rose Hotel
The Second Floor Murder
The Rose Garden Engagement
And the first story, “Lola and the Secret of the Regal Rose Hotel,” is included in the New Year’s Madness anthology.
Never Carry A Torch
The Jazz and Gin Cozy Mysteries
Carolyn L. Dean
Dedicated with love to the women who broke the mold in the 20s. Thank you!
Chapter 1
“Hire a woman? What sort of moron do you think I am?” The stout, balding man glared down his bulbous nose at the trembling accountant in front of him, and chewed angrily on a long-cold cigar.
“I’d rather run naked down the cold streets of Chicago than hire some floozy to come in here and tell me how to run my hotel. The Exeter has always held to the highest standards of decorum, and the very last thing we need is some woman snooping around here and blabbing to her girlfriends about our business.” He gave a loud harrumph of disapproval and retrieved the soggy cigar from his teeth, clamping it between thumb and forefinger.
His assistant, a wiry little man named Howard Garvey, gulped a bit in fear but stood his ground. “Mr. Tenamen, I don’t know what else to do. We hired that Avery fellow, but it’s been a full day and so far he’s come up with nothing. Everyone who works here knows he’s an ex-cop and that means he can’t sneak around and find out who’s behind all this. We need someone who no one would suspect is investigating this” —he paused for a second, as if choosing his words carefully— “delicate situation.”
Tenamen’s mouth compressed into a grim line while he considered his Garvey’s words. Finally, he gave a short sigh and looked the little man straight in the eyes.
“Fine. You find someone and hire her to find out what’s going on around here, but do it on the down low. It needs to be kept quiet. If it winds up in the papers it’ll be dynamite, and that’s the last thing we need.”
Realizing that his boss wasn’t going to argue anymore, Garvey gave a tremulous smile. “Well, that’s just fine, Mr. Tenamen. I have someone in mind, actually, and considering everything that’s happened, I think she’ll be just the woman for the job.”
---
The front legs of Edwina Grace Winterwood’s chair hit the wooden floor with a loud bang as she hung up the phone, and she let out a loud whoop of excitement as she jumped out of the seat.
“Preston, get in here!”
Preston Anderson stuck his perfectly groomed head around the doorframe of Edwina’s new office. He’d been friends with Edwina long enough to know not to ignore it when she asked him to do something.
“What’s up?”
Her grin was huge as she stood up. “I’ve got a job! A real, paying job!”
Preston gave a loud whistle of appreciation. “Hey, that’s wonderful,” he said, striding over to give his friend a big hug. “Who hired you?”
She checked her notes. “Some guy named Garvey. He said to come to the Exeter Hotel and I’ll be investigating something that happened there.” She beamed at Preston. “He said I’d be undercover, maybe for a couple of days.”
Eyebrows going up, Preston nodded in appreciation. “The Exeter, huh? That joint’s pretty posh, but you’d better be careful, Eddie. You know how those high-brow hotels tend to turn a blind eye to some of their less reputable clients. As long as they pay in cold hard cash, they don’t care if a mob boss and his whole hit squad stay at their place.”
Edwina gave a short bark of laughter and stuffed the note in her black leather handbag. She didn’t mind her old friend using the nickname her brother had stuck on her. She’d been called Eddie for years, and somehow it had grown on her.
“Quit being such a worrywart, Preston! I know my way around Chicago, and there’s no way I’m going to pass up an opportunity like this. I’ve had this office for my investigation business for almost a month now, and haven’t had a single case to work on.” She grinned as she snapped the purse shut. “This is my big break, and I’m going to take it!”
“You know, you’re going to need a disguise,” Preston said. He narrowed his eyes and pointedly looked her up and down. “You’re right. You do know how some things work in Chicago, but some of Chicago knows you, too. You may not be seen in public as much as the rest of your family, but as the only daughter of Rawson Winterwood, there’d be more than one person who could spot you. Using your mother’s maiden name while you’re work
ing this job can only protect you so far.”
“What, you want me to wear a fake moustache?” she joked, but his face was still serious. “I’m already changing my name. I’ll just use my mom’s maiden name, Eaton.”
Preston looked unconvinced. “I’ve been to the parties at your house, Eddie. Half of the guests are rich or politicians, and the other half are running illegal liquor and paying off the cops. You’re going to have to learn to hide your identity if you’re going to be a private investigator.”
Edwina could see the reasoning behind her friend’s words, and finally nodded. “All right.” She ran a hand through her mop of short, dark curls. “I’ve got a blonde wig that I can style. Nobody will know who I am. Think that will be enough?”
Preston walked over to the wooden coat rack, pulled her wool coat off and held it while Edwina slid her arms into it. “I think so. You’ll do great, I know it!”
“Thanks, Preston.” Buttoning up her coat, she smiled at her friend, just in time to see his expression turn playful.
“Just remember not to swear like a sailor or talk about the great strides society has made since women got the vote.” He grinned. “That way they’ll know it’s not you.”
Chapter 2
“You want me to wear what?”
Howard Garvey held the black and white maid’s outfit toward a wide-eyed Edwina, and shook the clothes hanger a bit in frustration.
“If you’re going to come to the Exeter to snoop around and find out what happened to the Torch, you need to look the part. You’re going to have to dress as one of the staff. Now, as the person who manages the accounts here, I also have the authority to hire non-managerial employees. The best role for you to have is one that allows you to see all the rooms, like a maid.”
Edwina hesitated, then took the hanger from Garvey with a huff of frustration.
“Fine.”
“So, you’ll do it, Miss Eaton? You know the duties of a maid, right?”
“Yes,” she said, through clenched teeth. “I sure do.” Her thoughts flashed back to all the maids who had been part of her mother’s near-army of servants throughout the years.
Garvey’s quick smile was triumphant. “Excellent. Now, I’ll walk you down to the laundry and introduce you to Mrs. Maddenstone. She’s in charge of all the girls who work here, and she’ll assign you your duties. As you go through the hotel I want you to keep your eyes and ears open at all times. Be sure to keep your uniform neat and tidy, and don’t talk to the guests unless spoken to. You understand?” At Eddie’s answering nod, Garvey started walking toward the door, until Edwina’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Mr. Garvey, you haven’t told me what I’m investigating yet. Don’t you think I’ll need some guidance to know what I’m looking for? What’s the torch?”
Garvey’s left eyebrow lifted in surprise, and he suddenly looked like he’d just smelled something really foul.
“Well, I thought I told you. The Torch is missing.” At Eddie’s blank expression, he finally sighed. “The Torch is an enormous canary yellow diamond. It’s cut is so flawless that it seems to burn with an inner fire, or that’s what they say, at least. Victor Spinosa put it in our hotel safe for safekeeping while he was going on a business trip, and now it’s disappeared.” He gulped, suddenly looking nervous. “Without a trace. The safe was still locked tight. If we don’t have that jewel back in Mr. Spinosa’s hands the moment he asks for it…” his voice trailed off, as if thinking through the terrible options that might be in his future, all at the massive hands of Spinosa.
Edwina didn’t have to ask any questions about who Spinosa was. She’d already heard talk about him recently moving into the city and looking for a new home for himself and his stunningly glamorous new fiancée. From the rumors she’d heard bandied around town, it sounded like Spinosa was also intending to move some of his more nefarious business into Chicago. If his plans worked, there was sure to be trouble from some of the more well-established thugs who already had divvied up the town between themselves.
“What did the police say? Do they have any leads?” The moment the words were out of Eddie’s mouth she already knew Garvey’s answer.
He looked at her as if she were a moron. “No police were called, of course! Burglary of a gem of that magnitude would ruin the hotel.” He gulped. “And considering the circumstances, could be dangerous.”
“So, where’s the safe?”
“Behind the front desk, in the cabinet under the back counter, but that’s part of the problem.”
“Problem?”
Garvey nodded. “There are only two people in the whole hotel who know the combo for that safe. It’s just me and the manager, Mr. Tenamen. I saw Mr. Tenamen put that big rock in the safe with my own two eyes, and spin the dial to be sure it was shut. When I opened the safe the next morning it was gone, just like it had never been there. The lock was still set.”
Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “So, just you and Mr. Tenamen… ?”
Garvey’s thin lips twisted in displeasure. “Don’t even say it. Would I still be working here if I owned a diamond like that? I’m as honest as the day is long.”
“Oh, of course,” Edwina assured him in a soothing tone. “I’m just trying to get my facts straight. So, who knows the stone’s been stolen?”
“Just you, me, and Mr. Tenamen. Mr. Spinosa will be back in two days, and we want to keep this as quiet as possible.” He looked down his nose at her. “And that’s why we called you in. We need that stone back in our safe, or maybe an explanation that absolves us of blame for its disappearance, and we need it quickly.”
“Is the safe new?”
His dark eyebrows went up in frustration. “What does that have to do with anything? We’ve had this safe for over a year now, after the last one was damaged. I watched it get bolted to the floor when it was installed, myself. Someone tried to get into it as well, but even with a sledgehammer or a prybar or whatever they used, they couldn’t get it open.” He puffed himself up with pride. “We only buy the best for the Exeter, so we got the same model when it was decided the old one was too beat up for guests to see. If the first one stood up to that kind of abuse and the thief couldn’t crack it, then it was worth getting again.”
She nodded, mulling over what he had said.
“Now,” he said brightly, “let’s go introduce you to The Bulldog.”
The moment Eddie was introduced to Mrs. Maddenstone, she had to choke down a strangled laugh. The ‘bulldog’ nickname was amazingly appropriate. The top-heavy woman in front of her instantly reminded Edwina of a dour English bulldog, with a slight underbite and a spectacular frown set in a face full of doughy wrinkles. The resemblance to her chauffeur’s ancient dog was uncanny.
“And who’s this?” the middle-aged woman asked Garvey, her beady eyes locked on Edwina.
Garvey waved a dismissive hand. “This is Edwina Eaton, the new maid I mentioned. I don’t have time to give her the full nickel tour, but I’d like to have her start on the guest rooms by this afternoon.” He put his hands on his thin hips and stared at the thick woman. “Do you think you can handle that?”
The response was immediate. Mrs. Maddenstone straightened up, her lower jar jutting out in obvious anger. “You know I can. I run this department very well, Mr. Garvey, and I’m proud of my girls. You leave it to me. I’ll make sure she adheres to the hotel’s standards that Mr. Tenamen has set up.”
Garvey nodded. “Well, see that you do,” he said, then walked out stiffly and shut the door with a loud click.
Maddenstone watched him go, the sour expression still on her face. “And don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya!” she said to the now-shut door, jerking her chin in defiance. Her eyes finally trailed over to Edwina, who was doing her best to look meek and servant-like, while trying not to laugh. “Sorry about that,” Mrs. Maddenstone said with a sigh. “He’s mild as milk to the hotel manager, but I think he really enjoys bossing the
rest of us around. Sometimes my mouth gets the better of me, but sometimes people deserve what they get. Mr. Garvey takes the cake, I swear.”
By the time Edwina had gone into a nearby bathroom and wriggled into the maid’s uniform, she’d already decided to thoroughly despise it. The mirror told the truth, and she gave a deep sigh of resignation. She never would fit the ideal example of what a modern 20s woman would look like. She was a bit too curvy and short, and the simple black and white outfit seemed to accentuate whatever feminine attributes she already had. It took a bit of wrangling to drive the white bobby pins into her blonde wig and adjust the frilly white bit of lace that passed for a headdress. The dress’ hem length was modest enough to not make her feel like all her features were put entirely on display, but after running around in overalls and boots at the garage, or wearing the coveralls of a racing pit crew, the super feminine uniform was going to take some getting used to.
Mrs. Maddenstone looked her up and down, and nodded in approval when she stepped out.
“There. Now you look like you belong at the Exeter.”
She took her time touring Edwina through the luxurious hotel. It had a full five floors of guestrooms flanking wide hallways, and a rooftop gazebo and garden. On the ground floor, crystal chandeliers hung over the marble foyer, with a long mahogany reception desk ready to graciously receive guests. To its right was a dark-paneled bar, discreetly hidden behind a sliding door, and now that Prohibition was in full effect, only able to serve non-alcoholic beverages. On the left were two gold-wrapped columns, leading into the hotel’s popular restaurant. White tablecloths were topped with elegant china and gleaming flatware, and small bowls of yellow roses rested in the center.
Like a proud mama, Mrs. Maddenstone went on and on about each room, telling Edwina what famous actress had been spotted there with a new flame, which mobster had been rumored to be hiding out in plain sight the year before, and how all the elaborately carved wood for the main staircase had been imported direct from Paris, France.
