Shattered Angel

by Baird Nuckolls

  The policeman took them to a car and opened the back door.

  “Wait, where are you taking us?” Angel demanded angrily.

  “Home, of course,” replied the policeman, a faint smile of amusement on his face.

  Veronica slid in and Angel hurried to sit next to her, pulling the door shut. The man continued to look amused, but did not protest her forward behavior. He opened the front passenger door and got in.

  “We have some special packages to deliver, Tony. Drive careful-like,” he said to the uniformed policeman sitting in the driver’s seat. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to such sweet young ladies.” With a chuckle, he turned to look at the girls once more.

  Angel’s skin crawled. The man’s eyes were dark and very cruel-looking.

  ***

  Harmon opened the door and squinted at the two police officers standing before him.

  “Yes, Gentlemen? May I help you?”

  One of the men stepped aside to reveal Angel, clutching the edges of her cream cashmere coat around her and fuming. Harmon reached out to guide her away from her escort and into the house.

  “Thank you for seeing Miss Eldridge home safely.”

  “Hold on.” The bigger man put a hand on Harmon’s arm to stop him. “I want to speak to Mr. Eldridge, about his daughter’s behavior.”

  Harmon shook it off and ushered Angel inside, and pulled the door nearly closed behind her. Then he turned to reply to the policeman.

  “I’m afraid Mrs. Eldridge has already retired for the evening and her husband is not available. If you’ll leave a card, I’ll give it to them in the morning.”

  “I don’t give out damn calling cards, mister.” The blond policeman adjusted the collar of his ill-fitting coat. “Just tell ‘em that Bull O’Neill brought his girl home and he should keep a closer eye on her.”

  Harmon bowed slightly and turned away, leaving the two policemen standing on the step.

  Chapter Five

  The Hart Mansion

  Thursday Morning

  The breakfast room of the Eldridge mansion was warm in the early fall sunlight, but there was a touch of frost on the windows. A maid finished laying out the food on the sideboard just as Gladys Eldridge Hart entered.

  “Just a cup of coffee, please, Mary.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mary poured Mrs. Hart a cup and set it on the table near her elbow. “Will that be all, ma’am?”

  “Yes, Mary. No, wait. Is Angel up yet?”

  “No, ma’am; there’s been no calls up for anything, neither.”

  Gladys took a single sip of her coffee and set it aside with a sigh. Time to deal with this. Harmon had already explained the events of the night before.

  “Mary, come with me.”

  ***

  “This behavior has got to stop, Angel.”

  Gladys’ voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of ice, also evident in the angle of her spine as she strode into the room. Mary opened the curtains, flooding the room with light. Angel groaned and pulled the covers over her head.

  Gladys walked up to the bed and pulled the covers back down.

  “I cannot have you being brought home by the police in the middle of the night.” She crossed her arms and glared at Angel. “Sit up and look at me when I speak to you.”

  “Mother, there is nothing to be so upset about.” Angel pushed back the covers and sat back against the padded headboard. Her room was decorated in pale pinks and grays, the fabrics from Paris and the hardwood furniture from the West Indies. She was wearing a red satin slip that emphasized the pallor of her skin.

  “Nothing? Have you considered the implications of your actions? What if the papers were to discover your antics?”

  “Mother, we were just listening to music. And Ginny’s Uncle Teddy was there.”

  “Mary, get Angel something to wear.” She pointed to the tall chest standing across the room from the elaborate curved bed. “Angel, come down to breakfast. We will finish this conversation then.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, Angel arrived, dressed in a long, slim sheath with a wide belt looped low along her hips, and white, patent leather mules on her feet. She slipped into a chair at the breakfast table and accepted a cup of coffee from Mary, who’d followed her downstairs to finish helping in the breakfast room.

  “Angel, I don’t like it when you stay out late, regardless of whom you’re spending time with or how it is being spent. It doesn’t reflect well on a girl of your reputation. Soon you’ll be wanting a respectable husband, and no man with a suitable upbringing will want a flapper girl for his wife.”

  “Oh, Mother, It’s the twentieth century. There’s nothing wrong with my reputation that more money won’t fix.” Angel waved off the plate of eggs and toast Mary tried to set in front of her and stirred more sugar into her coffee. “Besides, there are so few available men these days, I have to do something scandalous just to get some attention.”

  “You can’t be serious, Angel.” Gladys frowned at her.

  “No, Mother. I’m not kidding. The war has wiped away an entire generation of young men. The ones that managed to avoid the war due to family connections or college obligations are insufferable. They talk about the situation in Europe as if they can personally control it from here. Mother, I’m afraid the future husband you’ve been imagining for me is buried somewhere in a trench in France.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say, Angel. There are good men left. Not every young man in our circle came home from the war… damaged.” She spoke the final word quietly, as if to avoid anyone overhearing.

  “Who, for example?”

  “What about Peter Lawrence? He’s a very nice young man, from a good family.”

  “Mother, Peter Lawrence is a dolt.”

  “There’s Franklin Henley Patterson. He’s just home from Yale. And Dorothea’s nephew. What’s his name? Walter Smithson? I don’t remember. There are certainly young men of the right background for you to choose from.”

  “Mother, that’s not how it works these days. Besides, that’s not how you got Aaron, is it?”

  “And just how do you think it ‘works,’ young lady?” Gladys’ eyes narrowed. What sort of ideas did Angel have in her head now?

  “I’ll find a man to marry, eventually, Mother. Don’t worry. But right now, I have other things on my mind. The last thing I want to think about is a husband.”

  “Angel, as I said earlier, I’m concerned about the way you’ve been behaving. Even if you’d don’t want to marry now. People have long memories and this is too important. Your father would want me to ensure your future.”

  “Yes, well, Aaron has a few things to say about that.”

  “Aaron may be my husband, but he is not your father, and he is not responsible for your welfare. I am.”

  “Aaron isn’t responsible for what?” Aaron Hart walked into the breakfast room. He had a light smile on his face, but his voice had an edge to it. Gladys noticed his jaw was clenched.

  “Nothing, dear. I was telling Angel that she shouldn’t stay out so late, that’s all.” Gladys sipped her coffee, her lips pressed together.

  “Oh, I don’t mind it. A girl should have a chance to have some fun, isn’t that right, Angel?” He helped himself to some kippers and eggs from the sideboard. “Speaking of fun, would you like to come with me to the fight tomorrow night, Angel?”

  “What fight?” Angel’s face brightened.

  “Jack Dempsey is fighting Firpo tomorrow night at the Polo Grounds. I have ringside seats.”

  “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to take a young girl like Angel to a fight. That’s just so… common.” Gladys set down her coffee.

  “Dear, it’s quite all right. The Hunts will be there, as well as the Brentleys. I’ve gotten seats with Dick Thomas, as well.”

  “All your Tammany friends don’t make it more acceptable in my mind.”

  “Gladys, this is an important event and I need to make a good s
how of it. Council elections are just a few months away and I need these people’s support. Angel would be meeting some important people, too.”

  “Important to you and your political friends, perhaps.”

  “Fine, if you intend to turn your back on my ambitions, I will have to pursue them myself. But you don’t need to shelter Angel from the world. She’s old enough to make up her own mind.”

  “I’d love to go, Aaron.” Angel interjected.

  “Well, I forbid it.” Gladys tried to take charge of the situation, but there was a connection between her daughter and her husband that seemed to be outside her control.

  “Mother, I am old enough to make my own decisions. And I’m going to the fight.” She laid a hand on Aaron’s arm. “Aaron, what time shall I be ready?”

  “Six o’clock, honey. I’ll send the car to pick you up.”

  Gladys glared at both of them as he rose from the table.

  “Gladys, may I speak to you in the library, please, when you’ve finished breakfast?” Aaron didn’t wait for an answer. He kissed Angel on the cheek as he walked out of the room.

  Angel played idly with the bangles on her wrist, watching the gold and gems catch the light and throw it against the breakfast room walls.

  “Do sit up straight and eat something, darling.”

  “Oh, Mummy, why do we play this charade? You know I don’t eat anything before noon.” She took a sip from the cooled cup of coffee in front of her. It was heavy with milk and sugar and thoroughly unappetizing. She shoved the cup away, sloshing some onto the tablecloth. Gladys clucked and gestured to Mary to bring a rag to clean up the mess.

  “The least you could do is behave like a proper young lady. How do you ever expect to get a husband if you slouch around everywhere and drape yourself across the furniture? You are not a Persian cat.”

  “Please, Mother, let’s not have this conversation again.” She studied Gladys for a long moment. “Do you know where Aaron has been lately, Mother?”

  “Of course, dear. He is my husband, after all.”

  “I know. But where has he been spending his time? He’s been out quite a lot.”

  “He’s been in Chicago most recently, I believe.”

  “What’s he doing in Chicago?”

  “Angel, why the questions? What difference does it make to you where Aaron goes or what he does?”

  “I’m just worried, Mother.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “I’m worried for your sake, Mother. I’m concerned about Aaron and what he might be up to.”

  “He’s “up to” bank business, if you must know.” Gladys narrowed her eyes and looked sharply at Angel. “What’s this all about?”

  Angel looked down. “It’s just… I’m not sure you want to hear this.”

  “Hear what, Angel? You are not making any sense.”

  “I’m worried that Aaron might be seeing someone.”

  “What do you mean?” Gladys clutched her napkin in her lap so that Angel couldn’t see that she was trembling suddenly.

  “Well, I saw him on the street recently with a redhead. She looked like some common tart. They were walking and talking together like they knew each other.”

  Gladys took a calming breath. “Angel, I know you don’t always think too highly of my husband, but I will not listen to such scandalous comments from you.”

  “But Mother, I’m worried about your reputation. Daddy was a very important man and you are very highly thought of. I don’t want to see you ruined.”

  “Darling, your father has been dead for some time and I can take care of myself. I would be more concerned about your own behavior, young lady.”

  “I don’t know whatever you mean, Mother.” Angel sighed and toyed with the loop of her belt. “I wish I could make you believe me.”

  Gladys shook her head and stood. “I have to speak to Aaron now. I have a busy day today. Are you staying here tonight?”

  “I’m not sure. I have some business to attend to this morning.”

  “Suit yourself.” Gladys left the breakfast room, but rather than going straight to Aaron’s study, she climbed the stairs to her own dressing room to compose herself for a moment.

  ***

  Gladys met Harmon as she was coming down the stairs.

  “Ah, there you are, madam. Mr. Hart was just asking for you.”

  “Thank you, Harmon.”

  He turned and led the way back to the library, opening the door for her and stepping back to close it after she walked through.

  “Come in, my dear.” Aaron walked out from behind his massive oak desk as she entered the room. She tried to gauge his mood.

  “You wished to speak to me, Aaron?” She stopped halfway across the space, hoping he would come to her. His smile was warm as he crossed the room and took her elbow.

  “Yes, Gladys, I did. Why don’t you sit down?”

  Gladys chose one of the wing chairs beside the fire and Aaron sat in the matching one.

  “Is everything all right with Angel?” he asked, taking her hand. She curled her cold fingers in the palms of his large warm hands. It warmed more than just her hand. She didn’t want to talk about Angel. She wanted to sit quietly here with him. They rarely touched anymore.

  “Everything is fine, darling. What did you want to talk to me about?”

  Aaron released her hand and settled back into his chair, reaching for the box of cigarettes on the table. Gladys pressed her lips together, saying nothing; she disapproved of his smoking in the house, but the library was his domain. He took his time tamping out a cigarette and lighting it with a sterling silver lighter he kept in his pocket. Gladys watched the first swirl of smoke drift up from the tip as she waited for him to speak. He was such a handsome man, regardless of the dreadful smoking. His dark gold hair curled over his left brow and his strong jaw made her wish for the days when he’d courted her. When he’d held her in his arms and whispered in her ear. Those days were gone.

  “Actually, I’d like to discuss a business arrangement.” Aaron’s tone was businesslike and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he trying to manipulate her? Did this have something to do with what Angel mentioned?

  “What sort of business? Is this something to do with the bank?”

  “No, dear. I’d like to discuss something different. Something that involves your social calendar.”

  Gladys folded her hands in her lap, but one finger fiddled with the ribbons on the front of her dress. “What did you have in mind, Aaron?”

  “I’d like you to host a party. For all your most important friends. And the most discrete. This is something very exclusive.”

  “Go on.” The mention of her important friends was cause for concern.

  “I have the chance to acquire a certain amount of a fine quality substance and I think your society friends would be just the sort to appreciate it.”

  “What are you talking about? What kind of substance?”

  “Cocaine. Like what used to be available at any corner drugstore and is now quite rare, thanks to the fatherly figures in Washington.”

  “And what do you propose to do once you’ve acquired it?”

  “I’d like to offer your friends, our friends, a chance to sample the wares and perhaps make an order for a larger amount to take home.”

  Gladys sat quietly for a long moment. This was something totally unexpected.

  She’d known ever since she’d married him that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with her social circle. He was a businessman who’d made his own way, which is one of the things she found so attractive in him. But he didn’t always know what to say to the captains of industry who were married to her closest friends. They, on the other hand, were alternately inspired and put off by his brash confidence. But none of her female friends could fault his dashing good looks. And she felt that she was making progress in smoothing out his rough edges. However, this sort of business wasn’t done in her circles.

  “What benefit might I
possibly derive from allowing you to sell this cocaine in my home?”

  “You will become the secret toast of the town. Everyone will want an invitation to your parties.”

  “Perhaps. And it certainly won’t hurt your aspirations, now will it? Didn’t you say you wanted to impress some of the political people you call friends?” So, this was about him and his political goals. She swallowed the bitterness that rose in her chest.

  Aaron sat back, grinning. “Yes, that’s true. It won’t hurt my aspirations or my pocketbook.”

  “Our pocketbook.”

  “Of course, dear. Of course.”

  “All right, Aaron. Let’s talk about this more at another time. I have an appointment to prepare for.” She leaned forward so that he could kiss her cheek and then she left the library.

  Chapter Six

  Morelli

  Thursday

  Morelli thrust his head under the tap. The icy water froze his skull and hammered the last remnants of a hangover down the back of his neck. He came up dripping, and caught a glimpse of bloodshot eyes in the cracked bathroom mirror. Not a pleasant sight in the morning. Last night had been a late one. Morelli covered his head with a towel and rubbed his short black hair dry. It wasn’t as short as it had been during his time in the army, but he always had it cut before the curls touched the tops of his ears.

  Making his way down the dark hall from the tiny bathroom, he ran into Otten coming from the stairs.

  “Guten morgen, Herr Morelli.”

  “Otten.” The sight of Morelli’s landlord did nothing to improve his mood. Otten was the son of a German immigrant, and had grown up speaking the Kaiser’s tongue. He spoke English with a thick foreign accent, despite being born in New York. Although they never mentioned it, Otten reminded him too much of the war. But the rent was cheap and he had no room to complain.

  “I haf come for ze rent money.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute.” Morelli unlocked the glass-fronted door and walked into his office. Given the state of his finances, he was both working and living in the single dingy room. He dug into his pants pocket for his wallet and pulled out a sawbuck and nine crumpled singles. That left him only a few bills.