The Body in Griffith Park

by Jennifer Kincheloe

  “She’ll take the train to Yuma, then down to Mexico. If you recall, that train leaves at four o’clock. It’s four now. We’re going to miss it.”

  “Trains can be late.”

  A hansom stopped. Joe handed Anna in. “La Grande Station please. A dollar if you go fast.”

  They rode in agitated silence, jostled by the motion of the speeding hansom.

  They arrived at the train station with its turrets and domes and sprang from the hansom without paying. Joe took off running in his practical man boots. Anna flew after him in her Louis heels. She turned her ankle and fell forward onto her hands. “Biscuits!” She got up and limped after him onto the platform where a stationary train began to roll. Joe was nowhere to be seen. Anna grabbed a rail and leapt on board. “Police! Stop the train! I don’t want to go back to Yuma!”

  She moved down the aisle of the car, checking every face. There were handsome faces and ugly faces, fat faces, thin faces, smooth faces, bearded faces—all seated. One man walked down the aisle away from Anna. He cast a glance back over his shoulder. Anna did a double take. He wore an impossibly bushy beard for a young man. It was twenty years out of style. Beneath his beard, an ugly, baggy, rust-colored suit offended Anna’s senses. She abandoned her search and quickened her step to catch up to the suspicious young man. “Wait!”

  The young man too, gained speed, now jogging through the aisle toward the door.

  Anna could see he had the full bottom of a woman. She spoke, slightly out of breath. “It’s no use running, Samara Flossie. If you leap from the train, I’ll follow you. I’ll hunt you like a . . . like . . . like a really good hunter.”

  Everyone stared at Anna. The bearded lady disappeared through the door of the railcar. Anna limped after her. The train rolled slowly out of the station. Samara Flossie stood in the doorway, contemplating a jump. Anna had always wanted to play football but had never been given permission. She took a flying leap and tackled the lady. The two fell off the train.

  Anna landed on top of Samara Flossie. It knocked the wind out of her, and undoubtedly hurt. They had landed on the gravel slope that lined the tracks. The bushy beard now hung askew from Samara Flossie’s lovely face.

  “Flossie Edmands or Samara Mowrey—I’ll call you whatever you’d like—but you are under arrest for the murder of Samuel Grayson. Confess, you villain!” Anna captured her hand and bent back the lady’s fingers.

  Samara Flossie screeched. “Stop!”

  “Confess!”

  The lady smiled and rolled her body violently, tipping Anna off. Anna held tight and rolled back on top of Samara Flossie and down again, rolling over and over to the bottom of the slope, their bodies pressed together between the gravel and the sky. They landed in a sloppy ditch with Samara Flossie on top. Anna’s head hit a rock and she felt momentarily stunned. Samara Flossie put her hands around Anna’s neck and squeezed. Anna’s head sunk into the muck up to her ears. The ugly engagement ring bit into her skin. The lady leveraged herself on Anna’s neck and jammed her knee into Anna’s diaphragm.

  Anna couldn’t catch a breath, couldn’t expand her lungs nor open her throat. Her head felt cold from the muck. Joe Singer had gone with the train.

  Suffocation was a terrible feeling. She would much rather fall off a cliff or be shot in the heart. This was not her death of choice. Thus, she collected her wits, reached up and yanked the villain’s hair. The lady’s hairpiece came loose in Anna’s hands. Samara Flossie laughed, and only squeezed harder. Anna’s strength was slipping away. She heard Flossie hiss in her ear. “I did it. I killed Samuel Grayson.” Then Samara Flossie laughed.

  Georges was innocent. Of course he was. This gratified Anna, and the gratification gave her strength. Anna felt with her hands for anything to use as a weapon but could feel only mud. She scraped up a handful and pushed it into Samara Flossie’s face. It plopped back down into her own face. She felt dizzy and her vision began to darken. She reached out again with her hands and grasped something cool and metal, something long and steel. She struck.

  The next thing Anna knew, Joe Singer was shouting her name, patting her cheeks. “Anna! Wake up!”

  Her neck hurt. She spit out mud. “I’m not asleep.”

  Joe kissed her dirty face.

  Anna pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!”

  The following day, Anna had a ring of purple bruising around her neck and a concussion of the brain. Samara Flossie lay in the receiving hospital, handcuffed to the brass bedrail and tended by Matilda. The patient’s eyes rolled in her pretty head, which had a dent in the temple from the railroad spike Anna had used to biff her. The handcuffs were a formality. Wolf had already called the people from the Asylum for the Insane and Inebriate to take her away. She would never stand trial. The doctor said, shy of a miracle, she would never be mentally competent. Perhaps this fate would hurt worse than hanging.

  Georges returned to court to complete his testimony with Anna supporting him from the front pew, Wolf staunchly at her side. Georges remained poised and stuck to his story, though he looked tired and pale. Then Anna testified for the defense, wearing a low collar so everyone could see her bruises.

  Earl Rogers, in his closing arguments, told of Samara Flossie’s murderous father, her flight with Samuel Grayson from Oklahoma City, how she quit Samuel Grayson to take up with the Black Pearl. How she killed Samuel Grayson so he could not write to her father. He recounted Samara Flossie’s flight and confession and her attempt to murder Anna. The jury returned after ten minutes and found Georges innocent on every count. Anna tried to give Joe Singer an evil stare, but he was shaking his head, looking at his lap. She, too, looked at his lap one last time.

  CHAPTER 50

  When men in white coats had taken Samara Flossie away, Anna summoned Matilda into Matron Clemens’s office and offered her the rocking chair. Matilda rocked gently, smiling up at Anna, blinking her blond lashes.

  Anna held a newly developed photograph of the spindly, jaundiced man from the Mars Paper Co. She thought she would feel victorious at this moment—this moment of Matilda’s vindication. She wasn’t a crazy girl. She was a girl ill-used. Anna felt certain she had found the man from Mars. Maybe they could prosecute him, but Anna thought not. At least they could tell Matilda that she wasn’t just batty.

  But now that it was time to show Matilda the photograph, Anna didn’t want to do it. Matilda would likely start rocking madly again. Maybe, she would cry, reliving the horror of it. To stall, Anna reached in her pocket and offered Matilda a horehound candy. “Candy?’

  “Thank you.” Matilda took the sweet and popped it in her mouth.

  Anna waited a moment, smiling, and then fed her another. And then another, unwrapping them for Matilda and putting them into her mouth. Matilda, mouth full, began to look concerned.

  Anna cleared her throat. “Matilda.”

  “Yes.” She sounded garbled with her mouth full.

  “I believe I’ve found the man from Mars.”

  Matilda’s eyes went big.

  “If I show you his photograph will you tell me yay or nay?

  Matilda just stared.

  “I won’t make you speak to him or even see him in person. We won’t be able to prosecute, but we could, perhaps, egg his house.”

  Matilda nodded slowly.

  “And maybe I could convince Mr. Tilly to write something scandalous about him in the newspaper.”

  Matilda’s eyes brightened.

  “I do think he’s gravely, terminally ill. He’s not supposed to be that color. I looked it up in a medical book. Do you want to see the photograph?”

  Matilda swallowed and spoke softly. “Yes.”

  Anna produced the picture of the spindly, jaundiced man from Mars Paper Co. “He’s smelly, like you said.”

  Matilda winced, and her face turned red.

  “Is it him?”

  Matilda nodded again.

  “I thought so. The Jonquil Café is no more. Mrs. Rosenberg is now in the coun
ty jail. That should make you happy.”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  “And the man from Mars is likely dying. I myself am not all that sad about it. But you—you’ll go on to live a full and wonderful life. You could, for instance, sell theater tickets door-to-door, or become a scullery maid.”

  “I’d like to be a police matron, like you.”

  Anna kissed her on the head. “You’d make a very fine police matron.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Joe Singer appeared in the doorway of Matron Clemens’s office. “Hello Miss Matilda. Assistant Matron Blanc, we gotta talk.” He tossed Matilda a peppermint. She caught it and gave him a wary smile.

  Anna hadn’t seen Joe since Georges had been found not guilty. Her heart rushed with a flood of emotions she couldn’t untangle. “Yes . . . No. I mean . . .” Anna narrowed her eyes.

  Matilda leapt from the rocking chair and skittered out the door, dropping the peppermint on the chair.

  “She’s really afraid of arguments,” said Joe. “She must have seen some bad ones.”

  “Yes.” Anna, too, wanted to skitter out the door. And she wanted to throw herself into Joe’s arms and tell him how relieved she was that Georges was safe. But he was the one who had endangered Georges in the first place. She didn’t know what to do, so she picked up Matilda’s peppermint and ate it.

  Joe waited, looking spanking fine and faithless.

  “I’m off now,” said Anna.

  “It’s dark out. I’ll walk you home.”

  “You can lurk at my side, I suppose. Not that I like your company or need your protection at all.”

  Anna clipped down the steps, strode across the station floor and out the door. She took the steps of Central Station quickly, leaving Joe behind, wanting to see him and wanting to run. He jogged to catch up with her and followed her in silence as she wandered, taking the longest route. She didn’t want to go back to her hotel. She wanted to go east toward Boyle Heights and Hollenbeck Park where their love affair had begun on a sting operation months ago when a thousand obstacles stood in their way. Those obstacles paled compared to what they faced now, but Anna kept walking. She didn’t want the walk to end. It would mean a greater end that she wasn’t ready to face.

  They ambled down Third Street. In the Third Street Tunnel, a group of young people sang in harmony, their song echoing off the walls.

  You left me for another. . .

  Joe began to sing along quietly. Anna loved his voice. She loved it more than any other voice in the world. More than Enrique Caruso, more than Lina Cavaliere, and more than any Vaudeville star she’d ever heard. Anna added her own voice to the harmony, but her notes sounded sour. She stopped singing.

  Why had this man with his beautiful voice betrayed her? He had left her for another woman—lady justice—and then lady justice had betrayed him.

  “So we’re quits, I suppose,” she said.

  “I suppose so.”

  “I can’t ever forgive you. You probably should just marry that piano girl—the one you almost married before.”

  “Nah. She wouldn’t have me now. I threw her off for you.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you would try to send my brother to the gallows.”

  He looked down and smiled. It was the unhappy smile of a man defeated, a wistful smile of surrender. “What about you? What are you going to do? Since you won’t have me.”

  “I’ll never marry.” She raised her chin. “I suppose I’ll take a lover. Wolf maybe.”

  Joe flinched. “I suppose so.”

  “I’ll probably just take a lover, and fall in love, and make love all the time. I won’t miss you at all.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “I’ll stay in Georges’s hotel suite while he’s away. They won’t mind if I have a regular male visitor in the evenings, and they’ll be discreet. We pay far too much rent.”

  “Oh.” Joe was silent. “Where’s Georges going?”

  “He’s going to Nice for a year to convalesce—away from the gossip and the newspapers. The trial took a lot out of him, you know, and his health is fragile.”

  Joe spoke softly. “I know.”

  “I’ll keep working at the station, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “And you? You’re going to move to San Diego or something? It might be just the thing.”

  “Nope. I’m not moving for you.” She saw anger in his eyes. “I’m staying right where I am—Central Station. Somebody’s got to catch the Black Pearl.”

  Anna’s heart lifted at this, though she didn’t want it to.

  They fell silent again until they neared the awning of the Hotel Alexandria.

  In the shadows on the street, Anna chirped with false cheer. “Good night, Joe.”

  “Good night, Assistant Matron Blanc.”

  For a moment, she thought he might kiss her, but it was anger not passion that burned in his eyes. Anna hurried to the elevator, her own eyes glassy, her lip trembling. The new elevator boy stared at her rudely. She croaked, “The penthouse please.” When the elevator door rattled open again, she ran to her hotel suite and flung its door open. She flew to the window to look out and watch Joe walk away, but he was already gone.

  CHAPTER 52

  Anna drove Georges, Thomas, and the little dog, Monkey, to La Grande Station in the bumblebee-yellow Rolls Royce convertible, which used to be hers, and then became Georges’s, and now was hers again. She wore a new black velvet cape with a fox fur collar, and a matching fur hat, even though it wasn’t that cold. She felt cold on the inside. The station’s turrets towered over them like an Arabian palace. Those turrets always made Anna feel like she was living one of Scheherazade’s fairy tales—this time it was a brutal one. She waited with Georges on the platform, along the dusty tracks, while Thomas handled Georges’s trunks.

  Georges groaned. “Never mind. I’m not going. I can’t leave you alone.”

  “Georges, you have to think of your health first. Besides, I’m not alone. Clara and Theo will be home any day now. I have Matron Clemens, Captain Wells, Detective Wolf, Matilda . . .”

  “But not Detective Singer.”

  “No.” Anna’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t think so. Not anymore.”

  “I’ve come between you.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “He’s a good man, Anna. Even I can admit that. He’s not rich, but he wants to do the right thing. You shouldn’t be so hard on him. He loves you. Forgive him.”

  “The fact that you would say that after all he’s done proves how good you are.”

  He laughed. “Believe me, Anna. I’m not that good.” He put his hands on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “If you need more money—”

  “Even I can’t spend all that money in one year. And I have my salary.”

  He chuckled. “Seventy-five dollars a month. You can always put things on a tab for when I return. Then ma chère, I’ll come back rested and ready to fight another day.”

  “And I’ll be here waiting.”

  The train arrived, coming south through Santa Barbara, Ventura, and Oxnard. It would take Georges east to New York where he would then board a steamer to France.

  Anna embraced Georges, not wanting to let go. He smelled of tobacco, Bay Rum, and Blanc man, like her father. Like home. It was a full minute before she reluctantly pulled away, allowing him to go. She stayed on the platform with the other well-wishers after he boarded. As the train began to roll, she waved her handkerchief furiously and smiled bravely.

  Georges waved back from the window of his private railcar. “Goodbye, ma chère.”

  “Take care of yourself, Georges!” She blew him a kiss.

  Behind him, in the background, Anna thought she caught a glimpse of a woman.

  Anna let herself into Georges’s hotel room, which was hers now. It felt empty without him. But Georges would be back. A year would pass quickly. He would send postcards and then he’d return, and they co
uld resume the business of being brother and sister. She could be a spinster in his home for the rest of her life. Eventually, her father would come around. He’d have to. They had all his money. She would make sure Georges never gave it back. Then, they could be a family again.

  In the meantime, she could get another maid—someone to launder her clothes and set them out. Someone to choose her jewels and arrange her hair. Someone to keep her company. She would write to an agency tomorrow.

  Anna wandered into her bedroom to stash her fur hat and hang up her cape. She crawled onto the bed, rolled over, and put the pillow over her head. By her cheek, she discovered an envelope and a little box wrapped with a bow—a gift. Georges must have hidden it under the pillow for her to find.

  She opened the card. It read, “Forgive him.”

  Presumably, Georges meant Joe. She was stunned by Georges’s goodness. Now, when his own life was so tumultuous, he was thinking of Anna. He wasn’t the snob that her father was. He thought Joe was a good match for her. Because Joe treated Anna well, Georges had forgiven him like a living saint.

  Anna cried, biting her fist. She wanted nothing more than to forgive Joe. But what kind of sister would that make her? Why had he had to persecute her brother? He threw Georges in a cell with criminals and subjected him to public humiliation. He had endangered Georges’s life.

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t forgive Joe. It violated her principles.

  When her head began to ache, Anna forced herself to stop crying. She turned back to Georges’s gift for distraction. Perhaps it would be jewels. In her experience, jewels could be salves to the soul. Anna pulled on the ribbon until it unraveled and opened the box. There, lying on a bed of blue velvet was a necklace—a golden cross studded with garnets.

  The cross of the legion of dishonor.

  CHAPTER 53

  Anna lifted the necklace from the jewelry box. It was the cross the Black Pearl had given to all the girls at the Jonquil Apartments. Even as her mind took this in, her body revolted, her stomach twisting like a wrung cloth. She threw the necklace down hard.