Murder Will Speak

by Penny Richards

  “D’ya want me to approach her? See if we can buy her a drink?”

  Lilly thought about it a minute and then shook her head. “No. I think it’s time you went to talk to the bouncer. I even give you permission to flirt with that dancer. Just don’t be too obvious, and don’t let me see you.”

  Cade sketched a sharp salute and left her sitting alone at the table. The act caught Bonnie’s attention. Spying Lilly, she changed direction, passing McShane on the way.

  Lilly gestured toward the chair he’d just vacated. “How are you?”

  “Just peachy.” Bonnie sat down and, rubbing at the red places on her upper arms, signaled for the barkeep.

  “What’ll it be, Bonnie?” The stocky man smiled at her, transforming his average-looking face into something very attractive.

  “Whisky.”

  “I’ll be back with it in a minute.”

  “I think he likes you,” Lilly noted.

  “He does. I like him, too.” She didn’t seem happy about the notion.

  “Then why not try to see where those feelings go?”

  Bonnie’s mouth curved upward at the corners in a sad smile. “Charlie can barely support himself, much less another person, and I don’t know much besides what I do.”

  “You know how to clean and wash dishes. Maybe you could find work as a housekeeper for some rich family.”

  “You’re sweet, Lilly,” Bonnie told her, attempting a smile. “But for someone in the business, you seem a little naïve. Do you think Velvet would just let me quit?”

  “Why wouldn’t she?”

  Charlie brought her drink and set it in front of her. Bonnie gave his hand a pat. “Thanks, Charlie. You’re a dear.”

  She downed the shot glass of liquor in one huge gulp, cringed and shuddered and coughed a little. Taking a frilly handkerchief from a pocket, she dabbed at her watering eyes.

  “Velvet is very protective of her girls,” she said when she could speak again. “She expects us to toe the line and considers me one of her best moneymakers.”

  Lilly’s heart broke a little more. She looked around the room and saw McShane in a far corner with the dove who had been so interested in him. He had placed his hands against the wall on either side of her head, effectively pinning her there. She didn’t seem to mind. Lilly was a bit surprised to realize she did.

  Reminding herself that he was only doing his job, she brought her attention back to Bonnie. “What about the dancers? Is that all they do? Dance?”

  Bonnie gave a sharp little laugh. “Of course not.” She held her glass aloft, catching Charlie’s eye. “I’m not sure how they do it where you’re from, but Velvet treats her dancers especially well. It’s hard to find a girl who can kick up her heels the way they’re expected to, so when she finds someone who can, she gives them a little more leeway than she does the rest of us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They don’t have to give a ‘performance’ until after they go on stage. Until then, they just pass on any interested men to one of us.”

  “Why aren’t you a dancer?”

  She smiled wryly. “Probably because I have two left feet.” Charlie came and switched out the empty glass for a full one. This time Bonnie sipped at the fiery liquid. “When an actress happens to come this way, there’s a bidding war between Velvet and Rosie to see who gets her.”

  Lilly couldn’t stop the gasp of shock that escaped her. “Bidding war? The madams haggle for the girls?”

  Bonnie shrugged. “They do.”

  “Where do the girls come from?”

  “Here and there. Everywhere. Some, like me, come because they know there’s work in town that provides food three times a day and a roof over their heads.”

  “Is that a fair exchange, considering what you go through?” Lilly looked pointedly at the marks on Bonnie’s arms.

  “Everything’s a transaction of some kind, isn’t it?” She took another sip of her drink and frowned at Lilly. “Things must be really different where you come from.”

  “I guess they are. You must understand that Chicago is much more cosmopolitan than Ft. Worth.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  As dismayed as she was, Lilly was determined to know more and perhaps get a hint about where Nora was. “Do many actresses come here looking for work?”

  “A few.”

  Lilly was about to delve more deeply into that, but Charlie approached the table and leaned over to whisper something in Bonnie’s ear. Apprehension filled her eyes. He gave her a pat on the shoulder and flashed Lilly an apologetic look before heading to the bar.

  “I have to go,” Bonnie said, scooting her chair away from the table. “Velvet isn’t happy that I’m socializing instead of working. And she’ll be wondering what we were talking about.”

  From the expression on Bonnie’s face, Lilly surmised that an angry Velvet was not a good thing. “Which one is Velvet?”

  “The one in the gold gown sitting in the corner.”

  Lilly saw a short, plump woman playing a game of solitaire, smoking a cheroot, and sipping a drink of some sort while managing to keep an eye on everything happening in the room. She caught Lilly staring. If Rosalie’s eyes were cold, Velvet’s expression radiated fire. She didn’t look like anyone Lilly would want to cross. Bonnie’s apprehension was understandable.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Just tell her that my friend owns Dusty’s, and I was asking questions about the business.”

  “Sure,” Bonnie said. “I’ll try to come by as soon as possible.” With that, she turned and walked away.

  Lilly sat waiting for Cade, nursing her sarsaparilla, and thinking of what she’d learned. It was no wonder the suicide rate among the women was so high. The idea that Velvet expected Bonnie to go back to work when she’d just come downstairs was detestable, but was there anything that could be done about it?

  Having lived a secure, relatively trouble-free life, Lilly confessed to looking down on women who’d chosen this path. But the incident with Nora was teaching Lilly that sometimes there was no choice. A single woman alone in the world had few viable options for making a living, and for the unlearned or perhaps those who were not strong-willed, prostitution seemed their only way to survive.

  Her perception was changing. Though she didn’t condone the occupation, she no longer condemned the unfortunate women who had no other choice. It was not her place to pass judgment, but to reach out to those she could and try to show them a better path. She knew she could not help every woman used or abused by a man, nor could she end the terrible practice that had been in existence since the beginning of time, but she could help one woman at a time.

  While she sat waiting for McShane to finish his flirting, a murmur swept through the room. A gaunt man of indiscernible age shuffled toward the bar. Thirty, perhaps, even though his hair was going gray at the temples and his emaciated state and jerky movements made him look much older. Yet despite the ravages of life, she realized that he’d once been attractive, without being overtly handsome. He had a “kind” face as Rose was fond of saying.

  As he came closer, his haunted gaze collided with Lilly’s, and if it had not been too absurd to be considered, she might have imagined she saw a glimmer of recognition there. Ridiculous! She’d never seen the man before. He looked away, and the moment passed.

  She watched him take a seat at the bar and order a drink. Charlie set a mug of beer in front of the newcomer, who propped his forearms on the bar top, slumped over the brew, and stared into the foamy head, as if all the answers to his problems could be found there. A promise and a lie believed by far too many.

  Sorrow enveloped him. It was there in the defensive way he’d entered the room, as if he wasn’t certain how he would be received. It was in the unhappiness etched on his gaunt face. It was in the drooping of his shoulders, the way he seemed to block out everything around him. And it was in his eyes, which, for a brief second when they had met hers
, had reflected the pain he carried deep inside.

  She wondered who he was and what had happened to rob him of his youth and his joy. The man downed his beer faster than most, and, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he left. Only then did it seem as if the room took a collective sigh of relief.

  Why?

  Who was the man, and why did everyone look at him as if he were a pariah? Maybe Charlie knew. Bonnie would tell her, if Bonnie ever managed to speak to her without fear of Velvet’s retribution.

  Lilly looked around the room, taking in the drunkenness, the overt, seductive moves between the men and the women hired to provide them pleasure. How many of those men were married? Had homes and wives? Children? How many would partake of the sordidness available and then go home and profess their love and devotion to their families?

  She’d studied the Bible enough to know that no sin was larger than the next, but, by its very nature, this seemed worse. Overwhelmed by the enormity of the problem and her inability to fix it, she felt the sudden urge to cry. Then, remembering Robert Pinkerton’s face on the day she’d been hired by his father, she stiffened her spine and her resolve. She would not give the younger Pinkerton son the satisfaction of quitting in the middle of an operation. She would do what she could and go back to Chicago.

  And then, she would see.

  CHAPTER 11

  Cade returned to the table just minutes after the stranger left. He looked rather pleased with himself. Despite her determination to keep things between them on a purely professional level, Lilly could not quite forget the kiss they’d exchanged when they’d gone to New Orleans as a married couple. Her annoying awareness of him, and the fact that he had been flirting with the dancer, made her cranky.

  “Stop grinning like a jackanapes,” she said.

  Mischief danced in his eyes. “My, aren’t you the cross one? Don’t tell me it’s past your bedtime already?”

  She glared at him. He flicked a finger toward her beverage and asked, “Are you going to drink that?”

  “No.”

  “Then I am.” He reached for the mug and took a healthy swallow.

  Lilly watched in surprise at the intimacy of his drinking from her glass, from the very place her lips had been.

  “Did you find out anything from your friend?” he asked, after draining at least half the contents.

  “Not much. The dancers are expected to offer private performances once they finish their cancan. Evidently dancers are much sought after and relatively rare. Former actresses often fit the bill.”

  “That makes sense,” he said, nodding. “Anything about Nora?”

  “No. The conversation had just turned in that direction when the bartender—Charlie—came to tell Bonnie that Velvet was not happy about her shirking her duties.” Lilly sighed. “And I learned that it’s a miserable, horrible life.”

  “She said that?” Cade asked, frowning.

  “She didn’t have to. The implication was in every word she spoke, every expression on her face. Just hearing her talk about it is heartbreaking.”

  Cade didn’t say anything.

  “Enough of that. What about you? Did your little dove tell you anything of use?”

  “In fact, she did. I found out the competition between Velvet and Rosalie for top madam is fierce, and they’ve competed with each other for years. Goldie said that—”

  “Goldie?” Lilly interrupted. “Her name is Goldie?”

  “Probably not,” Cade said without missing a beat, “but that’s neither here nor there, now, is it?”

  “I suppose not,” Lilly said, properly chastened.

  “Goldie said they’re the top two madams in town and that they’ll do whatever they can to try to best each other. They’ve even been known to go after each other’s girls every chance they get.”

  Lilly frowned. “Go after? What do you mean?”

  “Steal them away. Offer them more money.”

  “Why on earth would they do that?”

  “To have a better stable for the men to choose from.”

  Lilly gave a fierce shake of her head. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t refer to them as a stable. It sounds so . . . I don’t know, as if they’re . . . animals. They’re just poor, miserable women, and most of them would rather be anywhere else doing anything else.”

  “You prefer that I call them prostitutes?”

  Lilly shook her head and rested her forehead in her palm. The whole sordid situation troubled her in ways she couldn’t begin to understand. Or explain. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . .”

  His tone softened. “Look, lass, I know a lot of what’s been thrown at you these past months must have shaken you to the core. I know that some of what we’ve had to do has been contrary to your beliefs.”

  Lilly looked up. His eyes held concern and understanding. She knew he was referring to what had happened in New Orleans. He’d been in the business longer than she had. He was older. He’d been playing roles to aid the Pinkertons for so long that he’d become an expert at hiding his feelings. For him to show concern for what she was going through was a little surprising. What he said was true.

  She started talking, everything that had been building inside her spilling out in a rush of words. “Preachers are supposed to be godly men, not thieves and worse,” she said, referencing her first case.

  “They are,” Cade agreed. “It’s unfortunate that there are some who abuse their position for their own gain.”

  Recalling the ugly state of affairs they’d discovered in New Orleans, she said, “Marriage is a sacred union, and those vows should not be taken lightly.”

  “I agree.”

  “And now this.” She spread her hands palms up. “I’m ashamed to say that all my life, I looked down on women who sold themselves for money. I thought of them as terrible, weak creatures.” Her earnest gaze bored into his. “But since we’ve been here, I’ve learned that for some of them, this life was their only option. And women like Nora, who are lured into it under false pretenses, have no choice at all in the matter.”

  “You’re learning,” Cade said. “Life is hard.”

  “Yes,” she said with a nod. “And things aren’t always black-and-white.”

  His lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “There are definitely many shades of gray in between.”

  Indeed, there were. “I wanted to become a Pinkerton to help women who’d been misused by men, and there are many, many of them. This place confirms that. But almost every day I’m learning that wickedness isn’t just a male trait. Women can be just as evil. That’s very troubling to someone who was taught that women are to be nurturing and gentle as well as strong.”

  Even though her mother’s life paralleled those of the women here in many ways, Kate Long had possessed those basic feminine qualities, and Rose certainly did.

  “Wickedness doesn’t concern itself with gender, Lilly. It just looks for weakness of character. Selfishness. Avarice. Any chink in our armor that offers a place for it to enter. Make no mistake, lass, the devil will take whomever he can, man or woman.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this, Cade,” she said, forgetting in the despair of the moment to keep their relationship on a professional footing.

  “Don’t know if you can do what?”

  “Do the work we need to do without letting all the ugliness consume me.”

  “You get used to it.”

  Irritation surged through her. Irritation and alarm. His answer wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “That’s just it. I don’t want to get used to it. I want to do the work, but I don’t want it to change me. I don’t want to get hard and uncaring.”

  She saw that her comments alarmed him, and McShane was never nonplussed. He stared into her eyes, as if he were searching for the right thing to say.

  “Only you can decide if you’re right for the work, Lilly,” he told her in a gentle tone. “And I’d never try to sway you one way or the other. It isn’t easy.
It does change you. I won’t deny that. We do have to get tougher mentally, even if it goes against the grain.”

  “Even you?”

  “D’ya think I was happy when I shot my first man?” he countered. Bleakness darkened his eyes. “I vomited afterward, and I didn’t sleep fer weeks. But he’d killed someone else . . . and he had a gun pointed at me. Only one of us was walking away, and I decided it should be me.”

  Unexpectedly, he reached out and placed a scarred hand over hers. “You knew when you went into law enforcement that it would be difficult, yet you chose it anyway. The very nature of our business means we’re often forced to do things that are foreign to our nature . . . even our values. All we can do is ask the good Lord each night to help us hold on to our compassion, not lose our humanity. If that happens, we’re in trouble.”

  She nodded, trying to take in everything he’d told her. His fingers tightened around hers.

  “You’re becoming a good operative, Lilly Long, and the fact that you do care so deeply about what you do is one of the qualities that makes you so effective.”

  He released her hand and finished off the sarsaparilla, then set down the mug with a thud. “I think it’s time to go back to Dusty’s and call it a night. Things will look different in the morning.”

  He was right. Things would look different, but would they look better? Lilly let him scoot back her chair, and they left Velvet’s together. She wasn’t even aware of the warmth of his hand against her waist.

  * * *

  There was little talk between them as they walked back to their temporary home. Cade couldn’t rid himself of Lilly’s very genuine concerns about their work and if she had what it took to continue as an agent. Tonight was the first crack he’d seen in her determination to continue as a Pinkerton. It troubled him. And surprised him.

  During the time they’d been together, he’d seen many different sides of her personality—from her stubbornness to her tender heart, her intelligence to her insightful instincts. She was quick and bright and spirited. She met things head-on. The life she’d lived as part of a traveling theater troupe had instilled a confidence and a certain level of fearlessness in her, yet the very fact that the theater was a somewhat cloistered environment had left her unsullied in many ways. And, though she might not realize it, she was still nursing wounds inflicted by her mother’s lifestyle and tragic death.