Murder Knocks Twice

by Susanna Calkins

  She scowled at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” She cocked her head toward the couple dancing slowly to the record. “Better hurry. You seem to have been replaced.”

  “Indeed,” he replied. He hesitated, and she wondered whether he was going to warn her again. Instead, he just gave her a cocky grin and headed over to the gramophone, where he removed the arm from the record and shut the cabinet cover with some force. Stretching his fingers, he sat down at the piano and began to play.

  “Hullo, love,” he called to a waitress as she passed by the piano, carrying a tray of brightly hued cocktails and wearing a short dress that no secretary would have been caught dead in. Catching Gina’s eye again, he winked. “I want to be loved by you,” he sang, now with a surprisingly pleasant tenor. “By you and nobody else but you.”

  Rolling her eyes at his antics, Gina walked toward the Signora’s salon. She was almost halfway there when she heard a woman’s sultry voice call out her name.

  Gina turned around to discover a stylish woman dressed in a tailored gray dress standing by the bar, regarding her critically. Immediately she knew, from the woman’s stern bearing and authoritative air, that this was Signora Castallazzo. Lulu had called her “the lady of stone and steel,” and that seemed exactly right.

  The Signora’s black hair was bobbed right to her chin, straight and sleek without a single finger wave. Though it was nearing evening, long sleeves still covered her arms, and she had knotted several strands of white pearls at her diaphragm. Her lips were bright red, and her dark gray eyes scrutinized Gina from top to bottom, lingering at her unadorned neckline. Once again, Gina wished she had not left all her costume jewelry in a wooden box on her dresser at home.

  “I am Signora Castallazzo,” the woman declared in her richly accented voice.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Gina said, sticking out her hand as she remembered her mother teaching her.

  The Signora ignored the gesture, still studying her. “You seem sweet.”

  Gina started to thank her and then realized that she wasn’t being paid a compliment. Don’t be a rube, she thought. You gotta show the Signora that you can handle yourself. That you’re not looking for a swell to take care of you.

  Putting her hand on her hip, Gina struck a pose like Clara Bow in It. “I’m no dumbbell,” she said. “No one’s gonna sweet-talk me.”

  Even though Gina felt like an idiot, the Signora seemed to approve, for she gave the slightest smile. “Come with me,” she said. “Let’s find you something more appropriate to wear.”

  Gina followed the Signora into a back room that had a long counter that ran the length of the wall, messily displaying oval mirrors, hair-filled brushes, opened tubes of lipstick, and jars full of powder and blush. A cloying aroma of perfumes and other scents tickled her nose and caused her to sneeze.

  “Er, pardon me,” she said hastily, when the Signora handed her a Kleenex with suspicion.

  Gina continued to look around. On the other side of the room there were several racks of sequined dresses, sparkling headdresses and fluffy feather boas. She’d never had occasion to wear such glittery attire, let alone had the funds to purchase them.

  “Keen,” she breathed, running her fingers over the silver beaded fringe of one of the dresses.

  The Signora’s next words felt like a slap. “Those outfits are for our entertainers. Cigarette girls wear something different.” She looked Gina up and down as she began to rummage through the rack. “You look like you’ve stayed off the sweets, at least.”

  Slipping a silky piece off its hanger, the Signora regarded it for a moment before handing it to her. “This one.” She pointed one elegant finger at a beautifully embroidered screen at the end of the room, emblazoned with brightly colored birds and butterflies. “Change. There.”

  A few minutes later, Gina found herself in a short black dress with a plunging neckline, black pumps, and a white sequined headband holding back her short brown waves. Only her undergarments and hosiery were her own, and she was grateful that she’d splurged on black rayon stockings instead of the gray woolens she usually wore.

  As she contemplated her image in the mirror, the Signora handed her a tube of red lipstick. “Brighten up a bit.”

  Gina did as she was told. The Signora surveyed her critically. “You’ll do. You’ll need to be here every day except Sunday by five thirty, ready to start at six p.m., unless I tell you otherwise. Most nights we go until one or two a.m., although if business is slow, we may send you home at midnight.”

  Papa will be fine without me, she thought, trying again to suppress another faint qualm. I’ll be fine without him, too.

  The Signora was not done. “The dress you came in will never do, I hope you understand. You may wear this dress for the next few days, but then I expect you to purchase at least two more.” She took a calling card out of a small silk bag that was tied to her waist and wrote something on it. “If you take this to Madame Laupin—she’s above us, over on Polk—she will charge the dresses to my account. That charge will be subtracted from your pay.”

  Accepting the card, Gina gulped. She hadn’t anticipated the extra costs, but there was nothing she could do about that now. She could already tell that disagreements with the Signora would be unlikely to end in her favor.

  Just then a tall redheaded woman with a white feather in her hair bounced into the dressing room. It was Lulu.

  As she sat down at the counter, Lulu did a double take. “Gina!” she exclaimed in surprise. “You got the gig! I wasn’t sure—” She broke off when she caught sight of the Signora’s raised eyebrow in the mirror. She continued to appraise Gina’s silk gown and headpiece, a peculiar look on her face. “I mean, you look swell!”

  “Thanks,” Gina replied, trying not to feel annoyed. Lulu didn’t have to seem that surprised by her improved appearance.

  “Good evening, Lulu,” the Signora said, her cool tone effectively cutting off all conversation between the two women. She glanced pointedly down at her watch, a delicate affair that probably cost more than Gina could make in a year. “A little late, aren’t we?”

  Gina could not remember ever seeing Lulu look so meek. “I’m sorry, Signora. It won’t happen again.”

  “I should hope not.” The Signora touched her hair in the mirror, brushing back a single errant strand. “I need to dress for evening. Lulu, why don’t you go ahead and show Gina where everything is. Introduce her to Billy. He’ll fill up her tray.” She fixed Lulu with a meaningful look. “I want you to train Gina properly.”

  “Yes, Signora.” Lulu said. Had her cheeks flushed slightly? It was hard to tell. “Come on, Gina, I’ll show you around.” She pulled a sparkling purple dress off the rack as the Signora left. “Let me just slip this on.”

  Without bothering to step behind the screen, Lulu pulled off her day dress and sat down in front of the mirror, wearing only her undergarments, to adjust her hair and reapply her makeup. She didn’t seem overly concerned about being late, now that the Signora was no longer around.

  “Ain’t this place grand?” Lulu asked, tweezing one of her eyebrows. “Big Mike’s thinking of getting a second joint established, but I like it here, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Gina agreed, sitting on the stool next to Lulu. The black dress slipped a little farther down her front, and she tugged it back into place. Her knees were completely uncovered as well. She glanced at her watch. “Doesn’t the Signora expect us to start soon?”

  “Ah, relax. Kick back a little.” A mascara wand still in her hand, Lulu reached into her handbag and held a silver flask out to Gina. “A little cocktail to get us started? You look like you could use it, doll.”

  Glancing at herself in the mirror, Gina could see her face looked drawn, and her mouth was puckered unbecomingly. “Sure, why not?” she said, taking a small sip from the flask. The gin burned the inside of her mouth but warmed her throat and stomach when she swallowed. With a shudder, she handed it back.

  Lul
u smirked. “You’ll get used to it.” She continued chattering, mostly about why she was late, telling Gina all about how one of her gentleman friends had taken her to the movies and then out for a lemon ice. “I couldn’t very well refuse him a little more of my company, now could I?” she asked, her question punctuated by a little trilling laugh. “Who’da thought you’d be such a dish!” She caught Gina’s eyes in the mirror. “You’ll be turning some heads tonight.”

  Finally she stood up and pulled up the thigh-length purple dress, which crisscrossed in a daring way across the front and in the back. For a finishing touch, she wrapped a long strand of costume pearls around her neck and looped another strand around her wrist. She gave a little swirl, and her dress flared seductively around her slim form. “All right, Gina,” she said. “Time to learn the ropes!”

  CHAPTER 2

  As Lulu showed her around, a little bob to her step, Gina sought to look cool and nonchalant, as if she strolled about a speakeasy every night. The Third Door, though large, only had a few rooms, plus a number of dark passageways that led out in all directions. There was a common salon for the performers and staff, with separate dressing areas for the men and women. The Signora had a small salon where she conducted business. The Signor, it seemed, had his own office as well, on the other side. Toward the back there was a storage area where barrels of whiskey and rye were kept. On the other side there was a gambling den, where mostly men but the occasional woman played cards.

  “Faye serves them,” Lulu said, sounding spiteful. “A shame, too, because they tip real good, and some of them are awful sweet.”

  “Why is Faye the only one who serves them?”

  “The Signora says they ask for her. Heaven knows why,” she said, giving her red hair a flip. “Besides, you don’t want to mess with Faye. Come on, let me introduce you to Billy Bottles, our barkeep. Billy, yoo-hoo!” she called out to the older man sporting a long white apron and a crisp yellow bow tie. “This is Gina, our new ciggie seller.” To Gina she added, “Billy’s real knowledgeable about smokes and drinks.”

  The barkeep, who looked to be in his fifties, glanced at Gina while still wiping out glasses with a white towel. “Lucky Strikes will do for the regular gents. A few will show off by getting a Sobranie or two,” he said in a gruff voice while pointing to fancy metal box behind the counter.

  “My Papa likes those,” she ventured. Although he usually couldn’t afford them and just bought the cheaper American brands.

  Ignoring her, Billy continued. “Marlboros for the ladies. Mild as May, you can tell them. Ivory tips to protect the lips. Got it?”

  Gina nodded. She’d seen the advertisements in the newspapers. Besides, what woman would want yellow-stained lips and fingers when she smoked? That had to be an easy sell.

  “All you really need to know is the puffers and the smokers,” Lulu went on. “Puffers take the short pulls, blow out in gusts, take any brand you offer.”

  “Oh yeah? Then what’s a smoker?”

  “They’re the ones who really enjoy a good smoke. Find pleasure in it.” She drawled out the word “pleasure” with a giggle.

  “You don’t say?” Gina asked, checking out the room to see if she could pick out those different types.

  Ignoring them both, Billy continued, carefully arranging her tray with a colorful box full of cigars on one side and different containers of cigarettes on the other side. There was some gum there, too—Wrigley’s Spearmint, her favorite, as well as Juicy Fruit and Doublemint. “Here’s your lighter, and here’s your cigar cutter. Saturday nights you switch out with roses for the one-timers.”

  “One-timers?” Gina asked, hearing Billy snort softly behind her.

  “Yeah, that’s right. One-timers. Guys and gals who don’t come here, except on a lark. In their glad rags, slumming it in the city. Debs, College Joes. You know the type. Those gents will buy their ladies a flower,” Lulu explained, sounding almost wistful. “The regulars, well, they’re all pikers about it. Won’t put up the scratch to buy their dame any more than they have to. Except their dames don’t expect it either, so I guess it evens out. Still, I think it’s sweet.”

  “Sure, real sweet,” Billy added, holding the black strap of the tray. “Ready?”

  Gina bowed her head and, with Lulu’s help, managed to place the strap around her neck and position the tray so that it hung easily at her waist. The weight wasn’t overly much, but it was strange. “Ugh,” she said.

  “I remember Dorrie would get a neck strain something awful,” Lulu said, sounding sympathetic. “Don’t let that happen to you.”

  Billy carefully counted out some bills and some change. “Here’s what you start with. Any losses, clams or stock, will come out of your wages. Capiche?”

  Gina nodded. “I understand.”

  As she moved across the floor, the strap yanked at the small hairs on her neck and pulled her low-cut dress down to even more indecent levels. Resting the tray on the piano, Gina fumbled at the strap. “Gee, these gaspers are heavier than they look,” she said to Ned, who was looking on in interest.

  “Better get used to it,” Lulu teased, coming behind her. “The Signora won’t take too kindly to a girl who can’t manage her tray.”

  “Oh, is that what happened to the other girl?” Gina asked. “What did you say her name was? Dorrie?”

  She was still adjusting the tray, and it took her a moment to realize that neither Lulu nor Ned had answered her question. At the unexpected silence, she looked up.

  To her surprise, Lulu’s eyes had filled with tears, and Ned was staring intently down at the piano keys. He played three notes in quick succession with his right hand without looking up.

  “What is it?” Gina asked.

  “Dorrie’s gone,” Lulu whispered, darting a quick glance around.

  “Gone?” Gina asked.

  Ned cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.

  “Well, where did she go?” Gina asked, trying to sound lighthearted. The manner of the other two was decidedly odd. “Run off to get married or something?”

  “No.” Lulu said. Her tone grew flat. “If you must know, she died. Just before Christmas.”

  “What? That’s terrible! I’m so sorry!” Gina exclaimed, looking from one face to the other.

  Lulu surveyed herself in the mirrored panel behind the bar. “Yeah. That’s why the Signora needed a new girl,” she said, wiping a smudge of black liner from her lower lid with her index finger. Gina could see she was trembling, even though she seemed to be trying to hide it. “That’s why they hired you.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She was killed,” Ned said, rubbing his forehead. He sounded weary. “Stabbed.”

  “My God! Who killed her?” Gina asked, feeling a bit breathless. “A customer?”

  “Of course not!” Lulu gave Ned a frightened look. “It happened on the L. In the Loop.” Straightening up, she pursed her lips. “Dorrie just never showed up again after Christmas Eve. I thought at first maybe she’d gone to Hollywood. She was a real peach, a doll. She could have lit up the silver screen. Or performed at the Moulin Rouge. That’s in Paris, you know.”

  Gina nodded, feeling like she was supposed to do something. Ned made a sound that resembled a smothered cough.

  “It’s true!” Lulu insisted. “I thought maybe she had done it, just packed her bags and blew this joint! She was always talking about it.” She gave Ned another nervous look. “Then we heard later … what had happened. It was in the papers.”

  “Still doesn’t make sense,” Ned said, idly playing a few discordant notes. “Where was she going?”

  “You know we’re not supposed to talk about it,” Lulu whispered.

  “Why not?” Gina asked, echoing Lulu’s secretive tone.

  “The Signora, Big Mike—well, they don’t like it. Dorrie was a particular pet of theirs.” Lulu unexpectedly slung one slender arm around Gina’s shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “Enough of that sad tale. It
’s time for us to get back to work.”

  With that, Ned began playing again, a mechanical and spiritless tune. It was clear that the girl’s death had affected him deeply.

  Taking a deep breath, Gina turned her attention back to fixing the strap on her tray so that it would not pinch her neck.

  Lulu leaned over to help her. “Just keep the strap here, a bit more around your shoulders. I started on cigarettes, you know. I know everything about it.” She gave her hair one last pat, her earlier distress tucked back away. She tossed her head in a saucy way. “Let’s get ’em, sister!”

  * * *

  Before long, Gina’s neck and feet were starting to ache. Tripping along after Lulu was not easy. After showing her how to keep her money, Lulu explained how to make a little extra in tips. “Smile. Bend over a little if he’s standing. A little wiggle when you walk away won’t hurt much, either. Get you some more dough.”

  “Can’t I just say nice things about his tie?” Gina wanted to know, not quite sure if she could pull off these tricks. Although the cut of the dress and inches on her heels seemed to be taking care of that for her, given the general smiles she was getting from the male patrons.

  “If he’s with his wife, don’t even bother,” Lulu said with a laugh. “Just sell him whatever smokes he needs.”

  Gina also learned what to do if a customer got too fresh. “That’s an easy one,” Lulu explained. “Gooch or one of the others will throw him out. The Signora don’t like when they get too handy with us.” She elbowed Gina in the ribs. “Whatever you do, don’t slap him. Let the guys take care of it.” She paused. “Mind you don’t get too handy with the customers, either. Flirt enough to keep them buying, but the Signora will throw you out if people start thinking they can have their way with you.”

  “They’re all hoods, heels, and bums. Got it!” Gina replied. “Besides, it won’t be a problem.”

  Lulu raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a sheik now? I guarantee, you won’t for long, if you keep working here. Men like coming to these places, but no one wants their girl working at one.” She laughed again, sounding a little bitter.