Murder Knocks Twice

by Susanna Calkins

  “Nothing will help him, I think.” She smiled down at Donny, putting her hand on her hip. “What would you like? Southsider?”

  The men all groaned. The Chicago drink was already a regularly imbibed concoction, it would seem.

  “Gin rickey? Sidecar?”

  Each suggestion elicited similar groans. She laughed and said, “How about I just surprise you?”

  “You do that, doll,” Donny grinned back, showing the full plate in his jaw. “We’ll get the lieutenant back in good spirits right quick.”

  She left the room and walked up to the bar. “Yoo-hoo, Billy,” she called. “The boys in back want something new.”

  “They do, do they? I’ve just the thing,” he said, pulling some glassware off the shelf behind him. Looking around, he added, “Jade’s still not here? That’s not like her.”

  Gina watched as the bartender mixed up a concoction of absinthe, gin, and vermouth. The result was a bright green drink, which he poured into four glasses. He poured the excess into a shot glass and slid it over to her. “Try it,” he ordered, a gleam in his eye. “Good and hard.”

  After a quick glance around to make sure no one was paying her any mind, Gina tossed it back. The lash of gin coursed down her throat, almost causing her to cough.

  “That’s a good girl,” he said with an approving nod. “Just stay steady on your feet.”

  He wasn’t kidding. She had to put her hand on the counter to maintain her balance. “What’d you call that one?”

  He winked. “An Obituary.”

  Carefully Gina walked back to the cardplayers’ table and began serving the drinks to the men. They all laughed when she told them the bartender’s name for the drink.

  Noticing her hand when she set his cocktail in front of him, Donny asked, “What happened to you?” He pointed at her knuckles, which were still sore and raw. “Punch someone’s lights out?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” she said, fluffing her hair. “A customer told me he didn’t like the way I laid down his drink. Took him around back and gave him what’s what.” She struck her boxing pose, and most of the men whooped and whistled. Roark, she noticed, did not laugh.

  She delivered the rest of the drinks and started back to the main room, but before she got to the door Roark caught up to her and said in a low voice, “Gina, what really happened to you?”

  “Oh, now you’re talking to me?”

  “Gina, I—”

  “It’s nothing,” she said, cutting him off.

  “Tell me.”

  He’s not going to leave me be until I answer him. She shrugged. “Last night, someone jumped me after I left the Third Door.”

  “What? Who?”

  “I didn’t get a good look at him, but his voice was familiar,” she said, trying to remember. Did she know him? She went on. “He told me to give him my purse, but I … I didn’t want to do that. So I hit him.”

  “You could have been killed! Did he hurt you?” His eyes ran over her, assessing her for other injuries.

  “I’m fine.”

  His face cracked into a grin. “It looks like you got a few hits in, at least.”

  “Yeah.” She started to push past him, even as he stepped aside to allow her to pass. “I told you I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m starting to see that.”

  * * *

  The girls were just finishing their set when Gooch came up to her. “You’re wanted in the ladies’ dressing room,” he said. “All of you. Signora’s orders.”

  When she entered the dressing area, along with Faye, Lulu, and Jade, who had just arrived, she was startled to see Nancy standing there, alongside Officer Dawson, the Signora, and Big Mike.

  Was it a raid? What was going on?

  She and Lulu exchanged a wondering glance. The police must have been brought in through one of the secret back entrances, because she would have noticed them descending the main stairs from the alley. Everyone would have seen and assumed it was a raid. Gooch came in behind them and leaned against the door, thereby ensuring that no one would be able to enter or exit without his say-so.

  “This policewoman,” the Signora said with scarcely masked disdain, waving at Nancy, “would like to search your belongings.”

  “What?” Jade and Lulu exclaimed in unison, with Jade adding, “You can’t do that!”

  “I’m sure we have nothing to hide,” Faye said, raising one of her delicately arched eyebrows.

  Gina, for her part, had frozen. The photographs from Marty’s last roll of film were still in her purse, which was hanging alongside the other girls’ bags. Now everyone would see them. She glanced at the Signora. Surely she’d get in trouble for having them. Unless, of course, she claimed that she had planned to give them to the Signora all along. She hadn’t shown them to anyone, so that could seem plausible. She could just hand them over now.

  Except—she remembered Marty’s dying words, asking her to promise to keep them hidden, to keep them safe. Her heart started beating faster.

  Despite the women’s protests, Nancy dumped Lulu’s handbag out on the counter, a hodgepodge of items falling about. Tubes of lipstick, small compacts, some coins, a few dollars. Jade’s was much the same.

  Officer Dawson followed closely behind her, watching his subordinate’s movements with an eagle eye. From Jade’s bag, he smoothed out an advertisement. “Singers wanted!” he said, reading the headline out loud. “Auditions at The Sunset Café! Oh, what do you know, that was tonight.”

  “That’s why you were late? Looking for a new job?” Lulu whispered loudly to Jade, who just frowned at her in return. “Isn’t that one of Capone’s joints?”

  Oh, Gina realized, watching the interplay. The Signora certainly did not look pleased.

  Jade shrugged. “I could sing with Louis Armstrong, Earl Hines.” She looked pointedly at the Signora but didn’t say anything more.

  Uncomfortably, Gina turned her attention back to Nancy, who had reached her own purse. As she’d done with the others, Nancy removed Gina’s change purse and makeup. Then she pulled out the tissue paper containing the photographs. She glanced at them but set them aside without a word. The Signora gave Gina a sharp look, though she didn’t say anything.

  “What’s this all about?” Jade asked. “You’ve looked in all our purses.”

  Nancy grimaced. “We received an anonymous tip that one of the girls at this establishment was seen with Genevieve Beering’s jewelry in her possession.” As she spoke, she picked up Gina’s embroidered bag again. With a frown, she used her fingers to probe the material. She glanced at Gina. “Something in here?” she asked.

  “No, why?” Gina replied.

  Nancy continued to push and pull the material apart, fingering the green thread out along the seam. The others all watched in breathless fascination as if they were catching a burlesque act at the Star and Garter.

  There was a slight tearing sound, and triumphantly Nancy withdrew a pearl choker necklace, inlaid with a distinctive set of rubies, surrounded by diamonds, which they all beheld in fascination.

  Gina felt the room begin to sway. She recognized the piece immediately. “How did that get there?” she asked faintly. Everyone darted glances at her, confused by what was going on.

  Nancy held up a photograph of Genevieve Beering, which looked to have been clipped from a society page. “Take a gander at the necklace that Miss Beering is wearing in this photograph.” She held the necklace up to the picture in comparison. “Looks the same, don’t you think?” she said. “Miss Van der Veer reported the necklace as missing.”

  The room was spinning now, and Gina leaned against the makeup counter. How had the deceased heiress’s necklace ended up in her purse? Everyone, even Lulu, was staring at her with an expression of shock and suspicion.

  “I don’t know anything about it,” Gina whispered, sitting down hard.

  Nancy held the pearls out to the Signora, whose face had paled. “Madam?”

  Wordlessly, the Signora
took the necklace from the policewoman and held it to the light with the manner of a professional jeweler. Then, with a quick shudder of distaste, she ran the pearls across her own teeth. “Fake,” she said, confirming Nancy’s mute question. “I have no doubt that it is a very expensive necklace, worth a great deal of money, but the jewels are themselves fake.”

  “Well, it’s a copy, then,” Lulu said. “Not Miss Beering’s necklace at all.”

  Nancy shook her head. “According to Miss Van der Veer, Miss Beering had been wearing this copy for months. The original is locked up in a vault somewhere.” She paused. “Miss Beering was last seen wearing it the day she was killed.”

  “So Genevieve Beering was murdered?” Faye exclaimed. “How awful!”

  “We heard her death was an accident!” Jade said.

  Nancy shrugged. “The coroner confirmed that she’d been killed, by someone hitting her over the back of the head. The Beerings did not wish to be associated with something so sordid.”

  “So they paid off the coroner,” the Signora said knowingly. “Kept the information from the press.”

  “Except Miss Van der Veer has been talking,” Nancy replied.

  Remembering the pickled state of the heiress’s companion the previous night, Gina could see how that was likely true. Right now she had other things to worry about.

  Big Mike picked up on her concern. “How exactly did this necklace end up in my employee’s purse?” His face turned menacing as he regarded Gina. “You stole it from her?”

  “No! I didn’t!” Gina cried, looking around at everyone. “I only ever saw the necklace when she wore it here. Like everyone else! Someone planted it in my purse!”

  “Why would anyone do that?” Faye asked. “More likely you took it yourself.”

  “What? When?”

  “I remember when she admired it when Miss Beering was here.” Jade said sweetly. “Stands to reason that her killer took her necklace.”

  Gina’s mouth fell open in shock. This couldn’t be happening.

  “Even a fake one?” Lulu said doubtfully. “I mean, it’s pretty and all, but—”

  “The killer probably didn’t realize it was fake,” Faye said, with a snide look at Gina. “She probably hoped to pawn it for a few bucks.”

  The situation was getting out of hand. Gina turned to the Signora, who was looking at her with her customary hauteur. “Please, Signora! I would never steal. Please, you know my father—!”

  “Gina Ricci,” Officer Dawson interrupted, full authority in his voice. “You are being brought in for questioning for the theft of this property, and the murder of Genevieve Beering. Officer Doyle, if you would.”

  A dull rushing filled Gina’s ears as she looked around, her shock reflected on the faces of the others. Nancy stepped over to Gina and pulled both of her arms behind her back. There were great gasps all around.

  “Is this absolutely necessary?” the Signora asked. “I have my establishment to think of. We cooperated with you.”

  Nancy and Officer Dawson looked at each other. “We’ll take her out the back way, same way we came in.” She plucked Gina’s coat from the coatrack and put it around her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  Blinking back tears, Gina kept her gaze straight ahead as she was marched out of the Third Door and over to the paddy wagon waiting to take her to the Harrison Street station.

  CHAPTER 19

  Still numb thirty minutes later, Gina found herself being escorted by a grim-faced Nancy Doyle into the Harrison Street station. Throughout the short ride to the jail, she had pleaded with the policewoman to see reason. Nancy ignored her, other than a curt reminder to address her as “Officer Doyle” rather than “Nancy.” Officer Dawson, who had driven the paddy wagon, walked behind them into the station without speaking.

  Holding Gina’s elbow, Nancy led her to a small room, furnished only with a heavy wooden table with a chair on either side. “Sit,” she said. “The captain will be with you in a moment.”

  She shut the door behind her, leaving Gina alone. Sinking down into one of the hard wooden chairs, Gina blew on her icy hands, trying to muster some warmth. At least they had let her keep her coat.

  She did not have to wait long. Captain O’Neill walked in and introduced himself. He was carrying a cup of water, which he placed in front of her. As he sat down, he looked at her more closely. “We’ve met before.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Gina said, her throat feeling tight and scratchy. “When you came to the drugstore. You had pictures of—” Here, she faltered. “Marty Doyle.”

  “Ah, right.” He watched her take a drink of water. “Tell me how long you’ve worked at the Signora’s establishment.”

  Gina stiffened. “Not that long. A few weeks. I started just after New Year’s.”

  “I see. How did you get the job?”

  “Lulu, another girl, told me about it. Told me they needed to replace a girl to—” she broke off, biting her lip. She wasn’t sure what she should disclose about the Third Door, even though it seemed to be a very open secret.

  “Look, we all know about the Third Door. I’m not a Prohibition agent. What is sold or not sold there doesn’t concern us. We are concerned about the death of Genevieve Beering, and the theft of her jewelry, specifically a piece she was believed to have been wearing shortly before or even at the time of her death. Frankly, I want to know how that necklace ended up in your bag.”

  “I don’t know anything about it,” she whispered, a bit of tension rising in her voice. Here was her chance. She could tell him about Marty, about the camera, about the photographs. About everything. Clearly she’d been framed. Surely he’d see that. Yet Marty’s words about not trusting anyone clung to her mind. She remembered, too, how the Signora had left out the envelopes for the officers. How those envelopes had been tucked away, into their uniforms. So she kept her mouth shut.

  Captain O’Neill returned to something she’d said earlier. “You said that you’d been hired to replace a girl who’d left. Who was that? Do you know why she left?”

  “Her name was Dorrie. I heard some of the others talking about her,” Gina said. “She was killed. Stabbed.”

  “Like Marty Doyle,” the captain commented.

  “Well, yes. On the L.” Then she changed the subject. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “Right now we’re just asking some questions—”

  “But am I going to be arrested? What happens if I’m arrested?”

  “You could be released on bail, if you can afford it.”

  Her heart sank a bit, thinking about how little money she and her father still had to spare. Working at the Third Door had only helped in the short term; she hadn’t been able to set much aside. She looked down at her hands where they rested on the table.

  “You haven’t been arrested yet, you understand. As I said, we’re just holding you for questioning right now.” There was a long pause. When she looked back up, she found Captain O’Neill studying her carefully.

  “Miss Ricci,” he said, “tell me, what was your mother’s maiden name?”

  “O’Brien.”

  He grinned. “I thought I saw an Irish lass in there. Your mother from the North Side?”

  “Yes, by Fullerton and Clark.”

  “O’Banion’s territory,” he stated.

  “I suppose. I didn’t grow up there.”

  The captain nodded. “Keep your chin up, kid. I’ll make sure you have a blanket in your holding area. We may have some more questions for you in the morning.”

  “I have to stay here all night?”

  “For a little while longer, at least.” He opened the door. “Doyle!”

  * * *

  The holding area looked a lot like a cell, and Gina almost started to cry at the sight of the iron bars and hard, unadorned benches.

  “In you go,” Nancy said, practically shoving the blanket into her arms. Gina was forced to take a step back, and the guard clanged the iron gate behind her.

 
“Wait, I’m being locked in?” she exclaimed. “Please don’t leave me here! Nancy! Officer Doyle! I’m happy to answer more questions! My papa will be so worried if I’m not home in the morning when he wakes up. What else do you want to know?”

  “Hush!” Nancy hissed. “There are canaries everywhere.” She looked intentionally toward the cell’s other occupant, a young-looking woman huddled on one of the long benches. Her low-cut bodice and overly made-up face suggested she might be a prostitute.

  Gina followed her gaze, then turned back to find that Nancy had walked away.

  “Bad night, toots?” The other inhabitant of the cell had a raspy voice and turned out to be older than she first appeared. There was a gleam in her eye that made Gina feel suspicious. Canaries, Nancy had said.

  Ignoring her, Gina sat on the other bench, contemplating her plight. The numbness was wearing off, and questions swayed over her. How had the heiress’s necklace gotten in her bag? Who had put it there? How could she defend herself? What if they arrested her, as the officer had suggested they might? Her mind flashed to Mr. Darrow. Could she ask him for help? She sighed. Not in a million years could she afford a high-priced attorney like him.

  She sat down gingerly on the bench and pulled the blanket around her. It smelled clean, at least, and she couldn’t help but be grateful for the small kindness from Captain O’Neill. As her cellmate continued to ramble on, Gina curled up in a ball, pulling the blanket over her head, bewildered by the evening’s strange turn of events.

  * * *

  Gina didn’t know how long she’d been lying there when she heard a disturbance in the corridor and then a man’s booming voice that she recognized. “Let me through.”

  It was Roark. With a groan she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Tsk, tsk,” he said, looking at her from the other side of the bars with mocking concern. “Got yourself in a bit of a pickle, didn’t you?”

  “Mind your own beeswax,” she said, turning away from him.