Ophelia's War

by Alison L. McLennan

  “I have many fond memories of time spent at bordellos.” Mr. Sirringo smiled wistfully as he gazed at the house.

  “Well then, our history won’t bother you.” I opened the gate and led him down the path to the front door.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a brothel quite like this. It could be inhabited by cherubs and gingerbread people, it looks so charming and innocent.”

  I laughed. “It isn’t a brothel anymore, Mr. Sirringo. It’s just a boarding house now.”

  I told him I’d have Nell put out tea and scones for him in the parlor. We agreed to discuss business later over supper in the dining room.

  I spent the hours between tea and supper trying to make sense of the papers and ledgers on Pearl’s desk. I wanted to get a hold of the finances, and I didn’t want to appear a vacant-headed idiot in front of Detective Sirringo. As far as I could tell from the ledgers, we’d been very wealthy for quite some time. I couldn’t help but wonder why Pearl had me see customers for so long. Soon, she always said; soon we’ll have enough.

  Rheumy-eyed Nell cooked a light supper and set the table. Only one other lodger boarded at the time. He had taken supper in the kitchen and then went out. Old Nell slept on a cot in the pantry, tended the garden, and helped with the housework. I’d grown accustomed to her ghastly looks, but she frightened the lodgers, so I often served the meals. It was hard to believe she’d once been a queen, more beautiful than Pearl. Her presence reminded me of what I could become with age, sickness, and the misfortune of having an angry man gouge out one of my eyes.

  Detective Sirringo was clearly not the type of man to be frightened by an ugly old woman, so I didn’t try to hide Nell. We sat across from each other in the respectably decorated dining room. All traces of the phallic and erotic art Pearl had collected and displayed had been destroyed in Johnny Dobbs’s tirade and never replaced. The house had a cozy, folksy feel with no traces of the brothel it had once been. Yet I continually had to remind myself that I was there to talk business with Detective Sirringo and not seduce him. Seduction had become a force of habit.

  I’d been in the business of men long enough to be a cool expert. Detective Sirringo didn’t have chiseled or pretty-boy features like those of Samuel Cox or Whiskey Pete. I’d fallen hard for their good looks and charm. I told myself never again. No, Charles Sirringo wasn’t dashing or even particularly charming, but something about him gave me the butterfly stomach.

  “So, Mr. Sirringo, tell me, how did you get into detective work?” I wanted us to become acquainted before we discussed the business of finding Ezekiel.

  He finished chewing and wiped his mustache with a linen napkin. “I’ve been in this business since I was a young man.” He took a sip of wine, put his glass down, and looked straight into my eyes in that unnerving manner of his. I relaxed when he finally looked off into the corner. I took a tiny, careful sip of my wine and warned myself not to drink too much.

  “When I was about nineteen, a peddler came through my little hometown of Matagorda, Texas. He was selling the latest tonics, tinctures, cure-alls, snake oil, that sort of thing. He sweet-talked my sister and got her to go to the river with him. I found her there beaten and abused. She was engaged at the time. When her fiancé found out she’d been violated, he called off the engagement. My sister couldn’t live with the shame. She killed herself.” He spoke matter-of-factly, without emotion.

  I looked at my plate and held a napkin over my mouth to hide my quivering lip.

  He continued. “By the time I realized what had happened, the peddler was long gone. I hunted him through four counties, most of it Indian Territory. Once I had his scent, I couldn’t let it go. It took me three months, but I finally caught him. I’ve been hunting men ever since, first for bounty, and then for the Pinkertons. I got a letter of introduction from James Garret because I helped him infiltrate an outlaw gang. After I passed the detective exam, I worked for the Pinkerton Agency for almost a decade. Now I’m independent again.”

  “What happened to him?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “The peddler.”

  “I killed him. Sometimes that’s all you can do. I don’t know how many young girls’ lives he’d ruined, but for me one was enough.” He cleared his throat and pushed his plate to the side a little. “The funny thing is, I was at a phrenology demonstration once, and I volunteered to go up on stage and let this famous doctor examine my head. I swear he didn’t know anything about me, and he said based on my skull shape that I’d make an excellent detective. So perhaps it was my destiny.”

  I smiled tightly, remembering the doctor who had told me that I had the cranium of a whore.

  “So how did you get into your line of work?” he blurted.

  I blushed and hesitated to answer.

  He stumbled. “Oh, I spoke without thinking. Excuse my rudeness, Miss Peach.” He raised his brows in honest sincerity.

  “No. It is all right. You shared your story, so I’ll share mine.” I took big swallow of wine and breathed deeply before I began. “I lived in Grafton, which is way down in the southwest part of the territory. We were Saints. Can you believe that? I was a Saint once, Mr. Sirringo. But then my parents died. My uncle came all the way from Missouri, and I thought he was going to help us. Truth is, I would have been married off to one of the old men in Grafton and I didn’t want that. It turned out my uncle didn’t come to help us. He came looking for some ruby necklace he said my mother stole. He framed my brother, Ezekiel, for giving information to the Utes. See, my brother was a half-breed. He barely escaped hanging. I was left alone with my uncle, and . . . well, he ruined me for marriage and a decent life. I thought of killing myself too, but I ran away instead. I was poor and desperate when I met Pearl. She took me in and treated me like her sister.” I left out many details because I was scared of him finding out too much about me.

  He didn’t say anything. But he kept staring into my eyes. The flickering candle light danced in his. They were both cool and warm at the same time. I had no idea what he was thinking.

  “Now that Pearl is dead, I have no one. My whole life, I’ve dreamt of finding my brother. I have this strong feeling he is alive and he needs me. Do you think you could find him? I’ll pay you a king’s ransom.”

  As solid as stone, he stared at me without emotion and said, “If there is anyone on earth who can find your brother, it is me. If need be, I will spend the rest of my days searching. But I don’t think it will take that long.”

  The force of his conviction brought me to tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I will pay you everything I have. I will even pay you with a fine ruby necklace if you’ll take it.” I dabbed my eyes with my napkin and tried to compose myself.

  He handed me his handkerchief and interrupted my blubbering. “Now, now, Miss Peach, I don’t want all your money.” He was flustered. “This is an unusual situation. In all my years, I’ve never worked for a—a lady.”

  I felt foolish. “I’m sorry I came apart. That won’t happen again.”

  “No need to apologize. Your life has been full of hardship and loss. Pay me what you will, but please allow me one small favor.”

  “What’s that?” I asked

  “While I’m searching for your brother, I’d also like to settle the score with your uncle.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary. I just want to find my brother.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Mr. Sirringo was one of the country’s best detectives, and I feared my secrets would eventually be revealed. So I told him that I shot my uncle while he was playing cards. I didn’t tell him that I could have saved myself from rape if I had just given up the damned ruby necklace. When I described what transpired during the poker game, he roared with laughter.

  “Mr. Sirringo! What about those two innocent souls who died in ensuing chaos?”

  “Oh, right.”
He cleared his throat. “In my experience there’s no such thing as an innocent man. Ahhh,” he sighed and downed the rest of his wine. Then he leaned back in his chair and asked, “Is that it? Is that your biggest secret?”

  “No. Actually it’s not.” I told him how I tried to hock the ruby necklace to a local pawnbroker. In fact I told him the whole story of what happened with Red Farrell and Dolly. When I got to the point where Red Farrell died laughing, and I was standing there with Dolly over my twat, Detective Sirringo burst out laughing again. This time he laughed so hard, I thought he’d fall out of his chair. I felt Red Farrell then, standing in the corner with his arms crossed, watching the detective have a good belly roll at his expense.

  “Mr. Sirringo.” I tried to interrupt his fit of laughter, but it made him laugh even harder. “Detective Sirringo!” I couldn’t help the smile in my voice. “Sir, I felt very bad for taking the life of Red Farrell. It really isn’t funny.” I stifled a giggle.

  He finally composed himself. “Listen, Red Farrell was one of the vilest men to walk God’s green earth. Every bounty hunter west of the Mississippi would have been right overjoyed to put a bullet in him and collect the reward.”

  Red Farrell’s ghost moved closer to the detective and tried to stare him down. Of course, Mr. Sirringo was blind to his presence.

  “Still, I don’t think he aimed to kill me, just steal the jewels.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it. You know how you stay alive in my business? You don’t give them the chance. If you think they’re fixing to shoot, you shoot first. These are outlaws we’re talking about, Miss Peach. You think they have any scruples?”

  I looked at Red Farrell’s ghost and he looked caught out, like he’d been duping me all this time into thinking he wasn’t so bad. He slipped out of the room, and I never saw him or felt his presence again.

  Mr. Sirringo shook his head and chuckled. “On the train ride back from New York, Pearl told me you were a dangerous woman. When I met you I couldn’t imagine what she meant. But I’ve been dying to find out. I like a lady with spunk and a strong backbone.” He fished in his pocket for something.

  “We can retire to the parlor if you’d like to smoke or drink spirits.”

  I rang a bell, and Nell came out to clear the table.

  In the parlor, the detective stood by the fireplace and lit a pipe as I retrieved a jewelry box containing the ruby necklace from a locked table drawer. I sat in a chair with the box in my lap.

  “Mr. Sirringo—”

  “Please, call me Charlie or Chas.”

  “Are you superstitious?”

  “No, not at all. I’m a man of science. To be honest with you, I view most religion as elaborate superstition.” He sucked on his pipe.

  I opened the jewel box, picked up the ruby necklace, stood up, walked over to him, and extended my hand. “That’s good, because I wish to pay you with this.”

  He looked at the jewels and then at me, perplexed. He held the pipe in one hand, took the ruby necklace in the other, and inspected it.

  I explained. “That necklace is real. However, I believe it is cursed. Would you take it as payment?”

  As he inspected it, he became transfixed by the rubies. “You don’t have to tell me these are real rubies. I can tell. Are you certain you want to pay me with them? They are worth far more than my fees. I could become a man of leisure. Then what would I do with myself?”

  “I’m absolutely sure. In fact, you will be doing me a favor by taking them. I’m also sure you will find some interesting way to spend your time, Detective.”

  “Please, call me Chas. And what shall I call you? I certainly can’t keep calling you after a piece of fruit.”

  THIRTY

  His question stumped me. I’d been called some variation of Peach for so long that I wasn’t sure Ophelia still existed. I’d told him most everything about myself, so why not my name? I wasn’t trying to please him or be someone other than myself. He still seemed to like me—Ophelia Oatman.

  “I was once Ophelia Oatman. But I haven’t been her for a long time.”

  “Who have you been?”

  “Miss Peach.”

  “Pearl’s peach?”

  “Everyone’s peach, or at least anyone who paid to pluck me.”

  “And you closed the Doll House brothel, why? Don’t you want to be Miss Peach anymore?” He handed me the necklace.

  I took the necklace and held it in my palm. “I have enough money now. Besides, Miss Peach is rotten inside. She is the fruit of my ruin.”

  Detective Sirringo watched closely as I put the necklace back in its box and locked it in the table drawer.

  I looked at him and smiled. “Anyway, times are changing. I met with the mayor and we couldn’t come to an agreement.” I didn’t describe my degrading meeting with the mayor, how he’d called me a juicy peach in front of a group of pompous men, how they’d laughed, how he’d locked his door and tried to show me his terms. “I don’t know how Pearl dealt with all those sorts of men, but she seemed to have them in her pocket.”

  His eyes widened. He put his hand to the corner of his mouth like he was telling me a secret. “She may have had them in more than just her pocket.”

  I laughed. The detective sure had a sense of humor.

  He pointed to the drawer where I’d locked the jewels. “Are you really keeping a priceless ruby necklace in that flimsy table drawer?” His mustache hid his lips, but his eyes smiled.

  “It may be the safest place. After all who would suspect it?”

  The next morning we met in the study after breakfast to discuss the search for Ezekiel. With an air of confidence and authority, Detective Sirringo spread a map of the Utah Territory across Pearl’s old desk. He stood behind her desk, leaned over, and studied it. Sunlight from the window behind him danced on a slice of the map and filled me with hopeful anticipation.

  The ray of light disappeared. Overcome by doubt, I panicked. “Detective Sirringo, I must be able to trust you. Last night, I told you things about myself, for which I could be hung. How can I ensure that you will be loyal to me, and that I can trust you? Is the ruby necklace adequate payment?”

  He looked up from the map. “The ruby necklace is more than adequate payment. But I’ll need money for expenses. I’m not a lawman, Miss Oatman.” He stood to his full height and addressed me. “By virtue of being my employer, you have my unwavering loyalty. Believe me, despite your past occupation, this is a more honorable assignment than most of the ones I had for the Pinkerton Agency.”

  “Pearl once told me never to trust a Pinkerton.”

  “She was right. A Pinkerton takes an oath and his only allegiance is to the Pinkerton Agency. But I am no longer a Pinkerton, Miss Oatman. I work for you now. Would you like me to take an oath and pledge my allegiance to you?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I thank you for your patience. I’ve had many unfortunate experiences with men. Trust is difficult.”

  He looked down at the map. “There’s a lot of righteousness in this world but not much right. Neither the Anarchists nor the Pinkertons have any respect for the law, man’s law or God’s law.” He looked up at me. “Now let’s get down to the business of finding your brother, shall we? Come look at this map and show me where you grew up, some places you traveled, and where you think your brother was most likely to go.”

  “Okay. But it was ten years ago. What do you think the chances are he’s anywhere near there?”

  “People are like pigeons. They’ve got built-in homing devices. Even if they wander far, they often return to their roots.”

  I stood next to Charlie and pointed out Grafton on the map. While standing so close to him, I felt a spark between us and tried to will it away. I could not jeopardize the search for Zeke. And I would not subject myself to yet another disastrous affair. I stepped away. “Uncle Luther came during the Ute War. He wanted to get rid of Zeke. Even though Zeke wasn’t quite a man, he was tall and mighty fierce. He was a threat, so Uncle
Luther framed him for trading secrets to Black Hawk. A posse of Mormons chased Zeke out of town.” The memories of the night Zeke ran away trickled back. “I stalled them the best I could because I was almost certain they wanted to hang him. They already hated him for being a half-breed. I don’t know. After the dust settled, I think Zeke would’ve tried to find a Gentile settlement, like a railroad or mining camp. He would have steered cleared of Mormons the best he could.”

  “Gentile? What exactly does that mean?” He screwed up his face in confusion and distaste.

  “The Mormons call themselves Saints and everyone else, even the Jews, they call Gentiles.”

  “I see. Well you’d make a good detective, Ophelia. That’s exactly what I was thinking. After a period of hiding, I think he would have tried to find work in the mines or on the railroad. Most of the railroad laborers have been let go, so I’d say he’s most likely in a mining camp. Now look at this. See this place here?” He pointed to an area on the map south of Grafton and north of Saint George. “This place used to be called Rockpile. Then there was a silver stampede and now it’s a full-fledged town called Silver Reef. There’s an active mine and a population of about fifteen hundred residents. I had a brief assignment there. It’s one of the only non-Mormon settlements around, and it’s also the only place in the country where they’ve ever found silver in sandstone.” He hesitated and looked at the map. “There’s also this here boomtown, Frisco.” He pointed to an area south of Chicken Creek. “This is a wild and dangerous place. I can take the rail right there and start snooping around. If I don’t find anything there, I’ll buy a horse and ride over to Silver Reef. What do you think about that plan?”

  “I think it’s a fine plan, and I would be pleased if you could start as soon as possible. We can go to the bank, see to your rail ticket, and make sure you have everything you need to depart tomorrow.”

  The spring sun had hardened the muddy streets, so we decided to walk downtown. I held my head up and felt confident walking with Charlie down Fifth Street. I didn’t have to endure the catcalls and propositions, which I was subjected to when unaccompanied. Anyone who had disrespected Pearl would have found himself pulled into an alley and beaten. She always kept a ruffian in her pocket who enjoyed that kind of work. When we closed the Doll House, we dismissed all of our men.