He had decided at noon, after he had learned Minna Everleigh was coming to interview him, that once he had the job, Georgianne would no longer be useful to him. She would be in the way when Minna appeared, and create too many problems when he had access to the Everleigh Club and its fantastic girls. As Georgianne had bent her thick head of hair over her lunch, Holmes had come up behind her and whacked her on the back of the head with a crowbar. He had caught her before she slumped to the floor, dragged her into his gas chamber, stripped off her clothes, then sealed the windowless chamber lined with sheet iron. From his office he had turned on the gas.
Minna had arrived punctually and - as expected - he’d earned the job at the Everleigh Club. Getting the job thrilled him. It would be a feast. He would have all those flawless young women to choose and pick among some for love, some for money and when necessary, he would dispose of them too.
Now, staring down at Georgianne’s corpse, Holmes suffered no remorse. She had served her purpose, given him her money and many nights of acrobatic love-making. Alive, she would have been in the way. Georgianne was just another corpse. There had been so many before her, a few men, mainly women, whom he had bilked of their savings or used for the pleasures of his body. One human being more or less meant nothing to Holmes. There was pleasure in taking advantage of stupid human beings, using them, and getting rid of them when they became burdensome. He had read in a medical book that all serial killers were insane. Holmes felt positive that he was totally sane. He simply derived happiness from what he did. It was, perhaps, a strange but wonderful kind of lust.
Without wasting any more time, he lifted Georgianne’s limp corpse off the floor, carried her across his shoulder to the first trap door, pulled the door open with his free hand, and dropped her down a greased chute to the basement.
Closing that trap door, he tugged at a second trap door which opened to a narrow stairway that also led down to the basement.
Once in the seven-foot high basement, Holmes worked efficiently. He carried Georgianne to a fourteen-foot cedar tank lined with zinc and filled with quicklime. He dropped her body into the quicklime, which rapidly began to dissolve her flesh.
After a short time he emptied the tank, drew on his rubber gloves, removed what was left of Georgianne and settled her remains on his surgeon’s table. He found his scalpel, lancet, other knives. He was proud of his skills with a scalpel, which he had first learned in his youth at the Medical School of the University of Michigan. Expertly, he began to dissect Georgianne’s remains. There was a little blood, not much, and when his wife lay in seven parts on the table, Holmes went to his large kiln, revived the fire, methodically took the seven parts of Georgianne and threw them on the flames. In half an hour, there would be no more of Georgianne except the smoke coming out of his chimney and a few charred bones among the ashes.
After that, Holmes washed his hands, then climbed back up to his asphyxiation chamber to put everything there in order.
With everything neat and in place, Holmes left his secret chamber, closed it, and returned to the office.
He surveyed his office, his expression as innocent as when the crafty yet gullible Minna Everleigh had sat there to question him.
He settled down behind his desk and enjoyed a pipeful of Dutch tobacco. He was now a free man once more, free to enjoy and profit from the Everleigh Club’s harem of pleasures.
THREE
It was early evening when Gus Varney entered the foyer of the Everleigh Club. Although well dressed, from bow tie and waistcoat to striped trousers, he felt awkward and strange. He tried to give no sign of nervousness as he removed his derby hat. He patted his pockets to reassure himself that he had no means of identification except for a wallet bulging with the money the mayor had given him and his beautifully embossed but fake calling-cards.
A rather plump, brown-haired, plain young woman approached him. She extended her hand. ‘I’m Aida Everleigh,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember seeing you before. Have you ever been here?’
‘No, I haven’t, but many of my friends in St Louis have, and they insisted I not leave Chicago without dining at the Everleigh Club.’
‘That’s lovely,’ said Aida. ‘May I ask your name?’
Varney fumbled inside his jacket for his wallet, and tugged it free. He made a show of displaying the fifty-dollar bills in his wallet as he searched for his packet of business cards. He withdrew one card and handed it to Aida Everleigh. ‘I’m Jack Simon, president of the Quality Beer Company.’
Aida studied the card, surveyed Varney carefully from head to foot, then smiled and pocketed his card. ‘We’re pleased to receive you, Mr Simon. What do you have in mind for this evening? Have you had supper yet?’
‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t had a bite all day. A good meal would sit well with me, along with some wine.’
Aida turned to lead Varney into the Club. ‘Do you have anything else in mind?’
‘I … I heard you have some rather attractive girls here. I wouldn’t mind having one join me for dinner.’
‘That can be arranged right now. There are three or four young ladies in our Blue Room. It’s early and the other girls will be down later. But I’m sure you’ll find someone available who will be suitable to your taste. Follow me. I’ll introduce you.’
When they entered the Blue Room, what Varney saw was utterly unexpected. The parlour was furnished with three blue divans appointed with leather pillows on which were attached attractive pictures of Gibson Girls. On the walls all around were hung college pennants Yale, Harvard, Dartmouth, Princeton giving the chamber a decidedly youthful and lively appearance. The nearest blue divan held three young women, each smartly dressed in stylish variations of mousseline blouses and voile skirts. They ceased their chatter as Aida took Varney by the hand and approached them.
‘Girls,’ Aida said, ‘I want you to meet Mr Jack Simon, who heads one of the most famous beer companies in St Louis, Missouri. Jack, I want you to meet three of our loveliest entertainers. This is Fanny … Avis … Margo.’
Varney acknowledged their friendly greetings.
‘Girls, Jack has come here to dine and have some pleasure. He tells me he’s famished. He’d like a companion during dinner.’ Aida faced Varney. ‘They’re all famished too. You may have your choice.’
Varney’s eyes fastened on the first of the trio, introduced as Fanny. She was an extremely busty blonde, with a narrow waist and obviously voluptuous thighs.
Before he could speak, Aida spoke. ‘I see you can’t take your eyes off Fanny. Can’t say that I blame you. She’s one of our most popular girls. Would you like Fanny to dine with you?’
Varney could hardly find his voice. His eyes feasted on the lush creature. ‘That - that would be wonderful.’
‘She’s all yours, then,’ said Aida. Fanny jumped gaily to
her feet as Aida told her, ‘Dear, take Jack to the restaurant and acquaint him with what’s available.’ Aida shook hands with Varney once more. ‘Have a good time in the Everleigh Club. I’ll see you again later.’
Fanny slipped her arm through Varney’s and cheerfully led him off.
Momentarily, at the entrance to the large restaurant with its silver candelabras, glistening crystal goblets, and lavish floral centrepieces, Varney was intimidated. He’d once eaten at the Palmer House with the mayor’s staff, but the Everleigh restaurant was much more splendid. Fanny had him by the arm as she drew him inside. Passing several other diners, Fanny waved familiarly to one obese, elderly man and his two male companions.
Fanny settled Varney at an isolated table in a corner, and instead of taking the chair opposite, she brought her chair closer to his and sat down beside him. A coloured waiter materialized with the menu, but Fanny ignored him.
‘I think it would be nice to start with a bottle of Mumm’s champagne. Would that suit you?’
‘Fine.’
‘Now, unless you have some dish you prefer, I could make a few suggestions.’<
br />
‘I’ll trust you,’ said Varney. ‘I’ll have whatever you have.’
Fanny was pleased. ‘I’d suggest we start with Romano-Beluga caviar. After that, prime roast beef. How would you like yours done?’
‘Rare.’
‘Me too. I love rare meat. It gives one energy. Then we might have some crepes Suzette. How’s that?’
‘Perfect, Ma’am.’
‘Jack, my name is Fanny. You needn’t be formal with me. I hope we get to know each other much better.’
‘I hope so too, Fanny.’
When the silver bucket appeared with the Mumm’s and the bottle was uncorked and poured, Varney tried to
concentrate on his mission. He was here because Mayor Harrison wanted to prove that this was still’ a whorehouse. Varney’s assignment was to go to bed with a whore. How did one go about it? Fanny seemed too ladylike, yet she had served up several double entendres. Varney determined to relax and play it by ear.
‘I know you’re a beer king,’ Fanny was saying as they sipped their drinks. ‘I hope you don’t mind that I ordered champagne. It just seemed more appropriate for a good time.’
‘It is, it is,’ Varney agreed.
She had said a good time. He wondered if he dared read what he hoped to read in those words.
As the supper was served, Varney tried to answer Fanny’s questions about St Louis. He had never been there, but neither had she, so he was safe. Then they talked about entertainment in Chicago.
‘Do you like stage plays?’ Fanny asked. ‘Very much,’ said Varney. ‘Especially Trelawny of the Wells with Ethel Barrymore. I saw Peter Pan with Maude Adams.’
‘Actually, I prefer vaudeville,’ Fanny confided. ‘The last stage play I saw was Uncle Tom’s Cabin, with real live bloodhounds.’
‘No kidding?’
‘But give me vaudeville any day. Harrigan, the tramp juggler, or that magician, Herrmann the Great, or Princess Rajah, who dances with a python around her. I think the best act is “Sober Sue - You Can’t Make Her Laugh”. A $1,000 reward if you can. All the comedians try and fail. The rumour is that Sober Sue has paralysed facial muscles. You know what my favourite fun thing is?’ ‘No, what?’
‘That new invention - movies,’ said Fanny. ‘At the Chicago Opera House I saw The Great Train Robbery, starring Bronco Billy Anderson. It was my first movie ever, but it was too short. Only fifteen minutes. Since then I’ve seen Cinderella,
which has wonderful camera effects. There’s a scene where the pumpkin changes into a carriage. The best one is The Passion Play, which is ten times longer than the average movie. You should try a movie some time.’
‘I will,’ promised Varney. ‘I heard they were coming to St Louis.’
They had run out of entertainment topics to discuss, and silently swallowed the last of their crepes. Fanny touched her napkin to her mouth and murmured, ‘Yum, that was good.’
‘Very good,’ Varney agreed.
‘I should thank you for a marvellous meal,’ she said. ‘I want to thank you.’
She leaned over, across him, her full breasts pressing like twin cushions against his arms, and she planted a delicious kiss on his open lips. Her tongue darted out to find his and then teased against his tongue.
Varney could feel an immediate erection.
Fanny reached down and patted his stomach. ‘How does it feel? Have you had all you want?’ Before he could reply, her palm slid down his stomach, and reached his crotch and curled around his erection.
Withdrawing her hand slowly, she gave him a seductive smile. ‘Or would you like more?’
‘More,’ he gulped, relieved that he didn’t have to ask her to bed. She was plainly asking him. His confidence grew along with the size of his penis, and he added firmly, ‘Much more. I want you, Fanny.’
‘You have me,’ she said simply, taking his hand. ‘It’s only a short walk.’
They went up the thickly carpeted mahogany staircase, between the potted palms and the statues of nude Grecian goddesses, to the upstairs corridor. There Fanny led Varney along a row of doors until she reached her own.
Opening the door, she turned on a lamp and beckoned Varney inside the boudoir. Its magnificence stopped him in his tracks. What caught his eye first was the Turkish-style
headboard of brass, inlaid with marble. Nearby was a window covered from floor to ceiling by red velvet drapes with silk borders. On one wall stood an elaborately carved wooden mantel splashed with gold paint. There were freshly cut roses in two iron urns on the mantel.
This, thought Varney, is paradise.
Fanny was undoing the jet buttons of her blouse. As Varney moved to assist her, she said, ‘It would take you too long to undress me, Jack. These buttons, then the hooks and eyes, and after that my blouse and skirt, and the petticoats, ruffles, and whalebone stays, and then my shoes to unbutton, and my stockings to roll down. It would take you half an hour, and by then you’d lose your erection.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ he said adamantly.
‘Believe me,’ Fanny said. ‘But I can go to the bathroom and get unpeeled in five minutes. I know how to do it. So you stay here and take your clothes off. I’ll be with you in a jiffy.’
When she was gone, Varney took his clothes off slowly. When he was naked, he could feel that he was losing his erection. He glanced at the bathroom door, imagined what she’d be like, and immediately his penis began to rise.
Moments later she emerged wearing only a filmy pink dressing-gown. She considered his nakedness, nodded approval, and padded straight to the bed. She threw off her dressing-gown, and dropped to the bed on her back. The instant Varney’s gaze moved from her blonde hair and beautiful face to the huge mounds of breasts, the sleek pinkish-white abdomen, the great pubic patch, as she lifted her fleshy thighs and spread them apart, Varney’s penis hardened fully and stood straight out.
‘Come on, young man,’ Fanny beckoned. ‘Let me enjoy that.’
Varney was on the bed immediately, atop her, and between her legs.
She shut her eyes, squealed with delight, put her arms around him to draw him in tighter.
He began to pump away, and as he did so, she began to undulate her bottom beneath him, until he felt he was going crazy.
Along the way, he had one fleeting thought of his real mission.
So much for the Everleigh Club as a chaste restaurant.
Soon, Mayor Harrison might be as happy with the word as Varney himself was right now with the proof.
Varney went on with her for - he didn’t know maybe ten minutes or so. She was the best, most experienced girl he’d ever coupled with. She pushed all the right buttons, until he was frenzied. When he had his orgasm, she made sounds of a prolonged orgasm too but when his senses returned he knew it wasn’t true. She was a prostitute, a sweet, loose girl, but a prosty nevertheless, and they never came for pay.
When they lay under the blanket, recovering, she was ready to listen to him and to talk herself. No rush job. The Everleighs had a class act going.
‘You’re the best I’ve ever had,’ admitted Varney. ‘Whatever you get, you should get more.’
‘I think so too,’ Fanny agreed ingenuously. ‘You’ll pay fifty dollars, and I’ll get half. Usually, I accept that as fair. But now I’m going to be earning less, because - because for certain reasons Minna and Aida are screening customers more closely and will be turning more away. I don’t like that. It’s the first time Minna has been unfair.’
‘Why don’t you leave the Everleighs?’ Varney asked.
‘And go where? This is the best-paying house in Chicago. If I had somewhere else to go that paid better, I’d certainly do it right now. That’s how I feel.’
Varney had full command of his senses at last. His mind was on his mission. He could now testify that the Everleigh Club was a whorehouse. But Harrison had reminded him that if he could get one of the girls as a witness, their case for a shutdown would be perfect, a cinch.
There was a
gamble involved in confessing his mission, Varney realized, but given this girl’s mood, it might be safe.
‘Maybe I can see that you’re better paid,’ Varney blurted.
The girl stared at him. ‘How? By living with you?’
‘No. It’s something else. What if I told you I could pay you $3,000 cash if you did something for me?’
‘For doing what?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘For telling the mayor what you just did with me, and then testifying to the same before the chief of police.’
Fanny blinked at him. ‘They’d shut down the Club. I’d hate to be responsible. Well, at least not for $3,000.’
With her last sentence, Varney knew that he had her on the hook. He propped himself on an elbow and prepared to negotiate.
Dr Herman Holmes, gripping his black medical bag, was proceeding along the upstairs corridor of the Everleigh Club, about to conclude his first day at work, and was now running late. A pleasurable and sensuous day it had been. He had closely, intimately, and lingeringly, examined fourteen of the healthiest and most breathtaking girls he had ever seen.
It was a bonanza of a job, with the most exciting prospects on earth, and from the easy manner of the girls, there would be none to resist him.
He had one more vagina to examine this evening, the fifteenth. He glanced at his list. This one’s name was Fanny. He reached her door. About to knock, he realized that she might have a partner inside and he did not want to disturb her until she was finished. Instead, he tried the doorknob. The door was unlocked, and he opened it a few inches to peek in.
‘Yes, $5,000,’ he heard a male voice say.
About to shut the door, Dr Holmes heard Fanny speak out. ‘Actually $5,000? In cash? You mean that? Just to testify against the Everleighs? Why, even if they shut the Club down, it wouldn’t matter to me. With $5,000 I could set up my own dress shop in the Loop and never hustle again. Tell me again, Jack, so I understand for sure.’
(1988) The Golden Room Page 5
