Pretty Waiter Girls

by Greg Alldredge

  “Mistress Brandywine, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I must apologize for the lack of a warm welcome, but your visit has struck us at a painful time.”

  “I’m sorry to intrude, has there been a death in the family?” Helena offered her right-hand wrist slightly bent, which Mister Whitaker took and shook instead of kissing.

  “Yes, we just found out last week, and I haven’t had the heart to tell anyone my daughter Missy has died, we are still in mourning.”

  “Oh, my word, I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t realize Missy had been sick. I read nothing in the paper, when will the services be,” Helena, flabbergasted and genuinely shocked that her friend Minnie had walked her into such an uncomfortable situation. I am going to strangle Minnie, she thought.

  “We are still working on the details; the family will make an announcement as soon as the information becomes available. So, I hope you understand we are not currently in the position to be accepting company from a visitor as auspicious as yourself.”

  “No, I completely understand. Please accept my deepest condolences. You won’t see me again until the funeral services.”

  “Thank you, you are as understanding as your mother was. You know in many ways you resemble her so much.”

  “Thank you for your kind words and compliments on what I’m sure is such a trying time. Again, please accept my apologies and my condolences. I can see my own way out,”

  Helena survived mortification. A team of Bessie’s couldn’t have kept her in that house another second. When she got her hands on Minnie’s neck, she wouldn’t be held responsible for the outcome. The parasol gripped in both of her hand’s, white knuckles hidden by her pink lace gloves as she marched back to the two men waiting alongside Bessie. The fact that Lane had somehow found a pear and stood slicing great chunks of it off with a stiletto and plopped them into his mouth didn’t make her feel any better. She never noticed the gap in the drapes watching her leave.

  Sigmund opened the door for her when she arrived offering her a hand into the back of the cab. Helena refuse the hand preferring to get herself and her skirt into the backseat.

  “Didn’t go as planned?” Sigmund asked.

  “Did the both of you know that Missy died last week?” Helena hissed through clenched teeth.

  Sigmund said, “That’s impossible. I’ve read nothing of it in the papers. I’m sure it would’ve been news of the highest order.”

  Lane shook his head, a slice of pear hung out of his mouth.

  “Her father just told me she died last week.”

  “When did your friend say she saw her last?” Sigmund asked.

  “A few days ago, why?”

  “And when did Mister Whitaker say that Missy passed on?”

  “Someone’s coming,” Lane interrupted the pair, speaking around a mouthful of pear, before swallowing, “A few moments after that fella stopped watching us from the window, that woman came out the side gate.”

  The three of them watched as a young Chinese woman made her way through neighboring yards up the hill and peered around a huge oak tree. Her hand motioning for them to join her.

  Helena looked at Sigmund, before he said, “It is your investigation, go speak with her.”

  Helena glanced back at the house which now she truthfully understood why Minnie said it felt like a mausoleum. There was something off, going on in that building, she felt it in her stomach. Sigmund’s line of questioning made her realize the error in the timeline. Someone had to be mistaken: either Mister Whitaker concerning the death of his daughter, if that even was Mister Whitaker, she’d never met him before or the scatterbrained Minnie and when she spoke to Missy last. She finished her line of thinking as she slowly approached the ancient oak tree.

  She leaned around the massive trunk and said with a timid, “Hello?” addressing the shadow of a Chinese woman standing there.

  “Mistress, please, don’t be angry but I overheard that man tell you. He a liar. I don’t think my lady is dead.”

  “That man I spoke to wasn’t Missy’s father?” Helena moved closer to hear the woman’s soft voice.

  The woman shook her head no before glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one watched them, then continued, “No, ma’am. I don’t know who that is, but it is not my Mistresses father. I not seen him in three days. Please take me with you, I do not feel safe in house.”

  Helena did a few calculations in her head. She knew something was wrong, felt something bad taking place in that house. If this young woman, who looked only slightly younger than herself, remained in that house, she would not be long in this world. She made the decision in an instant, the best thing was to bring her only lead home with her. Stepping out from behind the tree and waving at the ever-watchful Lane and Sigmund to come pick them up with Bessie, before nodding in agreement with the young woman.

  Bessie once fired up was always ready to move. Lane used the stored steam energy in the receiver and added a little kerosene drip to the boiler fire to replace the used steam. It took longer for Sigmund to climb into the back seat than it did for Lane to get Bessie moving. With a sharp U-turn in a few blasts of the steam whistle, Lane had the automobile reversed and alongside Helena and her new friend.

  Helena said, “She is coming with us!” as she hustled the young maid into the backseat quickly following behind her.

  “If we go too fast, we all die?” the young teen asked, a worried expression on her face.

  “Only if Lane doesn’t keep us on the road,” Sigmund said. Once they had made it a few blocks down the road. “Young Miss, would you mind introducing us to your new friend?”

  “This is Missy’s maid. She can confirm Minnie’s story. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name,” Helena finally asked the girl.

  “My name is Lo Wai Han, Mistress saved me from most dishonorable life.”

  “Miss Han alleged the man I spoke to wasn’t Missy’s father,” said Helena.

  “Young Miss, Han is miss Lo’s middle name. Am I correct?” Sigmund regarded miss Lo for confirmation.

  She nodded the affirmative.

  “Miss Lo told me that the man I spoke to was not Missy’s father, she hadn’t seen Mister Whitaker for three days. Miss Lo, why don’t you tell your story. I’m sure you know it much better than I.”

  “My Mistress spent a lot of time in Chinatown and Barbary Coast. She saved me when I escaped house I forced to work. She brought me home to be her maid. Her family furious, sure they all hate me. Her father, Mister Robert Whitaker, sure she spending her time gambling, using drugs, and selling her body to pay for both,” tears dripped from her eyes as she spoke.

  “Last week he threaten to have her committed to Agnew’s asylum. The argument quite loud, I sure everyone in house, in neighborhood heard it. Next day Missy cut off all hair. Not sure why, but I watched her, she cried whole time. People in big houses talk, rich think they secrets safe, but everyone knows.”

  “I know she alive four days ago, I believe in my heart she alive now. I have been praying for her every night,” tears ran down Lo Wai Han’s cheeks as she told the story, “Now that I left the Whitaker house, if I go back to Chinatown the Hop Sings kill me. Show my head as a warning to others that try escape. I am dead woman,” Lo Wai Han began to cry in earnest, the severity of her situation sinking in.

  “Hop Sings?” Helena asked.

  Lane said, “One of the many Chinese gangs operating in Chinatown,” from over his shoulder.

  Both Helena and Sigmund peered at the back of Lane’s head, and each questioned how he might know that. Lo Wai Han nodded her head, through her tears, indicating Lane was correct.

  “Sigmund, aren’t we in need of another pair of hands on the estate?” Helena motioned with her head towards Lo Wai Han bent over body and wiggled her eyebrows.

  Sigmund wasn’t quite that dense, he understood her suggestion without the body language, “Yes Young Miss, I do believe we could use another hous
e person. You don’t need a personal attendant, but I bet we might find somewhere for Miss Lo to work if she wanted to stay with us.”

  “Oh yes, please. I will do any housework, please don’t make me go back to Chinatown. I don’t want to sell my body or die.”

  “Sell your body?” Helena asked. The gravity of the situation finally sinking in, and what kind of house the girl younger than herself had been forced to work in and the services she would have had to provide. The grip tightened on her parasol, it suffered for the injustice Helena felt for this young woman.

  “I almost forgot,” Wai Han reached into her pocket and pulled out a small embroidered handkerchief containing two items. “These are two things that help you find Mistress. First is picture before she cut hair,” Wai Han handed her a locket the size of a silver dollar. Inside contained a picture of Missy, “and this,” she handed Helena a wine cork, “Mistress told me to keep this safe, it very important.”

  Helena took the two articles, precious as the crown jewels. “I will guard them with my life. Wai Han, I promise I will do everything I can to find Missy and bring her home to you.”

  Agnew’s:

  Once they arrived safely back at the estate and Wai Han was taken care of, Helena and the two men sat down in the study.

  “I don’t understand what could’ve happened to Missy. Her life was not that much different from mine. Who were those men in her house?” Helena asked.

  “At the moment that is a question that will need to wait. If we are going to investigate Agnew’s we must leave soon. It is a long drive,” Sigmund offered, “If we leave right now we will arrive there before dark.”

  “We’ve never taken Bessie that far, I will need an extra can of kerosene to get back. It might be midnight depending on how much time we spend, wait a moment where are we going?” Lane asked.

  “Santa Clara,” Sigmund said.

  “That’s got to be fifty miles away. Not sure what the roads are like.”

  “In some places, we will be able to travel very fast and others not so.”

  “I would like to know how you knew where... about Agnew’s,” Helena asked.

  “There came a time I had to do some research for your father. If I take the time to explain now, we may not make it to the asylum before dark.”

  “Well let me get Bessie ready. I’ll pass by the kitchen and tell them to pack us a basket. I think we’re going to need it, sounds like a long haul. Sigmund, could you pick it up your way out?” Lane said as he left the room, escaping the coming storm.

  “Perhaps you should change into your riding clothes. It is going to be a long drive.”

  “Yes, and on the trip down to Santa Clara I expect more than a few answers,” Helena said as she gathered her things and headed towards her room. The house heard her call out, “Gertie, I need my riding gear,” at the top of her lungs as she headed up the stairs.

  Helena barely caught Sigmund saying, “Yes, it is most certainly going to be a very long day.”

  It didn’t take long for the trio to be on the road again, this time prepared for a much longer journey. The horseless carriage came equipped with a fold-down shelf where items might be stored at the rear of the vehicle. The five-gallon can of kerosene and the hefty wicker basket full of food prevented the small shelf from closing completely. Lane had lashed it down with a couple of quick release knots.

  The trio made much better time once they left the heights and started heading south. The fog in the city had begun to lift or burn off and the South Bay, south of Hunter’s Point, was already fog free even if the roads were not as well maintained.

  The sun crested high in the sky before Sigmund heard the dreaded words from Helena, “Would you mind telling me how you knew about an Insane Asylum located so far from our home.”

  “It would be much more appropriate if we waited to have this conversation where we wouldn’t be required to shout to be understood.”

  “It would’ve been much more appropriate if you would’ve told me the truth from the beginning.”

  “Young Miss, I never lie to you. If you do not trust me and you no longer want me in your service, all you must do is say so. But please understand I work for the General, and I presently take my directions from him.”

  “Very well if you’ve never lied to me why do you know of such a place?”

  Sigmund had feared this conversation since the early days of Helena’s life. “I want you to understand the house, the estate, everything is yours. Your grandfather made his money during the gold rush, that money will pass to you, once you wed, or you turn thirty that money becomes yours.”

  “Yes, I understand all that.”

  “Good, I originally worked for your grandfather, after I left the British Army and came to America to find my fortune. I was there when your father and mother met. I was there when you were born. I was there when your father disappeared, and I was there when your mother didn’t take it very well. Your grandfather grew concerned about your mother’s state of mind with your birth and your father’s disappearance coming so close to one another. There is a facility that he had me inspect in case the need arose for your mother to have some quiet help. I can truthfully say that this establishment never housed your mother. She never fully recovered, but stabilized and took care of you,” Sigmund finished the explanation.

  Helena sat the rest of the trip in silence mulling over the new information she obtained. This little adventure had become much harder than she thought it would. The idea that people would force women to have sex was beyond her comprehension, what about love? It wasn’t fair. How can anybody take control of someone else’s person? But then she thought about how little authority she held in her own life.

  The roads were much better than Sigmund remembered, but he had traveled them a decade and a half ago. Progress never stopped in California. It approached three in the afternoon when they pulled up to the double gate and twenty-foot-tall fence marking the property of Agnew’s Asylum. The rather beefy guard inspected the automobile before opening the gate and waving the trio through.

  “I need to take care of Bessie, she needs food and water; a little rest would do her some good. A little time to let the boiler cool off, we won’t be able to make a quick getaway this time. However, I would rather not explode on the drive home. Not saying you’re going to cause trouble. Just information I thought you should know before you go kicking any hornets’ nests,” Lane crossed his arms as he explained the mechanical needs before the pair left. The handle of his Colt Navy revolver now plainly showing under his duster.

  “We will do our best not to cause any problems. Am I not correct, Young Miss?”

  “Oh yes, I doubt we will find any information here, but it is a stone we should look under,” Helena was unable to take her eyes off the pistol butt.

  Helena and Sigmund strolled up a dozen steps towards the double front doors of the asylum before she asked, “Does Lane always carry a pistol?”

  “No, sometimes he carries a sawed-off double barrel shotgun.”

  “Why would Lane need to walk around armed?”

  “Same reason I do.” Sigmund stopped and showed Helena the grip of his automatic pistol. “We have tried to teach you the world is a dangerous place. Not everyone you meet is as nice as you. It is our job to keep you safe from the evil ones until you can keep yourself safe.”

  “I’m not sure I understand who you two are.”

  “Right now, the more important question is what inquiries are you going to make when we enter this establishment and whom are you going to ask?”

  “We need to find out if Missy’s here. If she somehow ended up here, our search is over. We can decide our next steps after we locate her.”

  “Very sound logic. Any suggestions on whom we should ask. Admittance records are private. They are not going to tell us who is and isn’t a patient here.”

  Before Helena formulated her next sentence, an ancient looking hag approached
the pair. Her white hair stood on end like a tumbleweed had been stuck on her head, her mouth missing more teeth than it held. Helena had to force herself not to hide behind Sigmund.

  The hag said, “I see things, I hear things others don’t.”

  “Hello, I’m Helena,” out of reflex and offered her hand.

  Before Helena thought about it, the woman grabbed her hand. “Darkness, I see darkness. Wet, I feel wet and fear,” unexpectedly the old woman squeezed Helena’s hand tight, urine began to dribble down both of her legs.

  Helena recoiled trying to pull her hand free but failed, “Ewww.”

  “I see death coming on white wings. Death is coming from across the sea on the white wings. Many are going to die,” the woman began wailing like the pain of a thousand deaths washed over her soul. Going into convulsions the grip on Helen’s hand, the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground.

  Two orderlies rushed up and grabbed the woman by her elbows partially lifting her off the ground. A woman dressed all in white came running out of the double doors and down the steps.

  “Did Wilhelmina hurt you?” she asked.

  “No not at all, she’s merely having an attack,” Sigmund answered, “Miss Bambauer is that you?”

  “Gentlemen please take Miss Chafers back to her room and clean her up. She is having another episode.” Then the woman all in white looked back toward Sigmund asking, “Do I know you?”

  “Fifteen years ago, I spent a few weeks investigating your asylum. You helped show me around.”

  “Oh yes now I remember, I’m surprised you remember me.”

  “Helena Brandywine, I would like you to meet Miss Lydia Bambauer, head nurse here at the asylum,” Sigmund introduced the woman.

  “Pleased to meet you, but I’m headmistress now. And yes, I am still Miss, not Missus,” she offered her hand for Helena to shake.