She took some time examining the photograph before answering, “I have seen her on the streets of Chinatown before, though it has been some time. Maybe a month since I’ve seen her. I’ve never spoken to her. It would not be proper,” Miss Tsang said.
Detective Longstreet took the locket from Miss Tsang’s hand, he also studied it for some time.
“Do you recognize her?” Helena asked.
“No, in some ways I’m glad that I don’t. I am trying to identify three women who were recently murdered. Your friend isn’t one of them. Is there a missing person report on her? She looks to be gentry. This locket is worth some money,” Longstreet said.
“As far as I know there is no missing person’s report on her. I believe her father and maybe her whole family are missing as well. A mutual friend asked me if I could help find her. So far, I haven’t had any luck,” Helena said.
“Where does the family live?”
“Nob Hill, not far from here either I don’t think I’m breaking any client privileges if I give you the family’s name, the Whitakers of Nob Hill.”
“That is old money, but not my jurisdiction. I’ll make some inquiries, and maybe I can convince that precinct to check out the house.”
“I have one more item, would you mind both looking at it, perhaps you can tell me its relevance,” Helena pulled out the wine cork handing it first to Miss Tsang.
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a drinker. I think it comes from a wine bottle,” she handed over to Detective Longstreet.
He promptly smelled it, then licked it. “Wine cork all right. I’m a police officer I can’t afford this typically.”
“I thought it a long shot, but we had come all this way I figured somebody might know what it is. The cork seemed very important to Wai Han. Missy told her to keep it safe,” Helena took the cork back and placed it in her jeans front pocket, the locket went back where nobody could find it.
“Isn’t there someone who works on the Coast always bragging, or challenging someone about wine?” Miss Tsang.
“You’re correct, what was his name? I can’t remember the name, but I think he works at the Seattle Saloon and Dance Hall. Look for it on Pacific Street, near Kearny,” said Detective Long Street.
Helena finished her tea and stood. “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time, I’m sure the students need to return to their lessons.”
“If the Seattle Saloon and Dance Hall is the next stop, I will go visit the Pinkerton men. Lane, try not to lose anyone walking a block and a half.”
Lane made a halfhearted salute with his last beef-stick.
“Thank you for everything you’re doing. I’m sure the children will be much safer with you involved,” Miss Tsang shook everyone’s hand in turn. “I will explain what is happening to Chow Kam Ting and get her prepared to travel. Mister Longstreet, you will be staying here until they return?”
“Don’t mind if I do. Then I will see what I can dig up on the Whitakers.”
Sigmund said, “We will be visiting the Seattle Saloon, we will stop by in an hour to retrieve the young lady.”
“Before we leave, what was that hopscotch game called the children played out front when we arrived?” Helena asked.
“We call it Tian Pi Jin, basically translate to jumping the cord.”
“I think it would be an excellent way to train for fencing,” Helena said.
Barbary Coast:
Helena and Lane made their way back to the city street without incident, stepping into the bright sunlight, she breathed deeply relieved to be back into her world. There were still signs everywhere written in Chinese, but the feeling down the alley was from another country if not another planet. Helena couldn’t understand how something so foreign existed in the middle of her city. The city she thought she knew, but only a day into searching for Missy Whitaker, Helena realized she was a baby. Lane and Sigmund had protected her from everything, she really didn’t know how anything accurately worked. When suddenly struck by a sinking feeling in her heart.
“Lane, do you have money?” Helena struck with the panic of being without the person who had paid for everything since she was old enough to remember.
“Miss, I never leave home without some spread around money. Besides, I always keep two fifty-dollar gold pieces in the heels my boots, just in case,” Lane glanced down his shoulder as she kept pace with him.
“Why in the heels of your boots?” Helena asked.
“I feel if I ever had to run, the first thing I’ll pull on is my boots. I always know I’ve got some emergency cash.”
Helena paced him quietly for a few steps as they strolled along Kearney Street.
“Lane, I want you to answer honestly, am I naïve?”
Without hesitation, he answered, “Of course you are. Everyone is wet behind the ears at some time in their lives. We all make mistakes and bad choices. Some of the best lessons are learned through failure.”
Lane finished the sentence and stood on a street corner looking at the variety of buildings surrounding him. “I’m happy it’s noon and not midnight, or you would become educated in some things too soon.”
For the first time, Helena glanced around and took note of both the walkers around her and the buildings lining the intersection. The buildings displayed a mixture of Saloons, Dance Halls, Bathhouses, and Whorehouses all selling vice in the open. Walking the street, a mixture of Cowboys, Sailors, and scantily clad women, some of which were men in women’s clothing most in various stages of inebriation.
“What’s the Nymphia?” Helena pointed across the street at a giant sign announcing a much larger three-story building.
“Never you mind, just over there,” before Lane led her to their destination two women, approached them from behind.
“So, gentleman, are you looking for a good time?” the taller of the two asked first. Helena couldn’t help but turn to check who addressed them.
The shorter woman commented, “Oh my, you’re a little thing I bet you it’s your first time, and this is your older brother bringing you out to take care of it. I charge virgins half-price.”
“No ladies we’re both just fine,” Lane tipped his hat, grabbing Helena by the elbow leading her across the street through traffic. Helena could’ve sworn she heard the little prostitute say, “Hey don’t I know you?” but they had crossed the street before she had a chance to really hear.
“Were those prostitutes?”
“No, they are selling Bibles. I should’ve went and hired the guards and left Sigmund for this job,” Lane stopped in front of The Seattle. Inspecting the posters on display he blurted, “Oh for the love of all that is holy, this can’t get any worse.”
“What’s wrong?” Helena asked with a puzzled look.
“Just stay close to me and don’t wander off,” if a person has a specific look when they pass a kidney stone, Lane had that expression.
The pair passed through the side-by-side swinging doors, like an Old West Saloon. Lane held Helena by the elbow, there was no way she could get lost in this establishment, they might never find her again. The player piano, ear-shattering played on a continuous loop, being early in the day there were not that many people in the joint.
Lane marched up to the rail of the bar. Helena kept busy inspecting some of the homeliest women she had ever seen in her life. Many of them had hairy chests and shadows on their faces in need of a shave. It didn’t seem to slow down the men paying them for dances. Unable to hear the conversation she became entranced by the interactions going on around her, she didn’t notice Lane speaking to her until he slapped her on the arm. She looked at his face and then looked at the outstretched hand in front of her. For a moment she didn’t understand what he wanted then he snapped his fingers three times and put his hand out flat again. That’s when she realized he wanted the cork. She dug into her jeans pocket and put it in his hand.
Lane held the cork up like a gem for the bartender to inspect. T
he bartender shook his head. Lane set the cork down on the bar and balanced a dime on top of it. The bartender shook his head again. Next Lane balanced a quarter on top of the dime on top of the cork. The bartender still indicated no. Working hard to hide his aggravation, he pulled out a fifty-cent piece, held it up in front of the bartender’s face. He finally nodded yes. With the hands of a pickpocket, the barkeep took the fifty-cent piece from Lane while scooping up the thirty-five cents on top of the cork, deftly leaving the cork where it lay. The man behind the bar motioned for the couple to follow, and Lane with Helena in tow were right behind him.
Helena’s mouth dropped agape when they passed two men kissing standing at the bar-rail. Helena wanted to go back for a closer look, but Lane gripped her hand firmly, dragging her through the dive. Their guide took them up the broad stairs, the farther away from the dance floor they traveled, the less pervasive the music became.
It was finally quiet enough for Helena to ask a question, “Did you see--”
Before she finished her sentence, Lane cut her off, “Yes, I did, please don’t ever ask me about it again.”
The man leading them deeper into the den of iniquity stopped at the door then tapped three times. Helena could plainly hear a man’s voice from the other side of the door say, “Come in,” the door opened for them. They walked into what would best be described as a gaudy attempt at elegance, with an overabundance of nude male statues.
The elegantly dressed woman spoke from behind a colossal desk, “You’re here, that means you either showed somebody something interesting or paid money to see me. Tell me how Lady Deloris Rolph might help you. My word child, what have you done to yourself?” Deloris said inspecting Helena’s face.
Helena was confused, she listened to a man’s voice tell them to come in, but the only one in the room seemed to be Lady Deloris. Something about her voice, it sounded intense yet alluring, Helena thought she would do just about anything to speak like that. She was surprised when the woman stood up to greet her as an equal. Helena didn’t know what to say.
“Sir, I can feel you’re uncomfortable, you are dismissed, you may wait outside. Trust me, the Young Miss here is in as safe as hands as any she might ever want to be in.”
Lane also confused didn’t argue and left Helena alone with Lady Deloris.
The lady took Helena by the hands and guided her to a sofa at the far side of the room. “Now please tell me who did such a terrible thing to such a lovely young face?”
She licked her thumb and started removing the black grease from Helena’s nose and cheek.
Helena stammered, her disguise penetrated before she even opened her mouth, “My cook, she helped me with my disguise.”
“You’re not going to fool anyone, at least you hid your breasts. Now you look like a flat-chested woman dressed up as a boy,” the faster Lady Deloris spoke, the deeper her voice got, “There are places a woman can’t go, most of those places don’t take young boys either. If you want to come explore, let me know I’ll help you.”
“I didn’t come here to explore, but can you teach me how to look more like a man?” Helena stared fascinated by the paint on the woman’s face.
Lady Deloris laughed the most decadent and happy sound Helena had heard in a long time, but it had a distinct male tone to it before she continued.
“Honey I’ve spent my whole life trying to make men look more like women,” chuckling with his natural male voice.
Helena couldn’t help herself, her right hand reached out slowly, and almost touched Lady Deloris’s chin.
“Yes honey, I’m a man, but you’re safe with me, you’re not my type. If you really want to learn about makeup, I can teach you, but that will take longer than what I can do now. I can fix it where you can at least escape the Barbary Coast without being attacked.”
“How do you control your voice so well?” Helena couldn’t understand how Lady Deloris could so effortlessly change voices while speaking.
“How do you get good at anything, you practice. You come with me and let’s see if we can’t do a little something with your face.” Lady Deloris brought Helena to a small side room which had real electric lights, a huge mirror, and more makeup than Helena ever knew existed. Deloris sat Helena down and started working on her face while she spoke.
“For the longest time, I was an actor. I chiefly worked traveling shows, the stage is where I learned makeup. More importantly, traveling so much allowed me to watch people and observe them, examine the real differences separating all of us. I had always enjoyed playing female roles, and when I came here, well let’s just say that Lady Deloris is a role I was made to play. Here on the Barbary, I can be what I want to be inside these four walls, my saloon, I can live the dream. I can allow others to come here and live a dream. As long as the vigilantes don’t burn the place down or try to clear us out again, everything will be golden.”
With the addition of a few shadows and highlights and the deft use of a pencil, Lady Deloris added ten years to Helena’s face. She no longer looked like a young teenage boy but a twenty-five-year-old man with a baby face.
“Do you want a mustache and beard?” Lady Deloris held up a batch of dyed wool almost exact color of Helena’s cropped hair.
“I don’t think so, not yet but I really want you to teach me how to do this. I also want you to teach me how to control my voice like you do.”
“Honey everything on the Barbary can be bought, and everyone has their price. I’m sure you didn’t come here for makeup tips.”
“I came to ask about this cork.” She felt her pocket where the cork should be and found it missing. “Lane has it, I’ll be right back.” She rushed to the door and opening it she found Lane leaning against the wall talking to a woman Helena assumed was a female impersonator.
She smacked Lane on the arm, “I need to cork back,” and held her hand out to him.
Engrossed in his conversation Lane didn’t even look at her just reached into a shirt pocket and held it out for her to take.
Helena grabbed the cork, growling about Lanes baser instincts, and walked back in to continue speaking with Lady Deloris.
She held the cork out for the Lady Deloris to inspect. “I hear you are a wine expert, is there anything you’d be willing to tell me about this?”
“And here I thought you were going to give me a challenging question. There’s a lot of information on this cork, anything in particular, you’d like to know?”
“Where did it come from?”
“Right to a hard question. There are no markings on the cork. Did you know that most large wineries will put their name on the side of the cork? Of course not, people who drink wine don’t typically examine the cork, and I’m thinking you don’t drink much. It is a high-quality cork,” Deloris smelled the cork then took a small nibble off the purple wine-soaked end then promptly spat the pieces on the floor. “This is a strong red wine. I would think one of the smaller local California wineries.”
“Can you be more specific than that?”
“There are a dozen local wineries, they are all for the most part growing the same grapes, in the same weather conditions, using the same oak barrels. Given a glass of wine, I might be more specific. Young lady, you gave me a cork, a cork I might add that’s been out of the wine for some time, I would say at least a month. I think I’ve gotten pretty close.”
“Thank you for all your help. I’d hoped to find more useful information. This is the only clue I have to locate a missing friend.”
“I’m sorry, I wish I could do more for you. I can still give you those makeup lessons if you’re interested, we can discuss price.”
“I’d like that I really would, I just need to think about it.”
“Honey I never did catch your name.”
“Helena, Helena Brandywine.”
“Well Helena, next time you come back to visit me you show this card. You won’t need to fight to get in here,” Lady Deloris handed Hele
na one of her personal calling cards, the ones she gave to her individual customers.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done. I need to go home and consider what I’m going to do next. My friend’s life may hang in the balance.”
Dejected, Helena left Lady Deloris’ private rooms. She walked by Lane who was still chatting up the cross-dresser, neglecting to tell him she was going. She took each step of the stairs leading down as if the gates of hell waited for her at the bottom. Head down, lost in thought she crossed the scarcely populated dance floor and walked up to the bar. Plopped down on the barstool and put her head in her hands.
“Bad news?” Helena listened to Sigmund’s familiar voice speaking into her ear to be understood over the din of the player piano.
“Can we go home, I’m tired.”
Sensing Helena’s dark mood Sigmund tapped her on the shoulder, “Wait here let me go find Lane.”
Sigmund pushed himself off from the bar leaving his untouched shot of whiskey. She thought about drinking it, then looked at the lack of hygiene amongst the glasses stacked in front of the mirror and thought better of it.
Where she first found this part of town exhilarating, now she only saw depression. Strangers hopelessly trying to be who they wanted to be. She was no consulting detective, she couldn’t even find a missing girl.
Sigmund walked up with Lane in tow. “Why’d ya run off without me? Somebody could’ve knocked you in the head, and you’d be on your way to Shanghai by now,” Lane noticeably upset that he got ditched by a young woman who he was supposed to be watching.
“That is enough Lane, it was your job to keep an eye on her, not her job to keep you informed of her whereabouts. Go get Bessie I think it is the time we head home.”
Lane retrieved the automobile, and the group did a quick stop at the Chinese Girl’s School they found the Pinkerton men in place, collected Chow Kam Ting, the sixteen-year-old orphan student and headed back to the estate. The whole trip Helena sat in a silent funk, lost in thought speaking only when asked a direct question.
Pretty Waiter Girls Page 6
