by R. J. Koreto
“An excellent idea,” said Alice. “And I can also help you in another way. Did you know Aunt Anna—my father’s sister—is on the board of New York Hospital? She knows every prominent physician in town. I think Mrs. Brantley would profit from a second opinion on her condition. I’ll have her prepare and send you a list. My pleasure.”
But it wasn’t Brantley’s. He frowned at that. He knew Alice was serious—she’d follow through with Mrs. Cowles, and Mrs. Cowles would follow through with Julia. There would be no denying her.
“That is very kind, Miss Roosevelt, but I don’t want to put you or your aunt to any trouble.”
“No trouble at all. I assure you. Now, Preston, can we give you a ride downtown?”
Shaw glanced at Preston. “I think we’ll talk over some business as long as he’s here,” he said, and there was a heavy tone in those words. Preston would pay for introducing Alice to the household without supervision, and he would no doubt be told to encourage Alice to invite her father to come to their ship launching. Again, Preston just smiled and shrugged.
So Alice and I said our good-byes and hopped into the motorcar.
“Let me guess—the Wellman Arms Hotel?” I asked.
“Very good,” said Alice with a light laugh. “From what I understand, men tell their mistresses things they don’t tell anyone else. My goodness, Mr. St. Clair, you’re blushing.”
CHAPTER 20
I just shook my head. “Where do you hear these things, Miss Alice?”
“You’d be surprised,” she said a little loftily.
“Yes, I would.”
“Anyway, I’m so glad you understood that I wanted you to slip back in. I want your thoughts. Look how Shaw treats his wife. Do you think he’s our Archangel? Could he be that brutal?”
“I think he has it in him,” I admitted. “I don’t think he cares about anyone one way or another. I think he knew I was the one who left his foreman, or whoever that was, facedown in that room. So he offered me a job working for the Van Schuylers. It’s not personal for him. He just wants to finish his job, and if he can offer me a job as a bribe, he’ll be happy.”
“You’re getting to him. Good for you.” She smiled.
“Glad you approve. But we haven’t gone over the rest of your little talk.” I glanced at Alice, and she gave me a wary look.
“You mean with Mrs. Brantley saying that she found Preston more strong-willed than we suspected? Maybe he has been standing up to Shaw and his uncle.” She looked a little proud of herself, as if she had something to do with that. And maybe she had.
“Yes, it was interesting that Mrs. Brantley noticed that. I wonder how recently he decided to grow a backbone.”
“That’s an unkind remark, Mr. St. Clair. As I’ve explained to you before, Preston has been in a difficult situation. That he’s finally standing up for his rights shows just how much character he has.”
“Yes, I agree with you there.” And then I grinned. “But apparently, still not enough for you to admit that you’re going to marry him.”
“Goddamn it! I should’ve known you would be completely unprofessional and rub it in. I have no intention of marrying Preston, now or later. And you’re an uncivilized, ignorant cowboy.”
I just laughed. “Yes, but I’m very kind and would be an excellent husband for you. That’s what Julia and Mrs. Wissington say. When your father comes up for the ship launching, I’ll ask his permission. How does that sound, Princess?”
“Go to hell,” she said and sulked.
“I’m going to tell Mrs. Cowles about your language.”
“And to think what I did to make sure you kept your job.”
“And to think what I’ve done to almost lose it. And what I’m about to do. God help me.” I was a little annoyed at her but felt bad for teasing her. It wasn’t the kindest thing I ever did, considering how young she was, but I tended to forget that sometimes.
We were at the hotel, and I parked the car.
“What are you going to do?” asked Alice, who had calmed down by this point.
Something I shouldn’t be doing, not as a Secret Service agent. But I was just following the stream at this point, and we had gone too far to stop.
“Miss Alice, how were you going to find the mistress? We don’t have a name. Were you just going to ask the front desk clerk to give you a list of single women in residence?”
“Something like that,” she said a little defensively.
“A president’s daughter can get a lot done. But sometimes some old-fashioned police threats can do the trick.”
We walked into the hotel. The Wellman Arms is one of the better hotels in New York. In fact, I’d driven Alice to a few events there in the past couple of months. The Van Schuylers had a lot of money if Brantley could afford to keep his mistress set up there. And that was unfortunately going to be the hotel’s downfall. They didn’t know who they were dealing with.
The clerks at the reception desk were as well groomed as any of the gentlemen at the Roosevelt party where I had met Preston. I was getting tired of men who looked so dandy.
The clerk returned the favor: he clearly didn’t like the look of my suit, riding coat, or Stetson. I pulled out my badge. “St. Clair, Secret Service. Can I speak to the manager?”
There was a flicker of nerves. “He’s not available. The daytime assistant manager, Mr. Wilhelm, is available. If you wait one moment . . .” He disappeared into the back. I looked at Alice, standing a little behind me, and she raised an eyebrow.
“I’m Mr. Wilhelm. Can I help you?” He was an older version of the clerks, with just a slightly irritating tone that said what he thought of me.
“There’s a man named Shaw Brantley. He has a woman stashed here. I’d like her name and room number.”
His face got a little red. “Surely, sir, you understand that our guests’ privacy is of utmost importance to us. I couldn’t possibly reveal that.”
“Didn’t that other guy tell you I had a badge? If you’re promoting prostitution here, I could have this whole hotel shut down by the end of today.”
Wilhelm looked around with an unpleasant mix of fear and arrogance on his face. “It’s hardly that, sir. A handful of distinguished gentlemen keep regular rooms here for their private use. What they use them for is beyond our concern. And besides”—he lowered his voice—“we’ve paid the right people downtown.”
So I grabbed him by his lapels and pulled him over the counter until our faces were an inch apart. “Didn’t you see the badge? I’m federal. I don’t give a damn what local cops or politicians you’ve bought. Give me a name and room number, and we’ll take care of what we have to do and move on. Don’t make this difficult. Shaw Brantley’s room.”
He didn’t even have to look it up. I guess Brantley was a really good customer.
“Elsie de Maine, room 512. Do what you need, but please don’t tell Mr. Brantley you got it from me.”
“Fine.” I let go of him and stepped away.
“Crude but effective,” said Alice.
“I’m a lawman. I have to throw my weight around when people break the law. Even though I seem to spend most of my time helping you break the law.”
“Not that much. Anyway, this Elsie de Maine must be something. No one has a name like that for real. She was probably an actress.”
Alice led the way and rapped sharply on the door. I was guessing that Miss de Maine had few visitors except for Brantley, who probably had his own key, so a knock would probably be a surprise.
We heard some movement inside and then a turn of the handle. We were face-to-face with Elsie de Maine. As I noted before, a wife who’s nothing but decorative is a rich man’s luxury. And so, apparently, is a woman who looks like Elsie.
She was wearing night clothes, and not much of those, and some lovely auburn curls poured over her white shoulders. Her curves were perfect, and the peach-colored silk hung onto them just enough.
Elsie was surprised, but only for a moment, and
was a bit sharper than I had imagined. She took me in first. “You’re a cop. I’ve no idea why you’re dressed as a cowboy, but cops look like cops no matter what, and your girl here . . .” She laughed. “For God’s sake, I’ve seen your face before. You’re Alice Roosevelt, aren’t you? Well, I think we’ll have ourselves a party here. Come on in.”
It was more than a room. It was a suite. We entered a sitting room with a table, desk, and a few chairs, and we got a peek at the bedroom through a half-opened door.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll get changed. There’s some whisky on the table and glasses—help yourself. Back in a moment.” I watched her depart until she disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door.
Alice reached into my jacket, pulled out my handkerchief, and handed it to me. “Wipe your mouth. You’re drooling.”
“For God’s sake, Miss Alice. That wasn’t necessary. Want some whisky?”
“It’s a little early for me, but if you need it to calm yourself, don’t let me stop you.”
“No, thanks. I’m sure Elsie will be out in a moment anyway.”
“I’m sure. I imagine she’s had lots of practice getting dressed and undressed quickly.” Indeed, she was out a moment later. I know little about women’s dresses, but I could tell she chose this one with care. It was actually a perfectly modest outfit, but it was designed to emphasize her figure.
She curled up into a chair. “So what’s your story, Cowboy? What does a lawman from Texas want with a New York actress?”
“Wyoming, actually. And although I was a deputy sheriff in Laramie, I’m now with the Secret Service. I’m Miss Roosevelt’s bodyguard. She wanted to meet you.”
“I’m flattered. You know, I heard that Preston van Schuyler is a friend of yours. That’s why you’re here, right? It’s about the Van Schuylers? You’re trying to get something on them, aren’t you? Why else would you be here? Well, I might be able to help you. But we’re going to have to talk about what’s in it for me. Because if Shaw Brantley finds out, he’d break my neck.”
“He’s a violent man?” Alice asked.
“What do you think?”
“Very well, Miss de Maine. We are interested in what you may know about the family. Do you want to know why?”
“It’s probably better if I don’t know,” said Elsie with a musical laugh. “Right now, I’m just interested in what you can give me.”
“I’m interested in what you want,” said Alice. “We have money, within reason. Are there introductions I could make for you? I know a lot of people.”
“What do I want?” She suddenly frowned, and the light seemed to disappear from those big, beautiful eyes. She poured herself some whisky and drank it down fast. “I want to rent Mr. St. Clair.”
The third job offer—I was feeling very popular.
“Mr. St. Clair is not for rent,” said Alice. She grabbed my arm a little too tightly, but it was her tone that made me wince. Elsie grinned.
“So it’s like that, is it?” Alice turned red. I suppressed a laugh. “But just hear me out. I’m done with Shaw. But I’m his property.”
“You are not,” said Alice. “You have rights. That’s ridiculous.”
Elsie gave me a look that plainly asked, Is she for real?
“Miss Roosevelt is young and had a sheltered upbringing,” I said.
Alice gave me a dirty look. “Very well, I accept that Mr. Brantley has a hold on you. Why do you want to rent Mr. St. Clair?”
“I’ve been biding my time waiting for a chance to get out. I’m stuck here like a prisoner. I can’t trust anyone. Shaw has paid off the staff here and local police. If I tried to leave, management would alert him or one of his henchman before I even made it to Grand Central.” That made me wonder if someone had already been sent to alert Shaw of our storming the castle, as it were. Elsie continued, “I have enough cash to get me started on my own and jewels I can sell. One small suitcase and Mr. St. Clair sees me safely on a train. I have friends in quite a few towns I can call on, but I have to get out of New York. I hope I can trust you, Mr. St. Clair. If you tell me that you can get me out of here, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“It’s a deal. Mr. St. Clair can do anything,” Alice said with a wave of her hand. Her confidence was both flattering and frightening. “He’s not afraid of Shaw or the rest of the Van Schuylers. You’ll be on a train, by yourself, by the end of today. Now let’s hear what you know about the Van Schuylers.”
“Fair enough. Shaw likes to brag about what he and his family have done. He likes to lie in bed after we . . . afterward and tell me about the bribes, the threats, the violence . . .” She shivered and took another shot of whisky. If she kept that up, I thought, she’d destroy the finest complexion I’ve seen this side of the Mississippi.
“Do you have any specifics?” asked Alice. Elsie gave her a sour look.
“I normally don’t have a notebook with me at the time,” she said, and I found that funny. Alice didn’t laugh, but she didn’t blush either.
“I’m telling you what I know. If you can find some honest cops and send them upstate, they won’t be wasting their time, I can tell you that much. But all right, you want something in more detail? I have a few things. First of all, Shaw used to complain about Preston—your sweetheart.” And I laughed again. This time, Alice glared at me, and Elsie said, “Oh, my, did I let something slip I shouldn’t? He said the two of you—but nevermind.” She grinned. “Anyway, it seems Preston, as a family member, owns a certain part of the business. Shaw said Preston was never really interested in it, but they gave him some light stuff to do. He hoped Preston would just take some money and go for some big worldwide trip. His uncle was also pushing for that. Shaw said he didn’t like the boy hanging around and asking questions. He just wanted him out of the way.”
She paused. “Once Shaw actually said he was afraid of Preston.”
“If they were up to the violent and illegal activities you describe, the last thing they’d want is a decent family member looking over their shoulder,” said Alice.
“So Preston is a decent man? You’d know more about that than I would,” said Elsie. I knew it was risking my life to laugh at that, so I showed some self-control while Alice fought a blush.
“What about Shaw’s wife, Julia?”
“I don’t get involved with wives,” said Elsie. “But I’ll tell you this much: I feel sorry for the girl, even if we’ve never met. You hear about these cold, difficult wives, and you don’t really blame the man, but even with Shaw’s description, she sounded more sad than bad, if you take my meaning. Sort of sick, really. I thought he was unkind about her. I even told him I didn’t want to hear him put her down anymore.” If you dig deep enough, every profession has its ethics.
“Julia told us that Preston has been more than annoying lately, that he was trying to push for his rights,” said Alice.
“Yeah, I guess that made Shaw a little nervous. It was not only the money—Preston’s share—but Shaw and Preston’s uncle didn’t want him demanding a position. It seemed to be a big deal to both of them to get Preston out of the country. Shaw would mutter all the time about the disaster in Buffalo last year.”
“Yes—the assassination of McKinley,” said Alice, impatiently.
“Oh, but that’s the thing,” said Elsie, looking a little triumphant. “Shaw was up there with his father-in-law when that happened. I remember when he came back. He was so wound up, it took me hours to calm him down. He was pacing this room, muttering things—half of which made no sense to me. But one odd thing stood out. I remember him saying, ‘What a goddamn mess. At least with McKinley killed like that, no one will notice.’ How about that, Miss Roosevelt? Buffalo was having a pretty lively evening, apparently.”
“But what else could have happened that night? A crime? A business deal that went sour? What was the next thing he said after ‘no one will notice’?” Alice was getting really excited now.
“As I recall, the next thin
g he said was for me to get undressed.”
There was no self-control that time. I laughed, and Elsie was glad I appreciated the joke, even if Alice just rolled her eyes.
“If you two are done, I think I just have one more question. Did Shaw ever mention a figure called the Archangel?”
That wiped the smile off her face fast.
“Christ,” she said, taking another shot of whisky. Her hand was trembling, as much from fear as the booze. “Where the hell did you hear that name?”
“We hear it everywhere,” said Alice. “And it’s seeming more and more as if Shaw might be the Archangel.”
“Well, he’s not, I can tell you that much. Because he’d complain about the Archangel. Even he was afraid of him.”
“So you discussed business with him?” asked Alice.
“We discussed almost nothing. He talked, and I was a sympathetic listener. In the mistress business, listening is what you spend most of your time doing. I mean, who else could he discuss this with? Certainly not his wife. And complaining about the business to his father-in-law would make him seem weak. Anyway, he’d start talking about some deal, but then he’d say, ‘The Archangel went too far this time,’ or ‘The Archangel is going to get us into trouble now.’ At first I assumed he was some sort of thug in his employ, but Shaw seemed genuinely worried about him. But I can’t tell you more. All I know is that anyone who scares Shaw is worth being scared of. I can only imagine if Shaw sent him on me and couldn’t even control him himself . . .” She shuddered and reached for the whisky again, but Alice took it away.
“We still have to get you out of here, and you need to have a clear head.”
The reality of what we were about to do hit Elsie, and she was looking nervous.
“Don’t worry. We’ll do our part,” said Alice. “Mr. St. Clair, you’re the soldier here. How are you going to run the campaign? You got us in. Now, can you get us out?”
“First, Miss de Maine, pack a bag and whatever jewels and money you have—carefully, on your person.”
