“Yes. I suggest you try the pitcher first. I’m not sure which glasses are whose.” That sentence didn’t come out exactly the way I’d wanted it to, but evidently Williamson understood it, because he withdrew a little kit from his belt—they both wore leather belts full of all sorts of things, including nasty-looking guns—opened it up, squatted down in front of the table, and began delicately dusting the pitcher with some grayish powder.
But I wasn’t allowed to finish witnessing how fingerprints were taken because Sergeant Croft said he needed to speak to me. I didn’t like the man, but it was my duty as a citizen, not to mention the victim of a crime, to aid him. I graciously asked him to be seated in one of a pair of matching Louis IVX chairs across the room, so he sat and pulled out a notebook and pencil. I sat across from him. Harvey’s taste in furniture was quite elegant. If I’d furnished the place, I’d have done it up in a more modern fashion. But that’s irrelevant.
“Can you tell me anything more about Peggy Wickstrom?”
“She works—or worked—at a place called Anthony’s Palaise de Danse. It’s on Flower and—”
“I know where it’s at,” said Croft, not only interrupting me, but doing so in a terribly ungrammatical manner. He squinted at me. “You always get your tenants from dives like that?”
I sucked in about a gallon of air, with which I aimed to blast him, but Ernie cut in before I had the chance.
“Miss Allcutt has only begun letting out rooms in her home recently, Croft. She’s trying to give young women who have to work for a living a break. It’s not her fault she got a cuckoo in her nest right off the bat.”
Scowling at Ernie, Croft said, “I’ll ask the questions here, Templeton. You’re not on the force any longer, remember?”
“How could I forget?” said Ernie in a scathing voice.
“That’s enough!” I barked at Croft. “Mr. Templeton has brought up a valid point. When I allowed Miss Wickstrom to live here, I believed she worked at Clapton’s Cafeteria. It was only after Mr. Templeton checked on her references that I learned she worked at the dance hall.”
“Why didn’t you kick her out then?” asked Croft.
“My reasoning has nothing to do with the matter at hand,” I told him with some heat. “The only thing you have to worry about is how to find her and get our belongings back.”
“That’s not going to be as easy as it sounds.”
“Yes. So Mr. Templeton told me. I suppose it would help if you actually were to look for Miss Wickstrom and Mr. Autumn.”
“We’ll look for them,” said Croft irritably.
I sniffed.
By this time, Caroline was barely compos mentis, and Lulu had begun groaning softly.
“What happened?” asked Lulu, always more talkative than Caroline.
“Peggy drugged you,” I said baldly. “And I’m afraid she may have stolen some of your possessions. I know she took my jewelry.”
Caroline gave a little cry of dismay.
Lulu stared at me, aghast. Then she said, “So that’s why she was so friendly all of a sudden. I knew there had to be a reason.”
“You got it,” said Ernie.
It was really depressing to know that Lulu and Ernie both had pegged Peggy (so to speak) for what she was while I was still trying to save her from herself and her precious boyfriend. Would I ever learn to pay attention to those who knew more than I? My mother would answer that question with a firm negative, but I vowed to learn from this ghastly circumstance.
“I’m very sorry, Lulu and Caroline. I should never have allowed her into my home.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Caroline. “How could anyone know she’d do anything like this?”
I thought about suggesting she ask Ernie that, but restrained myself.
Both Lulu and Caroline had drunk some coffee at this point. Neither girl looked particularly perky, but Sergeant Croft asked if they could visit their rooms and check for missing items. With Ernie helping Lulu and me helping Caroline, we climbed the stairs. Croft, who clearly disliked Ernie and whose dislike was returned in full measure, stayed with Caroline and me while Williamson went with Ernie and Lulu.
“I don’t have much for anyone to take,” said Caroline, sinking onto her tidily made bed. “Give me a minute. My head’s all muzzy.”
“Take your time,” I told her. “You’ve been through an ordeal.”
“We don’t have all day,” growled Croft.
I gave him the Boston eye and was pleased when he flinched. “You have all the time it takes for Miss Terry to recover herself enough to look through her belongings. That’s your job, if you’ll kindly remember it. If you don’t care for it, perhaps you might try another line of work.”
Croft huffed, but he didn’t say anything else of a spiteful nature.
Eventually Caroline pulled herself together and looked through her things. “My charm bracelet is gone. My grandmother gave me a new charm to put on it every year on my birthday.” Her eyes filled with tears, and I put my arm around her. She sniffled. “I don’t suppose it’s valuable. My family isn’t rich. But it meant a lot to me.”
“Of course, it did,” I said soothingly. “We’ll try to recover it for you.” I shot Croft a good scowl to let him know he wasn’t supposed to interject a negative into the room. Poor Caroline was unhappy enough without a policeman telling her there was no way she’d ever see her grandmother’s charm bracelet again.
After a half-hour or so, Caroline determined that the only personal items of hers that had been snatched by Peggy, besides the charm bracelet, were a nice leather handbag she used for church and a couple of brooches. Naturally, her handbag, too, had been rifled.
“I don’t get paid until next Friday, so there wasn’t much money to take, and I put most of my paycheck in my bank account. The other things weren’t expensive,” she said.
“That doesn’t matter,” I said firmly. “They were yours, and Peggy was vile to have stolen them.”
“Do you know how much money was taken, Miss Terry?” asked Croft in a civilized tone of voice.
Caroline shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had maybe seventy-five cents.”
Thank God she hadn’t just been paid.
About that time Ernie, Lulu and Officer Williamson entered Caroline’s room. Naturally, Peggy had stolen all the cash in Lulu’s handbag, although Lulu said she only had about sixty-five cents at her disposal at the time. I got the feeling she spent most of her money on makeup and fingernail polish and clothes.
When the others entered her room, Caroline’s look of shock told me she wasn’t accustomed to strange men interfering with her privacy, so I said, “Let’s gather in the living room, everyone. We can write up what’s been taken and perhaps, if we put our heads together, we can discover if one of us knows something pertinent about Peggy Wickstrom that might help us find our missing property.”
Croft and Williamson exchanged a speaking look, but I ignored it. Darn it, they were cops! If they wouldn’t do their duty on their own, I’d make darned good and sure they did it at my insistence.
Chapter Thirteen
The policemen left about an hour later. Ernie had been going to give them the list he’d made up of things of mine that were missing, but I insisted upon copying his list and adding to it the items stolen from Lulu and Caroline.
“We don’t want our list to get lost by accident, do we?” I asked in an astringent voice and directing the question to Sergeant Croft.
“We won’t lose the list,” grumbled Croft.
“Good idea, Mercy,” said Ernie. He gave me a cheeky grin. “You can never be too careful, especially when it comes to L.A. coppers.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said dryly.
The policemen left, and Ernie and I returned to the living room where two pale and shaky tenants of mine sat looking unhappy.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Lulu and Caroline? I feel so awful about this. I’m so sorry I allowed Miss Wickst
rom to live here even after I learned she had lied to me about her employment.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Caroline faintly but staunchly. “How could you know she was like that? She’s so young. One never expects one so young to behave so evilly.”
My sentiments exactly, but Ernie and Lulu snorted in chorus.
“A rotten apple’s a rotten apple,” said Lulu, “no matter how young it is. I learned that when I was a kid. There was another kid in school with Rupert and me, and he was a terrible bully. He was only eight years old when he beat another kid almost to death.”
I stared at Lulu in horror.
She licked her finger, drew a cross in the air and said, “True story. They kicked him out of school, but the last thing I heard was that he’d got drunk on bathtub gin and shot up the town. He’s in prison now, and I hope he says there. There’s no doing anything with people like that.”
“But . . . but do you really think Peggy is as bad as all that?” My voice seemed awfully small.
Lulu shrugged.
Ernie said, “Yes. She’s what we call a black widow. Pretty on the outside and poison on the inside. Give her time, and she’ll be up to her neck in vice and corruption.”
“What a . . . terrible thought,” I said, feeling sick. Which reminded me of something. “Say, girls, would you like some powders? Do you have headaches or anything?”
“I could use a powder,” Lulu said. “My head’s pounding like a drummer in a speakeasy band.”
“My head is aching, too,” said Caroline, again pressing a hand to her forehead.
“I’m sorry. I should have thought to give you something earlier.” Guilt piled on guilt as I rose to go to the kitchen cabinet and fetch clean glasses—the policemen had taken the pitcher and other glasses away as evidence, so I wouldn’t have the pleasure of smashing the pitcher any time soon—and fixed up two glasses of water with aspirin powders stirred in. Aspirin came in pill form by that modern age, but Harvey swore by the powdered variety, and I was still working with his stock.
The kitchen was clean out of trays by that time, so I carried the glasses back to my friends and tenants in my two hands, thinking how crass my mother would consider this behavior on my part. Thank God she’d never know.
Ernie was talking to Lulu and Caroline when I set a glass down in front of each girl. “Come on. It’ll make you feel better. Get a little food in you, take some of those powders and a little more coffee, and you’ll both be right as rain.”
“I dunno, Ernie,” said Lulu. “I don’t feel much like eating anything.”
“Trust me. You will. I know about these things.”
I was about to ask him where he aimed to find food for the two girls when I recalled that he’d mentioned he could fix eggs and toast. Well, I supposed eggs and toast would be better than nothing. I felt stupid, ignorant and worthless that I couldn’t even do that much in the kitchen. I could, however, make a ham and cheese sandwich, which made me feel moderately brighter.
“I’ll fix some sandwiches,” I offered.
“Don’t bother. I know where to get some good roast beef sandwiches. I’ll have ‘em wrapped and bring them back here. This calls for something substantial. These girls need meat. You know. Protein.”
They did? Well, who was I to argue with Ernie Templeton, who probably had lots of experience dealing with the after effects of overindulgence in spirituous liquors. The thought made me sad for some reason. “Where will you go for sandwiches?” I asked, curious.
“Place called Philippe’s on Alameda. It won’t take long to get there, and they have the best roast beef sandwiches in town. They call ‘em French dip sandwiches.”
“Oh.” I gaped at him.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you one, too.” He winked at me.
“Oh, but you shouldn’t have to pay for them,” I said, hurrying after him as he headed toward the door. Buttercup followed at my heels, always happy to give a departing guest a polite send-off. “This is my fault, after all. Here. Wait and I’ll get some money.”
“Keep your damned money, Mercy. I can afford a few sandwiches.”
“But . . .”
But nothing, I guess. He was gone. I sighed and meandered back to the living room, plopped myself on a chair and picked up Buttercup. Comfort time.
Lulu, Caroline and I sat in the living room, chatting in a desultory manner. Neither of them were feeling awfully chipper, and both still felt the after-effects of the chloral hydrate they’d been given. At that time we were still speculating about the chloral. Officer Williamson said the forensics people at the police laboratory would test the lemonade remaining in the pitcher and the glasses to ascertain exactly which substance had been used to drug my friends.
I still felt guilty, and I told both Lulu and Caroline so over and over as we waited for Ernie to return with sandwiches.
“Stop it, Mercy,” Lulu said at last. “Your problem is that you’ve got a heart that’s too big for you. You’re always trying to help people, and some people aren’t worth helping.”
“That’s what Ernie told me, too,” I admitted glumly.
“Oh, my, but do you honestly believe that?” asked Caroline, who appeared shocked at this callous assessment of Peggy Wickstrom.
“You bet I do,” said Lulu firmly. “Remember that kid I told you about? His name was Gerald O’Flannagan, and my daddy said somebody should have drowned him at birth and done the world a favor.”
I saw Caroline gulp.
“But really, Lulu, you can’t tell if a baby’s going to grow up to be a bully or a thief, like Peggy.” That was me putting in my own two cents, although my words undoubtedly weren’t worth even that much. I felt lower than a snake that particular Sunday evening.
“You can if you look at their parents,” she declared.
“Oh, but Lulu, that’s not always true. One of the girls I went to school with came from a terrible family, but she turned out very well. Why, the last I heard, she was actually attending college,” said Caroline in her soft voice.
Lulu sniffed. “Well, let me tell you, it doesn’t work out that way very often.”
I sighed, feeling out of my depth. I’d grown up in the upper echelons of Boston society and, while I knew there were some bad apples among my parents’ acquaintances’ children, all the juicy details had been scrupulously kept from Chloe and me. It seemed a pity now, because I had no entertaining stories to add to the conversation.
Eventually Ernie returned with our sandwiches. I set the table in the kitchen—it seemed silly to eat sandwiches in the dining room—and Ernie laid everything out quite artistically, which surprised me. He’d even brought a jar of potato salad, which he said Philippe’s made better than anyone else and would go well with the sandwiches.
Eyeing the table dubiously, Lulu said, “I dunno, Ernie. My tummy feels a little queer.”
“Mine doesn’t,” said Caroline, surprising me. I’d have pegged her for the wilting lily of the two of them. On the other hand, I don’t believe she’d drunk as much of the alcohol-laced lemonade as Lulu had.
“Well, I’m starving,” said Ernie in the hearty voice he sometimes used to get people to do his bidding. “Have a seat.”
So we sat. I was hungry, too, although I didn’t think I deserved to be. I regretted that Ernie hadn’t allowed me to pay for the fare we aimed to eat.
Blushing faintly, Caroline said, “May I say a prayer? I was brought up always to thank God for the food I eat.”
“This time you ought to thank Ernie,” said Lulu, although she said it softly.
“I think that’s a splendid idea,” I said, coming to Caroline’s rescue. “After all, we lost some material things today, and my own faith in a person was shattered, which was my own fault, but at least we weren’t hurt.” I swallowed, feeling guiltier than ever. “Well, you two were. Oh, nuts.” I had to wipe my eyes.
“Calm down, Mercy,” said Ernie. “You’re taking too much of the blame for this on yourself. Peggy Wic
kstrom is a bad egg, and you were too nice to notice until it was too late.”
The others at the table nodded solemnly, and I felt worse than ever. After sniffling to maintain my composure, I said, “Shall we take hands?” That’s what we always did in Boston.
We took hands, and Caroline recited a brief blessing over the food. To tell the truth, although it does me no credit, I agreed with Lulu and thought Ernie was the one she should be thanking, although perhaps it was God who’d made him think of Philippe’s. The sandwiches and potato salad were very good.
The girls and I cleaned up after our delicious meal. I wouldn’t allow Ernie to help. “You were the founder of the feast, after all,” I said, thinking he wasn’t at all like Ebenezer Scrooge. Of course, I wasn’t at all like Bob Cratchit, either.
Probably in order to make us laugh, Ernie said, “Bah,” and followed it up with a “Humbug.”
It worked. The three of us giggled. Lulu washed, Caroline dried, and I put away, since I knew where everything went. Well, so did they by then, but that’s the way it worked out.
When the last dish was put away, the table wiped down and the dishtowel hung on the rack, we all retired to the living room, where we sat and looked at each other.
“Golly,” said Lulu. “Too bad they took the radio. A little music might be nice.”
“Yes,” said Caroline with a sigh. “I can’t imagine what possessed Peggy to behave in such a way.”
Ernie said, “Johnny Autumn would be my guess, although she had to be well on her way to ruin in order to pull a stunt like this on people she lived with and presumably had nothing against.”
“She was probably mad at me for lecturing her,” I said, culpability once more assaulting me. Buttercup, bless her heart, licked my chin.
“Nuts,” said Lulu. “If she only had a grudge against you, she wouldn’t have stolen our stuff, too. No, Mercy. You’ll just have to face it. Peggy Wickstrom is a bad person.”
“How sad for her,” whispered Caroline.
Lulu looked at her as if she’d gone crazy. “Sad for her? What about us?”
Angels of Mercy Page 15
