The Fall Of White City (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 1)

by N. S. Wikarski

  “And look at the embroidery.” Freddie traced the pattern with his finger. The design was stitched with heavy black thread. It appeared to be a single flower with vines trailing out from either side. Below it were two rows of alternating black and white squares. “What are these?” Freddie pointed to sharp knots of embroidery that sprouted from the vines.

  “I’m not sure. The whole design is so stylized, almost like a woodcut. It’s hard to tell. Leaves, I suppose.” She studied the item again. “This must have belonged to the man Elsa met that night. It’s an expensive piece of work, no doubt custom-made, and the owner probably ordered a full dozen just like it. At least this confirms what both Franz and O’Malley suspected. She was involved with a gentleman of means.”

  Evangeline was pensive for a few moments. “But where did she meet him? She never left her own neighborhood. How could she possibly have crossed paths with a man who could afford something like this?” She gestured toward the hair ornament.

  Freddie pondered the question awhile. “Well, did the Bauer girl know that Jacob Sidley wasn’t going to meet her at the Fair?”

  Evangeline thought back. “Why no. As a matter of fact, she didn’t. Mr. Sidley told me he was called into a meeting at the last minute. There would have been no way for him to get word to her in time.”

  “Then let’s imagine poor little Elsa Bauer standing alone and forlorn, waiting for her companion who never shows up.”

  “Yes, and...?”

  “Let’s further imagine a wealthy gentleman strolling through the Fair. He’s unaccompanied. It’s a fine day, and he has some time to kill. Forgive the unfortunate choice of words. He sees this striking young lady standing by herself. Maybe he waits. Maybe he makes several rounds past that same point to see if she’s still standing there. Perhaps fifteen minutes go by during which he sees her growing more and more dejected and more and more uncertain about what to do. Clearly, her companion has abandoned her. It seems the perfect opportunity, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, I see. Yes, that would explain the initial contact.”

  “And what if he then strikes up a conversation and offers to show her the sights?” Freddie continued with his hypothesis. “No doubt, since he’s wealthy and bored, he’s been to the Exposition at least once before and knows all the principal things to see. She’s grateful that he’s taken charge of the situation. She allows herself to be led by him.”

  “Down any number of paths, one of which is the garden path, I daresay.” Evangeline’s voice was tinged with sarcasm.

  “Yes, but you see how it could have come about, don’t you? It would have been a simple matter for him to pursue the acquaintance after that—prearranged meetings in out-of-the-way places.”

  “Unfortunately, I believe you’re right, Freddie. That’s probably exactly how it unfolded. Poor Mr. Sidley, if he knew that his absence that day may have made the difference between life and death.” Evangeline lapsed into silence. She focused her attention on the pattern of the handkerchief again, staring at it with great fixity. “There’s something familiar about this. I think I’ve seen this design before, but for the life of me, I can’t remember where.”

  “Of all times for your memory to fail you.”

  “No, I mean, it was the sort of thing you see out of the corner of your eye. Not quite aware of it. Something in the background, lurking somewhere.” Evangeline scowled as she tried to recall the context.

  “Well, let it go for now, Engie. Maybe it’ll come back to you later. Besides, I haven’t told you about the doctor yet.”

  “My goodness! With all the other information that’s been uncovered, I completely forgot about that.”

  “Then listen,” Freddie began sententiously, “and you shall learn.” The young man launched into a description of his conversation with Dr. Doyle, expounding at great length on the nature of the poison. As he reached the end of his narrative, he hesitated a moment. “But that’s not the worst of it...”

  “Good Lord, how much worse could it be than seduction followed by murder!”

  Freddie led his listener back to her chair and sat down beside her. He took a deep breath. “She was expecting a child.”

  Evangeline’s face registered shock. She exhaled a long, slow sigh. “I suppose it was inevitable. I just kept hoping that her death wouldn’t have such sordid implications.”

  “It raises an even more sordid implication than illegitimacy.”

  “Yes?” Evangeline looked at him and waited.

  “Have you considered the possibility that she might have been trying to blackmail her seducer? That she arranged the meeting at the hotel to collect payment but that her plan misfired?”

  Evangeline rubbed her temples wearily. “I suppose in light of all this new evidence, anything is possible, but I just can’t believe I was that mistaken in her character. I knew her during the course of two years, Freddie. Two years. People have a tendency to reveal their true colors over time, but I never saw her do anything remotely underhanded.”

  ”Well, we can’t prove that one way or another. There’s still so much we don’t know.”

  “One thing I do know. Even if we assume the worst, her hypothetical crime of blackmail is far less serious than murder. There is still a man out there somewhere who is responsible. We now have three suspects to consider. I’m less concerned about the first two, because we know who they are and where they are. Franz is safely locked away in jail. Mr. O’Malley, without money, friends, or influence, could be locked up just as easily on the basis of my testimony alone. If he remains in his usual state of inebriation, I don’t expect him to have the sense to flee. We know where to find him if the need arises. It seems to me we should devote all our attention to uncovering the identity of Elsa’s mysterious gentleman friend. He may prove to be the most elusive, because he has the wherewithal to cover his tracks.”

  “Well and good, but where do we start?”

  Evangeline stood up and began to pace. Monsieur Beauvoir, who had been a witness to this entire exchange, sat motionless on the floor, only his eyes moving from side to side as he tracked Evangeline from one end of the room to the other.

  “We have one solid bit of evidence to begin with. We know he is probably rich and is the owner of handkerchiefs with a most distinctive pattern. The fact that I have a nagging memory about the pattern leads me to believe that I’ve crossed paths with this person before. Obviously, we’ll have to start tomorrow night at the Hunt Club Ball.”

  While Freddie had followed her logic up to the final sentence, she succeeded in losing him at the very end. He stared at her in surprise. “What do you mean? Why the Hunt Club Ball?”

  “It’s the beginning of the North Shore winter season. Everybody we know in Chicago society will be at the ball. You and I can take our time and survey all the guests until we find the person we’re looking for. Thanks to a very observant porter at the Templar House, I know that this mysterious gentleman is tall, clean-shaven, and has hair that is either dark brown or black. He is probably in his late twenties and probably does not wear glasses. Furthermore, we can hope he will have occasion to use a pocket handkerchief over the course of the evening. You will keep an eagle eye on all the guests in search of such a man with such a handkerchief.”

  “But Engie! That description could fit two dozen fellows I know. Don’t you think I’ll look like an idiot staring at so many pockets in one evening?”

  “Freddie dear,” the lady sighed, “I’ve often thought you looked like an idiot for far less reason than that.”

  Chapter 14—Pas De Deux

  The evening of the long-awaited Hunt Club Ball finally arrived. As Freddie came up the front walk of the LeClair house, the young man noticed a shadowy figure in the side yard leading one of the horses over to the carriage trace.

  “So she’s dragged you up from the city to drive her to the gala, has she, Jack?”

  Squinting in the feeble light provided by the carriage lantern, the caretaker asked, “Is that
you, Mister Freddie?”

  “The same.” Freddie sauntered up the stairs. “We’ll be out as soon as Milady is ready.”

  “With the way Delphine’s been fussing over her get-up for the past hour, that might not be as soon as you’re expecting.”

  Freddie just chuckled and continued through the vestibule unannounced. When he walked into the front hall, he saw Delphine still putting the finishing touches to Evangeline’s costume.

  "Ça suffit, Delphine! Stop flitting around me. I don’t need a fairy godmother!” Evangeline stamped her foot as the housekeeper adjusted the train of her gown for what must have been the fiftieth time that evening.

  Delphine sniffed self-righteously. “You know, ma chérie, this would not be the style in Paris or even New York. There is no Monsieur Worth, no Monsieur Doucet. No, not even Madame Paquin! I just do what I can to make you look in fashion. Mon Dieu, these American couturiers. They are all... all... ,” she searched for the right English word, and not finding it, finally spat out, “dégoûtant!”

  Evangeline walked over to the hall mirror. “We’re not in Paris now, Delphine, so we’ll just have to make do. Besides... ,” she said as she tilted her head up to show off her sapphire necklace to better advantage, “I think I look very well, very well indeed.” She turned around with an arch expression to regard her visitor for the first time. “What do you think, Freddie?”

  The young man swept his eyes admiringly over her blue silk gown. A small cluster of peacock feathers was pinned to her coiffure, and turquoise satin opera-length gloves completed the picture. “Stop fishing for compliments, Engie. You know you look swell.”

  The lady moved toward him, leaned in close, and adjusted his bow tie. “And so do you, my boy, so do you.”

  Freddie felt himself blushing and stepped back a pace or two to regain his dignity. He hated the fact that his feelings were an open book to her. “Well, if you’re through trifling with me, I think we can go,” he said stiffly.

  Delphine, in wordless protest, handed Evangeline her shawl and fan, watching morosely as the couple made their way down to the carriage. “Dégoûtant!” she huffed one more time for emphasis before she closed the door.

  ***

  It was a fine, dry evening with only a slight bit of autumn chill in the air. The Iroquois Club was a flood of amber light through the trees as Jack rounded the turn off of Green Bay Road into the main drive. Several liveried attendants were waiting to open carriage doors and help the passengers out. Another servant in uniform stood at the door surveying the arrivals. Upon seeing Evangeline, he bowed and let the couple pass. After the lady was fussed over for a few more minutes by a maid in the cloakroom, the pair descended into the club ballroom. Even though it was barely nine o’clock, the room was already crowded with onlookers chattering away and dancers forming the intricate patterns of a quadrille.

  Freddie nudged his friend’s elbow. “There’s something called too much of a good thing. How do you ever expect to find a clue in all this crowd?”

  Evangeline examined the assembly. She noted the stifling air in the room, the roar of conversation, and the blur of multi-colored silk and flashing jewelry that was the dancers in motion. “I’m trusting to luck at this point.” She tried to keep a note of dismay out of her voice.

  “Why, Engie, look who’s here.” Freddie motioned to the far side of the dance floor. “It’s the police superintendent and your father’s old friend Judge Franklin. Maybe they’ll have some new information about Franz Bauer.”

  “Over the course of this evening, I certainly intend to find out.”

  “Just try to be civil, will you?”

  “I will be quite a model of self-possession.” Evangeline fanned herself vigorously. “Unless one of them says something ridiculous, of course!”

  “You have a very low tolerance for the ridiculous in anyone except yourself. Try to give them more latitude than that or you’ll have picked a fight even before they can finish saying ‘good evening.’”

  “Very well, I promise to behave, if you promise to start checking pocket handkerchiefs.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. The pocket handkerchiefs, my own personal ignis fatuus for the evening,” Freddie sighed. “Well, I’d best be about it then.”

  “So you should, for I fear I’m about to be claimed for a dance.” Evangeline motioned with her head, and Freddie looked up to see Jonathan Blackthorne making his way slowly, but with great determination, through the crowd—his eyes locked on Evangeline.

  When he finally reached the pair, Blacktorne said, “Engie, I’ve been waiting for your arrival all evening. I hope Simpson here hasn’t preempted me and had the honor of dancing with you first?”

  “Never fear, Jonathan,” Evangeline laughed gaily. “I gave you my word a week ago, didn’t I?”

  “A lady who doesn’t change her mind from one day to the next. What an admirable creature you are.” Blackthorne bent over Evangeline’s hand to kiss it. Freddie walked away in disgust and muttered something about needing some fresh air.

  With an expectant look, Blackthorne led Evangeline onto the dance floor as the band began playing a Viennese waltz. Despite the fact that the two were mismatched in height as dance partners, they made a passable couple once they began to glide along in time to the music.

  “You look quite radiant this evening, ma chérie.” Blackthorne’s eyes sparkled with admiration.

  “Thank you, Jonathan.” Evangeline felt more than a bit flustered. She was accustomed to meaningless compliments, but something in Blackthorne’s manner of delivery made it seem as if he’d never spoken so warmly to a woman in his entire life. Evangeline wondered why this particular man had succeeded in intriguing her when so many others had failed. She thought briefly of Freddie—so innocent, so honest, so easy to read. Jonathan Blackthorne’s face was anything but an open book. She could sense undercurrents in the man but had never succeeded in plumbing their depths. The attempt always implied the possibility of drowning. She chalked it up to her own perversity that her interest increased in proportion to the danger—

  “I was concerned when I saw you with Simpson. Is he your escort for the evening?” Blackthorne’s question broke into her reverie.

  “Hmmmm? What was that? Escort? Only in the loosest possible sense. You should know by now that we’re just friends.”

  “Ah yes, friends. The last time I saw you two together you were conspiring to catch the man who murdered your unfortunate protégé at the Templar House. I read in the paper that her brother has been indicted. Has his trial date been set?”

  “I haven’t heard.” Evangeline tried to sound nonchalant to keep Jonathan from noticing her agitation at the mention of topic. She glanced sideways, thinking her heel had caught the train of her gown. When she turned her attention back to her partner, her eyes focused for the first time on Blackthorne’s waistcoat. What she saw froze her in place, almost causing Jonathan to trip over her as he took his next dance step.

  She could feel all the blood draining from her face. Her hands went numb. Her feet seemed rooted to the floor.

  Recovering his balance, Blackthorne asked anxiously, “Engie, are you all right?”

  She laughed, somewhat feebly. “Oh how clumsy of me. I must have lost my balance in that last turn. Why, it almost seems as if the room is spinning.”

  “Perhaps you’d better sit down.” Blackthorne hovered solicitously. “Let me fetch you a glass of water.”

  “No, Jonathan, don’t be silly.” Evangeline laughed again in a strained manner. “I’m fine. Please, let’s just continue dancing.”

  “As you wish, my dear.” Blackthorne stared intently at her face, apparently not convinced she was well. The couple continued to waltz, Evangeline fighting to recover her composure step by step. Jonathan’s next words did little to relieve the awkwardness of the moment, since he renewed the topic of their previous conversation. “But to continue, I asked if Franz Bauer’s trial date had been set.”

  “Oh, yes th
at.” Evangeline thought quickly. “I saw the police superintendent across the room and asked Freddie to check with him to find out where things stood for Franz.”

  At that moment, the dance ended and Freddie walked up to the couple. “There you are, old girl. No sign of it...” Before her friend could finish, Evangeline shifted all her weight to one heel and stepped squarely on Freddie’s instep.

  “Ye gods, Engie! Watch where you’re going!” Freddie crumpled to the ground in pain.

  Evangeline bent down and whispered urgently in his ear, “Freddie, not a word about pocket handkerchiefs! Be quiet and just follow my lead!” He looked up at her intently but remained silent.

  “Here, let me help you up,” she said aloud, still bending over him. “So sorry. That’s twice in one evening that I’ve almost caused a gentleman physical injury.”

  “What do you mean, almost?” Freddie rubbed his injured foot ruefully.

  “Why don’t we sit down over in the corner there? I see that a couch is free.” Taking Freddie by the arm, and with Blackthorne still tagging along, she continued. “Yes, Freddie, I already told Jonathan that I had you chasing down Superintendent Flint to find out if there was any new information about Franz Bauer’s trial.”

  “Wha—,” Freddie couldn’t finish the word before Evangeline cut in again.

  “I’m assuming there’s nothing to tell or the papers would have reported it. That’s what I’ve told Jonathan. Isn’t that what you think, too?” She dug her fingers into his forearm.

  “Oh, uh... yes, well, ahemm... I guess that’s right.” Freddie tried to keep up the bluff. “I couldn’t find him though. Maybe we’ll bump into him later.”

  “Why, he’s right there,” Blackthorne said in bewilderment. He pointed to a man standing no more than five feet from the couch where the three had decided to sit. The superintendent, a man of ponderous weight and even more ponderous opinions, was still deep in conversation with Judge Franklin.