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

by N. S. Wikarski

  Finally he stammered, “Are you... uh... are you... that is... the lady... um... who runs this establishment?”

  The woman at his side laughed. “Nope, honey, I ain’t. I’d be a damned sight richer if I was, though. Ma Connelly’s gone to the bank with last night’s receipts. Left me to keep an eye on things. My name’s Sadie. But you don’t have to tell me yours. I can see you’re a shy one. You look like you’re from out of town, ain’t you?” Then turning to face the upstairs balcony, she bawled at the top of her lungs, “Gentleman in the house! One of you lazy sluts get down here!”

  This shocked Freddie into trying to clarify the reason for his visit. “No, uh... miss... uh... that is madam... no I mean...”

  The woman patted him reassuringly on the arm. “That’s all right sweetie, don’t you worry. We’ll take good care of you here. It’s your first time, ain’t it?”

  “Uh, yes... that is...” Freddie stopped when he realized what she meant, and he reasserted his masculinity with an outraged denial. “I mean, NO! Of course, it isn’t. It’s just the first time I’ve been in this particular house. That’s what I meant.”

  The woman looked him over appraisingly. “Uh huh. Well, then mister, since you been around some, what’s your pleasure?”

  By this time she had led him into a shadowy front parlor where another woman sat smoking a cigarette. She appeared to be dressed in some sort of satin jockey costume, but the top showed far more décolletage than jockeys usually display on the racecourse. Freddie squinted to make out the details of the costume in the dim light. Mistaking his interest, the woman with the cigarette took a long drag and blew several smoke rings before saying, “Forget it, honey, I just woke up. I’m what you might call an early riser around here. Besides, I haven’t had my breakfast yet.” She held up a tumbler which Freddie assumed contained a large quantity of gin. “I don’t work on an empty stomach, you know. There’s plenty of others upstairs. Take your pick of them and just let me be.”

  “Oh, no, you misunderstand me.” Freddie was stammering again. The woman on the sofa regarded him impassively. He turned to Sadie to explain. “That is, I mean, I had someone particular in mind.”

  At this, the madam pro tempore smiled broadly. “Well, now we’re getting someplace. There’s a nice new girl, we just got in last week, hardly been broke in yet. She’s about twelve.”

  “Twelve!” Freddie squeaked.

  The woman frowned as she refastened a hairpin. “Yeah, or it might be eleven, I forget. Anyway, the sweetest little thing you ever did see—”

  Before she could finish, Freddie cut in. “No, no! I mean there’s a particular girl I have in mind.”

  “Oh?” Sadie was intrigued. “Considering you ain’t ever been to this house before, how might that be?”

  Freddie tried to assume his role. He leaned over confidentially. “Well, a friend of a friend of mine said if I was ever in Chicago, I should come to Mother Connelly’s and ask for Rosa.” He nudged Sadie for effect. “He said she’d take care of me.”

  The woman put her arms on her hips. “Well, well. Rosa! Who’d of thought it. She’s never been a real big hit with anybody before. She’s kinda on the quiet side. Just does her job and minds her own business. Drinks way too much. Still, I guess there ain’t no accounting for taste.”

  She turned her head suddenly and screamed up the stairs in a grating voice, “Rosa! You, Rosa! Drag your sorry rump down here! There’s a gentleman asking for you.”

  When there was no response, Sadie smiled unctuously in Freddie’s direction and walked closer to the stairs to lure her young charge down with further blandishments of affection. “I mean now, Rosa! Or so help me God, I’ll come up there and drag you down here by the hair!”

  A moan could be heard echoing down the upstairs hall. Then a door slammed. A far-off a voice called, “I’m coming, Sadie, I’m coming. Keep your panties on!”

  Freddie looked up the stairwell and saw a dark-haired girl emerge from the shadows and dawdle her way down the stairs. She appeared to be in her late teens. Her hair was black and hung in a tangled mass over her face. When she pushed it aside, he could see that her eyes were very large and very dark. She was dressed, or rather undressed, in a camisole and pantaloons covered by a thin wrap of some gauzy material. She seemed disoriented and still flushed from sleep. Her complexion was mottled, and her breathing seemed labored when she finally reached the bottom of the stairs. As she drew within a few feet of him, Freddie detected the reek of alcohol.

  Attempting to focus her glazed eyes on him, she said vaguely, “You asked for me? I don’t know you.”

  Sadie, without warning, slapped her hard across the face. “Of course, you don’t, you silly whore. It’s a friend of his sent him.”

  “Oh...” Rosa rubbed her cheek where a red imprint remained. The blow hardly seemed to faze her. She held out her hand to Freddie to lead him upstairs. “Come on, then,” she said simply, still yawning.

  Freddie trailed along after, like a man sleepwalking. From behind him he could hear Sadie growling, “Now you treat him nice, or you’ll have me to answer to. You hear me? You, Rosa! Answer me!”

  Without a backward glance, Rosa sighed wearily. “I hear you, Sadie. I hear you.”

  She led Freddie up the stairs and down a long, drab hallway. The uncarpeted floor boards creaked under their steps. There were no other sounds in the house. Apparently, all the inmates were still asleep. Rosa’s room was the third from the end of the hall. When she opened the door, Freddie was overwhelmed by the staleness of the air. The window was shut and the shade pulled down low, but a reflection of afternoon sunlight managed to radiate through the shade, giving the room a dark yellow glow.

  Mother Connelly’s establishment hardly fit into the luxury category. Rosa’s room was furnished with a dresser, washstand, and narrow, metal-frame bed. A collection of bottles—whiskey, gin, and other spirits—stood on the dresser as well as a few unwashed glasses. Some dirty water remained in the bottom of the wash basin, along with a dead fly. The bed was rumpled and still warm since Rosa had so recently been pulled from it by her unexpected gentleman caller. She pointed to a chair standing in the corner. “You can put your clothes there.” She began to remove her dressing gown.

  “No!” Freddie said in a panic, so loudly he was sure Sadie heard him all the way downstairs.

  Rosa stopped and looked at him strangely. “What did you say?” Her mind was apparently still numb from sleep or drink, or both. She seemed to think she had misunderstood his command.

  “I just want to talk!” He was frantic. By this time, Freddie was sweating profusely, and one corner of his false mustache had come unglued. He put a finger to his upper lip to hold it in place, hoping Rosa wouldn’t notice.

  The girl was having difficulty bringing her eyes into focus, so she stared at him for half a minute before repeating in disbelief, “You just want to... talk?”

  “Yes.” Freddie giggled nervously. “Is that so strange?”

  She laughed bitterly. “Well, it’s sure a new one on me.”

  “How much do you charge for your time?” Freddie tried to frame the question as delicately as possible.

  “The house collects five bucks for a trick.”

  “And,” Freddie cleared his throat self-consciously, “how would that translate into time?”

  Rosa shrugged. “Depends on the trick. Anywhere from five minutes to an hour.”

  “All right then. Say I double that and give you ten dollars for an hour of your time. Is that fair?”

  The girl slipped her wrapper back on. “Well, it’ll give me a rest, and Sadie won’t care what goes on so long as you pay afterward.” She walked over to the dresser. “You want a drink?”

  “No, thank you, nothing.” Freddie responded as primly if he had just been offered a cup of tea in Evangeline’s parlor.

  He watched as Rosa selected a green bottle from her collection and poured herself a shot glass of absinthe—straight.

  “
Good God! I’m no temperance advocate but if you drink enough of that concoction, it could kill you!”

  “The sooner the better. So long as I don’t feel it coming.” She downed the first shot in one gulp and poured a second.

  Freddie watched the absinthe take effect. Her speech, which had been slurred before, became even thicker and slower. She sat down heavily on the bed. Rather than sit beside her in what he considered a compromising position, Freddie drew up the chair.

  When he was seated, she began, “So you want to talk. What about?”

  “Actually, it’s the man who sent me to you. He wanted me to show you this to see if you remember him.” Freddie began to dig in his coat pocket for the picture of Blackthorne that Evangeline had given him.

  Rosa threw her head back and laughed scornfully. “To see if I remember him? I don’t even remember my own name most of the time, and it’s just as well I don’t, mister. If I did, I’d go crazy!”

  By now Freddie had located the picture and he handed it to Rosa. First she glanced as it uncomprehendingly. Then, as the image registered in her brain, it seemed to send an electric shock through her body. Her face went white and she started to tremble. The picture fell to the floor as she put her face in her hands. She began to wail, rocking back and forth like a child in need of comfort.

  Freddie didn’t know what to do. He stood up and paced around in front of the window, hoping her crying would subside if he ignored the situation. It didn’t. Finally, not knowing what other measure to take, he sat down on the bed and put his arm gingerly around her. She clung to him, burying her face against his shoulder, and sobbed for several minutes more. Freddie awkwardly patted her hair and murmured what he hoped were comforting sounds. Eventually, her emotional storm began to dissipate.

  “He didn’t forget me,” she finally whispered through her tears. “After what I did to him, he still didn’t forget me.” When she looked up into Freddie’s eyes, her own were red and swollen from crying. “Oh, mister, you have to tell him for me how sorry I am! Tell him that for me, please!”

  “Sorry?” Freddie repeated the inexplicable word. “Sorry for what?”

  “Then he didn’t tell you about me?”

  “No, not a word. Just gave me the picture to show you.” Freddie had no idea what turn the conversation had taken, but decided to follow wherever Rosa led.

  The girl slumped down farther. Her head still rested dejectedly on his shoulder. She sniffled to clear her nose and wiped the tears away with the back of her sleeve. “Oh, it’s a long story, and it happened a long time ago. But seeing his picture. It brings it all back to me. I’ve never told a living soul except Mr. Sidley till now.”

  At the mention of the name, Freddie’s spine stiffened but he said nothing.

  “You say you’re a friend of his?” Her face had taken on the innocent expectancy of a child on Christmas morning. “How did you come to know him?”

  Freddie fended off the question. “That’s not important right now. Let’s just say I’ve been commissioned to take a personal interest in this matter.”

  “But you do know him well, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Freddie managed to force the word out between clenched teeth. “Yes, I know him very well. You can trust me. I’ll make sure that matters are put to rights.”

  “Oh, if only they could be.” She sighed and sat up straighter. “But it’s a long, long story.

  Chapter 25—Deja Vu

  “I guess I first set eyes on Mr. DeVille—”

  “Mr. DeVille?” Freddie interrupted.

  “Yes, Mr. Jonathan DeVille… your friend…,” Rosa looked at him doubtfully, “the man in the picture?”

  “Oh yes, how stupid of me.” Freddie laughed. “I always think of him by his nickname, and so it startles me when I hear him called something else.”

  “Oh... ,” Rosa replied, without curiosity as to the specific alias and without noting the sigh of relief Freddie had just exhaled.

  “Anyway, as I was saying, I guess I first met him at the union dance, and it was just by accident.”

  Freddie returned to his chair so he could face Rosa while she spoke. “Go on. I’m listening. How was it by accident?”

  “Well, of all things, I was supposed to be there with somebody else—Mr. Sidley, as a matter of fact.” Rosa pushed her hair back off her face. The shock of seeing Blackthorne’s picture had apparently sobered her up. She looked at Freddie in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry. You probably don’t know who Mister Sidley is, do you?”

  Without that lucky prompt, Freddie had almost put his neck in the noose again. “No. Never heard of him. Who is he?”

  Rosa looked down at the floor and surprisingly, given her occupation, began to blush. “Well, I think he was sweet on me at one time. I wasn’t always the way I am now.” She sighed and her eyes filled with tears. She looked at the ceiling to blink them back before continuing. “I used to work in a book bindery. I even wanted to join the trade union, and I took classes at Mast House. You’ve heard of that place, haven’t you?”

  “Oh yes.” Freddie assumed his clerk-on-holiday persona in time. “Even in Peoria we get the news from the big city. I hear Mast House has helped many people.”

  “Yes, it has. Miss Jane is a living, breathing saint if ever there was one. Well, anyway, Mr. Sidley volunteered his time there as the bookkeeper. We became friends, and one day he said someone had given him tickets to the Printers’ Union Dance, and he asked if I’d like to come with him, seeing as I was interested in joining the union.”

  “I see.” Freddie was beginning to trace an unfortunate pattern. Rosa’s next words came as no surprise.

  “But the funniest thing happened. Mr. Sidley and I arranged to meet at the dance because he said he had to stay late at Mast House and couldn’t escort me there himself. So he gave me my ticket ahead of time. What a funny man he was.” For the first time, Freddie saw Rosa indulge herself in a brief smile.

  “How so?”

  “Well, he was very particular to know what I was going to wear. He even asked me to pin a red rose to my hat so he could be sure to spot me in the crowd. Doesn’t that beat everything?” She shook her head. “But he was like that. Always wanted to plan things out in advance.”

  “He sounds like a very careful planner indeed. And did he manage to find you in the crowd with your red rose?”

  Rosa frowned. “That’s the odd part. He never came. I found out afterward that he was called in by Miss Ellen because she wanted some bills paid right away, so he couldn’t be there at all.”

  “And, I take it, that’s when you met Mr… uh… Mr. DeVille?”

  “Yes.” Rosa nodded. “That was the first time I ever laid eyes on him. I think maybe I even fell in love with him right then and there.”

  Freddie stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “He had such an immediate effect on you?” He tried to keep from sounding too skeptical.

  “Oh, yes. He did.” Rosa smiled wistfully at the memory. “He wasn’t like any of the other fellows I knew. He was a gentleman. He knew how to talk to a girl and make her feel like she was a queen.”

  She stood up and walked over to the window. Unexpectedly, she pulled up the shade and let in a burst of afternoon light. “It’s stuffy in here, isn’t it?” She turned to Freddie for confirmation before lifting the sash and letting in a cool lake breeze. The threadbare lace curtains began to float delicately on the air current. Rosa resumed her seat on the bed.

  “So anyway, there I was in the dancehall, standing in the corner and looking for Mr. Sidley to come in. I must have been standing there half an hour and I’d just about decided to go back home, when he walked up to me.”

  “He, being Mr. DeVille?”

  “Yes. He was so polite. ‘Excuse me, miss,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t help noticing that you were looking for someone. Is there anything I can do to assist you in locating your companion?’ That was just how he said it... so genteel. I knew right then that he wasn’t one of t
hose fellows you have to watch out for.”

  “I’m sure he always acted the part of the gentleman.”

  Rosa took his observation at face value. “Oh, yes. Always. So he asked me to describe Mr. Sidley and told me that he’d go around and look for him and that I should wait right there. But before he left, he found me a chair and fetched me a glass of punch, too. ‘So you’ll be comfortable while you wait’ was what he said. After about fifteen minutes, he came back looking very down-in-the-mouth. ‘I’m sorry, dear lady’—you can be sure nobody ever called me that before. Anyway, he says, ‘I’m sorry, dear lady, but your gentleman friend seems to have deserted you. I’ve made several inquiries, and no one matching that description has arrived.’”

  “What did you do then?”

  “Well, I was about to get my wrap and go home when Mr. DeVille says, ‘May I escort you, miss? It may not be entirely safe for you to go home alone. I wouldn’t feel right about abandoning you.’ He was so very kind to me. So very kind, and to think the way I repaid that kindness.” She looked as if she were about to burst into tears again.

  Freddie tried to forestall another crisis by distracting her. “Well, did he walk you home?”

  Rosa caught herself and focused again. “As it turned out, we had just about gone out the door when an idea occurred to him.”

  “Just like that, on the spur of the moment...”

  “Yes, he says to me, ‘But, dear lady, perhaps I’m rushing you home without consulting your wishes in the matter.’ Wasn’t that a nice way of putting it?” Rosa’s eyes sparkled at the memory. “I can’t remember anybody ever consulting my wishes about anything at all before that night.”