The two cops showed up holding Milo, who grinned from ear to ear. “How’d you like my trick?” he asked Rusty, whose face turned as red as his hair.
“I’ll show you a trick,” Burton said, handcuffing Milo to both cops. “Take him downtown, boys. While you’re in custody, maybe you can teach these rookies a few of your tricks.”
“It’s all smoke and mirrors and a little luck.” Milo acted smug. “What do I get in return—a reduced sentence?”
“I’ll see what I can do, but I’m no magician,” Burton joked.
I smiled at his jab as he and Derek flanked me on both sides. “Thanks for rescuing me.” I patted their backs, too grateful to feel awkward. “Both of you.”
Amused, Burton shook Derek’s hand, studying his villain costume. “Appreciate your help, kid. Now we’d better take you to Big Red to get checked out.”
“I’m fine,” Derek protested. “Can we stop by the police station first? I heard an earful while those palookas thought I was unconscious.”
“You don’t say. Sure, just wait a minute.” Burton gave the cops instructions while Derek and I piled into his Roadster.
“You make a great villain.” I squeezed his hand. “But have you ever considered playing the hero for a change?”
Derek winked. “You’re a heroine worth saving.”
“Thanks. Glad you’re OK.” Blushing, I changed the subject. “Say, did you know Millie was Draper’s daughter? Explains a lot.”
“I had no idea,” he admitted. “They fooled us all.”
******
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Saturday
Saturday morning, I sat at my desk, compiling my notes for my first official news article. When Mr. Thomas and Mrs. Harper balked earlier, telling me it was too dangerous, I tried to sell them on the idea. Frankly, I was tired of always being the understudy, never the lead, at the Gazette.
“The Gazette could be the first paper to expose Draper and his band of jewel thieves,” I pointed out. “Derek Hammond promised to give me an exclusive interview and inside information—access no other reporter has, including Mack. If you’re not interested, I can try to sell my story in Houston, and other towns where the troupe has appeared.”
I couldn’t resist adding that last zinger, though I saw from their resigned expressions that they’d already agreed to give me a shot.
“Are you sure that hard news is the path you want to take, Jasmine?” Mr. Thomas asked, his craggy features downcast. “You’ll be exposed to the unpleasant, seamy side of society. You may see some things you wished you’d never seen, and hope to forget.”
“That’s reality,” I nodded with a shrug. “I wouldn’t mind writing a few features and profiles. But I’ve had enough cotton candy fluff to last me a while.”
My boss sighed, disappointed. “It’s fine if Mr. Thomas wants to assign you a few news stories on the side, but I’ll still need help with my column, plus proofing and editing.”
“Thanks for giving me a chance. You won’t be sorry.”
Captain Johnson allowed me to conduct my interviews inside the “interrogation room,” a glorified description of a plain back office without windows. On Friday, I got to interview Millie, the not-so-innocent magician’s assistant, and boy, did I get an earful! Fortunately, she confirmed most of our theories and hypothetical scenarios in an emotional, tearful confession.
Without her make-up and flamboyant costume, she looked like a sweet school girl, no more than seventeen or eighteen. “This was all my fault. I got Patrick involved with this stupid scheme. God, the last thing I wanted was to get him killed. He was kind, a true gentleman. How did Nick recognize him, dressed as a woman? That murderer!”
“Hard to pass for a dame when you’re six-feet-two in heels,” I pointed out.
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.” She’d covered her face and sobbed a few minutes, then wiped her eyes.
“Are you sure Nick murdered him?”
“After Nick joined the troupe, he told me he had a goldmine coming to him. Then he flat-out admitted he killed Patrick, called him a dandy, a fairy, a daffodil. I got so damn angry that the next time he came to my trailer, wanting a midnight favor, I was waiting with a steak knife.”
Trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, I had to ask: “Was your dad behind this or was it self-defense?”
“Neither. I could lie and say it was an accident, but it was all my idea. I had it planned out in advance—like those gals on Murderers’ Row in Chicago.” Her eyes flashed, cold and unblinking, like a street light changing colors.
“What about the cuts on his neck, like Patrick’s?”
“That was Milo’s idea, to make it look like a copycat.”
“Sounds like a crime of passion,” I added, recalling Burton’s description. “An isolated incident.”
“Passion? More like hate. So what will happen to me?”
“Since it’s your only crime, the courts may be lenient, given your age and situation.” I hated to think the worst.
“Hope you’re right.” She blinked back tears.
I patted her hand in sympathy. “Before I go, did you know Patrick hid a diamond ring under his clothes?”
No reason to mention that the ring actually belonged to Mrs. Rose Maceo and spoil her surprise.
“A diamond ring?” Millie’s face lit up and she clapped her hands like a child. “So Patrick kept his promise after all.” She gave me a grateful smile as a cop cuffed her wrists with shiny steel bracelets. “Time to face the music.”
Luckily, Derek suffered only a mild concussion and spent one night at Big Red. He revived long enough to give me the exclusive interview he’d promised.
“Break a leg!” he told me with a smile.
I even asked Draper and Milo a few questions, but they weren’t much help, always changing their story. Later, Sammy told me that Rose Maceo was indeed at Turturo’s crime scene. A snitch told Rose that the Turtle had stolen his wife’s purse (with the ring) at Mario’s. Rose threatened to kill him—and his wife’s lover—and wanted to see his body in person. That tidbit never made it into my article.
Finally, I started writing my lead, leaving the sordid details of both murders to the crime reporters:
“A traveling vaudeville troupe recently offered thrills to Galveston audiences, but the real chills came from behind the scenes. Turns out the qualifications needed to work in Director Dan Draper’s show include the ability to act, sing or dance, juggle or swallow swords, play a musical instrument—and oh, yes, the willingness to steal pricey jewelry in between gigs.
Apparently the costs of running these lavish vaudeville productions escalated over the years, and owners like Draper struggled to keep up with the times by adding more popular acts, more outlandish costumes, more elaborate sets—more money. Unfortunately for a few local belles—victims of the troupe’s get-rich-quick schemes—they’ll attend this season’s holiday balls and festivities without their favorite jewelry and heirloom gems.
In order to earn their keep, and afford their top-billed acts, Draper anointed the orchestra as the saviors of his colorful productions—the replaceable musicians whom he forced to steal on the side so the show could go on....”
******
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Sunday
When my article came out on Sunday, I felt a rush of pride at seeing my first byline on the front page of the Gazette, with the headline above the fold: VIXENS, VICTIMS AND VIOLINS with a subhead: Behind-the-Scenes Secrets of a Treasure-Stealing Vaudeville Troupe. Seemed the whole town was interested in a traveling vaudeville troupe that moonlighted as cat burglars.
Had to admit, I was delighted to hear Finn belting out the headline—my headline—up and down the street all day. Soon he’d work for us as a copy boy in the afternoons, after school—giving me a chance to teach him to read.
So what should I do for an encore?
That night, Agent Burton picked me up to celebrate at our favorite Beach
Gang night spot, the Hollywood Dinner Club. Dressed in my new rose beaded gown, matching headband and velvet coat with gold brocade cuffs and shawl collar, we arrived fashionably late, just in time to hear the jazz band play: “Yes, sir, That’s My Baby.”
I did a double-take when my brother Sammy greeted us at the door, looking snazzy in his black tux and tie, like he was dressed for his own wedding.
“Sammy, what are you doing here? You look like the peacock’s plume! Did Sam Maceo invite you tonight?”
He nodded. “Tonight and every night. He asked me to be the manager here, full-time.”
“Attaboy!” I patted his back, surprised and delighted. “What about the Oasis?”
“Frank and Dino will keep it open for now, but we plan to relocate to the Seawall as soon as possible.” He gave me a big smile. “From now on, we’re officially part of the Beach Gang.”
“Congratulations.” I hugged my only brother, sincerely happy for him and overjoyed that he was remaining in Galveston. “This is what you’ve always wanted.”
He grinned as he escorted us to our table, a nice plush booth near the dance floor.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Sammy bowed, enjoying his new role. “A bottle of Champagne?”
“Fancy French Champagne, if you please.” I nodded. “We’ve got a lot to celebrate, including your new job. Maybe you can join us later?”
“Thanks for the offer. Sure, I’d enjoy a break. I doubt Big Sam would mind. Enjoy your evening, sis.”
Sis? How nice! After he left, I told Burton, “Sammy’s a natural. This position fits him like a glove. And as long as he’s working here, he’s safe from the Downtown Gang.”
“Better to be on the winning team, than a losing one.” Burton smiled. “Speaking of, don’t you think we make a great team? Fighting crime, solving mysteries?”
What was he getting at? “Of course we do. Why?”
He reached for my hand. “Just wondering if we should make it exclusive. You and me. Official.”
“Official?” Did he mean engaged...? What brought this on—Derek? Caught off guard, I tried to lighten the mood. “I’m flattered, but...I’m not ready to get handcuffed yet.”
“Too bad. I’ve got handcuffs in my car,” he cracked.
I hope he didn’t expect me to jump for joy and rush into his arms like a giddy film star. Frankly, I had serious concerns and doubts about his job, our future.
“Don’t you want to travel the world first, experience different cultures? London, Paris, Rome, Cairo...” I stalled, logic battling my feelings. “To be honest, I’m not ready to settle down...or even think about getting engaged yet.”
“Who said anything about settling down? Why don’t we have our own exciting adventures—together?”
“Sounds swell, James, but...” How could I explain? “Tell the truth, your job frightens me to death. I’m terrified that you could be killed on the job—either by gangsters or your own unscrupulous men. I can’t live with that constant fear hanging over my head. How can you?”
“Is that why you’re holding back?” He frowned. “You know Prohibition is on the way out. Even our government realizes no one pays attention to the Volstead Act.”
“I didn’t know Prohibition agents went after jewel thieves and murderers,” I added. “I noticed how the men followed your lead when you caught Milo and Millie.”
“As a Federal agent, I got involved since the troupe was operating across state lines. Besides, Johnson asked me to help after we first found Patrick.” Burton leaned forward. “To be honest, all these murder investigations are making me consider a career as a Homicide detective.”
“But that’s not any safer!” I sighed, all balled up, wary. “Face it, police work is dangerous, unpredictable.”
“Who wants to be predictable?” Burton stroked my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. “Danger doesn’t seem to deter you, chasing after all these crime stories. Don’t you want to ditch this one-horse town, move to a big city?”
“At last count, I saw two horses and a donkey cart.” I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. All this discussion of the future made my head spin. Who knew what could happen tomorrow, let alone a year or two from now? “Yes, I want to leave Galveston, but I need to get a few articles under my hat before I make that leap.”
“Good idea,” he nodded. “By the way, I hear Sheriff Sanders may be coming back to Galveston, so I could ask if there’s an opening in Houston.”
“You don’t say!” I perked up. “Aunt Eva will be thrilled. But you told me Houston was a cesspool—and besides, Sammy just moved back to town.”
“True. What about New York? I’ve got a job waiting for me in Manhattan. Wouldn’t you like to follow in the footsteps of your idol, Nellie Bly?”
Tempting. I’d always wanted to live in New York City, try my luck in the Big Apple. “There’s only one Nellie Bly.”
“There’s only one Jasmine Cross.” Burton gave me a cryptic smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. Together.”
Then I had a brainstorm: “What about becoming a private eye? Maybe I could help you with a few cases.”
“That’s a thought. I’ll need more experience, but it’s a possibility for the future.”
In the background, the jazz band played a favorite new tune, Star Dust, and I watched a few couples sway to the music, arms linked, bodies pressed close.
Burton held out his hand. “Care to dance?”
“I’d love to, James.” I flashed a smile, our eyes locking, my heart humming. “Takes two to tango.”
### END ###
Back to TOC
1920s JAZZ AGE SLANG
All wet - Wrong, incorrect (“You’re all wet!” “That’s nuts!”)
And how! - I strongly agree!
Applesauce! – Nonsense, Horsefeathers (e.g. “That’s ridiculous!”)
Attaboy! - Well done! Bravo! Also: Attagirl!
Baby grand - A heavily-built man
Balled up - Confused, Unsure
Baloney - Nonsense, Hogwash, Bullshit
Bathtub Booze - Home-brewed liquor, Hooch (often in tubs)
Bearcat - A hot-blooded or fiery girl
“Beat it!” - Scram, Get lost
Bee’s Knees - An extraordinary person, thing or idea
Berries - Attractive or pleasing; Swell (“It’s the berries!”)
Big Cheese - Big shot, an important or influential person
Blotto - Very drunk, Smashed
Blow - (a) A wild, crazy party (b) To leave
Bluenose - A prim, puritanical person; a prude, a killjoy
Bohunk - A racist name for Eastern Europeans, a dumb guy
Bootleg - Illegal liquor, Hooch, Booze
Breezer (1925) - A convertible car
Bruno - Tough Guy, Enforcer
Bug-eyed Betty - An unattractive girl or student
Bum’s rush - Ejection by force from an establishment
Bump Off - To murder, to kill
Cake-eater - A lady’s man, a gigolo; an effeminate male
Carry a Torch - To have a crush on someone
Cat’s Meow/Whiskers - Splendid, Stylish, Swell
Cat’s Pajamas - Terrific, Wonderful, Great
Clams - Money, Dollars, Bucks
Coffin varnish - Bootleg liquor, Hooch (often poisonous)
Copacetic - Excellent, all in order
Crush - An infatuation, attraction
Dame/Doll - A female, woman, girl
Dogs - Feet
Dolled up - Dressed up in “glad rags”
Don’t know from nothing - Don’t have any information
Don’t take any wooden nickels - Don’t do anything stupid
Dough - Money, Cash
Drugstore Cowboy - A guy who picks up girls in public places
Dry up - Shut up; Get lost
Ducky - Fine, very good (Also: Peachy)
Dumb Dora - An idiot, a dumbbell; a stupid female
Egg - Nice person, One who l
ikes the big life
Fall Guy - Victim of a frame
Fella - Fellow, man, guy (very common in the 1920s)
Fire extinguisher - A chaperone, a fifth wheel
Flat Tire - A dull, boring date (Also: Pill, Pickle, Oilcan)
Frame - To give false evidence, to set up someone
Gams - A woman’s legs
Gate Crasher - A party crasher, an uninvited guest
Giggle Water - Liquor, Hooch, Booze, Alcohol
Gin Joint/Gin Mill - A bar, a speakeasy
Glad rags - “Going out on the town” clothes, Fancy dress attire
Go chase yourself - “Get lost, beat it, scram”
Handcuffed - Engaged (Handcuff: Engagement ring)
Hard Boiled - A tough, strong guy (e.g. “He sure is hard-boiled!”)
Hayburner - (a) A gas-guzzling car (b) A losing racehorse
Heebie-jeebies (1926) - The shakes, the jitters, (from a hit song)
High-hat - Snobby, snooty
Holding the bag - To be cheated or blamed for something
Hooch - Bootleg liquor, illegal alcohol
Hood - Hoodlum, Gangster, Thug
Hooey - Bullshit, Nonsense, Baloney (1925 to 1930)
Hoofer - Dancer, Chorus girl
Hotsy-Totsy - Attractive, Pleasing
Jack - Cash, Money
Jake - Great, Fine, OK (i.e. “Everything’s jake.”)
Jeepers creepers – Exclamation of surprise (“Jesus Christ!”)
Joe Brooks - A well-groomed man, natty dresser, student
Juice Joint - A speakeasy, bar
Keen - Attractive or appealing
Killjoy - Dud, a dull, boring person, a party pooper, a spoilsport
Lollygagger - (a) A flirtatious male (b) A lazy or idle person
Lounge Lizard - A gigolo; a flirtatious, sexually-active male
Mick - A derogatory term for an Irishman
Vamps, Villains and Vaudeville Page 20
