“She says she’ll report you to the police,” Sapp repeated.
“No,” Beret told them. “I am in no position to go to the police.” She thought quickly. “I want to know if a man named Teddy Star supplied Miss Brown with morphine or cocaine. Surely you can tell me that.” She smiled a little. “If I went to the police, who would believe me anyway? It would be my word against yours.”
“A white woman’s word against a Chinaman’s?” Fong scoffed.
“What could I tell them anyway? Surely the police are aware of what takes place in Hop Alley.”
“A white woman could raise a stink. You could go to the newspapers. Don’t matter what’s true or not. There was a riot here a few years back, and Mr. Fong don’t trust white people. They’d like to shut down Hop Alley. That’s what this is about, ain’t it?” Sapp told her. “Fong don’t want that to happen again.” He stretched the cord between his hands. “You get mixed up in that whore’s murder, Fong, and you’re done for. Ain’t nobody going to let you operate then. This white lady’s naught but trouble.”
Fong smiled and asked, “Are you trouble, lady?”
“No, I am not a reformer,” she replied, her voice unsteady. Jonas had been right. Why hadn’t she listened to him? Beret had put herself in danger by coming to see the Chinaman. Troublemakers went into these places and were never seen again. Perhaps she should identify herself as Judge Stanton’s niece, but that would make the two men even more wary. They were not going to give her any information about Teddy, and now her concern was getting away safely. “I see you will not give me the intelligence I need. Perhaps I was mistaken in my belief you had sold drugs to Mr. Star. So I shall wish you good day,” she said, trying to sound confident.
She took a step backward toward the door, but Sapp had slipped off his stool, and now he slid behind her. He was even smaller than she thought, and he shook as he moved. Beret wondered if she could overpower him. Then she heard him turn the latch. She felt the sweat trickle down her sides. Her head was light from the airless room. She knew she had to keep her wits about her, although her mind seemed numb. She took a deep breath, breathing in the sweet opium-scented air. “It is clear I have been mistaken, and I shall leave now,” she told Fong.
“Oh, she’d like to leave,” Sapp repeated in a hard voice.
Fong shrugged and smiled again, although his eyes were hard. “You come alone, lady?”
“My carriage is outside.”
“I didn’t see no carriage when I looked out,” Sapp said. “If I’s you, I wouldn’t take no chances.”
“What do you suggest, Mr. Sapp?” Fong asked.
“She can leave, all right, but not through this door.” He kicked the door he had just locked.
“There are those who know I am here,” Beret told Fong.
“Then where are they?” Fong asked, spreading his hands, his smile exposing rotted teeth.
“She made a mistake, but we don’t have to,” Sapp said, standing behind Beret. “She’s too old for one of the good houses, but Gold-tooth Laura might pay fifty dollars for her.”
They were panders, Beret realized. They drugged women and sold them to the brothels. The men would rape her to break her in, then fill her with drugs so that she couldn’t get away. Neither Mick nor her uncle would ever think to look for her in a house of assignation. How stupid she had been to venture into this place. She looked for a way to escape, but Sapp blocked the door behind her. He had said something about another door, but she didn’t see one. It would be behind the wall hanging, because there were no openings on the side walls, only the window, too small and too high up to allow escape. But even if there were a second door, Fong sat in front of it. And it would be locked, too.
Was this what had happened to Lillie? Beret wondered. Had she been drugged and sold to Miss Hettie? Was that why she had ended up in the House of Dreams? It was possible, of course, but no, Beret thought now. Lillie had turned out for reasons of her own, reasons still unknown to her sister. Lillie had not been a doper. Beret had been too anxious to accuse Teddy of plying her sister with drugs to think things through. She had wanted Teddy to be guilty. She had allowed her hatred of him to cloud her judgment, and now she was threatened with being drugged herself and sold into prostitution. The irony of what was about to happen did not escape her; she had fought against white slavery in New York.
Beret thought again of telling the men who she was, but if they realized she was the judge’s niece, they would surely kill her. She was safer if they thought she was nobody, someone who wouldn’t be missed. Safer! Beret paled at the thought. What the men had in mind was only a slower death.
Beret could not see Sapp behind her, but she knew he had the cord in his hand. Perhaps he would simply strangle her. She took a deep breath, the sound rattling in her throat, as she squeezed her hands into fists to keep herself from panicking. If she grew hysterical, she wouldn’t be able to think. She heard the man move to the side and the snap of a cork as it was withdrawn from a bottle, releasing a smell of chloroform. Beret turned to see Sapp pouring liquid on a rag. “No!” she cried, and startling the man, Beret stamped on his foot, crushing the thin bones, and snatched the rag, forcing it against his nose. Sapp was too sickly to fight back. He staggered, let go of the empty bottle, fell against the wall, and slid to the floor.
Beret turned in time to see Fong rise. He was an enormous man, and had not moved when she attacked Sapp, perhaps because he knew there was no way for her to get out of the room. “Very foolish,” he said, taking a step toward her. Beret looked around for something to defend herself. She spotted an opium pipe, wood with brass and jade trim, on the table and grabbed it. Fong kept on smiling, knowing the object was too small to inflict damage. “Foolish,” he said again, as if enjoying himself. Would he be one of those who would rape her? The thought caused Beret’s stomach to knot. She raised her arm to fling the pipe against the man, but instead, she aimed it at the window, throwing so hard that she broke the glass and the pipe sailed into the alley. Then she began to scream.
Fong shook his head at her as if she had been a naughty girl. “So very foolish,” he said, and then he advanced slowly, playing with her as if he were a rat dog and she was his prey. She clutched the rag she had pressed against Sapp’s nose but knew the Chinaman would never let her use it on him.
Beret glanced at the door to see if Sapp had left the key in the lock. Even if the people in the next room were high on opium, there were enough of them to give Fong pause, if she could only get through the door. But the key was gone. She would have to go through Sapp’s pockets to find it, and that was impossible with Fong advancing on her.
She screamed again, louder, crying for help. The alley outside was noisy. Would anyone even hear her? And who would break into an opium den to save a hysterical woman who might only be coming out of a drug-induced sleep?
Then she saw the silk tapestry move at the same instant she heard the sound of wood splintering. Fong heard it, too, and turned, taking his eyes off Beret long enough for her to grasp Sapp’s stool and slam it against Fong’s head. The blow was poorly aimed, but it stunned the Chinaman long enough for Jonas to rush through the door and strike Fong in the temple with his fist. He battered the man’s face and body, and didn’t stop when Fong fell onto the floor and was still. He leaned over the big body and started hitting again, until Beret called him off.
“We mustn’t kill him,” she said, “although he deserves it, both of them. They are evil.”
Jonas, his hands clenched into fists, shook his head, as if to bring himself to his senses. Beret wondered if he would have stopped if she hadn’t called him off.
“You saved my life, Jonas,” Beret said.
The remark didn’t seem to register. “Best get,” he said.
“We must call the police.”
“No!” When Beret frowned, he added, “They ain’t dead. You tell the police, them two deny everything. How you going to explain you being here? What you think Mrs. Stant
on say—and that detective?”
“But they are panders. They were about to chloroform me and sell me.”
“Or kill you. Maybe you was done for. You go after them, they liable to hurt Mrs. Stanton. I know what I say.” Jonas grabbed Beret’s arm and pulled her to the back door.
Beret didn’t protest. She was too frightened. What if the men came to and attacked them? She had been stupid, stupid. With nothing to back up her charge, she had blamed Teddy for hooking Lillie on drugs and turning her into a prostitute. She had risked her life and Jonas’s, and perhaps the safety of her aunt and uncle. Beret hurried after Jonas to the carriage and climbed inside, collapsing against the seat. Jonas slapped the reins against the horses and took off with the speed of a hack driver.
They rode without talking and didn’t stop until they reached the Stanton house. As Jonas opened the carriage door for her, Beret asked, “Are you going to tell my aunt about this?”
Jonas stared at her with his strange eyes before he replied, “No, miss. Are you going to tell that detective?”
Beret rubbed her hand over her face, taking in the faint smell of chloroform. “I haven’t decided.”
Chapter 12
On Sunday evening, Varina invited Beret to go with her and the judge to a gathering in a Capitol Hill mansion, but with not much enthusiasm. “You could do with a diversion after spending your day writing those dreadful letters to police departments, but I must warn you that you would be terribly bored. Ellen Fisk is as sour as spoiled apples, and Mr. Fisk talks incessantly, always about his own importance, which, alas, is the case. We wouldn’t subject ourselves to the Fisks except that your uncle does so want to be appointed to the Senate, and Horace Fisk can make that happen.”
It was clear that Jonas had kept his word and not told his employer about the ugly episode in Hop Alley, and Beret, of course, had no intention of doing so. “The last few days have been trying, Aunt Varina. I’d rather stay in, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t. If I had my way, I’d keep you company. I’ll make your excuses.” Varina sat at her dressing table, attaching a diamond earring to her ear. “I won’t tell them what you’ve been doing, of course. That would shock them.” She paused, apparently considering the idea, and gave Beret a sly grin. “I’ll just say you are tired from the trip. Of course, I could always tell them you are in mourning, but that would preclude your going to the Deckers’ dinner party, and you will enjoy that one. Tonight’s gathering is only for politics. Here, Beret, would you fasten my necklace?” Varina had taken out diamonds for the evening—besides the earrings and necklace, she had selected a bracelet of diamonds and sapphires in an intricate design. They looked elegant against her black velvet gown. Beret didn’t know if her aunt had chosen black as a sign of respect for Lillie or because it set off her jewelry. She suspected the latter.
“There you are, and don’t you look lovely!” Beret said, standing back to admire her aunt.
“Thank you. I dearly love diamonds. But sometimes, I think they make me look old. I am getting old, you know.”
“Not so old. We could be sisters,” Beret told her, looking at the two of them in the mirror over the dressing table. Her words were a harmless bit of flattery, for Varina did indeed look her age, which was nearly sixty. Her figure was still slender, but her hair had turned a lifeless gray, and there were lines around her eyes and mouth. The black velvet may have set off her diamonds, but it made Varina’s skin look colorless.
“Do you really think so?” the older woman asked.
Beret knew that many women who were no longer young were vain and that age was a trial to them. Wealth and station were no solace for women who felt old and rejected. She had seen that with the women at the mission who had been cast aside after years of drudgery. But of course, Varina was not like them. She and her husband were as happily married as any couple Beret knew. John Stanton, as well as Beret, adored her. Perhaps Varina’s resistance to growing older had something to do with her childless state. Or her question might be nothing more than trolling for a compliment. “I would not have said it if I didn’t mean it, Aunt Varina.”
“Would not have said what?” Judge Stanton asked, coming into the room.
“How young your wife looks.”
“She does, indeed,” he said with a little too much enthusiasm. “She will always be young to me and beautiful, as well, but it pleases me that others see those qualities in her.”
Beret found the remark obvious. She had never thought of her uncle as a flatterer. Still, the words pleased her aunt, so who was Beret to find them false?
“Not going with us? Smart girl. I would rather drink sour buttermilk than go to the Fisks’, but it can’t be helped. Ah, Beret, it is a burden to be ambitious.”
“What is life without ambition?” Varina asked, rising, her diamonds sending out rainbows of color in the lights of the bedchamber. Beret wondered which of the two of them was the more ambitious.
She walked with them to the side door, where Jonas waited under the porte cochere with the carriage. “We won’t be back until late. Jonas will come for us at one in the morning. We hope to be home not much later, but the party could go on longer. You don’t know how these men like to drink and smoke cigars and discuss politics, while the women sit in the parlor and gossip.” The judge glanced at his wife, and added, “I mean they like to sit and plan good works.”
“Hardly. ‘Gossip’ is the more likely word,” Varina said, then told Beret, “I’ve already instructed William not to wait up for us, so you may dismiss him whenever you like.”
Beret stood outside in the cold, watching her aunt and uncle get into the carriage, then stood on the carriage stop until the vehicle disappeared from sight. She had said she would be lonely without them, but the truth was, she was relieved to have an evening to herself. She had letters of her own to compose, and there were things about Lillie’s death she wanted to ponder, in hopes she could see the murder more clearly.
As she went back inside, she instructed William to bring a tray with her dinner to the library, and she went into the room and sat down at the desk. She could write her letters in her room, as she had all day, but the library was cozier, and now that she was alone, she would be in no one’s way. The desk was not such a fine one but it was serviceable, with large drawers on the sides and small drawers and pigeonholes above, with a top that rolled up and down for privacy. The roll was closed, and Beret pushed it up, glad that it was not locked. The judge was not a tidy person, which might be the reason he kept the top down. The desk was covered with letters and notes, bills, scraps of paper, pens and penwipes and broken nibs. There was an inkwell, and Beret could see where spilled ink had penetrated the wood of the desktop. A law book lay open, shoved off to one side. Beret searched until she found a pencil, which she sharpened with her uncle’s penknife, carefully collecting the shavings and throwing them into the fire, which William had already lighted. Then she took out several sheets of paper and cleared a space for writing. She was careful to note what she had moved so that the items could be returned to their proper place when she was finished. She did not want her uncle to think she had been snooping.
She wrote quickly. Beret was an efficient correspondent, and her prose was devoid of flowery words. She wrote Maggie, her housekeeper, that she would be staying in Denver indefinitely and would telegraph when she was ready to return. She asked the woman to cancel all social engagements. Then she wrote to her assistant at the mission, saying much the same thing, although she inquired after some of the women who were staying there, asking if they had found employment, gone back to husbands, whether they had healed in body if not in spirit. She asked both women to forward any correspondence to her uncle’s house.
As Beret finished the second letter, William came into the room with the dinner tray and set it on a small table beside her uncle’s chair. “Judge Stanton has his dinner in here when he is working. He prefers to sit in the chair. I hope that will be satisfactor
y,” he said.
As the butler turned to go, Beret said suddenly, “William, I’d like to talk to you for a moment. Will you sit?” The butler looked uncomfortable, and Beret added, “Or stand, whichever you choose.”
He remained in place, not looking directly at her. “What can I do for you, madam?”
“I’d like to ask you about my sister.”
“A shame what happened to her.” William studied the fire.
“Indeed it was. A shame and a shock. But that’s not why I want to speak with you. As you know, I am working with Detective Sergeant McCauley in trying to apprehend Miss Lillie’s killer. The detective is of the opinion that the same man murdered both Lillie and the prostitute whose body was discovered on Holladay Street. I think that most likely he is right. It is difficult to imagine two different men perpetrating such ghastly crimes. Still, it is in my mind that my sister was murdered by someone who knew her.”
William jerked his head around so that he looked directly at Beret. “Someone she knew? Surely not, madam.”
Beret shrugged. “It is only conjecture. But it must be considered until we have eliminated everyone with whom she came in contact.”
William nodded, and clasped his hands behind his back.
“Who among Lillie’s acquaintances disliked her?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Of course you could. I am not talking about your employers, of course. I know you would not betray them. And there is nothing to betray,” she added quickly. “I mean the others of their social set. I will keep our conversation confidential. You needn’t worry that I will tell my aunt we discussed this.”
“Thank you, madam.” William relaxed a little, although he still looked uncomfortable.
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