As luck would have it, she had met a man who didn’t know her history, and they were engaged. That was why Susie and her parents were very resistant to speaking with Mary. Finally, after Mary assured Susie she was just looking for information to nail Stanford White and would not go public with anything Susie said, Susie agreed to speak with her, despite her parents’ protests that she should not trust this female detective. That was when Mary and Susie decided to take a walk.
“I feel so terrible about what you’re going through,” said Mary, beginning the conversation. “It must be awful.”
“ ‘Awful’ fits,” said Susie, who then became distant and morose. “I’ve seen everything I ever wanted in life slip away from me.”
“It’s not fair.”
“That’s what a woman gets when she has too much ambition.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Susie. You did nothing wrong. We women have every right to have as much, or more, ambition as any man.”
Depression starting to consume her, Susie didn’t answer. Mary continued, trying to somehow soothe her. “Mark my words. If there’s a God, it will change for us someday.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if there is one.”
Mary tried to gently encourage her. “Don’t let Stanford White have that power over you—destroy your faith, your life. You need to fight back.”
Susie could no longer suppress her emotions. “I did that, and they destroyed me for it! I’ve got two strikes against me. I’m female and I’m poor.”
It was hard for Mary to disagree. “You’ll find a way through this. It may take some time, but—”
“I’ve thought about it long and hard. The only way out of this mess is marriage. I have that opportunity, and I’m not going to throw it away.”
Mary brightened. “You’re in love? That’s wonderful, Susie.”
Susie shrugged. “He’s nice to me. At this point, that’s the best I can do.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. I waited for the right man. You’re only seventeen. I was thirty when I got married—an old maid according to my mother.”
Somehow this cheered Susie a bit. “Parents do a wonderful job of making you feel more miserable than you are.” She snickered. “Your mom sounds a lot like mine.”
Their common experience of having overbearing mothers had forged a bond between them. Mary stopped and looked straight at Susie.
“I have no desire to cause you any more pain than you have already suffered.”
“Why do you care?”
“Besides the fact that I want you to get justice?”
“I’ve learned a lot about this world in the last year and a half. No one is that selfless.”
“I’ve fought my whole life to be treated as an individual. No matter what gender we are, we should be judged on who we are, both morally and intellectually, our abilities being what counts. If I can help you, maybe we can take one small step in the right direction.”
Mary believed what she said, but she had left out one detail. Roosevelt had asked her to look into the case. She had quickly ascertained that if she even hinted at police involvement, it would send Susie running. It was a white lie of omission, but Mary honestly wanted to help.
“So you’re one of those women’s rights people?”
“That’s not all I am, but yes. Now, would you mind telling me what you remember?”
“And whatever I say won’t get into the newspapers or anyplace else?”
“This is strictly between us.” It was another white lie, but if it got to a point where she had to tell someone, it would mean she had the evidence to nail White.
Susie studied Mary’s face and decided she was trustworthy. “What do you want to know?”
“Let’s go someplace where we can talk.” Mary took Susie to a nearby coffeehouse. They sat in an isolated section. When the waiter came to their table, they ordered two coffees and a pastry for Susie. Mary wasn’t hungry.
Under Mary’s questioning, Susie told her step by step what had happened. After the bachelor party, she, Stanford White, James Breese, and a few others had stayed, had some more drinks, and talked. When they wanted to close the restaurant, White eventually suggested they go to his apartment on Twenty-Fourth Street.
“It was incredible. There was beautiful art and antiques everywhere and a green bedroom with a red velvet swing hanging from the ceiling, and red drapes.”
“The colors of Christmas.”
“Except my present wasn’t from Santa Claus.”
“So what did happen? Did he ply you with so much alcohol that you were incapacitated?”
“Incapacitated?”
“Semiconscious but unable to do anything.”
“Yes, like that, but I’d been drunk previously, and it was nothing like that. I started to get really tired, in a way I never felt before or since. I could hardly move and Stanford helped me to his heart-shaped bed.”
Mary returned to the facts of the case, her scientific knowledge again coming into play. “Did you start to feel woozy after he gave you a drink?”
“Not the first couple, but I did have several.”
“The last drink, did it have a fruity smell, like a pear?”
“Come to think of it, yes.”
Mary nodded in recognition. It sounded to her that Susie had been drugged with chloral hydrate. Known as a “knockout drug,” chloral hydrate had mostly been used to combat insomnia. Mary had recently read that it was also being used as a rape drug. But to be certain, she wanted to hear more first. “Sorry to interrupt. Please go on.”
Susie continued, speaking with increasing horror. “All I know is that all of a sudden Stanford was on top of me and I couldn’t move. Then I dozed off for I don’t know how long and then James Breese was in the bed, too.” She paused, then, disgusted, continued, “They were both all over me. I wanted to scream, but I was so weak, helpless to do anything, even speak.”
“I am so sorry. It must have been horrendous.”
“The weird thing was that they were also making love to each other. I didn’t know men did that.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that you were drugged and raped.”
Susie was incredulous. “You mean you believe me?”
“I most definitely do. What you’ve described—the tiredness, the weakness, the inability to move—fits the effects of a drug called chloral hydrate. You were drugged, Susie. You have no reason to be ashamed.”
Susie burst into tears. “I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.”
“They’ve put you through hell, but with any luck it will be over soon. And remember, it was not your fault. Some influential men raped you and they’re trying to get away with it.”
Though she was still crying, Susie’s relief was palpable. “Thank you, Mary. Thank you!” Suddenly something occurred to her. “You promise not to tell anyone, right?”
“I won’t. Was there anyone else there?”
“A few men.”
The waiter came to their table. “My shift is over. Is it okay if you pay your check now?”
“Certainly. I don’t want to be responsible for you working longer than need be.” He handed Mary the check. She opened her pocketbook, took out her wallet, and paid him. As she was putting the wallet back into her pocketbook, the pocketbook slipped from her hands, and its contents spilled onto the floor.
“Oh, no!” cried Mary as she bent down to the floor to retrieve her things.
Susie got down on the floor to help Mary, and while doing so she found the photo of Harper. It stopped her. “Why do you have this photo in your purse?”
Mary was temporarily thrown. “Why?”
More forcefully, Susie said, “Yes, why?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“It’s Reggie Larrabee.
”
“Who?”
“Dr. Reginald Larrabee. He was there that night.”
Mary was even more confused. “No, this man couldn’t have been—”
“I’m positive. The others kept kidding him because he constantly used English phrases. From England, not here.”
Mary’s head was swimming. “I don’t understand.”
“I can’t trust you.”
“What? Of course you can. That’s a photo of my husband, not—”
Susie was aghast. “You’re married to one of the men who raped me?” Feeling deceived and very angry, she stood and stormed out of the coffeehouse.
Completely at a loss, Mary took a moment to absorb what she had just heard, then ran after Susie. She pushed Harper’s photo in her face. “This man? This man raped you?”
As far as Susie was concerned, the discussion was over. “My parents were right. Don’t ever come near me again!”
She crossed the street and made a beeline for her parents’ home. Mary decided not to pursue her. Susie was too angry, and the poor girl had been through enough.
Mary’s head was whirling, thoughts popping in and out in rapid succession. What was Harper doing at the scene of a rape and why was he using an alias? More important, did he participate? Knowing Harper, she normally would have completely rejected the idea, but she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
18
Lazlo and Chief Campbell were Mary’s two surrogate fathers, and she definitely needed a sympathetic ear. Since Chief Campbell had been a detective for decades, she decided to drop in on him for what she prayed would be sage advice, or possibly even an explanation of what she had just experienced.
Mrs. Campbell ushered Mary into their living room. Chief Campbell was sitting in a club chair with a blanket over his legs. “Maybe you can get him out of that chair. He sits in it day and night.”
“I’ll try.”
“If anyone can, you can. I’m counting on you, Mary.” With that, she left them alone.
Chief Campbell nodded in the direction of his wife. “She’s getting odd in her old age.”
“Face it, Chief. You’re no bargain. By taking care of you, she’s bordering on sainthood.”
“Are you saying I’m difficult and ornery?”
“To put it mildly, yes.”
“Good. At least I haven’t lost everything.” He rearranged his blanket. “Don’t ever retire, Mary. All you ever think about is food and the weather.”
“I seem to remember you thinking about food a lot when you were working.”
“Nothing’s wrong with that. If food be the music of love, eat on.”
“You have your Shakespeare twisted. It’s ‘If music be the food of love, play on.’ ”
“Who said I was quoting Shakespeare?” He looked up at Mary with a wily smile on his face. She had always loved this man, and his gruff playfulness was definitely one of the reasons. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I didn’t say—”
“Mary, how long have I known you?”
“Over eight years now.”
“More than enough time to recognize your moods. You look like someone just stole your ice cream.”
“A food reference? Really?”
“Okay, your tricycle. Now come out from your hiding place and tell me what’s going on.”
Once she was prodded, the words poured out of Mary like water from a pipe that had been unclogged. At times, Chief Campbell had to tell her to slow down. When she was finally done and had spilled out all the information, Chief Campbell looked her straight in the eye.
“So what’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem! Chief, I just told you—”
“Do you believe your husband was a rapist?”
“Harper? No, of course not, but—”
“Ah, the pesky ‘but.’ It can drive a person mad.”
“Then it’s doing its job with me. My gut says no, impossible, not Harper, not ever. I couldn’t possibly love a man who could do something like that.”
“Go on. I’m waiting for what comes after the ‘but.’ ”
“I’ve heard of women who were married for twenty years or more and discovered their husbands had a second family with children, a house, and everything. I knew Harper for far less time than that. Is it possible that—”
“Anything is possible, Mary. It’s possible that I could stop craving the food that I love.”
“But highly unlikely.”
“Exactly. Knowing your analytical mind, for the time you were with Harper, you knew him better than some women who are married for forty years know their husbands, let alone twenty. Unfortunately, there’s a little thing called nagging doubt. Until you erase that, your feelings about Harper will never be the same.”
“I know that, Chief. The question is, how? How do I erase it?”
“By doing what I’ve told you to do a million times: work the case.”
“I’m not sure I can stay impartial.”
“You don’t have a choice. Follow the facts. They will lead you to the truth.”
“What if I don’t want to find the truth?”
“Then you can stick your head in the ground like an ostrich. But—and here’s my ‘but’—you’ve never been the ostrich type and I doubt you ever will be.”
“You’re right. I need to find out. There are many explanations for why he could have been there, but there is no explanation or excuse for rape.”
“Work the case, Mary. Erase all the pesky buts.”
* * *
Mary had a lot of thinking to do in order to plan her next move, though her first order of business was to rescue Sean from his nanny duties.
“I’m sorry that I’m later than I thought I would be.”
“It’s okay, Mary. Josie and I had a wonderful time, and I still have forty-five minutes to get to work. How did it go with Roosevelt?”
“It’s a long story, Sean, and if I told you now you’d be late for work.”
“It doesn’t sound good.”
“It isn’t. The short version is that Dorothy Davies didn’t kill Harper. I promise I’ll tell you the rest later. Now get to work. I don’t want to be responsible for making you late.”
Sean left under protest. Mary needed some alone time, though her apartment was filled with memories of Harper. She put Josie in her carriage and headed for Lazlo’s Books.
Lazlo’s face lit up when he saw Mary. “Mary, so good to see you!” he said as she entered. It was very unlike Lazlo. Though he may have felt it, he never showed that kind of enthusiasm for anyone.
“If I had known I’d get this type of reception, I would have stayed away more often.”
“Please don’t,” said Gerta, Lazlo’s lady friend, who also worked at the store. “He’s perfectly miserable when you’re away.” Lazlo and Gerta had been dating for almost two years.
“Lazlo, when are you going to make an honest woman out of Gerta? She’s obviously more than proven herself by now.”
Lazlo sarcastically replied, “How lovely of you to bring up that subject.” He had been married once and never wanted another round, likening it to slavery.
“It’s no problem, Mary,” Gerta interjected. “Why should two old fogies like us get married? We’re fine the way things are.”
Mary was certain Gerta’s words were just for show. She had snagged Lazlo in a sly way, and Mary was sure she had a plan for marriage. When it happened, and Mary had no doubt that it would, Lazlo would find himself uttering the words “I do” before he knew what had hit him.
“Well,” said Mary, “I’ll leave you two to do business and coo, not necessarily in that order.”
As Mary headed for her office with Josie, Lazlo called to her. “I received a telephone call for you today.”
“He said you’re an acquaintance of his. A Lance Fuller.”
She stopped. Almost instantaneously she began to feel better as a plan was beginning to form in her mind.
19
Mary knew that both Lance Fuller and Stanford White were interested in her. She thought it would be too transparent for her to all of a sudden show interest in White, so she decided to get to him through his friend Fuller. She had some pangs of guilt at the idea of using Fuller, because he seemed like a perfectly decent human being. She consoled herself with the fact that she was seeking justice for Harper and Susie Johnson. Being deceitful was not an attractive option, but it was the only one.
Mary had to avoid being too obvious. Courting had many rules, and it would be inappropriate on their first date to suggest that White and Breese join them. It had to be a solo affair, and she had better be sure that she was charming or there wouldn’t be a second one. Fuller came from a very wealthy family, and when it came to the rare event of interclass courtship, the person from the lower class, which in this case was Mary, was given very little leeway. Having once been involved with George Vanderbilt, Mary was acutely aware of this. Men and women from the upper class faced enough disapproval from their families for dating someone “beneath them,” so it had better be worth it.
She got his phone number from Lazlo and called. He was genuinely surprised to hear from her.
“Mary, I thought you wouldn’t call back. I guess I lost that bet with myself.”
“How much was the bet?” she asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Whatever part of you won, I was hoping it was enough to take us out to dinner.”
“What if that part of me is a recluse?” he said, playing along with her.
“Then both parts of you will miss out on a wonderful opportunity,” she quickly responded.
“Sorry, I’m confused. Am I courting you or are you courting me?”
“Convention says men should, but some of you need assistance.”
Near Prospect Park Page 13
