The Golden Sparrow

by Samantha Latshaw

  Pushing the man from my mind, I looked back down towards the alley. Mimi was still in there, I thought. I needed to get to her.

  It was so dark in the alley that not even the streetlights penetrated the darkness. I was using my feet to feel where I was going and it wasn’t until I kicked something soft but solid that I stopped.

  “Frankie?” I called out, my voice strangely calm as a quiet gurgling, choking sound reached my ears. My heart was thudding painfully against my ribs, nearly drowning the sound out, but now that I had heard it, I couldn’t ignore it. My whole body went numb as I stared straight ahead.

  I heard him approach but I didn’t turn to look at him.

  “Have you got you a flashlight or something?” My voice was still even though I knew I was about to discover something terrible.

  “No, but I’ll go see if anyone in the club’s got one.”

  I didn’t want to be alone in that alley, but I let him go all the same. I knew now what I would find, knew what my foot had hit. But she was still in there. I couldn’t leave her, either.

  Crouching down, keeping my hands close, I became acutely aware of the silence. The gurgling was gone and a new sound had taken its place. It was the sound of something dripping, almost too quiet to hear over the sounds of the city around me. But still, I could hear it.

  At the sound of Frankie’s fast footsteps returning, I straightened a little but remained crouched. Whatever I was about to find, I knew I wanted to be close to the ground.

  A dull beam of light swept back and forth across the alley, hitting the brick walls enclosing it rapidly. My breath hitched and my heart took off in a sprint. My hands were trembling and quick breaths were escaping shakily through slightly parted lips.

  The light flashed over me quickly then snapped back and didn’t move.

  “Dear God,” Frankie breathed and I watched my hand stretch out on its own accord to touch her face.

  Her dark eyes were wide open and fixed blankly on the stars above us. Her crimson painted mouth was open with shock and one of her hands was wrapped loosely around her neck while the other had fallen, looking as if she was reaching for someone. For me. Blood stained her fingers, her neck, and her face, pooling underneath her.

  Hysteria was bubbling up inside me but my hand was still outstretched for her, as though it needed proof of what the rest of me already knew.

  Mimi looked as though she would stand up at that very moment and laugh at her joke. But beneath her bloodstained hand, I could see the deep, angry cut that ran the length of her throat, betraying the truth that it was no joke.

  “Oh God,” I moaned and lurched away, my hands scraping against the pavement beneath me as I scrambled away, stomach churning.

  Frankie made to reach for me, the light moving off Mimi, but I held it at arm’s length and retched violently, emptying my stomach of its contents.

  Raising a shaking hand to wipe my mouth, I looked up at Frankie and said, “We need to call the police.”

  Chapter 10

  People were jostling on the sidewalk, their whispers trailing after me as someone ushered me from the alley. I thought they tried to take me back inside, but I heard Frankie refuse. His arm was wrapped protectively around me as if that would keep the horrors at bay.

  When the club had emptied to watch the police examine the crime scene, he pushed me gently down onto the stairs and draped my coat over my shoulders.

  I was shivering violently but cold had nothing to do with it.

  Eyes kept returning to me, but I didn’t pay them any mind. There was a gap in the crowd that allowed me to see.

  “Wasn’t that Basso’s dame?” I heard someone off to my left ask.

  “Yes, she was quite the girl,” another replied, his tone appreciative. “Beautiful, really. But she was talked too much. She jeopardized everything.”

  “You’re right,” the first said. “I’m surprise she lasted as long as she did.”

  My eyes searched the crowd for the speakers, but I had no idea who I was looking for and nearly everyone was talking. Instead, I resumed my steadfast watch of the alley.

  The crowd surged forward, excitement thick in the air, and I lifted a hand to grip the iron beside me as an officer yelled over the crowd.

  “Make way!” he shouted and the gap I had been staring through closed.

  Using the iron rail for support, I hauled myself to my feet as the crowd parted like the Red Sea to allow the officers through.

  Two officers carried a stretcher covered in a sheet and my heart squeezed painfully at the sight.

  Oh God. My breath shuddered unsteadily through my lips and I dropped heavily back down onto the stairs. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God....

  Frankie lowered himself down beside me and pulled me close. I turned my face into his chest and closed my eyes, trying not to feel anything but his arms around me and his chin resting on top of my head.

  “I’ll get us a taxi,” he said quietly.

  I didn’t want to go home, not yet. If I went home, then it would all seem like a dream. I would go to bed and I would wake up in the morning, expecting to see Mimi or have her telephone me to go out with her that night. And I would laugh and tell her that I couldn’t, that I needed to practice for my concert and that my mother wanted me home for my birthday.

  It wasn’t a dream, though. It was my reality now. A life without Mimi, I thought blankly as Frankie released me and I shifted so that I was leaning against the railing now. The crowd dispersed and I was mercifully left alone. How would I live now?

  The ride home was silent. The air between us was heavy and I could feel Frankie’s sorrow just as keenly as my own.

  When we finally arrived home, it was to find my mother waiting in the doorway, her face grim as I stepped up to her, shoulders hunched and head down. I didn’t even care that I was dressed every inch the flapper—my heart seemed to pinch at the realization that I had put on a necklace I had borrowed from Mimi weeks ago—and it appeared that mother did not care, either. There was no rage in her voice as she thanked Frankie for getting me home safely. Her touch was gentle as she guided me slowly inside and up to my room.

  Danielle was waiting at the top of the stairs for us, her expression solemn and I could feel something inside me breaking.

  I hadn’t shed a single tear since I had found Mimi. I was far too numb with shock to cry, but seeing everyone’s somber faces around me was making it difficult to keep the tears at bay for much longer.

  Mama and Danielle worked together to get me dressed for bed. It almost made me feel as if I were five years old again, sick with the flu and in need of tender care.

  Danielle had brought me up a cup of hot cocoa, setting it on the bedside table for me to drink. But I wouldn’t.

  She had pulled out my pajamas and Mama washed my face clean.

  When the night was finally scrubbed clean from my skin and I was curled up under my covers, Danielle quietly excused herself. I didn’t miss her lingering look, the unshed tears glistening in her eyes as she closed the door softly behind her.

  I was expecting Mama to turn off the lights and leave me, but she threw me completely off-guard by getting into bed beside me and pulling me close, holding me there while I was stared blankly ahead at the wall beside my wardrobe.

  Finally, my eyes drifted closed—and I saw Mimi’s cut throat.

  My eyes snapped open and I jerked out of my mother’s arms, letting out a tiny gasp as I struggled to clear my mind of the ghastly image.

  Mama sat up, concern written all over her face as her eyes searched my face.

  “Try and sleep,” she urged gently, pulling me carefully but firmly back down into her arms.

  Nestling closer into her side, inhaling a scent that was all her, a mixture of lavender, mint, and her favorite perfume, Shalimar by Guerlain, I forced myself to relax.

  She had grown softer with middle age, I observed dully as I lay with my head on her shoulder. It had been a very long time since I had been held
like that and I quietly reveled in it.

  Her right hand was stroking my hair softly while her left clutched me tightly.

  “You need to rest,” she said in a low voice.

  I nodded to appease her but I knew I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, even to just blink, I saw Mimi lying on the ground, her throat sliced open and her eyes wide and unseeing. It was an image I knew would haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Murdered.

  The word ran errantly through my mind and I started.

  Mama quietly shushed me, perhaps thinking I had finally fallen asleep only to awake at the slightest hint of a nightmare.

  My heart was thudding against my ribs and I was certain she could feel it. But instead, she just kept softly stroking my hair away from my forehead and I allowed myself to be lulled back into a strange sense of calm where time ceased to exist.

  Of course Mimi had been murdered. I had heard her shouts, had had someone push me over in their effort to escape. I had even heard her dying, I realized when I remembered the gurgling sound I had heard. But who had ran into me? Would the police even know?

  They had let me go after Mimi’s body had been taken away with the promise of returning in a few days to really question me. I wondered blandly how long it would take before they came. Would I be able to handle it?

  Sleep was finally pulling me under when I heard the clock downstairs chime. My heart stuttered and the first tears finally sprang to my eyes. It was my birthday... and Mimi was dead.

  The sun was warm on my face and I found myself grateful that it was a warm, sunny day. Mimi had always hated the cold and dreary and it wouldn’t have been right for her funeral to be conducted under a sky of gloomy clouds and a bitter wind that snapped at skirts.

  I held a single red rose in my hand, given to me by Mrs. Waters when I had arrived at the cemetery to leave for Mimi. It surprised me to see Mrs. Waters stone-faced and dry-eyed as she stood alone before her youngest daughter’s gleaming casket. It seemed that Leah was still too sick to attend her own sister’s funeral.

  Frankie stood a little ways behind me with Liam and Connor, both of whom I had been genuinely surprised to see there. I hadn’t thought they had been that close to Mimi, but then I supposed that Frankie had asked them to come.

  Standing off at a distance, shaded by a tree and far enough away that no one would spot him and ask why he was there, stood Leo. He was watching the proceedings and it hurt to know he could not come any closer.

  Basso, I observed, was nowhere to be found. But I had doubted that he would show up at all, seeing as how it wasn’t public knowledge that he and Mimi had been involved with one another. I doubted Mrs. Waters would be able to handle that truth on top of everything else.

  Beside me, Mama took me by the shoulder and held me close as the reverend closed his book. There was a note of finality in the motion and I lifted my eyes to the skies just as Mrs. Waters stepped forward to place her rose carefully atop the gleaming casket.

  This was the closest I would ever be to Mimi again and my heart shattered into dust at the very thought.

  After she was lowered into the ground and the crowd had dispersed, I stayed where I was. Mama, mercifully, left me to grieve in peace.

  Stepping forward until my feet were inches from the hole that would forever bear my best friend, I felt tears spring to my eyes, blinding me momentarily until I blinked them hastily away, but they were stubborn. Finally, I relented and as the first tears fell, I let my eyes close.

  My shoulders curled inwards around the gaping hole in my chest where Mimi had been. The stem of the rose I was still holding crumpled in my hand as my other moved to my mouth in a vain attempt to stifle my sobs.

  A hand gently touched my shoulder and then Frankie’s arms were around me, pulling me back from the grave and into his embrace.

  He held me tight as my tears stained his coat. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try and soothe me or tell me that it would be alright. He just held me and let me cry myself out under the bright spring sun.

  Nothing would ever be alright ever again. My best friend was dead, murdered, and whoever had killed her was still roaming the streets, a free man with no one the wiser. It enraged and frightened me at the same time to know that I was powerless to bring her murderer to justice.

  I took a deep, rattling breath, my sobs finally subsiding.

  Pulling away slowly from Frankie, I wiped at my eyes then pressed my lips briefly to his cheek, a silent thanks. With my hand entwined in his, I looked back one last time towards Mimi’s grave.

  How am I supposed to live without you?

  Fresh tears flooded my vision, but I blinked them back, taking another deep breath and exhaling slowly.

  You can’t leave me.

  I looked at Frankie and jerked my head slightly towards where my mother stood waiting with Danielle before starting back for her.

  On our way through the rows of graves, we passed Leo who, now that everyone had gone, was able to finally to say his goodbyes. It pained me to know that he had mourn her in secret. He had to do it like a thief, sneaking to her grave after everyone had left.

  Though I didn’t know him all that well, as we passed him, I snagged Leo’s hand and held it tight for a brief moment, none of us saying a word, before I released him and went on with Frankie.

  Turning, I stopped and watched him until he reached Mimi’s grave then, with Frankie, closed the distance between us and my mother.

  When Mama and I had returned home, it was to find a man in a brown suit and bowler hat sitting on our stairs.

  He looked up at our approach and got immediately to his feet, straightening his coat as he greeted us.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, his hand outstretched. “Are you Hazel MacClare?”

  My mother pushed me slightly behind her, shielding me from the stranger, who dropped his hand back to his side. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice hard.

  The man’s lips twitched with humor and removed his hat to twirl it between his hands. “I’m Detective Richard Emerson, New York City police, and I’m working on the case of Miriam Waters.” He looked to me expectantly. “Are you Hazel MacClare?”

  Looking at my mother, I laid a reassuring hand on her arm and said, “It’s alright,” before stepping boldly towards the detective.

  He eyed me curiously and seemed to be fighting a smile.

  The detective had short, brown hair that was combed back and parted to the side. It glinted red under the sunlight and his face was weathered and lined, though I doubted he couldn’t have been much past forty. He was tall with broad shoulders and held himself proudly.

  “I am.”

  He nodded once then his eyes slid to my mother as he asked me, “Would you mind if asked you a few questions in regards to night of the fourteenth of April?”

  My mother looked at me then, with a look of resignation, motioned for him to follow us inside.

  “Danielle, make some tea,” Mama said as Danielle hurried to open the door.

  “I don’t need to speak with you, Mrs. MacClare,” Detective Emerson said bluntly and Mama turned pink. “Just Miss MacClare, here.”

  “Fine.” Mama gave me a pointed look but moved towards Papa’s old study down the hall and disappeared inside.

  Showing the detective into the sitting room, I waited until I was certain no one would be following after us before closing the door.

  Detective Emerson was surveying the room, studying the photographs and looking at the books sitting half-read beside mine and Mama’s chairs.

  “Our maid, Danielle, will have tea for us soon,” I told the detective and he turned to nod at me before claiming my chair.

  Slightly annoyed, I took Mama’s opposite him and waited, my hands clenched into tight fists in my lap.

  Detective Emerson removed a small notepad and pencil from an interior pocket then met my gaze, his expression inquisitive. It drew his thick eyebrows close together so that they looked like one continuo
us brow.

  “You were at the speakeasy the Golden Sparrow of East One Hundred and Fifth Street in East Harlem on Tuesday, the fourteenth of April, is that correct?” He looked at me inquiringly.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling anxious and afraid. Would I get in trouble for being at the speakeasy?

  “Don’t worry,” he assured me, smiling wryly at me. “I’m not here about your illegal drinking habits.”

  Though he was clearly being truthful, it did nothing to ease my fears.

  Clearing my throat, I eventually said, “I was, sir. Yes.”

  “Who were you with?” he asked.

  I frowned slightly at his question, not quite understanding why he was asking me a question he already knew the answer to. But all the same, I answered him. “Mimi...” I trailed off, my throat constricting and I coughed a little to clear it. “That is, Miriam Waters, and my friend, Frankie Corcoran.”

  Detective Emerson’s eyebrows rose slightly.

  “This Frankie Corcoran,” he said slowly as he scribbled away on his pad, “is he a close friend?”

  I fidgeted in my seat, heat creep into my cheeks. “He is.”

  “How close?” the detective pressed.

  My lips pressed into a thin line of refusal and the detective leaned back in the chair, looking curiously amused, just as Danielle knocked to announce tea.

  She strode purposefully in, glaring at the detective as she set the tea down on the table beside me. She even poured me a cup but not the detective, who seemed humored at her obvious disdain. And then she was backing out of the room, her eyes never once leaving the detective until the door shut behind her.

  “Very, sir,” I finally answered when Danielle was gone and the detective had gotten up to pour his own cup of tea. I observed his copious amount of sugar and cream he poured into it, which made me unconsciously scrunch my nose at the sweetness.

  “A sweetheart, then?” he asked, returning to the chair and his notepad.

  My face was burning now and I didn’t miss the humor lighting up the detective’s grey eyes.