The Death Beat

by Fiona Veitch Smith

  “Pow-pee Den-bee,” said one of the girls, a brunette with a shock of recently bobbed curls, only partially tamed by a pearl hairband. Poppy looked at her curiously. There was something familiar about her.

  “She talk tel-phone,” said the girl in a Russian-sounding accent.

  “Er – yes, I was just using the phone. Sorry to interrupt – I didn’t realize this was a – er – private party…”

  “The more the merrier, honey!” replied one of the younger men, who strode over and put an arm around her.

  Poppy immediately pulled away. “I beg your pardon, sir! But you are being too familiar!”

  The man laughed and moved in again. Poppy stepped aside, putting the telephone table between her and the man’s obviously nefarious intentions. She looked to the young women for help.

  Silence.

  But then one of them spoke. The curly haired brunette. “She not us.”

  The man whipped around. “She not what?”

  But before the girl – or Poppy – could answer, the door opened again and Miles and Delilah stood there. “There you are, Popsicle,” said Delilah. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you! They’re about to try out a brand new dance. You coming?”

  Poppy looked at the strange ensemble in the library. “Er yes, of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  But as she left she caught the eye of the curly haired girl. She was trying to communicate something with her eyes. Before Poppy could inquire further, the library door was closed behind her and she was whisked onto the dance floor.

  CHAPTER 22

  Poppy woke in a comfortable but unfamiliar bed as the red fingers of dawn teased the bedroom curtains. She reached over to the side table and checked her watch: half past five. She groaned. Had she only had four hours’ sleep? It was after one in the morning when Poppy had managed to corner Toby and ask him if she could have a room for the night. It had been a long day at work, and unlike Delilah, who had only woken in time for lunch, she had had an early start at the newspaper office. Toby understood, saying that if he wasn’t hosting the party he might just join her.

  “Golly, not like that! I mean, have an early night, y’know…”

  Poppy assured him she understood what he had meant and then followed him upstairs.

  The band was still playing as Poppy fell asleep – alone – in one of the guest bedrooms.

  And now it was dawn. The house was silent and she could easily drift off back to the land of nod… but she soon stirred, realizing she needed the toilet.

  She had not thought to bring a change of clothes, not realizing she would be staying over, so she had slept in her undergarments. Not wanting to traipse around the house so inappropriately dressed, she draped her outdoor coat over her as a dressing gown to go down the hall.

  The polished wooden floorboards were cool beneath her bare feet as she passed three closed doors. Behind one of them someone was snoring like a bear in hibernation. He won’t be awake for a while, Poppy chuckled to herself.

  The fourth door, however, was slightly ajar, and Poppy couldn’t resist a little peek in. Was someone else awake? Where was Delilah? But no, sprawled on his back with one arm draped over a sagging belly was a large middle-aged man – and he was completely naked. Poppy gasped with embarrassment and pulled the door shut to preserve the man’s modesty. She quickened her pace and found the bathroom, closing the door behind her before she let out a giggle – only to discover she was not alone.

  Sitting in the empty bathtub, with her knees drawn up to her chest, was a young woman who too was only wearing underwear. She looked up when Poppy came in, her face streaked black with charcoal tears streaming from a swollen eye to a split lip.

  Poppy ran to her and knelt down beside the tub. “Are you all right?”

  She reached out her hand to push the hair from the girl’s face: it was dark, curly hair. Poppy recognized the girl from the library.

  “Are you all right?” Poppy repeated.

  The girl shivered. Poppy took off her coat and covered her.

  “What happened?”

  The girl looked up at Poppy, her brown eyes dark with devastation. “He hurt me. The man hurt me.”

  “Which man?” asked Poppy.

  The girl shrugged. “Cam-man.”

  “His name was Cameron? The man’s name was Cameron?”

  Poppy mentally flicked through the names of people she had met the previous evening. Was there a Cameron among them? She couldn’t recall.

  The girl shook her head. “No. No. Not Cam-man. Me not know name.”

  “Not Cameron. All right. What’s your name?” asked Poppy gently.

  The girl looked to the door, fearful. Poppy got up quickly and pushed the bolt. She turned back to the crumpled mess in the bathtub. “You’re safe now. What’s your name?”

  The quivering young woman pulled Poppy’s coat more closely around her shoulders. “Mimi Yazierska. I see you on big ship. Olympic ship.”

  “The Olympic? You saw me on the Olympic?”

  “Yes. Me and sister.”

  The girls at Southampton! “Of course. I thought I’d seen you somewhere before. But how did you get here? Do you know someone? Do you have friends here I can call?”

  Mimi shook her head. “No friends. No call.”

  Poppy was puzzled. How did a Russian girl, who spoke very little English, end up at this party? And dressed to the nines too. The girl she’d seen in Southampton – the one who dragged her sister back off to steerage class – didn’t look as if she frequented these sorts of circles. But then again, neither had Poppy up until a year ago… Still, there was something different about this. Could she possibly be a prostitute?

  “You Pow-pee,” said Mimi.

  “Yes, I’m Poppy and I’m going to help you. Can you identify – can you show me – the man who hurt you? Is he still here?”

  Mimi shook her head vigorously. “No.”

  “What? You can’t show me or he isn’t here?”

  Mimi shook her head again. “No.”

  Poppy sighed. It was difficult going without a translator. Maybe one of the other girls could help. Or maybe the police. Something like this needed to be reported to the police. She checked her watch – it was quarter to six. It was early, yes, but this was important. She needed to wake Toby to tell him what had happened. Then he could call the police. He would undoubtedly be as shocked as she was to learn that a young woman had been assaulted at the party.

  “Look, Mimi, I’m going to get help.” She reached down and took hold of the girl’s elbow. “I’ll take you back to my room. It’s just down the hall.”

  Mimi shook her head vigorously again. “No. Me not go. They make me leave. Me and sister.”

  “Who will make you leave, Mimi?”

  Mimi frowned, her face twisted in concentration as she tried to summon up the long English word. “Im-im-gay-shun.”

  “Imgayshun? Oh! Immigration!”

  And then it dawned on her. She remembered what Rollo had said about Mimi’s sister – the simple one – not being allowed into the United States. And yet, here she was. Had Mimi let her sister be sent home and she had remained? Poppy doubted it. So did that mean they were both here? Illegally? Then should she call the police? She didn’t want to get the girl into trouble… but then again, she had been attacked. Oh! She didn’t know what to do. Toby might know. I’ll talk to Toby.

  Again she tried coaxing Mimi out of the bath. But the girl still wouldn’t budge.

  Poppy sighed. She’d have to leave her and come back.

  “All right, Mimi,” she said, speaking slowly and making hand gestures. “I’m going for help.”

  “No!” said Mimi, panic in her large brown eyes.

  “It’s all right. It’s all right. No Immigration. No police. My friend…” she gestured widely, implying the whole building, “this is his house. He’s a doctor. He can help you. Doctor? You know doctor?”

  Mimi nodded. “Doctor.”

 
Was that assent? Poppy didn’t know, but it was the best she’d got out of the girl so far. “All right. You stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

  Mimi nodded. Poppy smiled reassuringly and left the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She ran down the hall towards the stairs that would take her to the top floor where, Toby had told her, he had his bedroom. But as she did, she caught her reflection in a mirror. Oh no! I’m just in my briefs! She turned around and ran back to her room. Inside she wasted no time pulling her pink satin dress over her head – she didn’t bother with stockings or shoes – then emerged onto the landing again. Back down the hall and up the stairs, hitching her skirt to her thighs, Poppy was soon on the top floor of The Lodge, wondering which room belonged to Toby.

  Dreading walking in on any naked people – asleep or otherwise engaged – Poppy had no choice but to open each of the six doors and peak in.

  Behind the first door was a couple – a man and a woman – their limbs draped over one another like rag dolls. Blonde hair splayed across the pillow. Poppy, who did not doubt for a moment that Toby was a gentleman, immediately decided this was not the correct room and closed the door quietly behind her.

  Fortunately for Poppy the next room revealed only one person – a man – in bed. And the auburn hair on the pillow suggested it was Toby. Poppy tiptoed in and shook his shoulder, whispering: “Toby! Toby! Sorry to wake you. But something’s happened. Something terrible.”

  “W-what? Poppy?” His blue eyes struggled into focus then he leaned up on his forearms. The sheet slipped down to reveal a tanned, muscular torso. Poppy noted it then chastised herself for such inappropriate thoughts when another young woman was in distress.

  “I’m sorry,” she said and stepped back, giving him space to gather himself, then explained what had happened.

  A few minutes later Toby was attired in a dressing gown and slippers, and Poppy was wearing another of his gowns over her scant evening dress. They rushed downstairs and knocked on the bathroom door. No answer.

  “Mimi,” said Poppy quietly as she pushed open the door. “Don’t worry, it’s just me – Poppy. And I’ve brought the doctor…” But the bathtub was empty. Mimi was gone – along with Poppy’s coat.

  Suddenly they heard the roar of a motor car engine. Poppy and Toby ran out of the bathroom and towards the window at the end of the hall. She looked down to the driveway below, just in time to see a barefooted young woman – wearing Poppy’s sage green coat – climbing into the front seat of a car. She could also see three other young women crammed into the back seat and a dark-suited man, wearing a Homberg hat, shutting the door behind Mimi and climbing into the driver’s seat. Poppy opened the sash window and screamed: “Mimi! Stop! You don’t have to go!”

  But the motor – a nondescript black Model T Ford – chugged away.

  “I’m telling you, Toby, she was there and she was hurt. There was no way she would have willingly left with someone. Not after what he did to her.”

  Poppy was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea. Toby was sitting opposite her, a cup of strong American coffee in hand.

  “I thought she mentioned the name Cameron, but I could be wrong. Was there anyone here last night called Cameron?”

  Toby thought for a moment then shook his head. “Not that I recall. But I can check up on that. Discreetly, of course. We don’t want to bandy around false accusations here.”

  “False accusations?”

  “Well, if he’d forced her, we would have heard a commotion, surely?”

  “Perhaps he threatened her – quietly – with a gun or a knife.”

  Toby raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

  He thinks I’m being melodramatic, thought Poppy, irked that she was having to justify herself. She desperately wanted to suggest they call the police. But Mimi’s comments about not wanting the immigration department to find her had given her pause for thought. Instead she said: “And you didn’t recognize the driver? He wasn’t at the party last night?”

  “Not that I recall,” said Toby, sipping at his coffee.

  Poppy’s temper was wearing thin. “Not that you recall! Was he here or not? A crime has been committed!”

  Toby slammed down his cup, spilling black liquid onto the polished redwood table top. “We do not know that a crime has been committed! For all we know a little bit of hanky panky got out of hand. A lovers’ tiff and now they’ve made up.”

  It was Poppy’s turn to slam down her cup – and then she stood up, her arms akimbo. “Hanky panky? A lovers’ tiff? A girl has been raped in your house, Toby, and that’s all you’ve got to say?” Her voice blasted like a foghorn through the silent lodge.

  Toby raised his hands placatingly. “Shhh, Poppy, shhh. I know you’re upset – and I don’t blame you after seeing a young woman in distress like that – but I do think you are jumping to conclusions here.”

  Poppy was just about to open her mouth to retort when the kitchen door opened and Miles and Delilah shuffled in, yawning. “What’s all the racket about?” asked Miles, heading to the stove and pouring coffee for himself and Delilah.

  Poppy noted that Delilah was wearing day clothes. Where on earth had she got those?

  As if reading her mind Delilah said: “Miles’s sister left these here the last time she was on vacation. Miles said she won’t mind. And there’s more if you’d like to change…” Delilah’s voice tapered off as she noticed Poppy’s face like a thundercloud. “What’s wrong, Pops?”

  Poppy explained to a visibly shocked Miles and Delilah.

  “Good Lord! Raped?”

  “Yes! She said a man had hurt her –”

  “Did she say a man had hurt her in… that way?” asked Delilah.

  Poppy paused to consider this. “No,” she said eventually, “she didn’t. But she had a swollen eye and a split lip and she was in her underwear…”

  “But there was no other evidence – no blood – anywhere else?” asked Toby.

  “Well, no, I didn’t examine her, not like that. There wasn’t time. She was hurt and I thought… I thought…” Poppy stopped and looked at the three other people. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  Delilah, Miles, and Toby looked at one another sheepishly.

  “It’s not that we don’t believe you, Poppy; it’s just that we’re trying to get all the facts. Isn’t that what you always do?” said Delilah, putting a soothing hand on her friend’s shoulder.

  Poppy shook her off. She’d expected more from Delilah. More loyalty. The two men she barely knew, but Delilah? What was wrong with her?

  Poppy stood up. “If you are not going to pursue this any further, I want to go home. Will you take me please, Miles?”

  “Of course. But can it be after lunch? I’ve got a couple of meetings lined up for Delilah with those producers I was telling her about. They’re busy sleeping it off now, so it will be later this morning…”

  Another brush-off. Poppy could not believe what she was hearing.

  She pursed her lips and pulled Toby’s gown tighter around her, not caring if Miles and Delilah thought her wearing it implied she and Toby had spent the night together.

  “No, it can’t wait until after lunch. I need to get back to the city. I have an appointment with Rollo and I have work to do. Is there someone else who can take me? I’ve heard there is a train out this way somewhere. Can you drop me at the station?”

  “I’ll take you,” said Toby. “But I need to see everyone off first.”

  His voice was cold. Just like it had been the night at the speakeasy when Poppy had suggested Otto von Riesling was really Alfie Dorchester.

  Alfie Dorchester. Poppy was sure he had been here last night. And hadn’t Toby said he had arrived with a car-load of girls? Had that been him this morning? No, it couldn’t have been; he’d left last night in a Bentley, not a Model T… but he could have changed motors. Or asked someone else to pick them up. How much of this did Toby know? First, he claimed ignorance about von Riesling. Ho
w could he not know he was coming? Nor who the four girls were in the library? And now he was trying to make excuses for a possible rape…

  “No, thank you. I’ll call a cab and get dropped at the station. May I use your telephone please?”

  Toby looked at her curiously. Was that relief on his face? Was he pleased to get rid of her?

  But Delilah looked shamefaced. “Oh Poppy, please don’t go. If you stick around I’m sure we can sort all of this out. I’ll help you get to the bottom of it, I promise. I just need to see these producers first and then I’ll –”

  Poppy gave a faint smile and patted her friend’s hand. “Thank you, Delilah, I appreciate that. But I think perhaps you should stay and do your job and I should go and do mine.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Kat slapped Mimi across the cheek. “Look what you’ve done to your face, you stupid girl!” Mimi cowered in front of the dormitory supervisor, clutching and turning the pearl ring on her finger. If she had expected sympathy for the violence she had endured at the hands of her first “client” she was mistaken. Kat, who had accompanied Mimi and two of the other girls to the party, had waited until they were dropped back into the factory compound by the Boss Man’s hired driver before she had turned on her charge.

  Back at The Lodge she had found the Jewish girl hiding in a bathroom and heard that the “lady from the library” had gone to get help. Kat knew time was of the essence and had grabbed Mimi and dragged her downstairs before the do-gooder could get back. Fortunately the driver was on time; otherwise she would have had to hide Mimi in the stables – something she’d done before with another new girl – until their lift arrived.

  She was pathetic, this Jewish slut. What the Boss Man saw in her she had no idea. Now the stupid girl had angered the client and made him hit her. With a face like that she wouldn’t be able to work for another week. And there she was snivelling and crying in that ridiculous green coat. She’d left her new clothes in the bedroom. There hadn’t been time to get them. That’s something else she would have to explain to the Boss Man. And who would get the blame? Not the Jewish tart, but her, Katerina Kruchkow. She only had three months left of her contract and she would be free. Free to follow the film career the Boss Man had said she could easily get. But she had to keep him sweet, or she’d be out on the street and on the run from Immigration like the other wenches who’d served their time, unable to get a proper job, and selling the only thing they actually owned.