by Abigail Keam
Since Hilda was near her own age, Violet felt emboldened to speak. “Is she your boss?”
Hilda nodded while walking swiftly down a green painted corridor.
“Is she a good boss?”
“Why would you want to know that, miss?”
Violet shrugged. “We both work for women. I was just making conversation. It’s lonely sometimes, you know? I don’t know anyone here my own age.”
Hilda’s eyes softened. “Sorry, miss. The staff has to be careful talking to the guests. We can be fired for any minor indiscretion.”
Ah oh. Violet’s heart sank. How was she going to get any information now?
Hilda offered, “Yes, Mrs. Ruttle is a good boss. A little rough sometimes, but very fair. She has girls from all over the country working for her—Irish, Polish, Slovenians, Jews, blacks, and she plays no favorites. Besides training us, she teaches us hygiene and helps us get our teeth fixed. You can’t work at the Willard without smelling sweet and having a nice smile. Most girls work here for two years, get trained, and then hire out to posh homes.”
Feeling a bit more confident, Violet blurted out, “I work for Mona Moon.”
“The lady with the white hair?”
Violet nodded.
“I hear she rented out the entire fourth floor.”
“Just the west side of the fourth floor.”
“She must be awfully rich.”
“One of the richest.”
“What’s she like?”
“She’s like Mrs. Ruttle I suspect. Tough, but nice.”
“I like bosses like that. You know where you stand.”
Violet agreed. “Exactly.”
Hilda stopped and opened a door. “Here we are.” She showed Violet into a room where six sewing machines were neatly spaced out in a row against the back wall. Several were being used by seamstresses hired by the hotel. “You’ll find the thread you need in the cupboard over there.”
“Thank you.”
“We girls need to stick together.”
“Hey, wait a minute, I’m free after I finish this dress. How about I take you to lunch? I want to go to the Lincoln Memorial but I have no idea of how to get there.”
Hilda’s eyes brightened. “You would take me to tea?”
“Why not? A thank you for your kindness, especially if you join me for the Lincoln Memorial. I don’t want to go by myself.”
“I do have a nice hat I could wear.” Hilda thought for a moment. “I get off at three. Can you wait until then?”
“A perfect time for tea!”
“I know a little place for us serving girls. Not too fancy, but respectable and clean. They serve the nicest little cakes.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll wait for you out on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.”
“Can you wait by the drugstore around the corner? I don’t want to get into trouble with the management.”
Violet winked. “I’ll be there.”
“See ya, then.”
“Bye.” Violet selected a machine and, working the floor pedals, sewed Mona’s dress with black thread already spooled into the machine, all the while fervently hoping this contact with Hilda would work out. Otherwise an entire day would be wasted.
11
Samuel found a little kitchen in the butler’s area used for private parties in the suites. He heated up fried chicken, mashed yams, and pickled green beans, which he paired with a white wine and sweet iced tea. He served Violet and Mona their evening meal on the balcony.
Mona tried the green beans and sat back in her chair astonished.
“What do you think, Miss Mona?” Samuel asked.
“I think these green beans might put your mama’s to shame, Samuel. Now I know you didn’t cook this meal from scratch. Fess up.”
Samuel grinned. “Went for a walk today and found a neighborhood not too far from the hotel. Came across a little hole-in-the-wall place serving real down-home Southern vittles. I ate my full and then brought some back for you. Thought you and Miss Violet might be homesick for our kind of food.”
“I hope you took a Pinkerton with you,” Mona admonished.
“Don’t worry, Miss Mona. I was careful. Went out the servants’ entrance. Anybody watching would just think I was part of the hotel’s staff finished with his shift.”
“I know the security is stifling, but we need to be careful until we get home.”
“When will that be, Miss Mona?”
“I don’t know, Samuel. Maybe another week or more.”
Samuel sighed. He didn’t like Washington, D.C. It was too big of a city for him.
Excusing himself, an unhappy Samuel went to heat up supper for Jamison and himself.
The Pinkertons were left on their own to do as they pleased. Two of them went to the dining room while the others guarded the floor and waited their turn to eat.
Mona slathered a soft dinner roll with butter, which was a weakness. Mona loved the salty and cool taste of butter.
Violet watched in fascination. “Why don’t you just eat a spoon of butter?”
Mona looked confused for a moment and then chuckled. “I do put it on a bit thick, don’t I?” She wiped some of the butter off with her knife. “That’s better.”
“Everything in moderation, my mother always says.”
“Your mother is correct, Violet. Remember that.” Mona picked up a chicken wing with her fingers. “Let’s forget about fancy manners tonight and eat like home folks.”
“Yes, let’s.” Violet picked up a chicken leg and bit into it.
“Was your day productive?”
Violet wiped the chicken grease off her lips. “I think so, Miss Mona. I made friends with a maid. We had tea together and went to see the Lincoln Memorial. Have you visited it, Miss Mona? Oh, it is so grand. You’ve got to see it before we leave.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“My friend, Hilda, told me a maid who worked on the second floor told her that a man was murdered several doors down from us. She told my friend that it was kept hush hush. The porters told this maid that the body was taken out the back way in a steamer trunk in the middle of the night.”
“Did Hilda know the man’s name?”
“Said he called himself Otto Mueller, but the maid saw a letter that had fallen from his pocket once when cleaning. When she picked it up off the floor, Mr. Mueller got upset and yelled at her. Before she left his room in tears, the maid noticed it was in care of the German Embassy and the name was different.”
“Did the maid tell your friend the name on the letter?”
“No. Remember this is third-hand information.”
“Anything else your friend told you?”
“Mr. Mueller came once a month like clockwork. He was middle-aged, paunchy, married, but took off his wedding ring when he came. The maid noticed a tan line on his ring finger.”
“Nothing else? Even the smallest detail.”
“He reeked of cheap cologne and his breath smelled badly. The maid figured that one of his teeth was rotten. I learned today that the maids put great store on nice looking teeth, so they would notice a bad mouth.”
“That’s interesting. Did he meet with anyone?”
“I don’t know. I could ask Hilda but she didn’t mention any visitors.”
“Is that all?”
“Nothing else really, except Mr. Mueller liked jazz and would buy jazz records when in town.”
Mona got up and picked up the phone receiver. “Concierge desk, please.” She paused for a moment. “Hello. Is there a jazz club in town?” Mona picked up a pencil and wrote on a message tablet near the phone. “Whereabouts is that again?” She wrote some more. “Yes, thank you. No, I won’t need a car. I have my own.” Mona put down the receiver and turned to Violet.
“I hope you brought along an evening dress that’s loose around the hips.”
“I brought several. Why?”
“Cause we are going dancing!”
12
“Sorry, but I can’t let you ladies in without an escort. We don’t let in working girls,” said the bouncer at the front door of the juke joint located in a dirty alleyway.
“You’d be horsewhipped for saying something nasty like that back home,” Violet protested. She was simply aghast.
Mona said, “We may be working girls, but not the sort to which you are referring.” She pushed by the bouncer who responded by grabbing her arm. Mona swirled on him in a fury.
“Hey, hey, now. Let’s all be friends,” said a calm voice. “Here, Fred. I know these ladies, and they are with me.”
Mona looked up to see Rupert Hunt pry the bouncer’s large hand from her wrist. As she rubbed her arm, Rupert put a ten dollar bill into the bouncer’s right pocket.
Rupert said, “Thanks, Fred. I’ll take it from here.”
“My name’s not Fred.”
“Everyone is named Fred in a place like this,” Rupert replied, before escorting the ladies to his table. “Sit here, please.” Weaving a little on his feet, Rupert dusted off the chairs before pulling them out for Mona and Violet.
Concluding that Rupert was a little smashed, Mona asked, “How long have you been on this toot?”
“You wanted information, so I had to buy everyone lots of drinks and bribe several waiters, which brings up the fact I’m all out of money. Need more cash.”
“What did I buy with this money?”
Rupert beckoned a waiter. “Pink champagne cocktail for the lady, and a Shirley Temple for the child.”
“I’m old enough to have an alcoholic drink,” Violet shouted over the loud talking in the club.
“She still gets a Shirley Temple,” Rupert said. “I’ll take a gin and tonic. Easy on the tonic.”
When Violet started to protest, Rupert threatened, “Shut up if you know what’s good for you.” He gave Violet the once over. “You’ve grown up a bit since I last saw you.”
“You mean the time when you kidnapped Miss Mona and spirited her away to Eastern Kentucky looking for that fake silver mine?”
“Miss Mona came willingly. No force was ever used.”
“You tricked her and almost got her killed.”
“Let’s stay on point,” Mona advised. She lit the candle on the table which sat in a darkened corner of the jazz club. “Now Violet, I want to teach you something about coming to places like this. First thing you do is look to see where the exits are in case of a fire or police raid.”
Violet looked around frantically. “Oh, I don’t like this place, Miss Mona. It’s so dark, and it stinks like something sour.”
“Yes, Miss Violet, what you smell is sin,” Rupert teased.
“Second thing you do is never drink from an open glass. Order drinks from a bottle and have the waiter open the bottle in front of you. Got that?”
“Yes, miss.”
“And never leave your drink unattended. If you dance, order a fresh bottle.”
Rupert complained, “Geez, are you her mother?”
“Every young woman needs an older woman to teach her the underhanded tricks of that skunk on the prowl we call man.”
“I believe the term is wolf.”
“A wolf is too noble a creature. He attacks with no subterfuge. Skunk or rat is a better term.”
“Somebody sure got your knickers in a knot.”
Mona ignored Rupert and waited patiently for the waiter to serve the cocktails. After thanking him, she put the drinks aside and ordered two bottled beers.
Rupert blew out the candle. “And never light a candle when on a nefarious visit.”
“I can barely see you, Rupert,” Mona said.
“That’s the point,” Rupert replied. “Hey, gals. Laugh a little. Look like you’re enjoying yourselves. People are watching.”
Violet glanced around swiveling in her chair. “Who? Who’s watching us?”
Irritated, Rupert asked Mona, “Why did you bring the kid along?”
“Like Violet says, she’s old enough. Needs to know things, but I’m taking it slow with her.” Mona paused while the waiter served the beers.
Admonishing Violet, Rupert said, “Hey, don’t look around like some redneck goober who just got to town.”
“Who are you to address me so?” Violet demanded.
Rupert drew back in his chair. “Well, you’ve got some spunk, I must say, but be cool, little Violet.”
The black musicians wandered back on stage and picked up their instruments. Since they drew everyone’s attention, Rupert scooted closer to Mona and put his arm around her.
Mona drew closer and played along. Whispering in Rupert’s ear, she asked, “Find anything?”
“Yeah, a man who called himself Otto Mueller visited this club many times over the past two years. He was a jazz enthusiast and quite knowledgeable about music. He sometimes played clarinet with the band after hours.”
“Was he a German national?”
“I’m getting to that.”
Mona played with Rupert’s tie and smiled a lot. “Keep going.”
“He had been having an affair with the band’s lead singer for the past seven months.”
“That would explain the line on his ring finger.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Go on.”
“The waiter told me that he was infatuated with her and was her sugar daddy, but only saw her once a month.”
“Convenient.”
“He was sometimes visited by a man with light hair and eyes. Youngish. Slim. They spoke German together, but I was told the younger man’s accent was different. It would help if I had some photographs of these people.”
“I couldn’t finagle it. I don’t think Otto Mueller was the man’s real name.” Mona took a sip of her beer. “See if the name of Lars Dardel is familiar around here.”
“Will do.”
At that moment, a beautiful black woman dressed in a shimmering gold dress with fringe stepped onto the stage.
“Is that the woman?”
Rupert nodded.
“Find out her address, will you?”
“Will do.”
“See if she is up for another sugar daddy.”
“My pleasure.”
“One more thing, was this Otto Mueller a Nazi?”
Rupert stared at the black songstress looking at a sheet of music. “If he was, he wasn’t a very dedicated one.”
“We need to go. It’s past Violet’s bedtime.”
Violet asked, “Oh, can’t we stay and listen to the lady sing?”
“One song and then we’re gone.”
The woman went up to the microphone and sang a sad ballet of losing the man she loved, enthralling the audience.
Mona wondered if she was singing about Otto Mueller. Why had this beautiful woman been entangled with a fat, middle-aged German with bad teeth? Surely she could have done better.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Abraham Scott inching his way to an empty table on the far side of the room. Mona instinctively put her hand up to shield her face.
“What’s the matter?” Rupert asked, noticing Mona’s trepidation.
“That man on the other side, wearing a striped waist coat and gray suit.”
Rupert casually shifted his chair and glanced over. “The man with the slick, dark hair and wearing glasses?”
“Yes.”
“What about him?”
“He came to see me at the Willard. Said he was working for President Roosevelt.”
Rupert lit a cigarette and offered Mona and Violet one. “What did he want?”
Mona waved the cigarette case away. “Said his name was Abraham Scott and wanted me to spy for the government.”
Rupert shrugged and asked, “I’m impressed. What did you say?”
“Blew him off. Do you think he followed us here?”
“Could be, but seems like he’s more interested in our little songbird.”
“Check it out, will you?”
“I can’t do this all
by myself. You’ve got me investigating three people now. I need more operatives. I can hire some local boys from Washington.”
“All right. Tell them no more than you have to and certainly don’t mention my name.”
“No problem. Look, Scott has gone to the gents. Now’s a good time for you to skedaddle.”
Mona opened her purse and slipped Rupert an envelope with a large amount of cash under the table. “Call me tonight, no matter how late. I want a report at least several times a day.”
“It’s your funeral.”
Mona left the table with Violet trailing behind. Once outside, Mona signaled for Jamison to pull the car up. Samuel was with him.
Once inside the warmth and security of the car, Mona asked, “Tell me, gentlemen, why would a beautiful, talented black woman who has her own income be with an ugly white man twice her age.”
Looking in the rearview mirror, Jamison replied, “The same reason a white girl would be, Miss Mona. Hard times require hard measures.”
“Fair enough. It was a stupid question. Forgive me.”
There was an uncomfortable silence on the way back to the hotel until Violet, who had learned quite a bit about life this night, wanted to learn more. She asked, “What’s a sugar daddy?”
13
The car swerved a bit before Jamison got it under control. He seemed giddy with laughter.
Flustered, Samuel whipped his head around. “Where did you hear that term, young woman?”
“Tonight with Miss Mona. Is it bad?” She looked at Mona, who was laughing.
Mona patted Violet’s shoulder, saying, “I’ll explain when we get back to the hotel. I don’t want to embarrass Jamison or Samuel.”
“This is what you get for toting Miss Violet off to some honkytonk,” Samuel said.
“It was a jazz club.”
“Jazz is bordello music.”
Surprised, Mona said, “Next you’re going to say it’s the Devil’s tunes. I had no idea you were such a choir boy, Samuel.”
Samuel made a face and turned around in the front seat.
Nothing more was said until they arrived at the Willard. Jamison and Samuel waited until the two women entered the hotel before they went to park the car.