Santa Fe Mourning

by Amanda Allen

  “I’ve never seen anything like it here,” Maddie whispered to Gunther. “I could almost be in New York again.”

  “Rather splendiferous, isn’t it? Come along, darling, let’s get a drink and then have a little spin around the floor. Maybe you can sneak behind the scenes later and look for your bootlegging boy.”

  A young woman in a flounced version of a black-and-white maid’s outfit took away Maddie’s coat, and Gunther found them a table near the dance floor where a waiter hurried to take their order. As they waited, Maddie studied the crowd around them a little closer. It was an interesting group indeed, a mix of local politicians and well-known artists. People it wouldn’t be a good idea to cross. Had Tomas ran afoul of one of them?

  When the cocktails arrived, they were a lovely pink shade, almost as if to complement her dress. She took a sip, and her eyes widened at the taste. “You’re right. No ordinary hooch here.”

  “Only the best, my love,” Gunther said as he gulped down his own drink. “Hope you brought your checkbook.”

  Once the drinks were finished, he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. The band played a foxtrot, and Gunther was a skillful leader, turning and spinning her so she could see every bit of the room. Waiters came and went from an old-style green baize door all the time, but none of them was the blond boy. Not that she expected a young kid like that would be let out in front at a joint like this. She would have to find a way to do a little exploring.

  “Mind if I cut in?” a voice said from behind her.

  She glanced back to see a man she was sure she had never met before. If she had, she would have completely remembered. He was what her cousin Gwen, who was addicted to movie mags, would have called a “stunner.”

  And she wouldn’t be wrong. He was tall and lean, with dark hair and eyes and cheekbones that could have cut glass. He was also perfectly dressed in a tailored black suit with white tie, pearl cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. It was as if Rudolph Valentino had suddenly landed in their little desert town.

  “Of course not,” Gunther said. “You are the boss here, after all. Maddie, meet Robert Bennett. Mr. Bennett, my friend Mrs. Madeline Alwin.”

  “I certainly know who the lovely Mrs. Alwin is,” Robert Bennett said with a dazzling smile. “I’m glad you decided to grace my little establishment tonight.”

  Gunther smoothly spun her into Mr. Bennett’s arms and gave her a little wave as he headed back to their table. More people had crowded in since they arrived, and he soon vanished from her sight.

  For just a moment, Maddie let herself enjoy the music, the movement. She had forgotten what it was like to be in a handsome man’s arms on an elegant dance floor, and it was rather—pleasant.

  “I would hardly call it a ‘little’ establishment, Mr. Bennett,” she said as he twirled her out and in again, making her laugh. She looked over his shoulder, fearing if she looked at him too long, she might become more than a little dazzled and forget her real errand that night. “It’s a beauty.”

  “I’m glad you like it. It’s a great compliment coming from someone with your artistry.”

  “You know I’m an artist?” Maddie said, surprised.

  “I don’t open businesses just anywhere. That would be foolish. I have to know there’s an elegant clientele around first. An artist, daughter of the Vaughns of New York, granddaughter of an Astor. I know this is nothing like what you could find on the Upper East Side, but I do my best.”

  “Your best is swell indeed,” Maddie answered, very disconcerted by his extensive knowledge. “But I don’t think it’s fair you know about me and I know nothing about you. You must have quite a story, Mr. Bennett.”

  “Please, call me Rob. And my story is a boring one, especially to a lady from New York. My father owned a grocery in Minneapolis, wanted me to take it over, but I knew I wanted more. Needed more, to see the world, meet new people.”

  “I certainly know the feeling,” she answered. She thought for a moment of her parents’ house, so dark, so filled with the past, with expectations and pressures. Of the threatened “rest cures” at asylums if she didn’t meet those expectations. “Why a nightclub, though? Surely you could have gone into the films or something like that.”

  He laughed. “I’m flattered you think so. The problem is, I can’t act worth a nickel. What I like is seeing people enjoy themselves and have a good time.” He gestured around the room, which had grown louder as the booze flowed freely.

  “And pay for the privilege.”

  He twirled her around again. “Of course. We all have to find a way to eat somehow, Mrs. Alwin.”

  “But why Santa Fe? We’re such a sleepy little place.”

  “Little but mighty.” He spun her out and in, a spiral as smooth as his voice, his smile. “Believe me, Mrs. Alwin, this town is going places. Look what’s happened in only a few years. New Mexico is a state now; you have art museums, poetry readings, famous people. It’s a beautiful spot too, which I’m sure you know very well.”

  “Of course. It’s why I came here.” She thought of her house, her sanctuary on her quiet road, dogs sleeping under trees, the same people at the same places. It was a wonderful world, but she wasn’t sure about expansion.

  “You see? Not to mention all the health seekers and your famous sunshine.” He drew her in closer as another couple bumped into them, and she could smell his expensive cologne. “I’ve opened businesses in a lot of places. I know when a town is ripe for it.”

  “You’ve certainly attracted a large clientele in a short period of time.”

  “Word of mouth. Best advertisement there is. I hope you’ll be a regular here too.”

  Maddie laughed. She had become so early to bed, early to rise in her widowhood. But . . . “I’ll admit, your cocktails are quite delicious.”

  “Better than at La Fonda?” His tone was as affable as before, but she sensed a new current beneath, a sort of tension.

  Maddie gave him a sharp glance. His eyes had narrowed, yet he still smiled at her, that Valentino gleam. “Maybe just a bit.”

  “I know everyone in town is a regular there. I like to know my competition. But we’re different from them in a few ways, I hope.” He drew her closer to speak more quietly near her ear. “I hear something a bit unpleasant happened there recently. Something to do with your own household.”

  Maddie felt her shoulders tense, and she studied him carefully. She knew perfectly well Santa Fe was a small place where gossip spread like wildfire down the mountains, but she felt a small, cold touch of disquiet that this man knew so much.

  But then again, she had come to the club seeking information. And Rob Bennett seemed to have it in spades.

  “My housekeeper’s husband was killed there, it’s true,” she answered. “Mrs. Anaya is very upset about it, of course.”

  Rob nodded. The music ended, and he said, “Sit with me for a while, Mrs. Alwin?”

  Maddie glanced at her table, but Gunther wasn’t there. She nodded and followed Rob to a banquette in the corner that had a view of the whole room. He waved his hand, and two more cocktails quickly appeared.

  “You should forget about your Mr. Anaya,” he said quietly, his handsome face serious. “He was troubled, and you and his wife are well rid of him.”

  Maddie could barely breathe at his words. “What do you mean by trouble?”

  Rob took a gold cigarette case from his inside jacket pocket and offered her one. She shook her head, and he lit one before answering, exhaling a silvery curl of smoke.

  “I’m no saint, Mrs. Alwin. I freely admit that,” he said. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. A man has to in this world if he wants to get ahead. We’re not all Astors.”

  Maddie gave a wary smile and took a sip of her drink. It was just as delicious as the last one and seemed to go straight to her head. She had to be so careful of so many things. She studied Rob Bennett’s unearthly handsome face in the soft light of the shaded lamp on their table. It cast shadows around
him, as if he was really in a movie.

  “None of us are saints, Mr. Bennett—Rob,” she said. “But what did Tomas Anaya do? What could he have done to deserve what happened?” She shivered at the memory of that body in the alley.

  “Having a drink or two is one thing,” Rob said. “People have always done that. It’s not a party without a tipple, and until this ridiculous law is repealed someone might as well help people out.”

  “And make a little living out of it?” Maddie said, eyeing his fine suit, his pearl cufflinks.

  He laughed. “I told you—I’m no saint. But I don’t smuggle hard drugs, nor do I deal in the brothel business. Booze, a bit of gambling maybe—that makes enough for me.”

  Maddie was shocked. She had wondered about it, of course, but to hear it stated out loud was something else. “Tomas Anaya was involved in drugs? In prostitution?” She remembered that the Anayas had had to leave their pueblo home for some mysterious reason. Was it because Tomas was a criminal? One who dragged his own wife and children into such terrible things?

  Rob shrugged. “It’s easy enough here, close to the Mexican border. It’s not in my line, but some get caught up in it all and can’t get out. There’s a young woman who comes here some nights to dance. She works at an establishment on San Francisco Street, the lower side at the edge of town. Mavis. She was friends with your Mr. Anaya. They say he liked to spend money on her.”

  “You mean they were . . . friends?” Maddie said tightly, thinking of Juanita. She had said Tomas used to be involved in such things, but had he been still?

  “None of my business. But if you want to know more, she might be able to tell you something.”

  “But you would advise me against knowing—something?”

  “It’s best to stay out of certain matters, especially for a lady like yourself. Safer that way.”

  “I learned a long time ago that you can’t live life just staying safe at home,” Maddie said. You couldn’t help the people you cared about that way either. She couldn’t have done anything to help Pete. She had to try to help Eddie now. The kid had his whole life ahead of him, a mother and sisters who needed him.

  She took another sip of her drink. “I’m a widow, Rob, the black sheep of my family, an artist. I’m not quite as shockable as all that.”

  He studied her for a long moment, a bemused smile on his face. “I suppose you’re not at that.”

  “I love my home here, but I know there are more unpleasant things under the surface. Just like it was in New York.” She watched the dancers on the floor, a flashy Charleston now, garters sparkling, feet flying, spirits high as a kite. “Is this Mavis here now?”

  Rob stubbed out his cigarette. “I haven’t seen her in a few days. She works at a place called Mrs. Holmes’s, but she comes here once or twice a week.” He gave her a cheeky little grin. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to come back again to check.”

  Maddie laughed. “I just might, if the drinks are always this good. This is absolutely scrummy.”

  “We do aim to please,” he said.

  Elizabeth Grover suddenly stumbled out of the crowd to their table. She had lost her beaded bandeau and her hair was tousled, her cheeks red, her eyes dark and wide. “Robbie, darling,” she slurred. “You promised me a dance.”

  Rob gave Maddie a half smile, half grimace. “So I did, Liz. If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Alwin?”

  “Of course. It’s been most—enlightening.”

  Maddie watched as he took Elizabeth’s hand and led her onto the crowded floor. He seemed to be holding her up more than dancing with her, her arms looped tightly around his neck as she whispered into his ear. They vanished into the whirl.

  As Maddie finished her drink, she studied everyone around her. They all seemed to be having a very good time, laughing, talking loudly, the music blaring. No one watched her at all. The green baize door opened and closed to a steady stream of waiters carrying trays of drinks, plates of food. It was all quite splashy, very New York–ish. Surely all quite expensive and complicated. Yet Rob Bennett seemed so easy with it all.

  The door was propped open for a moment to let in a man with a large platter, and Maddie glimpsed the inner workings of a bustling, steamy kitchen.

  A figure, smaller than the others, darted through the steam just for a second. Something about him, maybe the bright hair or that quick darting movement, was familiar to her. It was him, the boy.

  She left her table, and as the door swung closed again, she slipped past it into the noise of the kitchen. It was even louder than the dining room, filled with shouted orders and the strong smell of food cooking, confusing and chaotic. She got a few odd glances, but everyone was too busy to confront her or kick her out.

  She darted behind a rack of glasses and saw the flash of that blond head down a narrow corridor, just as she had on the street earlier that day. The boy dropped a crate of more glasses down on a table and dashed out.

  “Hey!” one of the cooks shouted after him. “There better not be any missing from that delivery like last time.”

  He didn’t answer, just kept running away. Maddie dashed after him, but by the time she got there, he was gone. There was only a door, half-open to the night outside.

  She peeked past it and saw a narrow, dark lane, much like the one where Tomas had been found. It was quieter and cleaner, filled with stacks of crates and rubbish bins shared between Rob Bennett’s place and the bakery behind it. It was suddenly quite silent after the roar of the crowd, and she shivered at the emptiness, the chilly wind. Her shoes weren’t up to the dust and gravel, and the boy was gone. Rob’s warnings about minding her own business rang in her head.

  Disappointed, she made her way back into the club to look for Gunther. She found him standing near the bar, smoking one of his Gauloises, sipping a martini, and chatting with a handsome waiter.

  “Maddie, there you are, my darling,” he said. “This is Mike. He works here. He’s actually read one of my books, can you imagine?”

  “I thought The Savage Sunset was the bee’s knees, Mr. Ryder,” Mike said, his tone full of awe. “I hope to write a novel myself one day.”

  “No better place than here to do it,” Gunther said. “So much lovely inspiration.”

  “I just have to save up my pay here to take a little time off.”

  “Maybe Maddie here could paint your portrait,” Gunther said with a tip of his cocktail glass toward her. “She’s an artist, you know.”

  “I’m always looking for models,” Maddie said. She dug a card from her handbag, pushing aside the pistol she fortunately hadn’t needed, and gave it to Mike. He was interesting-looking, and it couldn’t hurt to know someone who worked at the club for the mysterious Mr. Bennett. “I just saw someone I thought I knew—my friend’s son. Blond, quick?”

  Mike laughed. “The one like a chimney sweep in some Dickens novel, you mean? He’s just one of the delivery kids who run errands around here. I don’t know his name, though.”

  Mike went back to his work, and Maddie leaned on the bar next to Gunther. She saw Elizabeth at a table with her senator, but Rob was nowhere to be seen. “Bertie’s replacement?” she said, gesturing to Mike as he dashed between tables.

  “Who can say, dearest?” Gunther answered vaguely. “He seems nice enough, doesn’t he? Have you found any clues in your own search?”

  Maddie sighed. “I did think I saw that boy who was at La Fonda, the one Eddie knows, but he vanished out the back door after he dropped off a delivery. He was totally gone when I got to the door, the whole street empty.”

  “He probably ducked into the tunnels.”

  “Tunnels?” Maddie asked, curious.

  “If he’s a delivery boy, he’ll have to make his way around to all the bars and speakeasies, won’t he? They run under the whole plaza, though I’m not sure why they were originally built.”

  “Fascinating,” Maddie murmured. She hadn’t heard of such a thing. It seemed like something in a romantic Gothic novel, aw
fully eerie. Who knew what could be there, hiding right below their feet?

  “Now don’t even think about going down there alone, Maddie,” Gunther said sternly. “I get the chills just thinking about you getting lost.”

  “I would find a guide, I promise.” She smiled at a waiter as he set out another pretty pink drink in front of her. “Thank you, but I don’t think I’m the one who ordered this.”

  “On the house,” he said. “Mr. Bennett’s orders.”

  She glanced across the room to see Rob watching her. He held up his own glass in a toast, and she nodded.

  “You seem to have made a friend,” Gunther said.

  “He seems nice enough,” she echoed Gunther’s own earlier words. “He’s certainly a looker and full of information. He told me Tomas has been splashing money about on a woman named Mavis. What do you hear about Mr. Bennett?”

  “Nothing at all. That’s one of the fascinating things about him. A man of mystery.”

  Maddie took a drink, but she found she was suddenly quite tired. It felt like it had been a long night. “Gunther, dear, would you mind escorting me home now?”

  “Not at all.” He put out his cigarette in one of the crystal ashtrays. “It’s gotten rather dull here now.”

  One of the girls in the flouncy dresses brought Maddie her coat, and she set off into the night with Gunther. The cold, clear air seemed delicious after the smoke and perfume of the club, and it was so quiet it made her ears hum. There were still a few people on the plaza, couples lingering under the new streetlamps, shadows flickering. She hadn’t learned much, except that Tomas seemed to have even more secrets than she had realized. That everyone had more secrets than she wanted to know.

  * * *