A Veil Removed

by Michelle Cox

  Henrietta then gave them a sketchy outline of events, saying that she was pretty sure Clive intended to have a “showdown” of sorts with Neptune and that she wanted to be ready, just in case. Lucy, of course, thought it a very bad idea for Henrietta to go following Clive around, if that was indeed her plan. Henrietta admitted that she honestly didn’t know exactly what she intended to do, just that she would feel better if she had something to fall back on, and they could either let her borrow the gun or not. She looked directly at Rose now, who held her gaze. After a few short moments, Rose thrust the bag into Henrietta’s hands, saying “Take it.”

  “Rose!” Lucy exclaimed, as if Rose had broken protocol in not deferring to Lucy for the final decision. “Promise not to do anything foolish,” Lucy said, turning her frown from Rose to Henrietta.

  “I won’t. Honestly,” Henrietta said, tucking the bag under her arm. “It’s just in case.”

  “You sure you don’t need our help somehow?” Lucy asked. “You know we can be discreet.”

  “That’s a terrible idea,” Henrietta said. “But thanks for the offer,” she added quickly. “But it just wouldn’t work. For one thing, I don’t really know what’s going to happen.”

  “Listen, Henrietta,” said Rose. “It’s none of my business, but shouldn’t you tell the cops?”

  “Yeah, gumdrop. At least promise us that. Promise you’ll go to the cops,” Lucy said, grabbing hold of her coat sleeve now as if she wouldn’t let go until Henrietta agreed.

  Reluctantly, Henrietta promised, though she wasn’t at all sure she would keep it.

  “Why do you have a gun, anyway?” Henrietta asked Rose, glancing back toward where the owner was watching them now from behind the bar. “Where’d you get it?” she asked in a low tone.

  Rose looked uncomfortable. “Let’s just say I found it,” she said. “A girl can’t be too careful. ’Specially working in joints like this. You should know that.”

  “Well, thanks,” Henrietta said. “I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.”

  “Yeah, see that you do. I won’t be able to sleep as good without it.”

  Henrietta gave her a puzzled look.

  “I sleep with it under my pillow.”

  Henrietta wondered what horrors Rose hid from at home that required her to sleep with a gun and felt guilty that she was taking her only apparent means of protection. “How’s Stan?” she thought to ask.

  A wave of something crossed Rose’s face, which Henrietta couldn’t interpret.

  “Fine,” Rose said with what seemed a false smile. “We’re getting married,” she said plainly.

  Married? Though Rose had hinted at it at the Aragon, it still took Henrietta by surprise, and she didn’t know who she felt sorrier for— Rose or Stan.

  “Oh, Rose! That’s . . . that’s wonderful,” she forced herself to say. “I . . . when is the happy day?”

  “I think June, though I’m not sure. I’m meeting his family this Sunday.”

  “Well, I’m . . . I’m so happy for you,” Henrietta said.

  “No hard feelings, right?” Rose asked.

  “No . . . none at all. I hope you’ll be happy together,” she said and realized she had said “happy” three times already now.

  “Listen, dames!” called out the owner. “Youse want a job here or you want to yack?”

  Lucy and Rose both jumped. “Gotta go, gumdrop,” Lucy said, hurriedly. “You be careful. Take some cops with you. Promise?”

  “Yes, all right. Thanks for this, Rose,” she said, tapping the handbag. Lucy had already hurried off, but still Rose stood there looking at her despite more grumblings erupting from the back. She seemed to be waiting for something. “It’s loaded, right?” Henrietta asked.

  Rose nodded. She looked so frail and fragile, as if she were a matchstick that could easily be broken in two, and Henrietta suddenly felt sorry for her. Not knowing what else to do, she leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Good luck,” she said, though afterward as she hurried back down the block where the Daimler stood idling, she wondered why she had not said, “Congratulations.”

  When Henrietta found Neptune’s letter, or what she had assumed was Neptune’s letter, on Clive’s bureau the very next day, she felt doubly relieved that she had had the foresight to get the gun. She had dutifully gone, then, note in hand, to see Sergeant Davis, as she had promised Lucy she would, convincing herself that he counted as “the cops,” though she worried that she was losing precious time in doing so. Despite his condescending skepticism during their ensuing conversation, he was quick to follow when she finally stood up, frustrated, to pursue the case on her own.

  “Oh, no you don’t, sister,” Davis said, as he stood up too, and reached for his holster hanging from the corner of his chair. He had said it lightly, but Henrietta did not fail to notice how serious his face was as he took out his pistol, opened the chamber to make sure it was loaded, and snapped it back.

  “Come on,” he said, as he quickly strode across the office now, roughly grabbing his coat from where it hung by the door. In fact, he walked so quickly down the front steps and then down the street to where his car was parked that she had trouble keeping up with him.

  As she climbed up into the car, panting slightly, to sit beside him, she was relieved that she hadn’t had to resort to plan B, which she hadn’t had time to formulate, anyway. On the other hand, the fact that Davis was accompanying her meant that her fears and suspicions were not unfounded. Her stomach clenching, she patted her handbag yet again. With the gun inside, it was heavier than she was used to.

  “What? Riding in front with the help?” Davis said wryly, as he turned the key to the “on” position in the Ford Model A in which they sat. “What will the neighbors think?” he said, as he pushed the “start” button on the floor with his foot and then deftly pulled the choke, succeeding in getting the engine to cough to a start despite the bitter cold both inside and outside of the car.

  “You’re not amusing, Detective,” she said crisply and looked out the window.

  It was midafternoon by the time they hit the city, Henrietta feeling more and more anxious the closer they got. What if they were too late? The letter had said 4:00 p.m., and though it was only 3:50 according to Henrietta’s wristwatch, when they pulled up outside of what they assumed was Lucky’s, it being the only building on the corner of Elston and Division, Henrietta’s stomach was a knot of anxiety that they hadn’t made it in time. Clive was nowhere to be seen, nor was his Alfa Romeo, but that didn’t mean anything. Most probably he had parked it somewhere nearby and walked over. All Henrietta could think about was him lying hurt or dead inside, so that almost before the car was even stopped, she had her fingers on the handle, ready to jump out as soon as she could. As Davis rolled the car to a halt, however, he shot out his arm to stop her.

  “Wait! Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

  “Come on! We’ve got to get in there!” Henrietta pleaded, shocked that he did not share her urgency.

  “Listen, we’re not doing this half-cocked. We can’t just go barging in there, guns blazing, looking for Howard.”

  “Well, why are we here, then? What do you propose to do instead?” she hissed. “Sit here and wait?”

  “You are going to sit here and wait while I check it out,” he said, opening his door smoothly and getting out.

  “Oh, no, I’m not!” she protested. “I’m going in with you,” she said, leaning across his side of the seat to shout up at him.

  “Keep your voice down!” he chastised her as he leaned back in. “And yes, you are staying put until I see what’s what. We don’t even know if your hubby’s in there, and if he’s not, I don’t need him on my ass when he finds out I compromised you.” He leaned down to look in at her, the icy wind from the open door biting her legs. She did not fail to see his eyes quickly travel the length of them before he spoke in a low voice. “You wait here. Keep a lookout. Wait for my signal,” he said and closed the
door as quietly as he could.

  Signal? Henrietta thought desperately, watching him draw his gun from a holster inside his jacket. What was the signal?

  She watched as Davis disappeared down the side alley running alongside the bar. After only a few moments, however, he reappeared, hesitating in front of the building. There was no use in his trying to peer into the windows, Henrietta saw, as they were shuttered. A battered piece of paper with the word “closed” scrawled across it was visible in one of the windows, haphazardly taped there against its will and forgotten. She saw Davis put one hand on the door handle, the gun in his other, as he tried it. It seemed to open easily. Henrietta watched him step inside and then held her breath, waiting for she knew not what. As the seconds ticked on and nothing happened, she exhaled loudly. Now what? More seconds ticked on into minutes, which felt painfully like hours.

  Twice she opened the car door a crack before reluctantly shutting it again. Where could he be? What was happening? she wondered. He must have encountered something, Henrietta reasoned, or he would have returned to the car by now. Perhaps he had been ambushed. If that were true, didn’t that mean that Clive must have been apprehended as well? Or worse? she thought desperately, her heart beating faster and faster. The thought of him lying unconscious finally decided it for her, and this time when she opened the door, she allowed her legs to follow.

  She crept toward the tavern and was nearly at the door when she heard a gun go off. She froze and instinctively put her hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that was at the back of her throat. She stood, paralyzed, not sure what to do. She was desperate to see if Clive was okay, but she was terrified as well. She waited, listening, until she could stand it no longer. She needed to get in there!

  Tentatively, she pushed the door hanging listlessly open, and crept inside. Almost as soon as she entered, another shot was fired, and she crouched low, her head bowed, waiting for some sort of impact. After remaining in that position for what seemed an eternity, she dared to move out of her crouched position, having gratefully ascertained that she was uninjured, and looked quickly around the interior, the noise of the shot still ringing in her ears. She was in what looked to be an abandoned tavern, filthy and run-down, with a few broken barstools huddled near the bar and trash strewn everywhere. A light was coming from a back room, though, and she could hear voices.

  Taking a deep breath, Henrietta stood up straight and tried her best to tiptoe toward the door. Walking gingerly and stepping over various items of garbage—an Old Forester whiskey bottle, a battered leather boot, broken glass, and various crumpled newspapers, among other things—she eventually reached the door and stood behind it. After trying to get control of her rapid breathing and getting up her courage to face whatever she might see on the other side, praying one last time that Clive was unharmed, she leaned forward just a little to peer inside.

  The first thing she saw was poor Davis, lying on the ground nearby, and she nearly screamed again when she saw that his shirt was full of blood. She could see his face, but his eyes were shut, and she had no way of knowing if he were alive or dead. She waited several moments, her heart racing, as she tried to detect whether his chest was rising and falling, but she couldn’t tell. Please God, not Clive too, she thought desperately and bit her lip. Steeling herself, she leaned a little farther to see more of the room through the small opening. For a moment her heart stopped when her eyes rested on another man, lying prone on the ground against the back wall, and again put her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. But within seconds, she just as quickly deduced that it was not Clive, and almost cried with relief. It must be one of Neptune’s goons, she reasoned. He and Davis must have had a shootout . . . but where were Clive and Neptune, then? She moved slightly to the side, hoping to get a better view of the interior of the room when she heard Neptune’s voice shout out, “No funny moves, now, Copper.”

  Henrietta felt an intense pressure in her chest. Just hearing the sound of his voice brought back a flood of terrible memories, and she guessed he was now addressing Clive. He obviously had him! But at least he was alive, she countered with herself . . . or was he? Maybe it was a different cop in there? She had an irrational urge to rush in and had to fight herself to stay put, to think this through.

  She looked again at Davis and almost started to see that his eyes were now open and staring at her, as if he were a dead man who had suddenly come alive. His eyes were wide and frantic, as if he were just now realizing where he was and who she was, or maybe he was in terrible pain or shock, she thought in a panic. She needed to go to him, she decided, but almost as if he could read her mind, he gave her a barely perceptible shake of his head.

  “I told you to come alone!” she heard Neptune snarl.

  “I did come alone,” she heard Clive respond and felt a flood of relief wash over her that he really was still alive. Two tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “I swear it,” Clive said, his voice tight. “I have no idea who that is.”

  “Of course you’d say that, wouldn’t you, Copper?” she heard Neptune say. “But somehow I believe you.” There was a brief pause, and Henrietta tried to hold her breath, hoping he couldn’t hear it from beyond the door. “But that can only mean that this dog turning up is either a very odd coincidence,” he said coolly, “which I don’t believe in, or if I’m right—” his voice sounded like it was getting closer, and Henrietta could see Davis shaking his head more frantically— “he’s a pet of Miss Von Harmon herself.”

  “Run!” Davis croaked out, but before Henrietta could fully comprehend this or even move a fraction, the door whipped open and she was face-to-face with her nemesis. She still had nightmares of Neptune from time to time, of that awful night that he had entrapped her, tied her down . . .

  She was finding it difficult to breathe, and though a part of her brain was telling her to run, she simply couldn’t make her legs move. She was paralyzed, like a small creature before a snake, and she simply found it impossible to flee. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard she thought it might erupt at any moment.

  Neptune took his time looking her up and down, his sunken gray eyes resting on her breasts for several moments before he looked back at her face.

  “Ah, Miss Von Harmon,” he said with a chuckle. “The prize itself has arrived! I’ve been expecting you. Come in, come in,” he said, taking a step back and waving her in with his pistol. She could see he had what looked to be Clive’s revolver stuffed into the waist of his trousers. Somehow, Henrietta made her legs propel her forward, and she stumbled into the room.

  “Henrietta!” Clive exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” His voice was one of dual fury and panic. Henrietta saw his jaw clenching, and never had she seen such fear in his eyes.

  “Now, now, before you get into a nasty domestic squabble, she’s here at my request, ain’t you?” Neptune said, licking his lips as he looked at her, though he still kept the gun pointed at Clive. “Got my note?” he said to her.

  “Note?” Henrietta coughed out, the first words she had spoken since the car.

  “The note I had left for you.”

  “That was . . . that was from you?” she rasped, her breath coming in spurts. “I . . . I thought that—”

  “That the copper left it for you? How sweet, but no. I guessed he wouldn’t bring you or tell you, so I had the note placed there for you to find.”

  “But . . . how? It was on his bureau . . .” Henrietta whispered.

  A sort of rattled cackling erupted from deep in Neptune’s chest. “Easy enough. We’ve done much more elaborate things than that,” he wheezed.

  “Who?” Henrietta murmured. “Who is it that’s working inside with you?” she managed to get out.

  “It’s Carter, isn’t it?” Clive offered bitterly from where he stood across the room.

  “Shut up, Copper!” Neptune barked, though he kept his eyes trained on Henrietta. “I’m havin’ a conversation with her,” he said and only briefly glanced over at
Clive, the gun still pointed at him, before he turned his attention back to Henrietta.

  “Is it . . . is it Carter?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Naw, it ain’t Carter.”

  “Who then?” Henrietta asked, hoping to keep him talking.

  “Some sap named James. ‘Footman for the swells’ he calls himself,” Neptune laughed.

  James? How could that be? Henrietta wondered furiously and instantly grieved for poor Edna. James had distinguished himself as a snitch in the past, but helping the mob to extort money or being an accessory to Mr. Howard’s death was another thing altogether.

  “That can’t be true! James would never betray the Howards,” Henrietta offered feebly.

  “Everyone’s got a weakness,” Neptune crooned. “It’s just a matter of findin’ it. Turns out the ‘footman for the swells’ has an elderly old lady in Cicero. Not hard—stay where you are, Copper!” Neptune barked, fully turning on Clive now, who, Henrietta had observed out of the corner of her eye, had silently tried to creep closer.

  “Turns out yer my weakness,” Neptune said suddenly, licking his lips again and grabbing a lock of Henrietta’s hair. “My pretty little filly I’ve waited so long for. Took so many chances. Morelli said I was an idiot, but look who got the prize in the end,” he said, breathing heavily.

  Henrietta instinctively pulled back at his touch on her hair, causing him to grip the lock he held all the tighter and give it a hard yank.

  “Ow!” Henrietta said, sudden tears coming to the corners of her eyes.