When he saw the flashing light in what he assumed was the deserted park, Meacham looked up as two figures emerged and passed under the streetlight. Meacham realized that is was two boys and the smaller boy was someone he knew quite well – the starting shortstop on his Little League team, Woody Braun. What were the boys doing in the park at night with a flashlight, hurrying away like someone was chasing them?
Meacham smiled and thought immediately of Gwen Braun in the “Pig & Whistle” with the ill-clad minister. She looked so serene and relaxed sitting there that it troubled him more than he understood at the time. He wondered if Gwen realized how anxious he was to leave without giving Big Red an opportunity to pose in front of her booth. Was that why Big Red was upset?
During the baseball season, he saw Gwen sitting in the stands at most of Woody’s games and she always gave him what he considered a warm smile. At the hot dog roast fundraiser, she actually sat next to him on one of the benches and seemed genuinely interested but perhaps that was only because he was Woody’s coach. At the time, he had convinced himself not to read too much into it.
The truth was that Billy Meacham was not adept at applying his finely-honed, almost instinctive investigative skills to his personal life. It was as if a barrier was thrown up once he was off work. But he did understand, or at least felt deeply, that there was something very special about Gwen Braun. If he had been glib and articulate, he would have cited her rich brown flaxen hair and large liquid eyes, her finely formed oval face with a thin upper lip that harmonized perfectly with the plush lower one. These physical attractions, could he have described them adequately, were less important to him than the impression she created – that of a woman without pretense or affectation but with a composed, modest, prepossessing demeanor that he found irresistible.
So Meacham sat in his car longer than usual staring into the dark void in what for him was a rare contemplative frame of mind with this idealized vision of Gwen Braun lingering in his head, almost as if he were in a trance - until thoughts of Hawkins and Mike DeLong forced him back to a harsh reality.
***
Woody lay in bed that night thinking about the missing gun and the visit to the park with Jerry. He heard a freight train in the distance rumbling on the trestle as it passed over the river and it reminded him of the hobo with the piercing blue eyes holed up on the side of the creek. He had heard that drifters hopped on and off in Parlor City but were rarely seen away from their river camp and usually moved on when the weather turned cold. But Woody’s hobo looked to him like a desperate soul and he was determined to check on him one more time before the summer was over.
Chapter Five
Early 1950s
Stella Crimmons had grown up outside Boston in a textile factory town with twin older brothers who joined the Navy right out of high school and were rarely heard from again – except during the holidays when, to advertise their escape from a dreary existence, sent colorful postcards from foreign ports. She was glad that they had left, bullying her constantly when she was little then actually pawing at her as she entered her teen years.
Edith Majerski was a plain, pallid-faced woman who drew no attention to herself and gave none to Stella. It struck Stella years later as to how her Mother had enough passion to marry the equally bland Frank Crimmons, a mailman fifteen years her senior, and then do what she termed the “dirty deed” with him at least three times.
Stella was a tall, gawky child with teeth too big for her face but who had somehow inherited a feistiness from far down the lineal line that was clearly lacking in her moribund parents. She refused to cut her trademark blonde hair until it reached her waist and, even then, wouldn’t sit still if her Mother tried to cut it above the shoulders.
By the age of 15, the discerning eye could see the makings of a beautiful woman in Stella. Perhaps she understood the transformation as well which reinforced her determination to escape from home as soon as possible. She knew she would be forgotten, like her brothers, as soon as she left and that suited her fine. It wasn’t that she hated her parents; she simply had no emotional connection to them – and they had never attempted to make one.
Stella was bright but had no interest in school nor was she intent on pleasing her parents or teachers. As a result, she did just enough work to get by. She had acquaintances but no real friends; she simply didn’t feel the need for them. Boys found her attractive but that just made her mad and, with no reservoir of courage or confidence to draw on, the would-be paramours quickly retreated when she glared at them with utter disdain.
Working at the local drug store during her senior year, she watched the customers closely, mostly with contempt, especially if they were “townies”. She watched the local girls buy peroxide, seduced by the false allure of turning mousy brown hair into Stella’s natural golden locks. It was the occasionally refined customers that captured her interest. She became intensely interested in their dress, mannerisms, speech, and their overall carriage. She didn’t know who they were or why they were passing through her shabby little town but she fixated on Boston as their destination. Yes, Boston was the ticket to Stella’s happiness and she formulated a plan to get there as soon after high school as possible.
***
June, 1954
Stella was embarrassed by the graduation party staged by her parents. Maybe they viewed it also as a going away party and this notion made her laugh disdainfully. Yes, a farewell party would be more bearable than a phony celebration. She had barely made it out of high school and if someone told her that she had miraculously graduated with honors she would have replied “so what?”
The only party guest who mattered to Stella was Aunt Mildred and if she didn’t take the train up from Boston, the afternoon would be a hopeless disaster. Stella had been corresponding with her Aunt about living with her while looking for a job in the city of her dreams.
Mildred Crimmons had her own reasons for wanting Stella in Boston and she knew her milquetoast brother would not stand in the way. For twenty years, she had worked first as a telephone operator then supervisor, rarely missing a day at work and living frugally so as to build up a tidy nest egg to supplement her eventual pension from the telephone company. She had her male friends but none of them captivated her so she was determined to wait for that magical moment or die an old maid. Her job was merely a transitory stage and a means to build toward what she envisioned as a very comfortable and leisurely retirement if her romantic aspirations never materialized. At 37, she was smugly self-sufficient
But then two events, unrelated at the time, occurred within a single week the month before Stella’s graduation party. In short, they transformed Mildred’s life forever. She woke up one morning, promptly at 6:30 a.m., as was her habit, and suddenly felt a surge of terrible emptiness that overwhelmed and frightened her.
On the nightstand next to her bed lay the latest letter from Stella along with a little square picture of her niece taken at one of those penny arcades. Yes, said Mildred to herself, she is blooming into a very beautiful young woman but she will wither quickly if she stays in that god-forsaken town. And then a thought flashed into her head. “I must take action”, she said aloud. “It will be my grand project to refine her and then make an excellent Boston match for Stella”, she concluded triumphantly.
Mildred looked in the mirror more intently that morning. She knew men found her attractive if not gorgeous. She was well-groomed and dressed in the latest fashions but something was lacking – that verve to which dashing men are drawn. Perhaps, Stella has that spark and, if so, I will see that it is not stifled, Mildred said to herself with resolution as she finished getting ready for work. It put a bounce in her step for the remainder of the day.
Two days after her epiphany regarding Stella, Mildred was at the bank to make a deposit when the second momentous event occurred. While leaving the bank through the revolving glass door, she dropped her purse and, hesitating for a moment, bent over to pick it up just as a someone was entering
from the other side. The moving door caught Mildred flush in her posterior, causing her to fall forward and bump her head on the glass panel in front of her.
The person on the other side noticed Mildred’s predicament and immediately stopped. When she motioned that she was not injured, the gentleman tipped his hat and smiled at her, then proceeded to push the door again very slowly. Mildred was now out on the sidewalk trying to regain her composure when the gentleman had come full circle through the revolving door and was now standing in front of her.
This time, the hat came off and Mildred immediately noticed the slick dark hair combed straight back. He looked dashing in a charcoal pin-striped suit, white shirt and blazing red tie with a gold pin holding it in place. She quickly calculated that he was in his mid to late thirties but certainly no older. Mildred felt weak as she heard the words “My sincerest apologies, Madam. I should have been more careful but I was in such a hurry to see my banker about an urgent business matter that I let my haste cloud my judgment. Might I be of any assistance?” concluded the gentleman with extreme deference.
Mildred stood speechless as he introduced himself as Ripley Maxwell, Jr. Would she have coffee with him or perhaps lunch so that he could properly show his regret? Mildred found herself nodding her head yes as Ripley excused himself to let the banker know that he would re-schedule that very important appointment. And so began the unlikely relationship of the otherwise cautious Mildred Crimmons with a complete stranger.
***
It came as no surprise that the Crimmons quickly acquiesced to Stella’s move to Boston to live with Aunt Mildred. After all, what parent could stand in the way of such a generous offer? And to think, Mildred had already arranged for Stella to work as a clerk at her favorite department store in Boston.
The truth, of course, was that neither Crimmons really cared at all. The boys were gone and all but forgotten and now Stella would depart. It was simply accepted without emotion and certainly without regret. And when one of the parents died, the other would carry on alone after a perfunctory mourning period, as if they had never been married at all those past 25 years.
It was further agreed that Stella would return to Boston with Aunt Mildred that night, sort of a graduation present, and that she would come back soon to pack up her belongings. As it turned out, and to no one’s surprise, Stella did not return and her things were eventually packed up by her Mother and shipped to Boston.
During an aside at the party, Aunt Mildred advised Stella to make a dutiful show of respect, if not affection, to her parents before leaving. It was important to always behave properly in a public setting, her Aunt instructed. Thinking of her recent encounter at the bank, Mildred blushed slightly but no one seemed to notice.
Stella feigned just enough emotion at the door, with kisses and hugs for her parents, that it pleased Aunt Mildred to see that her project was off to an excellent start.
***
Stella settled into Boston nicely under the tutelage of Aunt Mildred. An initial shopping spree had replaced Stella’s dull wardrobe and she was ready to begin work behind the cosmetics counter at Framers & Patriots, Boston’s most notable department store. Almost immediately, Stella was in her element and she laughed heartily when she thought of her job in the drug store back home. Now, she saw and even interacted with people of refinement every day. Soon, she felt right at home.
Before long, Aunt Mildred thought it was time for Stella to meet the elegant Ripley Maxwell. She had mentioned her “friend” a few times to Stella, peaking her curiosity. While Aunt Mildred described Maxwell as a “financial advisor” when asked to describe their relationship, Stella sensed a deeper, more emotional attachment but said nothing.
After work one day, Aunt Mildred announced that Maxwell had invited them to dinner at an exclusive downtown restaurant. When the two ladies met him in the oak bar adjoining the dining room, the ever discreet Maxwell was instantly touched by Stella’s blossoming beauty but contained it well. He had already perceived the amorous emotions which were now flourishing inside Mildred Crimmons even if she had not fully discovered them herself.
While Maxwell had agreed to introduce Stella to a few of his wealthy bachelor friends if the dinner went well, in truth he never had any intention of doing so. And now, seeing Stella in the flesh, Maxwell realized that Mildred had actually understated the beauty of her young niece.
Mildred was rapturous after the dinner and it surprised her, on the way home, when Stella was as cool as Maxwell himself. Yes, he was charming and attractive, Stella admitted, but no more so than the men she saw everyday strolling through Framers & Patriots. My, this girl adapts very quickly, Mildred thought to herself with a mixture of envy and surprise.
***
Mildred had been enthralled with Maxwell since their first chance meeting at the bank and she was sure that anyone who caught even a momentary glimpse of him would conclude that he was a successful, charismatic businessman from old Boston money. Initially, he had been reluctant to speak with her about his business dealings but Mildred persisted the more reticent he became.
Finally, Maxwell mentioned Argentine bonds that were paying fabulous dividends and a plastics company in Chicago that would revolutionize the container industry. He explained that high worth clients looked to him to find unusual investments that were not available to the average person because of the substantial sums required. It all sounded magical to Mildred.
When Mildred mentioned that she had a modest amount tucked away at the bank, Maxwell did not take the bait and quickly changed the subject. But Mildred persisted, explaining that she would like to see the kind of handsome returns that his prestigious clients were enjoying. Wasn’t there anything that could be done? Repeating a word she had heard Maxwell use, couldn’t he look at her “portfolio”?
In truth, Mildred had no idea what a portfolio entailed and had never ventured beyond the savings account and a few certificates of deposit recommended by her conservative banker. Over dinner one evening, before Stella had come to Boston, Mildred had prevailed upon Maxwell to put her $50,000 into some of the exotic investments that began to sprinkle his conversation more frequently.
“Now Mildred,” he explained while they sipped brandy after dinner one night, “it is quite irregular for me to handle such a modest portfolio. Mind you, it’s not out any reluctance of my part but rather because my associates will question why I would do so. But I am quite fond of you, as you know, and I do have a few favors to call in , so ………” At this point, Maxwell paused and arched his eyebrows for the full effect before smiling broadly and clinking Mildred’s glass.
The next day, following his explicit instructions, Mildred went to the bank and withdrew all of her funds in the form of a cashier’s check made payable to cash. If the back officer tried to quiz Mildred about her abrupt withdrawal, she was to say nothing and under no circumstances was she to mention Maxwell’s name. Many of his clients had withdrawn funds to invest with him and the bank was quite upset, even jealous, Maxwell explained. Mildred understood perfectly.
The truth was that the very day of Mildred’s first embarrassing encounter with Ripley Maxwell, he was hurrying to the bank to explain why his account was overdrawn. With Mildred waiting outside, he told his skeptical banker that he was late for a meeting but was expecting funds to be wired from his London account that very afternoon and would return later that day to rectify the problem. Ripley Maxwell was never seen at the bank again and if someone went looking for him at the address on his account, they would discover that no one by that name lived there.
***
August, 1954
Mildred didn’t understand. It had only been a few months since Stella had come to stay with her in Boston and already she was acting aloof, even disdainful, at times. She went out frequently at night with her new friends from work but had little to say when she returned to the apartment. One morning, as they were getting ready to leave for work, Stella openly mocked Mildred’s outfit and said she l
ooked “frumpy”. Mildred was as much stunned as hurt and started to wonder about the wisdom of her grand project to transform her niece.
And then there was Ripley. He did not call as frequently as before and seemed distant at times when they were together. Of course, her investments were doing quite well. She was into some Peruvian gold mines that would soon be yielding very handsome returns, Maxwell assured her. That was all well and good but Mildred wanted more than a business relationship with her financial advisor. Unfortunately, Mildred had never aggressively pursued any man and so she waited for Maxwell to act as her frustration mounted.
One evening, with Stella out, the doorbell rang at Mildred’s apartment and, when she opened the door, the impeccable Ripley Maxwell stood before her. Maxwell looked somber while Mildred’s heart fluttered. Misreading her look, Maxwell said soothingly “Nothing is wrong, my dear Mildred. Business is absolutely splendid and you will be very nicely rewarded in due time. In fact, I have been called away rather suddenly to Peru to see after our investments since our local representative has been taken ill. It appears that I may be gone for a month or more so I didn’t want to depart without saying goodbye in person. You know how fond I have grown of you – and Stella.
The Parlor City Boys Page 5