“Her? So, a woman. Interesting. Who is she?”
“It’s a secret, Emily. I promised—”
She immediately stopped rubbing and stood erect as if she was finished.
“What? Why did you—?”
“I thought you trusted me, but it’s okay. We can keep this as a strictly nurse-patient relationship…if that’s what you want, William.”
Laidlaw had been worked into an aroused frenzy. “No, no, it’s you who I want. I want you, Emily!”
“I want you, too.” She smiled at him and pulled down his drawers. When she put her hand on his erect penis, she could tell by the look on his face that he would soon reveal everything she needed to know and her debt to Byrnes would be paid.
Then, after just a few strokes, he ejaculated and it hit her on her cheek. She hadn’t counted on it happening so quickly, and she hadn’t gotten the information yet. It was now highly unlikely that she would. As he moaned in postorgasmic pleasure and she grabbed a towel to clean herself, Emily was tortured by the thought that tomorrow she would have to try again. She doubted anything would ever erase the strong feeling of disgust she felt for herself.
Ivan Nowak was a tall, thin man who dressed in clothes that didn’t fit him and had a thick crop of brown hair that rested on his head in a haphazard way with no noticeable attempt to comb it. His slovenly appearance was deceptive in that he was actually a very sophisticated man who, though he had been born in the United States, had extensively traveled the world. He was lifting his suitcase onto a carriage in front of his house when he turned at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Ivan,” Harper called out. “Wait for us.” He and Mary rushed toward him.
“Hurry up, Harper. I have to catch a train to Chicago.”
“This is Mary Handley. She’s a private detective. We need you to examine two thumbprints to see if they match.”
“I don’t have the time right now.”
“Ivan, this could mean getting an innocent man out of prison and catching a man who has committed multiple murders.”
“You’re never involved in anything small, are you, Harper?”
“Nature of the beast, but this time it’s Mary, not me.”
“Harper was not exaggerating, Mr. Nowak. This literally is a matter of life and death.”
“Please call me Ivan. My father is Mr. Nowak and we don’t speak.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. It’s been a glorious five years and I’ve never been saner.”
“Anyhow, Ivan—” Mary began.
“I’ve been hired on a murder case in Chicago. While I’m there, I can analyze your prints. I warn you though, with traveling time and the other work they have waiting for me, it will be a good four or five days before I get it done.”
“Is there any way you can look at them now?”
“It’s not a short process, and I’m already behind schedule. I have evidence they sent to me that I have to examine on the train and have the results when I arrive. I’m sorry, but Chicago is the best I can do.”
“Well then, Chicago it is.” Mary took the bloody key out of her pocketbook and handed it to Ivan along with the bag of meat as she explained to him the particulars.
“Would it be all right if I got rid of the meat? It might get awfully gamy on the trip to Chicago.”
“That’s fine as long as you don’t ruin the evidence.”
Ivan arched his back. “I think I can manage that. It is my area of expertise.” He got into the carriage, then poked his head out the window. “Where can I call you?”
Mary pulled out her card and gave it to him. “It’s Lazlo’s Books. That’s where I have my office.”
“A detective who reads. Interesting. I’ll telephone you in five days. That’s next Tuesday at five in the afternoon Brooklyn time. Got it?”
“Got it. I’ll reimburse you for the call.”
“The Chicago police will be paying for that.”
“What’s your fee?”
“Nothing for a friend of Harper’s.” He turned to Harper. “I’m glad to see you have a woman in your life. You’re quieter, less bombastic. It becomes you.” With that, the carriage took off.
Harper turned to Mary. “Why does everyone think we’re a couple?”
“I think we need to focus on something a bit more serious than that,” said Mary, looking extremely grave. “Today is September sixth. If the killer stays true to his pattern, he will strike again after midnight tomorrow.”
21
Late the next afternoon, Mary was back at her apartment getting ready to go to Coney Island in the hope of preventing another murder and perhaps catching Dr. Lawrence in the act. Harper knocked on the door, and she let him in.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m busy. What is it?”
“You can’t do this, Mary.” She glanced at him quizzically. “I’m not letting you go out into the Gut by yourself to track a killer. It’s too dangerous for a whole host of reasons.”
She emitted a slight guffaw. “You’re not letting me? What makes you think you have that kind of power?”
“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to wind up like Meg Parker and the others.”
Mary took a deep breath. “I appreciate your desire to protect me, Harper. I really do. My concern is the reverse. I’ve had experience in these situations, whereas your experience lies in asking questions. I’m sure they’re good questions, great questions, questions that have resulted in fabulous articles, but none that ever required you to physically defend yourself.”
“Did I ever tell you what happened during my interview with the champ, John L. Sullivan?”
“You didn’t interview Sullivan.”
“You never read any of my articles. How do you know?”
“Because when you’re lying, you blink. I’d stay away from poker if I were you.”
“I do?”
Mary nodded. “And I fully intend to read all your work as soon as I get some time. I’m sure you’re very talented.”
“I can hold my own, Mary.”
“I’m sure you think you can.”
“I can. I’m deceptively strong.” Harper took an erect, defiant pose and puffed out his chest. Mary realized he wasn’t going to easily relent. She took a few steps away and faced him.
“Okay, take a swing at me.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Throw a punch.”
“I’m not going to do that. I’ll hurt you.”
“That’s certainly up for debate.”
“If you think I’m a harmless bookworm who couldn’t hurt a fly, you’re mistaken.”
“I don’t think that. I just think that, unless my back was turned and I was blind, you couldn’t do any damage to me.”
“You’re not going to goad me into this, Mary. I won’t hit you.”
“Okay, okay, I understand your hesitance, and it’s much appreciated. We’ll try something else.” She paused, then said, “Grab me.”
“Grab you?”
“Yes, like you’re going to drag me off somewhere. You can do that, can’t you?”
Harper thought for a second. “I suppose so. Sure, I can do that.”
She beckoned him. “Well then, come on.”
When Harper made his move, Mary grabbed his arm, flipped him, and sent him crashing to the floor. Taken completely by surprise, he was a bit disoriented.
“What was that?”
“It’s called jujitsu.”
“I know that.”
“I’m a black belt. Been so for many years.”
“How nice for you. You should have warned me.”
“Do you think a maniac killer is going to warn you about what he’s going to do?”
“Point taken.” Harper slowly rose to his feet. “You still need my help.”
“Harper, do I have to perform another demonstration?”
“One was quite enough, thank you. But that doesn’t change that it will be simple for
Dr. Lawrence to recognize you, especially at a place where you don’t fit, like a bar in the Gut.”
Harper made sense. “You’re right. A cramped space like a bar could be tricky.”
“You’ll stick out at any bar in the Gut, unless you want to dress up like a whore.”
“That wouldn’t do either. Those masquerades only work in plays. In real life, Dr. Lawrence would spot me and just wonder why Mary Handley is dressed like a whore.”
“Then I return to my original premise. You need me.”
Mary stared at Harper for a moment. “The only way this is going to work is if you follow everything I say. The last thing I want is a dead investigative reporter on my hands.”
“You’ve thrown up on me, bounced me around, and now you want to protect me. Could this be Mary Handley’s own inimitable way of telling me she cares?”
“Maybe. Just a little.”
“Define ‘a little.’ ”
“It means I don’t want you dead…yet.”
Her coy smile made him feel good.
In spite of still being a bit miffed about his suit being ruined, Dr. Lawrence had a very pleasant dinner with Austin Corbin and the three Harvard men who’d established the Immigration Restriction League. They had all congratulated Dr. Lawrence on his very successful speech and each had a different opinion on what that woman Mary Handley was doing there with a bag of meat. Not one of them was even close to the truth. Corbin told the others that he didn’t believe her sudden reformation, but he had seen no harm in her attending the luncheon. He apologized to Dr. Lawrence for that mistake.
At about eleven o’clock, a good two hours after the dinner, Dr. Lawrence exited the Oriental Hotel still dressed in his fashionable evening clothes that he had worn at dinner. In his right hand he was carrying a leather doctor’s bag as he got into a hansom cab; he gave his instructions to the driver, and they took off.
Observing this while hiding out of sight nearby were Mary and Harper.
“I wonder what he has in that bag,” said Harper.
“I doubt he’s going on a house call,” Mary replied as they rushed into another hansom cab that was nearby.
Mary instructed the driver to follow Dr. Lawrence’s cab at a safe distance, and as they had expected, it led them to the heart of the Gut. They waited for him to disembark and begin his stroll before they ventured outside their cab.
It was the typical lively summer Friday night in the Gut. Mobs of thrill seekers were prowling the streets looking for a good time or for a good score. People from all walks of life—regular workingmen, pickpockets, gamblers, jockeys, tourists, and more—peppered the area, going in and out of the many bars, cabarets, gambling establishments, and houses of ill repute. It was the dark side of humanity, but there was a throbbing pulse to life there that made it seem exciting and had earned it the nickname of Sodom-by-the-Sea.
Mary and Harper followed Dr. Lawrence at a safe distance as he took in the atmosphere, seemingly feeding on it as his gait became more energetic and enthusiastic. He popped in and out of several bars. Mary and Harper’s plan was to let Dr. Lawrence roam, but if he ever went into a place and stayed more than five minutes, Harper would follow him in. He did that once and bumped into him when Dr. Lawrence was on the way out. It was fortunate that he didn’t know who Harper was, or at least didn’t let on if he did.
Finally, Dr. Lawrence entered a place called Les Girls Cabaret. It was one of the more upscale places in the Gut, not that anything in the Gut was upscale. When he didn’t come out, Harper went in.
Les Girls Cabaret was pretty much what the sign advertised. There was a small stage where four women were doing an American derivative of the Moulin Rouge cancan dance. On both sides of the stage were boothlike areas where curtains could be drawn and men could get a private dance. There were about twenty tables filled with men ogling the women. About half a dozen hostesses sat at the tables, flirting with the men, getting them to buy drinks from which they got a percentage of the haul. Behind the tables was a bar area that was mobbed with men, again with a few women hustling drinks for the house. One more detail: everyone was white.
When Harper entered, he quickly spotted Dr. Lawrence already seated at a table with a hostess, sharing a bottle of champagne. He went to a part of the bar where he could keep his eye on him. Harper had a feeling that Dr. Lawrence was going to be there for a while, so he ordered an overpriced beer. Everything was overpriced at Les Girls Cabaret, and Harper had already decided he was going to nurse this one for a while.
Outside, ensconced in a nearby doorway with a clear view of the cabaret entrance, Mary waited impatiently. She didn’t like trusting anyone else, much less a nonprofessional, to track her quarry, but she really had no choice. The only thing she could do was make sure she was prepared when it was her turn. She checked her pocketbook. There were handcuffs, a gun, and a camera. She’d be ready for Dr. Lawrence when he made his move.
A little after midnight, a black man carrying a beer squeezed into the empty spot next to Harper at the bar. When the other white patrons saw him, they moved away, giving both of them plenty of room. The black man turned to Harper.
“You’re not afraid like the others?”
“Afraid of what?”
“That some of my black might rub off on you.”
“I’m pale,” Harper replied. “I could use some color.”
The black man smiled broadly. “My name’s Edgar. Edgar Jefferson.”
“Harper Lloyd.” They shook hands, then Harper looked at his. “No, still white. What good are you, Edgar?”
As Edgar and Harper were laughing, the bartender approached.
“Edgar,” he said, “I’m getting a lot of complaints. I have to ask you to leave.”
Edgar stared defiantly. “No, Frank, I’ve got as much right as anyone else to be here.”
“They’ll just go down the street to the next place and all you’ll accomplish is that I’ll lose tips. Come on, Edgar.”
“I just bought this beer. I haven’t even taken a sip yet.”
“I’ll give you your money back.”
“Forget it. My white friend looks like he needs another drink. Here you go, Harper.” He put the beer in front of Harper, whose own mug was empty.
“Edgar, is there anything I—”
“Forget it, Harper. I’m used to this shit.”
Edgar stormed toward the door. Harper stared at the bartender as he picked up Edgar’s beer and took a drink. “So, have I turned black?”
“Cut it. I feel bad enough. Edgar’s a friend.” The bartender went back to work, and the space next to Harper started filling in again.
It was 12:43 when Mary checked her wristlet. Harper and Dr. Lawrence had been inside Les Girls Cabaret for a while, and she was beyond antsy. Several times she had considered going inside but stopped, reminding herself how easily Dr. Lawrence would have spotted her. Waiting was the worst part of being a detective for Mary. Too many unwanted thoughts ran through her mind, especially with Harper inside keeping track of a dangerous killer. She was not only concerned about his inexperience and the case, but she was also concerned about him personally. In the short time Mary had known Harper, she’d decided she really did like him. He was bright, witty, seemed to have genuine empathy for people, and cared about her, all essential qualities for any man she deemed worthy.
In midthought, Mary saw Dr. Lawrence with his medical bag in hand step out of Les Girls Cabaret and amble down the block. As she watched him go, she waited for Harper to emerge. He didn’t, and she was faced with an important decision. Should she go inside and check to see if Harper was all right or should she follow Dr. Lawrence? It was possible that something had happened to Harper but it was less likely in a crowded bar. Chances were, he had gone to the bathroom or was momentarily distracted and missed Dr. Lawrence’s exit. When he did realize it, he’d come charging out of the bar, but that might be too late. It was past midnight and already September eighth. Mary felt she had to follow Dr.
Lawrence.
A light rain had begun to fall as Dr. Lawrence turned down Surf Avenue and then onto an alley that led to the ocean. The street name was Ocean View Walk, but it was dubbed the Bowery after the area in lower Manhattan with the same name known for the many degenerates, gang members, and criminals who lived there. The street consisted of cheap wooden planks, and there were dives like the St. Dennis Restaurant that made Les Girls Cabaret seem like Delmonico’s. Flophouses were in abundance, along with the prostitutes who brought their johns there. Suddenly, Dr. Lawrence’s study popped into Mary’s mind. She hadn’t seen him recording data, and she doubted a serious interview could be conducted in a girlie bar. It seemed like its whole purpose was to provide an excuse for him to prowl the Gut without any questions being asked. Now all she had to do was follow and catch him in the act before he could hurt anyone else.
He approached a black prostitute standing in a doorway. “What’s your name?”
“Anything you want it to be.”
“Excellent attitude,” he said. “I want to see the elephant.”
She smiled. She had her john. Now it was just a matter of price.
Mary checked her pocketbook again for the gun and the handcuffs. This was it.
22
The negotiation was brief, just enough time for the prostitute to quote Dr. Lawrence a price and for him to agree. They continued down the street together and turned at the corner, heading toward the Elephant Hotel. As Mary followed, she thought of Harper again, wondering if he was okay or just embarrassed at bungling the job. If he had bungled it, he’d come out and let me know. That only makes sense. After all— Mary forced herself to stop thinking about him. That luxury would come later. Right now she was pursuing a killer, and timing was everything. She had to erase that damn Harper from her mind and focus.
They entered the Elephant Hotel, and Mary waited outside a full, excruciating minute before she opened the door just in time to see Dr. Lawrence and the prostitute head for the spiral staircase. As they disappeared into the stairwell and she rushed to follow them, she was stopped by the hotel clerk.
Last Stop in Brooklyn Page 15