by Gwen Mayo
The professor had excused himself from this expedition. Cornelia wished she had that option. Few things bored her more than looking for new clothes. Naturally, it was one of Teddy’s favorite activities.
They sat down on one of the benches outside of McCrory’s to rest their feet. Teddy and her new friend cooed over the colorful dresses and costume jewelry in the shop windows while Cornelia enjoyed sitting, if only for a short time.
Suddenly, she realized that Teddy was talking to her. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that, please?”
“I want to go to a new place tonight. There was an ad about a Club San Remo in the newspaper, but Shirley tells me it’s booked solid till next week. Instead, she wants me to visit this marvelous nightclub out in the jungle,” Teddy said.
“Not in the jungle, at the Jungle Prada,” their new friend said. “The place is called the Gangplank. It’s the berries. They have everything you could want—music, dancing, and plenty of refreshments. It’s near the new hotel.”
Cornelia didn’t know what ‘the new hotel’ was—they all looked new to her—but she had a good idea what “refreshments” meant. “I take it we’re going there tonight?”
“Well, I’m planning to,” Teddy said. “I hope you’ll come along. It sounds like fun. I need to lift my spirits.”
Lift some spirits was probably more accurate. Cornelia looked at Shirley. “What are the chances that the cad from last night will be there?”
“Absolutely zilch,” she said. “That sap thinks he’s a real sharpie, but he don’t know nothing I don’t tell him.”
“We need to get you a new dress for this evening,” Teddy said, taking her hand. “Come along.”
“I don’t have room in my bag,” Cornelia said. “And you’re not burning my black dress.”
“We’ll put it in my trunk, then.”
“There’s not going to be room in the trunk for anything if you buy more clothes.”
“I’m sure we could fit it in. I’ll give some of my frocks to the poor if I have to.”
Shirley interrupted. “Why don’t you ship some of them back north?”
Cornelia stopped mid-refusal. “What?”
“Mother and I discovered that our clothes were too warm for the climate here. We sent some of them by post back to family. Do you have someone who could use them, or keep them for you?”
“That’s brilliant!” Teddy cried. “We could contact Mr. Scroggins to pick them up.” She turned to Shirley. “Mr. Scroggins raises corn on Cornelia’s farm and does odd jobs for us.”
“This would be an odder job than most,” Cornelia grumbled.
Cornelia finally chose a silver-gray gown that was reasonably comfortable and met Teddy’s standards of proper evening attire. It was also cooler than the black dress; Shirley was right about the climate difference requiring a change in wardrobe. Florida was definitely too warm and humid for the civilian clothing she wore in Colorado. She could have done without the dropped waist that was all the rage, though—God had given women a natural waistline; why did fashion have to meddle with it?
“Oh, Teddy!” Shirley exclaimed. “How daring! I love it!”
Cornelia turned to see which frock was ‘daring’ and gasped at the half-naked swim dress her companion was wearing. The skirt was short enough to see not only the pale calves, but the knees as well. It was sleeveless and low-cut enough to reveal the collarbone. Quickly, she moved to block Teddy from view of the other shoppers and pushed her back into the dressing room.
Teddy collapsed in laughter. “You look so shocked!”
How could she find this funny? “Theodora Lawless, you could be arrested in a getup like that! Especially with so little to get up!”
“It’s the twentieth century,” Teddy said, stifling a giggle. “And it’s only two inches above the knee, well within the legal limit here.”
Cornelia ground her teeth. Teddy liked wearing the same outfits the young girls did, but it was so inappropriate.
Shirley knocked on the wall from outside. “Hold your ground! You look like the cat’s pajamas in that.”
Inside, Cornelia made her own case. “Everyone will stare,” she began, then realized that was probably the desired result of the short blue suit. “Please don’t make me endure walking through the crowd on the beach with you in that shred of fabric. You know I don’t like people staring at me.”
“I noticed how shy and retiring you were with the soldiers during the war,” Teddy joked, then softened her smile. “Perhaps I could wear a robe over it when I’m not in the water. You won’t be as embarrassed, and I won’t get as sunburnt.”
Cornelia grumbled before nodding her head.
“Now,” Teddy cooed, “what swimsuit shall we get you?”
Shirley departed after the shopping expedition. She would meet them later for the promised visit to the Gangplank, but she needed to help her mother close the salon for the day. Teddy was amused by Cornelia’s surprised expression; she, too, had been startled to find the young woman with the impressive finger curls and half-moon manicure standing behind a chair instead of sitting in it.
She’d located Shirley in the fourth salon she checked. It was a horrible thing to admit, even to herself, but Teddy wanted to learn more about Ansel. A deep blistering emotion had crouched inside her chest since their encounter in the restaurant, and she wanted to get the dirt on what he’d done with his life. Her prayers that his business was on the edge of failure and the law was on his heels had been unanswered. He was now in charge of his father’s development business and enjoying more than modest success building in Florida. Life was filled with injustice.
The three women set out from the Vinoy after dinner, Cornelia at the wheel of the Dodge Touring Car.
“Oh, look, there’s Mac!” Teddy waved at the young man entering the hotel, but he was turned the other way, walking with purpose. “Poor boy, to have such a father. And he’s so nice.”
Cornelia wasn’t eager to revisit the subject of Ansel Stevens. “Perhaps his mother was a good influence. Now, Shirley, where do I turn?”
They followed the trolley route along Ninth Avenue to the west. Their surroundings became less urban, but not quite rural. They drove through swaths of darkness where new construction had ended for the day, and through the well-lit glow of finished neighborhoods.
The palms and pines grew thicker ahead of them.
Teddy twisted in the front passenger seat towards Shirley, sitting in the back. “I thought you said this place wasn’t in the jungle.”
“It’s not. Just wait.”
Ahead, Cornelia saw a set of lights from another vehicle. She pressed harder on the gas pedal, moving closer. More lights formed a train in the dark. The trees parted, revealing a group of large buildings.
“Turn right up here. That’s the Country Club Hotel,” their Tennessean tour guide said, pointing. “There’s a golf course nearby, and even an air strip.”
“This is more like it!” Teddy exclaimed. “And the club?”
“A little further up the road,” Shirley said.
The Jungle Prada was a complex of stores adjacent to a gasoline station. All the comforts of home. Cars matching different tiers of income packed the parking lot. They quickly gave up on the paved area and crept along the rows of vehicles parked among the trees, which had thick interlaced limbs that defied the encroachment of civilization. Cornelia finally wedged the Dodge between a Ford Runabout and a Duesenberg. The trio piled out and walked towards the stores.
“Our car should be safe back there,” Teddy said. “If thieves want something low-key, there’s the Runabout, and if they want a high-ticket number, there’s the Duesenberg.”
“I hope they brought a machete to cut it out of the underbrush,” Cornelia muttered.
The other women laughed.
The Jungle Prada buildings were long and roofed with Spanish tile. Their creamy walls and cool trellises gleamed in the streetlights. A restaurant beckoned to them with enticing aromas
of steak and chicken. Music and laughter drifted through stucco Moroccan arches. The Gangplank was at the end of the complex. Its patio, covered by brightly colored terrazzo, provided a wide view of the bay. The edge pointing towards the ocean was the bandstand, buttressed by two cement ship prows. A sign identified the entertainment as “Earl Gresh’s Gangplank Orchestra.” The musicians, dressed in colorful pirate costumes, were still in the process of setting up.
Couples gathered under the awnings of the terrace and the live oaks in the spillover area, chattering happily. A mob of young people surrounded an outdoor station serving drinks. The glasses handed out to the customers looked like they held punch and soda, but the crowd was a little too enthusiastic. Cornelia bet they had been juiced.
Nearby, a line of men waited at the entrance for tables, their politeness assured by the presence of large bouncers on either side of the doors. The terrace crowd was largely male as well.
“This must be the hottest joint in town,” Teddy said. “At least for going stag.”
“Ab-so-lute-ly,” Shirley replied. “The club has an act where this woman dances in a tiger costume. The strap broke on the dress once, and”—the redhead lowered her voice—“she didn’t have anything on under it. Those mugs are hoping it will happen again.”
“I could do without the gawkers,” Cornelia said. “Or the noise.” She scanned the crowded tables. “Are there any open seats out here?”
“One way to find out.” Teddy approached one of the large men at the door and spoke to him politely. A bill was clutched in her hand. Shortly thereafter, the bouncer bellowed to someone inside. A busboy emerged, carrying a small table. He set it down at the end of a row of crowded tables, then returned to fetch chairs.
“No mean trick, that,” Shirley said once they sat down. “Do you have a printing press in your bag?”
Teddy laughed. “The first lesson I learned from the soldiers—always bring the right ammo.”
As they sat, Shirley crossed her legs and hiked her skirt. Cornelia believed the girl had skinned her knees until she identified the coloring as rouge. Were injured legs considered more attractive?
She didn’t have much time to wonder. Cornelia was deputized to get the beverages, due to her superior height and forbidding demeanor. Even so, she had to put a few line breakers in their place.
Her guess about the drinks was correct: they were juiced. It wasn’t as classy as the wine in France, but it would do. Teddy and Shirley were both pleased with the club’s brand of refreshments.
The notes of “Farewell Blues” flowed from the bandstand, softening the chatter of the crowd. Cornelia sat and sipped her drink while her companions discussed the fashion choices of the women around them. Fine, as long as they didn’t make her shop again. Her feet had suffered enough for one day. The line into the club shortened. A short distance from the patio, the lights across Boca Ciega Bay glistened on the water and reflected upwards on the limbs of the trees. A night heron sat on the short pier, its plumage glimmering in the lights from the terrace. Brand new houses and restaurants were springing up everywhere, it seemed, but nature still had a presence in this place.
Teddy tapped her arm, breaking her reverie. “Look over there, near the little palm. Is that Ansel’s daughter?”
Cornelia reluctantly shifted her gaze from the pier. The girl under the palm was pale, black-haired … it could be Violet Stevens, although she’d only had a brief glance at the Stevens’ offspring before Teddy made a scene. A young man, olive-skinned, stood close to her, and they were having an intimate conversation. He was stylishly dressed, but his large ears rendered him more endearing than handsome.
“He’s touching her hand,” Teddy said. “Love under the Spanish Moss.”
“Are you sure it’s her? We only saw her the one time.”
“I’m sure. She looks like him, even from here. Uh-oh.” Teddy turned away and suddenly appeared engrossed in the nearest trellis. “She saw me, didn’t she?”
“I’d say so,” Shirley said. “She and her sheik made tracks into the club. The bouncers must be off for a smoke.”
Teddy scrambled to her feet and headed for the door. Cornelia muttered a curse under her breath and followed. What now?
The terrace was merely busy. The interior of the club was jam-packed. The tables were full, of course, but men also leaned on the walls and clustered around the bar. Teddy slid between them, murmuring “Thank you,” as she passed. Cornelia, nowhere near as slender or flexible, issued apologies instead as she jostled them aside. When Teddy did stop, Cornelia collided with her.
“Ooof! You should have given me more warning.”
“Sorry.” Teddy stood on tiptoe. “It is her. They’re going into the smaller room.”
“They who?”
Teddy was already giving chase. “Ansel’s daughter and her young man.”
Cornelia had to jostle more club patrons out of the way to follow. Shirley hadn’t followed; smart girl. “What are you going to do when you catch them?”
“I wasn’t planning to catch them. I wanted to see what they were doing.”
The man behind Cornelia shifted position, and his elbow poked into her back. She poked back with her own elbow. “They came here to be alone together. Which you’re not letting them do.”
“Nonsense, this is a public place with an enormous crowd. Someone was going to bother them.”
“Why does it have to be us?” Cornelia replied.
The music stopped then. A dapper man with a slick center part called for silence.
“And now, presenting Pierre and Paige. The tigers of the Jungle Prada!” He signaled the drummer who started playing a Latin rhythm, the beat picking up as horns joined the lively tune. The bandleader bowed to the crowd and stepped back, ceding the floor to the brightly costumed pair.
Teddy’s toes tapped as they watched the floor show. “A rumba,” she said. “How exciting.”
In the spotlight, a young man in black satin pants and a sequined tiger-striped shirt glided over the dance floor. The tiger theme was repeated in his partner’s dress, if it could be called a dress. Cornelia thought her own slip had to be less revealing than the shimmering gown that clung to the dancer’s body. The gown was supported by a single strap, not much wider than the black fringe that swayed at its hem. “Exciting,” wasn’t the word that popped into her mind as she watched the suggestive movement of their hips. The sensual intimacy of the dance made her face color. She knew she should look away, but her eyes refused to obey.
Suddenly, Teddy poked her and pointed to a light above the bar. “It’s flashing. We’ve got to get out of here!”
The two women were shoved back and forth by patrons eager to escape, mostly men younger and stronger than they were. Chivalry was no custom of the modern generation, at least not when the police were storming the gates of the castle.
Officers now blocked the main entrance. “Stay where you are!” one officer ordered. “No one is to leave the premises.” He said more, but it was drowned out by howls of dismay and the crash of the mob changing directions.
These young men might lose a night of freedom, but Cornelia had more to lose. I could be court-martialed. I could be discharged, even lose my pension. It was one thing for Teddy or Shirley to be caught, but why had she ever been persuaded to take the risk herself? Cornelia grabbed Teddy’s hand and used her shoulder to bull through the throng. No, there were police at that exit, too. Where now?
Teddy was pulling at her arm now. “This way!” She gestured towards the fireplace, and Cornelia saw that the bartender and one of the bouncers were ducking into it—through it, in fact. Teddy ran after them, her companion close behind, and they found themselves in a tunnel. A secret escape which had to have been added during construction. How clever of them.
They emerged in the trees surrounding the club. The men they’d followed were nearby. The bartender turned. “Who are you? You had no business chasing after us.”
“You’re quite right,”
Teddy said, “but it was any port in a storm.”
Cornelia didn’t like the man’s expression. “The police are here,” she reminded him, taking Teddy’s hand again. “Run!”
The women fled into the brush, heading away from the brilliant lights and cries surrounding the Gangplank. There were no sounds of chase behind them; the man had gotten the point about the police being the people to worry about.
Eventually, it seemed safe enough to circle back. When they got back to the car, Shirley was waiting for them.
“I’m glad to see you!” she said. “I was afraid they’d nabbed you with the others. They got that sheba you were chasing, and her guy, too. They were loaded into different wagons, boys versus girls.”
“We took a service exit,” Cornelia said. “Sorry we abandoned you.”
“Oh, no problem,” Shirley said. “Some sheiks came over to chat me up when they saw I was alone.”
“How considerate of them to do that,” Teddy said. “after your chaperones left you high and dry.”
The girl grinned.
Chapter five
“We need to get out of here,” the professor remarked.
Cornelia set her fork down. “May we finish breakfast first, or is this an emergency?”
“We can finish breakfast, but we need to leave if we’re going to travel today,” he said, folding the newspaper. “This is the last day the Maine delegation is in town. They will be coming here for a farewell luncheon.”
“And you prefer not to deal with the crowds again. A sensible choice. What are we going to do today?”
“I didn’t have a plan,” he said, “but we should probably develop one quickly.”