by Michelle Cox
“No, Hen. Not just yet. I’m going back to the Promenade to see if anyone’s seen him or knows where he went. Sometimes he used to talk to Jack.”
“Yes, I’d heard it reopened. But, Polly! You can’t go back there! Stay here with me and then come . . . come back to Ma’s with me. I have a lot to tell you about the Marlowe . . . about Libby . . . I . . . ”
“No, Hen,” Polly interrupted, distractedly waving her hand as if that were all over long ago. “I’ve got to find Mickey.”
“There you are!” came a shout, and Henrietta turned to see Stanley striding purposefully around the carousel with Elsie and all the kids following. Herbert was still finishing his cotton candy, and Eugene held out two others, presumably for her and Jimmy. “Where’s Jimmy?” Stan asked.
Henrietta looked back toward the church just as he emerged, running as fast as he could, shouting, “I saw a big spider! I saw a big spider!” Henrietta couldn’t help but smile and turned to catch Polly’s reaction, but she was gone.
“Polly?” she said, twirling around, but she was nowhere in sight. “Polly!” she shouted, but she couldn’t see her anywhere in the mingling crowd.
“Polly?” said Stan, bewildered. “Did you see Polly?” he asked, distractedly looking out into the crowd.
“Yes . . . she was right here just a moment ago!”
“Who’s Polly?” asked Elsie, intrigued.
“She’s . . . she’s someone I used to work with,” Henrietta said, trying to outwardly brush it off despite her inner alarm and realizing, as she carefully looked out over the crowd, that Polly was truly gone. A feeling of unease crept over her.
“Right!” she attempted to say cheerfully. “Ma will be wanting us back soon. Let’s go see the juggler, and then we need to get back.”
“Awww!” came a universal moan.
“I’ve got to go out later anyway, it turns out, so there’s no use crying about it. Come on! Let’s see this juggler!” she said as she ushered them back toward the crowd.
“Oh, but Henrietta!” whined Eddie. “Tonight’s your night off! How come you hafta go out again?”
“Yeah! Hen! Don’t go out again!” begged Jimmy.
“It will just be for a little bit, you’ll see! Come on . . . hurry . . . or we’ll miss this juggler.” Henrietta pushed in front of them, then, and led them through the cemetery back into the carnival proper.
“Wait, Henrietta! Could I . . . could I talk to you for a minute? Alone?” Stan asked anxiously. Henrietta could feel Elsie’s nervous eyes on them.
“Now’s not the greatest time, Stan,” Henrietta said, trying to put him off. “Maybe later. Can’t it wait?”
“No, it . . . it can’t,” he said, hurriedly foisting Donny off onto a nearby Eugene.
“Oh, don’t split off, Stanley,” Elsie said, almost despairingly, obviously worried about what Stan might have say to her sister.
Henrietta sighed. She knew there was no way of getting rid of Stan at this point. If she didn’t speak to him now he would simply follow her, and she needed to be alone tonight for the plan that was beginning to formulate in her mind to work. Why does he have to be involved at all! she fumed. If he hadn’t followed her to Polly’s apartment, he would be none the wiser. An idea suddenly occurred to her, however, on how she might take advantage of the situation. “Okay, Stan, I’ll give you a few minutes alone, but then you have to do something for me in return. Agreed?”
“Well, that depends on what it is, I suppose,” he said cautiously.
“Come on, Hen!” whined Herbert. “We’re going to miss it!”
“Suit yourself!” Henrietta said to Stan, bluffing, and began to walk across the lawn with the kids following eagerly.
“Oh, all right. You win,” Stan called out. “Come back!”
Henrietta smiled to herself and, leaving the rest of them to wait, returned to where Stan had remained standing, shifting anxiously from foot to foot, Elsie looking on with a frown as she bent down to pick up Doris.
As soon as Henrietta got close enough, Stan lost no time in beginning. “Henrietta,” he pleaded. “I’m begging you to give up this murder business. Can’t you see how dangerous it is? And now that Polly’s back in town, I’ve got a very bad feeling. And I can’t always be there, you know, to look after you. God knows I wish I could, but I have to work, too!”
Henrietta sighed. “Stan, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about! Honest. And anyway, I’m not in any real danger. Inspector Howard has men inside the Marlowe, watching, just in case.”
“Well, if that’s true, then why do you have to be there at all?”
“Because they need a woman to snoop around backstage. The cops can’t find much out just sitting in the audience.”
“Snooping around for what, exactly? What is it that they’re looking for, anyway? Gambling ring?”
Henrietta weighed up lying, but she didn’t have the energy. “A missing girl . . . Polly’s sister, actually. And there might be another. But . . . I really shouldn’t say more than that, Stan.”
“Jeez Louise, Hen! This is serious! You’re going to get yourself killed—or worse!” Stanley’s voice grew increasingly more elevated and high-pitched. Henrietta saw Elsie glance over at them.
“Shhhh,” she whispered. “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she said, trying to convince herself of this as well.
“Henrietta, please. Say you won’t go back there anymore. I’ve . . . I’ve got money I can lend you if you need it. You’ve got to see sense.”
“Listen, Stan. There are young girls there who might be in danger. I’m trying to help them.”
“You’re a young girl in danger! Don’t you see that?” he said hysterically.
“Don’t be so melodramatic. And, anyway, I’m not a young girl. I’ll be okay.”
“Henrietta! Please!” shouted Elsie. “People are lining up now!”
“Be right there!” she shouted back. “Speaking of young girls,” she said turning her attention back to him. “It’s time to explain the favor you agreed to,” she said, smiling at him.
“Aww, what is it?” he moaned, convinced he wouldn’t like it.
“Take Elsie out,” she smiled mischievously.
“Aww, Hen. She’s just a kid,” he said, looking back at Elsie with the children huddled round her. She had been staring over at them, but now, embarrassed that he had caught her looking, she quickly looked away.
“She’s not a kid! She’s sixteen. Anyway, she’s perfect for you.”
“But I . . . I mean . . . it’s just that . . . I . . . I don’t think I like Elsie that way . . . I . . . ”
“Stan,” she said, resting her hand on his arm, which caused, in turn, a bright pink hue to quickly spread up his neck to his cheeks, “it’s no use with me. I’m not the girl for you. I’m too old for you, and, to be honest, I see you as another kid brother, not a sweetheart.”
Stan closed his eyes momentarily to absorb the blow. “Is there . . . is there someone else?” he asked dramatically, finally finding the courage to open his eyes again and look at her.
Henrietta tried her hardest not to smile.
“Is it . . . It’s that inspector, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at the ground before she could say anything. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
Henrietta drew in a breath in shocked surprise. Why would Stan ever suppose that? Was she that obvious, or had it just been a lucky guess? Either way, it disturbed her, particularly as she had not yet even allowed herself to fully contemplate her feelings for Inspector Howard. Thus far, she was only aware of a curious unease that had crept into her heart regarding him, a vague suspicion that she might be indeed falling for him, but what would Stan know of it? She was obviously not in love with the inspector, she argued with herself, and yet there was something about him that she just couldn’t quite put her finger on, something that comforted and unsettled her at the same time. But in love? Surely not!
St
op it! she said inwardly, willing herself to gather up her runaway thoughts. This had just been a silly, erroneous suggestion on Stan’s part, and she was taking it too seriously! But she saw that she could use it as an opportunity to perhaps squash Stanley’s relentless pursuit of her in hopes that he might slacken his pace and perhaps change course for Elsie. Instead of adamantly refuting his absurd suggestion, then, as it had been on the tip of her tongue to do, she decided instead to play along with it.
“Yes,” she said hesitantly. “Yes, you’ve found me out, Stan. It is the inspector! I am in love with him,” she said indifferently. She forced her tone to be cold and callous, but she was surprised that merely uttering those words out loud had caused her face to feel hot. She gripped his arm tighter. “I’m sorry, Stan, but my heart belongs to another,” she managed to say with a straight face. “You might do worse than Elsie, you know. She really cares for you . . . ”
“Aw, Hen, I just couldn’t.”
“Well, you promised to take her out.”
“I didn’t really. You tricked me.”
“Come on, Stan. For me?” she couldn’t resist flashing him her dimpled smile. “Why don’t you go to the library together? You and Elsie? Then get a cup of coffee or something after. You could discuss the books you’re reading.”
“Oh, all right,” he said, kicking the dirt beneath them. “But I’m not gonna give up on you, though. Inspector or no!”
“Henrietta! Please!” shouted Jimmy. “I can see him down there!”
“I’m coming now!” she called to them. “Go on, and I’ll catch up!” She looked back at Stan. “Promise?”
“Only if you promise to be careful.” He wore a worried frown. “I don’t like this one bit, Hen. That inspector better watch over you.”
“He will,” she said quietly as she started back toward the lot where the rest of them had dispersed, hoping as she went that this was true.
CHAPTER 10
By the time Henrietta had deposited everyone back home, it was nearly suppertime. The walk home had been peppered with comments about the carnival and small arguments about what the best part had been, though for herself, Henrietta could only think about Polly and what to do, having forced the other matter regarding Stan’s ludicrous suggestion about the inspector aside, at least for the time being. She would worry about that later; it was Polly she needed to concern herself with now.
Unfortunately, though, regarding Polly, she saw no choice but to seek out Inspector Howard, hopefully before it was too late, and could not help but feel disappointed that he had not turned up to find out how her first night at the Marlowe had gone, or if she was even still alive, for that matter, so dangerous had he led her to believe it was. She was embarrassed to admit to herself that she had half expected him to step out from behind some random booth at the carnival or to spot him watching her from the beer tent, his pipe in hand; but that, of course, was silly.
Stanley had said little on the walk home and had gone ahead with Eugene until they had reached their building, at which point he began biting his nails. Henrietta smiled blandly at him as she pushed open the big front door. She handed a squirming Donny to Eugene to carry up and ushered the rest of them in, saying, “Up you go! Go tell Ma all about it, but don’t shout in case she’s got one of her headaches!”
As Elsie moved to go past her, Henrietta stopped her and gently took the now-sleeping Doris from her arms. “I’ll take her,” she whispered. “You say goodbye to Stan; see if he wants to come up for coffee.” Elsie nodded, unsure, and looked panicked to be alone with Stan without a child as a shield.
“Bye, Stan!” Henrietta said cheerfully, giving him a meaningful look as she slipped inside. When she got to the first landing, she peered out of the little window there and saw that they were talking, albeit awkwardly, Stan shifting nervously from foot to foot.
Eddie had unfortunately not been able to win the vase for Ma, but on the walk home, Herbert had managed to pick a few dandelions growing in the cracks of the pavement to give to her. She had smiled sadly when he handed her the somewhat wilted bouquet, which had been crushed for too long in his chubby hand. She set the flowers on the tiny counter, not even bothering to put them in water, as she served up the hash she had made for their supper, asking them how they had enjoyed the carnival, each of them vying for her tired attention.
Henrietta helped get the twins settled in their chairs before slipping back to the bedroom to change. She had decided upon a plan, and now all she needed was the courage to carry it out. She put on one of her better dresses that she had usually worn at the Promenade and was just slipping into her heels when she heard Elsie finally come in from outside. Above the chatter coming from the next room, she heard Elsie say, “I won’t be a minute, Ma!” and was surprised when she appeared in the bedroom, her face flushed. Elsie was not usually one to pass up meals.
“Oh, Hen!” she said breathlessly, coming over to her as Henrietta stood peering into the little mirror. “You’ll never guess! Stanley asked me to go to the library with him!”
“Really, Els?” she said, turning toward her with a big smile. So Stanley had done it! “I always knew he was sweet on you! You’ll have to borrow something of mine to wear. Maybe my blue dress,” Henrietta suggested, turning back toward the mirror.
Elsie plopped down on the bed, causing the thin mattress and the worn-out springs to sag depressingly close to the floor as she aimlessly fingered the loose threads of the quilt folded at the end of the bed. “I always thought he was sweet on you,” she said, perplexed. “Say!” she said after a few moments of contemplation. “You didn’t force him to ask me, did you, Hen? I’d die of embarrassment if you did!”
“Course I didn’t!” Henrietta lied easily, not looking back.
“Then why were the two of you talking alone?” she asked nervously.
“Because he was asking me if I thought it’d be all right to ask you,” she said, turning toward her with a smile.
Elsie’s eyes lit up. “Honest? He . . . he was nervous to ask me?” she asked, as if this fact somehow endeared him to her all the more. “But . . . what was all the talk about this Polly?” she asked, after brooding for a moment.
Henrietta tried to remain nonchalant. “Oh, just a girl from the electrics. In a bit of trouble is all. Now, we’d better get going before Ma yells.”
Elsie stood up and spontaneously hugged Henrietta. Together they went out to the kitchen where Ma was complaining about no one respecting her enough to come to dinner on time, as if this were the Ritz and people could come and go as they pleased. Disgruntled, she roughly set a plate in front of Elsie and had taken up the spoon to fill a plate for Henrietta when Henrietta spoke up.
“No, Ma. I . . . I don’t want any, if that’s all right,” Henrietta said gingerly.
“Why not?” Ma said plainly, clearly irritated.
“I . . . it’s just that I’m going out.”
“Going out? Tonight’s your night off,” she said, spoon still suspended in midair. A tiny bit of grease dropped onto the cracked linoleum.
“Yes, I know. But I . . . I’ve got a date,” Henrietta said, relieved that inspiration had come upon her at last.
“A date? With who? Stan?”
Elsie bit her lip.
“No, Ma. Not Stan,” Henrietta said, shooting Elsie a comforting glance. “Just someone I work with.”
“What’s his name?”
“Clive,” Henrietta said, scrambling for an answer. Why hadn’t she said Artie? she wondered, annoyed with herself.
“Clive?” Ma said unbelievingly. “That sounds posh.”
“Maybe he’s a foreman! Is he, Hen?” Elsie asked excitedly.
“Sort of,” Henrietta said, not being able to help smiling at her.
“Why haven’t you told us about him?” Elsie asked eagerly.
Ma, however, was not to be appeased so easily. “It isn’t enough, is it, that you’re gone every night? But on your one night off you can’t be content
to sit home with us, you have to gallivant off!”
“Ma, you’re the one that says I should settle down and get married! How do you think that’s going to come about, then?”
“And where’d you get that dress?” Ma asked, ignoring Henrietta’s rebuttal.
“I . . . I bought it with some of my wages . . . ” Henrietta said nervously. “It was on sale!”
“Buying clothes when the rest of us are eating charity food from the armory!” Ma was incredulous.
“I’ve got to go,” Henrietta said angrily. “It’s no use trying to explain anything to you!”
With that, Henrietta made her way around the table where all of them had stopped eating to watch the argument and gathered up her hat and the black shawl hanging by the door. She banged out the door, not giving Ma another look.
“Oh, sure!” Ma called out after her. “Go on and leave then! Just like your father! Try not to make a mess of it at least!”
Henrietta was still fuming, repeating Ma’s parting words over and over in her head as she made her way downtown to Station 124. What was particularly infuriating was that it wasn’t even a date at all, but just a flimsy excuse to get out of the house to find the inspector. What would happen if she ever should court anyone? She closed her eyes at the notion and tried instead to think about what she would say to Inspector Howard when she saw him, but her thoughts there were jumbled, too.
The sun was just beginning to set as she alighted from the streetcar and made her way along Canal to the station on Jackson. Though she’d been hungry when Ma was dishing up their meager dinner, she had gone without so that she could get to the station faster, fearing that the inspector might already be on his way home.
Hurriedly, she dashed up the shallow steps of the imposing stone structure in which the words “POLICE STATION, No. 124” were chiseled into the thick gray stone above the door.
Inside, there were several officers loitering about and a dirty, bundled-up woman sitting on a stone bench, apparently waiting for something. Two thin, dirty children huddled near her, and the baby she held in her arms cried sporadically, causing her to rock it slightly as she hushed it in a foreign language, maybe Italian; Henrietta wasn’t sure. She approached the long counter, globe lamps perched at either end, which gave off a dull, sleepy glow, behind which an officer stood looking through a stack of paperwork. Her eyes darted around the station hoping for a glimpse of the inspector or maybe even Charlie or Kelly.