Badlands

by Melissa Lenhardt

  “Please, call me Laura.”

  “Laura?” Hazel raised her eyebrows. “Indeed?” She shrugged. “Laura, you know women’s society is limited. We don’t have access to the men’s world, and business and politics are beyond so many women’s interests or concerns. Either they don’t care, or their husbands think them too stupid to understand if they were to have a conversation about it. It’s patently ridiculous, which is why I never intend to marry, but there you are. George wasn’t known to diddle with the servants, and if you weren’t having an affair then your motivation for killing him vanishes. If it’s not a crime of passion, then it had to be business, and that is information I cannot easily find out.”

  “Then we are no closer to clearing my name than before.”

  “Not what I said.”

  Hazel looked to Henry, who sat forward. “We have an idea.”

  He opened his mouth to continue, but Hazel interrupted. “Since your escape from the Big Republic—”

  “Grand Republic,” Henry said.

  “Grand Republic—and since Henry’s article was found to be a lie, he’s been persona non grata everywhere he goes.”

  “Blood Oath will change that, mark my words,” Henry said. When he saw my confused expression, he said, “The sequel to Sawbones. At first, people were eager to tell me what they knew of you. They were less forthcoming about the Langtons, but then I met Miss Dockery here.”

  “I’ve known the Langtons my entire life. Living across the square from them, it would be difficult not to. Our families aren’t close; we are much too interesting and the Langtons are much too boring for us to mix well. But George and I were always friends and I was able to fill in some blanks for Henry.”

  “I’d like you to fill in the blanks for me,” Kindle said. “I know nothing about Langton, other than Laura is accused of being his lover and killing him.”

  Hazel looked at me in puzzlement. “You didn’t tell him about George?”

  “I didn’t know George that well. We spoke rarely, and when we did it was almost exclusively about medicine.”

  Hazel nodded. “Doesn’t surprise me. George wanted to be a doctor.”

  “Yes, I knew that,” I said.

  “If his brother Bertie hadn’t died in the war, he might have been able to do that. But when Bertie was killed, their father transferred his plans for the older son to George. He paid an Irishman to take George’s place in the Army and sent George to Harvard.”

  Kindle shifted in his chair, his mouth set in a thin line.

  “Everyone with means did it, Major,” Hazel said, “especially when the losses piled up and they saw that the war was going to drag on. George wanted to serve, avenge his brother—as if he could—but he would have been a rubbish officer. He was not a natural leader like Bertie. George worshipped him, followed him like a puppy. He was willing to step into his brother’s shoes. Including marriage to Beatrice Sheridan. Have you heard of Judge Stuyvesant Sheridan?” Hazel asked Kindle.

  “I’ve heard of the Stuyvesant family.”

  “The Sheridans married into the Stuyvesant family a few generations ago, and they’re sure to remind everyone every chance they get. Judge Sheridan is on the state supreme court.”

  Kindle reached for my hand. “No wonder you ran.” I nodded and squeezed his hand.

  “With powerful men like that as your father and father-in-law, is it any wonder George gave up his dream of being a doctor? He went to law school instead. The next step was politics. There were powerful Republicans at the dinner party where Langton was killed, there to size George up to see if they should back him or the incumbent in the next election.”

  I stared at the nearest stack of papers, remembering my last conversation with George Langton.

  “What is it, Laura?” Kindle said.

  “Something Langton said in our last conversation. I was telling him of the difficulties I was having getting time at the local medical schools, for dissections.”

  “Why were you having difficulties?”

  “Because I’m a woman. I hoped to get him on my side so maybe he could use his influence on my behalf.” I stood and tried to pace but was thwarted at every turn by stacks of newspapers. “That was when he told me he still dreamt of going to medical school. I made some comment about how it wasn’t too late. That as hard as it was at times, I’d never regretted going after what I wanted, that I would have thought myself a failure if I didn’t at least try. George seemed struck by the comment and said, ‘Precisely the way I feel.’” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Judge Sheridan came in and looked none too pleased to see George being kept from the cigars and port by his daughter’s female physician. I suppose if I’d been a captain of industry, Sheridan would have reacted differently. His greeting to me was perfectly cordial, but cold as ice as well. So, I left.”

  “And went to the resurrection man?”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t see anyone else?”

  “No. Only the resurrection man until James found me the next morning.”

  “James?” Hazel said, straightening.

  “James Kline. My oldest friend. He helped me leave New York.”

  “Did he?”

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  Hazel shook her head, but her brows were furrowed. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

  “I should contact him,” I said. “See if he can help. Maybe he’s heard something that will aid in my defense since I left.”

  Hazel shook her head. “I’ve read everything written about you since you left. Mr. Kline is rarely mentioned, and when he is, it’s as a spokesman for the Langtons.”

  My breath rushed out of me. I didn’t expect James to offer a full-throated defense of me—he had his career to consider—but to completely disavow knowing me? “He was at the Langtons’ that night,” I said, almost to myself.

  I stared at Henry uncomprehendingly. “What?”

  “Why was Kline there?” Kindle asked.

  “I don’t know. I suppose he was invited, though he is only a junior partner at George’s firm.”

  Hazel narrowed her eyes and drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair.

  “Thank you for filling me in on Langton, but you haven’t told us what your plan is,” Kindle said.

  Hazel shook herself out of her thoughts. “Right. Your story has waned again in my neighbors’ parlors. There was a flurry of gossip when the Langtons upped the reward and changed the terms, but when no word was heard of you … well, they moved on to the latest gossip, more interesting and less lethal. What we need to do is to put you back on the tip of the gossips’ tongues.”

  “How?”

  “An extra in the afternoon paper.”

  Henry held his hands out like he was holding a poster. “The Murderess and the Major sighted in New York City.”

  “That is a terrible idea,” Kindle said.

  “I agree with William. What exactly would that do for us?” I asked. “You wouldn’t hear anything new.”

  “No, but you will.”

  “Me?” I laughed. “If you tell the world I’m in New York City I won’t be able to leave our hotel room.”

  “Oh, you won’t be staying in a hotel. Too dangerous. You will stay with me.”

  “Here? Within sight of the Langtons’ town house? I’m sorry, Hazel, but you are being quite ridiculous.” I turned to Henry. “I thought you wanted to help me, but you’ve brought us back to New York to an eccentric spinster who knows no more new information about my case than I did! Really, Henry. Do you want to see me hang? Is the grand finale for your series of books me swinging from the gallows?” I turned away and straight into a stack of papers. I pushed the stack over and kicked at the papers as they fell onto the floor.

  Silence followed my outburst. I walked to the far end of the library and kept my back to the three of them. I wanted to wallow in my anger for a few minutes more, and I knew if I saw hurt on Hazel’s face I would apologize.

  Fina
lly, Hazel spoke. “You and William will be safe here precisely because no one would expect you to lodge so close to the Langtons.”

  “What about your servants?” Kindle said. “A thousand dollars is a lot of money for the servant class.”

  “They are paid well and their loyalty is complete.”

  “Forgive me if I am skeptical,” I said over my shoulder. “I’ve met few people in the past year who aren’t willing to use me or turn me in.”

  “Which is why you have to trust us,” Henry said. “We have your best interests at heart.”

  I scoffed, crossed my arms over my chest, and faced the room. “If we are hiding in your house, how exactly am I going to hear new gossip?”

  Hazel and Henry exchanged a significant look. Hazel nodded to Henry, who stood and walked to me.

  “We need a man we can trust to attend the Langtons’ dinner party Thursday night with Hazel and get access to the men’s conversation. I’ve been shunned and Kindle is too recognizable.”

  “The only men I trust are in this room. Who do you have …” The question died on my lips. I knew the answer before Henry said it.

  “You.”

  CHAPTER

  29

  Glowing lights from the town house next door to the Langtons were visible across Washington Square. Carriages pulled up, deposited their passengers, and pulled around the square to park on side streets or in the rear alleys. Music drifted faintly on the cool nighttime air. The front door to Hazel Dockery’s house opened and closed. I leaned forward to look down the front of the mansion but needn’t have bothered. Hazel marched smartly down the stairs, across the street, and through the park to the town house opposite. A footman followed at a discreet distance, no doubt on Graves’s orders. Hazel would scoff at the need of an escort across the well-lit park between the houses.

  I turned from the window and surveyed the newspapers strewn around the room. I sighed and picked them up, folding them neatly and making sure to organize them by date, newest on top, as per Hazel’s orders. Her library, which seemed so disorganized and chaotic at first blush, was indeed an elaborate filing system known and understood only by her.

  After Henry’s announcement of their grand plan, Graves had rolled the coffee cart into the office. Hazel took up the newspaper Graves handed her and spent the next five minutes with her head between the pages while Graves served the coffee. Henry filled the conversation void by talking of a Jewish deli he’d discovered with the most delicious pastries and sandwiches we could imagine. “I’ll take you there,” he promised.

  When Graves left, Hazel handed the paper to me, picked up her coffee cup, and watched me over the rim as she sipped. The front page headline couldn’t be missed:

  GEORGE LANGTON’S KILLER SIGHTED IN NEW YORK CITY

  I handed the paper to Kindle. “Peg McCord told. The newspapers have already convicted me, I see.”

  “The newspapers convicted you months ago,” Hazel replied. “You visited your old house?”

  I nodded.

  “One half of our plan has been set in motion for us,” Hazel said. “What of the second part?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said.

  “You have experience masquerading as a man,” Henry said.

  “I was only able to pull off my orderly disguise in the war because everyone was distracted by death and dying.”

  “It was ten years ago,” Kindle said. “A woman pretending to be a teenager is easier to pull off than a woman trying to be an adult.”

  “There are plenty of men with fine features,” Hazel said. “And we would glue a beard on you.”

  “Oh, of course.” I threw my hands up. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “I told you earlier, dear, no imagination,” Hazel said. She raised an eyebrow and I knew she’d sent the verbal dart in retaliation for the “eccentric spinster” comment. She continued. “Graves’s grandson, Richard, is in the theater and will help us kit you out.”

  “One more person who could potentially betray us,” Kindle said.

  “Oh, Richard won’t betray you. I endow his little theater. He would starve if not for me.”

  I paced. “I cannot. If I’m caught they will arrest me. It will be more ammunition to use against me.”

  “Let’s say for a moment Laura does this,” Kindle said.

  “William!”

  He held up his hand in a placating gesture. “What then? No one is going to confess to her.”

  “Well, of course not,” Hazel said. “But Laura might overhear something that will give us a new direction to investigate. The goal is to find information to take to the police, so they can investigate more fully.”

  I laughed. “The police are in the Langtons’ pockets. That’s why I left, remember?” I shook my head. “It’s too risky.”

  “Is that your final word?” Hazel asked.

  “Yes.”

  She slapped her hands on the desk. “Then I’m afraid there’s little else I can do to help you. You’re welcome to stay here until you decide where to go next. In fact, I recommend it. You’re much too recognizable, Major.” Hazel rose from behind the desk and picked up a stack of newspapers from its corner. She walked around and handed them to me. “In case you’re interested in what’s been said about you in your absence.”

  Kindle left to retrieve our belongings, and Mrs. Graves, the housekeeper, led me upstairs to the room we would be using. I spent the time alone reading.

  I wish I hadn’t.

  I was the worst kind of harlot; men to whom I’d barely spoken now told of unwanted advances on my part. Fellow doctors fabricated stories about misdiagnoses and subsequent patient deaths and implied I’d achieved my high graduation rank from medical school by seducing the professors. Jonasz Golik, the resurrection man whose basement lab I’d frequently used, was quick to tell the world—anonymously, of course—that I paid double what other doctors did, and conveniently forgot to mention I’d been dissecting a cadaver the night George Langton had a fireplace poker embedded in his head. When Golik had been arrested months later for grave robbing, my name had been dragged back into the spotlight as one of his best customers.

  Depressed and angry, I’d skipped to the bottom of the pile of papers, hoping my reputation had been redeemed somewhat with Henry’s bogus story of my death. The same lies were rehashed, though with less relish, and much was made about the trials I had endured in Texas, and I’d been praised for saving Kindle under dire circumstances, and for my role in managing the dysentery outbreak at Fort Richardson. But there were too many strikes against me—my initial flight, my alleged coercion of a gentleman officer to help me escape, being a woman in a man’s profession, my association with Golik, treating whores on Twenty-Seventh Street—to forgive me completely. Once it became known I was alive again, all benefit of the doubt was at an end. I was a liar and a killer and deserved to swing.

  I was working myself into a fine lather when Kindle walked into the room with our baggage.

  “I feel like I’ve been hoodwinked,” I said.

  Kindle paused, one bag under his arm. He closed the door and set the bags on the floor. He took off his dark spectacles and replaced them with the eye patch. He squeezed his eye shut and looked around like a newborn calf. “God, those glasses are strange.”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes. How have you been hoodwinked?”

  I motioned to the newspapers, which I’d gone through again and discarded willy-nilly, stoking my anger at Henry and Hazel. “Hazel gave these to me on purpose. She knew how I would react.”

  “Like a Brontë heroine?” Kindle sat on the bed and removed his boots.

  I ignored the comment. “Have you read any of this? No, don’t. If you read it enough you start to believe it. I did! I found myself thinking, ‘Who is this woman? She’s a despicable human being!’ Hazel was right. James never once came to my defense. He stood by and let them lie about me.” I held back a sob.

  “I never liked him,
” Kindle said.

  “You don’t know him,” I snapped. I walked to the window and rubbed my arms against the chill that had overtaken me.

  “If what they’re saying is all lies, what do you care?” He dropped a boot to the floor.

  “If it’s all lies? What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Of course it’s lies, Laura. But again, what do you care?”

  “Because they’re dragging my name through the mud!”

  “You aren’t Catherine Bennett any longer. You’re Laura Kindle. Or have you forgotten?” He dropped the second boot next to its mate.

  “It doesn’t mean I want Catherine Bennett to be remembered as a harlot and a murderer.”

  “Precisely.” Kindle stood and loosened his tie. “Which is why we’re here. To clear Catherine Bennett’s name, so Laura Kindle can have a life.”

  I gasped. “You want me to go along with their plan.”

  He shrugged out of his coat, folded it, and laid it on the bed. “I’ve been trying to think of a better plan to and from the hotel.”

  “You realize if they find me out they will arrest me, convict me quickly, and hang me. Judge Sheridan and the newspapers will make sure of it. They need the scandal to sell newspapers, and I’ve walked right into their hands.”

  “How many times have you mentioned the charades you and your cousin played at?”

  “We were children. It was just that: playing. This is my life, William.”

  He put his hands on my shoulders and massaged them. “It’s my life, too.”

  I looked away. “Of course it is, but …”

  “There is one other option.”

  “What?”

  “Sail for Australia.”

  “Australia? But it’s full of criminals and murderers and … Oh. Right.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Kindle called.

  Graves opened the door. “Your bath is ready, sir.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Graves left silently.

  “I don’t like the idea of you going into the Langtons’ with no support other than Hazel. But I’m sure of two things: one, you’re the only person who knows what questions to ask to get to the truth. Two, you’re a good enough liar to pull it off.”