“My answer is no.”
“You know where I am if you change your mind.”
“I won’t. Please go.”
“Dang it, woman!” The door flung open, and Senator Clarence Abbott stood on the threshold, Lottie Fox in the room behind him. His planter’s hat in his hands, he grimaced when he saw us. Lacking his characteristic charm, the Populist senator shoved past us without a word and stormed down the stairs. We all stood in silence until we heard the back door slam.
“That will be all, Fanny,” the madam said. Fanny dropped her gaze and scampered away like a scolded puppy. “Please, Mrs. Clayworth, bring your friend and come in.”
The parlor, which could have been in any respectable home, was richly furnished in plush green velvet, highly polished oak furniture, and green-and-gold Brussels carpets. A half-packed travel trunk sat open next to the unlit fireplace.
“Was that . . . ?” Sarah, dumbfounded to see someone she knew coming out of a madam’s room, didn’t want to believe her eyes.
“Mr. Abbott, the junior senator from North Carolina?” the madam said. “Yes, it was.”
“My,” was all Sarah could say on the subject. Recovering quickly, she added, “Miss Fox, this is Miss Davish, my brother’s fiancée. I believe you met on a previous occasion?” Sarah was diplomatically referring to our encounter in the police station.
“Yes, Miss Davish and I have met.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought her with me. She is known for her discretion.”
“I don’t mind at all. It is prudent of you not to have come alone. Mrs. Smith couldn’t come?”
“No,” was all Sarah said.
“Well, thank you, Mrs. Clayworth and Miss Davish, for coming. I know you both took a risk coming here, and at this hour, but you are doing me a great service. I’d hoped to do this at the club meeting the other night but . . . it didn’t work out.” She said no more on the subject and we didn’t pry. “I hope what I show you will compensate for your efforts.” She walked over to the oak secretary and lifted a thick, black, leather-bound ledger. “As you can see, I’m packing. I’ve decided to use some of the resources your club, Mrs. Clayworth, has provided for me and leave Washington. I’m going to live with my sister in Fabius, in upstate New York. She runs a general store there, and I’m going to help her. I’m leaving tonight.”
“That’s wonderful, Miss Fox,” Sarah said, clapping her hands together. “I wish you all the best.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Clayworth.”
“But that’s not why you asked Mrs. Clayworth here, is it?” I said. The madam held out the leather book.
“This is my register. It goes back to 1883 when I took the business over from Sally Jones.”
She needn’t say more. Both Sarah and I stared at the book containing the names of all the men who had frequented Lottie Fox’s “establishment” in the past eleven years. Sarah reached out slowly to touch it, but pulled her hand back as if the book had bitten her.
“Is that what Senator Abbott wanted?” I asked.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t give it to him.”
“But why show us?” Sarah asked.
“Because I believe I can trust you.”
“But why show anyone?” I said.
“I’m afraid a man may have been killed over it.”
“Jasper Neely,” I said. Sarah turned to me wide-eyed, but Lottie merely nodded.
“Yes. I once agreed to let Mr. Neely have it. He was to approach Senator Meriwether Smith, the chairman of the Finance Committee, and ‘convince’ him to support the Good Roads project that Marshal Browne and Jacob Coxey championed. It was to put thousands of men back to work. After Marshal Browne brought clarity, peace, and purpose to my life, after he showed me how I too have a part of Christ’s soul in me, it was the least I could do.”
“And what if Senator Smith refused to sponsor the bill?” Sarah asked.
“Mr. Neely was to threaten to put the register into the hands of Senator Abbott.”
“Senator Abbott?” Sarah asked. “But you denied him it.”
“Yes, I changed my mind.”
“Why not give it to Simeon Harper or someone else from the press?” I said.
“At the time, Mr. Neely too mentioned Mr. Harper, but that was going too far. I have helped Mr. Harper before, when I could, since he is a decent fellow and always kept my name out of the papers as he promised. But even he wouldn’t be able to resist publishing all of these names. No, this was supposed to help get the Good Roads Bill introduced, not target men who had nothing to do with it.”
“So why Senator Abbott?” I asked.
“He is Smith’s political rival,” Sarah said. “He would be judicious in his use of the book, only targeting his rivals and keeping all his allies, including the Populists, who supported Coxey, Browne, and the Good Roads Bill, out of it.”
“Exactly.”
“So why not give it to Abbott now?”
“I changed my mind.”
“Did Smith refuse?” Sarah asked.
“He did, and now Mr. Neely is dead,” she said.
So that’s what Jasper Neely was doing at the Smith house the morning of the march, blackmailing Smith into supporting the Good Roads Bill. And why Neely was talking to Senator Abbott not long after, and then Lottie not long after that. But something wasn’t right.
“But you still have the book,” I said. “And Abbott is still trying to get it from you. Why?”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
Lottie put her hand on the simple gold cross hanging from her neck.
“When Mr. Neely approached me before the march, telling me that Senator Smith wouldn’t support the bill and that he was going to give Abbott the register, I had a change of heart. I listened to the part of Christ in me. Besides, Marshal Browne never approved of the scheme in the first place.”
“What would Senator Abbott have done with the register if Jasper Neely gave it to him? Do you think he’d expose the contents, as Sarah says?” I asked. “Or at least threaten to?”
“I don’t know what Senator Abbott would’ve done or will do. That’s partially why I changed my mind. I don’t know that man. I was going on Mr. Neely’s word that he could be trusted not to misuse the information. A great many people’s careers and lives could be damaged or destroyed if the complete contents of the register were revealed. I wanted to help the cause. I wanted Senator Smith to support General Coxey’s Good Roads project, but it was too much of a risk in the end.”
“So you refused to give Neely, and thus Abbott, the register,” Sarah said.
“And less than half an hour later, Neely was dead,” I said.
“Yes,” the madam said sadly.
“Do you think Senator Abbott killed Neely, Miss Fox?” I asked.
“Like I said, I don’t know that man.”
“He couldn’t have,” Sarah said. “When I was making my way back to Walter and everyone at the Capitol, I saw Abbott with several of his Populist colleagues. He was nowhere near the site where Neely was killed.”
“Did you kill him, Miss Fox?” I said. Unlike Sarah, who stood gaping at me for my audacity, Lottie barely blinked at my accusation.
“No, Miss Davish. I didn’t. Mr. Neely and I believed in the same cause. I wouldn’t have destroyed an instrument of Christ, a man who stood for positive change.”
“What did he do when you refused to give him the register?”
“Told me to talk to Marshal Browne after the march. That maybe he’d be able to convince me to change my mind.”
“And that’s how you left it? That was the last time you saw him?”
“Yes, Miss Davish. He was determined to change my mind, but he was very much alive.” She shook her head. “Yet I can’t help feeling that if I’d never agreed to his plan in the first place, he’d still be alive.”
“So you think he was killed because he threatened to expose the contents of the register?”
“I think he died because he was attempting to blackmail powerful people.”
“Is Senator Smith in your register, Miss Fox?” Sarah gasped again when Lottie nodded her head. “So you think he might’ve killed Jasper Neely to protect his secret?”
“I do.”
“No!” Sarah said. “I can’t believe that.”
“What about Senator Abbott? Is he in the register?” I asked, ignoring Sarah’s declaration.
“No, until this morning, I’d never met Mr. Abbott.”
“Could there be others in your book who had reason to kill Jasper Neely?”
“If you are asking if other powerful men might be destroyed if the contents of the register were released, I would say yes—many. But I don’t know of any one of them, besides Smith, who had direct contact with Mr. Neely.”
“But that doesn’t mean they didn’t at some point, without your knowledge. Many people visited the camp before the march. I personally saw Jasper Neely speaking to several members of Congress. It could be anyone listed in your book.”
“Yes, but as far as I know, only Senator Smith was directly threatened by Mr. Neely.”
“Or it could’ve been an internal dispute, someone from the Commonweal who had a falling out with Mr. Neely?” Sarah said. I’d only seen evidence that Jasper Neely was a vital member of the Commonweal of Christ, as well as a respected, well-liked one.
“Maybe,” Miss Fox said slowly, as dubious of the idea as I was.
“But you’re convinced it was Senator Smith?” I said.
“I am.”
“I don’t want to know,” Sarah said, “but I have to ask . . .” She hesitated.
“Whether your husband’s name is in my book or not?” the madam said, saving Sarah the humiliation of asking. Sarah nodded.
“No, he’s not.” Sarah let out a loud sigh of relief. “It’s the reason I approached you with the truth. Of all the women in your Washington Wives Club who have offered me help instead of derision, only your husband’s name wasn’t in my book.” Sarah’s mouth dropped open and she gaped at Lottie.
“Oh my God,” Sarah said. “I had no idea. Does Mildred know? Do anyone of the others know?”
“Not from me,” the madam said.
“Thank you for your discretion,” Sarah said.
“You don’t need to thank me. I do it for my own selfish reasons. I can’t make a new life for myself and have peace of mind knowing I’d helped ruin people’s lives.”
Again I was struck by the morality of a woman who most couldn’t conceive had any at all.
“You wrote a letter to Mrs. Smith, Miss Fox,” I said.
“Yes, I wrote to her before all of this, before Mr. Neely was killed. I wrote to Mrs. Smith urging her to convince her husband to support the bill. I mentioned nothing about the consequences if he didn’t.” That was consistent with what I’d overheard.
“So why are you telling us all of this?” Sarah asked.
“I regret ever being a part of this scheme. I wanted to confess to someone in hopes of undoing, at least in part, what I’ve done.”
“You didn’t give the register to Abbott,” Sarah said. “What could we possibly do?”
“You want us to go to the police with this,” I said, guessing what she’d say next. Sarah was shaking her head before I finished.
“I appreciate you wanting to clear your conscience, Miss Fox, to start anew, but you don’t expect me or Miss Davish to take this information to the police, do you? No, I’m sorry. We’re already risking too much by being here. The wives’ club is risking more than you know by helping you and some of your girls start again.”
“But they won’t listen to me,” the madam said, almost pleading. “And what I’ve told you might lead to Mr. Neely’s killer.”
“I’m sorry. Truly I am, but I can’t possibly get involved in a murder,” Sarah said.
“What about you, Miss Davish?” the madam said. I hesitated.
How many times had I been unwittingly involved in death and murder? Now I was being given a choice. And Lottie was right. If Senator Smith killed Jasper Neely, Lottie’s information could make all the difference. But did I have a choice? Unlike on previous occasions, the police here in Washington had threatened me with imprisonment if I involved myself in any way. Would Lieutenant Whittmeyer regard giving him this evidence as tampering with his investigation? Yes, he would. He would question where I got the book, how I knew Lottie Fox, and why I was speaking to her at all. Without the connection of death between us, both Annie Wilcox’s and Jasper Neely’s, there would be no occasion for us to have ever met. And then there was the possibility of further scandal. I’d already been caught up in the scandal over Annie Wilcox’s death and then again when I was questioned at the police station. Sarah had adeptly limited the effects, but would she be able to again? And what would Sir Arthur think, if I involved myself once again? What would Walter think? And as my future family, how would it affect Daniel and Sarah, who had to live there? Was giving evidence that might catch a killer worth the consequences? If it were only me, I might say yes. But thanks to dear Walter’s proposal, I now had a family and their future to consider.
“No,” I said. “I can’t either.” Sarah smiled in relief. Miss Fox frowned in disappointment. “But maybe we can think of a less risky way of revealing your information to the police than any of us telling them directly.”
I’d approached Sir Arthur with more delicate complications than this before. Even if he still wasn’t pleased with me, he was the one to deal with Lottie Fox’s black book.
“Maybe,” the madam said doubtfully.
“Speaking of the police,” I said, as the two women reversed their expressions, Sarah now frowning as Miss Fox looked eager to hear what I had to say. Miss Fox was to be disappointed again. “Have you learned anything more about the accident that killed Annie?”
“No, nothing. You were right. Despite all the talk in the newspapers, the police are doing nothing to find the man who left Annie to die.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“All the more reason to not approach the police with this,” Sarah said, pointing to the register in Lottie’s hands. “There’s been enough scandal and slander about of late.”
“But it wouldn’t be slander if it were true,” Miss Fox said, opening the drawer of the secretary and putting the register away. She took a key off the ring hanging from her waist. She locked the drawer and then, to my surprise, grabbed my free hand. She put the key in my palm and folded my fingers over it. I’d come to know this woman too well to shy away from her touch. Sarah, on the other hand, grimaced. “And now you know where the register is if you come to need it as proof of the truth.”
How could something so small have such a weight attached to it? I wondered, as I slipped the key between my glove and my skin and closed my hand. But then again, there were those pearl buttons.
“Senator Smith killed Mr. Neely, and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise,” the madam said.
“I can’t imagine Senator Smith being involved, even if he was being blackmailed,” Sarah said, still staring at my hand. “He’s got too much to lose.”
“All the more reason to silence Mr. Neely before it was too late,” the madam said.
“But you’ve held this register for years and no has ever harmed you. Why would Jasper Neely be any different?” Sarah asked.
“Because Miss Fox has never threatened to hand the key to Smith’s destruction to his political rival, as Neely threatened to do,” I said.
“Do you realize what you’re saying, Hattie?” Sarah said, mortification written across her face.
“That I agree with Miss Fox that Senator Smith is a suspect in Jasper Neely’s murder? Yes, unfortunately, I know exactly what I’m saying.”
CHAPTER 30
After wishing Lottie Fox well in her new life in New York, Sarah and I slipped silently down the stairs, out the back door and, with dawn fully upon us, snuck back along the alley. To
my relief there were no reporters lying in wait. I accompanied Sarah to the nearest trolley stop in silence, and after seeing her off walked the few blocks to the Mall. I slumped onto a wooden bench and leaned back against the trunk of an elm tree. I closed my eyes for a moment, my mind swirling with questions, suspicions, and concerns. After several minutes of reflection and still finding no peace, I pulled out my notepad. As I put pencil to paper, a nanny, in a dark blue cotton dress and white bonnet, pushed a baby carriage past. Her cooing did nothing to quiet the squalling baby inside. I watched the pair grow smaller as they made their way down the Mall until the only sounds I heard were the chattering of birds and the occasional distant clang of a trolley bell. Then I made my list.
1. Did Senator Smith kill Jasper Neely?
2. If not, who did? Someone from Coxey’s camp? Someone from Smith’s house other than Smith? Someone other than Lottie at the Apple House? Someone who didn’t want the Good Roads Bill passed? Someone I haven’t considered yet? (It could be almost anyone.)
3. Who could not have killed Jasper Neely? Chester Smith, Senator Abbott, Marshal Browne, Lottie Fox.
4. Could Neely’s death have nothing to do with Coxey or the Good Roads Bill?
5. Is there a connection between Jasper Neely’s death and the National Bank of the Potomac?
6. Is there a connection between Jasper Neely’s and Annie’s deaths?
7. Will they ever discover who abandoned Annie Wilcox to drown?
8. Could the same man who abandoned Annie be the man who killed Jasper Neely?
9. What will happen to Coxey, Browne, and the marchers now?
10. What should I do with Lottie Fox’s key?
11. Will Sir Arthur change his mind and give Walter and me his blessing?
12. Will Walter and I be happy?
I looked at my list. The only question I could answer unequivocally was the last.
“Yes,” I said out loud, smiling at the image of Walter teetering nervously on the edge of the wall surrounding the Bartholdi Fountain, the mist glistening on his hat, before proposing.
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