'Cadets, you call them,' Bruce laughed. 'You know they're pimps.'
'I try to avoid such language,' Karen retorted.
As they strolled along, Karen waved her hand to take in the entire block. 'All you'll find here are winehouses – some play Scott Joplin ragtime on piano rolls all night long, saloons awash with whisky, pawnshops, gambling joints, and, above all, the mainstay of this district, houses of prostitution. This red-light district is filled with them.'
'Red-light district,' said Cathleen. 'What does that mean?'
'Women for sale,' said Karen. 'Red-light comes from the fact that many of the bordellos have red beacons on the outside.' Again she pointed. 'Over there you see the house owned by Julia and Maurice Van Bever, who were found guilty of practising white slavery, inducing innocent young women to become prostitutes.'
'White slavery?' Cathleen was appalled. 'Isn't that ancient history?'
'It still goes on here and there,' said Karen. 'Off to your left, do you see that hovel with the windows painted over? It's known as a breaking-in house. A handsome man finds a girl who is looking for a good time, a few drinks, some song, and for some love. The man takes the girl to a breaking-in house like that and fills her with liquor. Then he takes her into a back room where a gang of men are waiting. All the men take turns raping the girl, standing in line to do it. Then they give her cocaine or morphine to make her even more passive. After that, she's broken in and ready to become a prostitute.'
'How horrible,' Cathleen gasped.
'It's not the rule,' Karen assured her. 'White slavery is uncommon. Such tactics are unnecessary these days. The madams claim the majority of girls come here to become prostitutes out of choice or out of necessity. Once, the British journalist William T. Stead made a study of the Levee and wrote a book about it called If Christ Came to Chicago. I read it. He wrote the Levee had no civilizing influences. He found no concert hall, no resident clergyman, no educator. He found one German church and wrote, "It is an oasis set in the midst of all the vice and squalor and drunkenness of the district."'
Cathleen looked about her, shocked. 'Those poor girls, how I pity them.'
Bruce squeezed her hand. 'As Karen told you, most of the girls are here by choice. It's the madams of the brothels that trouble me. They're hiring the girls. I wonder what their excuses are?'
'There can't be any excuses,' Cathleen said firmly.
Karen was feeling extremely uncomfortable. As they reached the end of a block, she announced, 'I think we've had enough of this sorrowful place. Let's turn around and get back to your aunts' home before Minna and Aida begin to worry about what I've done with you.'
They retraced their steps to the Everleigh Club. After Cathleen and Bruce had gone upstairs to their bedrooms, Karen turned around to see Minna standing outside her study, beckoning her.
She hastened toward Minna, then followed her inside.
'That was a long tour,' said Minna. 'How did it go?'
Karen recounted where they had been, and what they had seen, omitting the visit to the Levee. 'Bruce and Cathleen enjoyed it all.'
'Then it went perfectly.'
Karen hesitated, then decided to speak out. 'Not quite, Minna. Afterwards, as we were coming here, Bruce wanted to see a place he'd heard about called the Levee.'
'The Levee,' Minna repeated with disbelief. 'He wanted to see that?'
'He saw it.'
'But for heaven's sake, why did you take him there – here – all around here?'
'Because he insisted, Minna. He wanted to visit the worst of Chicago as well as the best.'
'He saw the brothels?'
'They both did,' admitted Karen.
Minna was silent for an interval as she fixed her eyes on Karen. At last Minna spoke. 'What… what did they say? You can be honest with me, Karen.'
'They were upset by everything in general,' said Karen. 'They seemed to understand and excuse the girls who work here.' Karen paused. 'They blamed the brothel madams most.'
'Oh, my God!' Minna gasped. 'What if they ever found out what Aida and I are really doing here?' When Karen did not comment, Minna drew herself up resolutely. 'Well, they won't. They'll never find out. I won't let that happen. From now on, Aida and I will be doubly on our guard. Thank you, Karen, for telling me the truth and putting me on warning. A hundred thanks.'
Many of the Everleigh girls were idling at the Tremont House Hotel during their enforced vacation.
Dr Holmes had agreed to examine each of them once a week, and he had been doing so during the past two hours.
Now, towards the end of his day, there was only one girl waiting to be examined. This was Greta, a Swedish beauty of about twenty, who was the most playful of all the girls and the most receptive to Holmes's advances.
Greta and Holmes were alone in her room on the fourth floor, and Holmes, removing his jacket, watched her provocatively undressing.
It had crossed his mind when he had arrived, and it was still on his mind as he waited for Greta, that he could have her right there in her room. He had never attempted any sexual advances in the Everleigh Club itself, because it was too populated, and there was a chance that Minna or Aida might walk in on one of his examinations.
But here in the Tremont House Hotel, a comfortable distance from the Everleighs, he felt safe to do whatever he wanted to do.
Greta sat down on the bed, and spread her legs. Finding his speculum, Dr Holmes approached her.
He kneeled down, and perfunctorily examined her for any evidence of recent sexual activity.
There was none. She was clean.
Holmes remained on his knees. 'No real problem,' he said.
'I shouldn't think so,' she called down to him. 'I haven't had a man since leaving the Club. I feel like a virgin.'
Gazing at her vagina, Holmes began to feel the stiffening between his legs.
'If there is any problem,' he said, 'it's that you're very tight down here. You need lubricating.'
'How do I do that?' Greta wanted to know.
'By letting your doctor help you.'
'If you think you can, go ahead,' she said lazily.
Holmes put down his speculum, and returned his attention to her vagina. 'Lie back flat,' he called up hoarsely. 'Spread your legs wider. Very good.'
With his head again between her thighs, his tongue circled her vaginal lips. Then he began to kiss her.
Her body started, and she sat up halfway. 'Hey, Doctor, I didn't know you did that.'
'I never do. But you're something special. I can't resist. Do you object?'
'Not especially, except Minna told me not to have anything to do with any man while I'm outside the Club.'
'Didn't she say you could see me?' he asked, looking up at her.
'Yes, of course.'
'Didn't she say I could treat you?'
'Yes, but-'
'I am treating you, Greta. Lie back and cooperate.'
Greta exhaled. She lay back and gave up all resistance. 'Whatever… whatever you say, Doctor.'
'I say let's enjoy ourselves.'
He bent down once more, easing his head between her thighs, until he could kiss her labia again, and then extended his tongue and inserted it inside her vagina.
She was moist, and her buttocks were rotating.
After a few minutes, he thought she'd had an orgasm, but he wasn't sure and he didn't care.
He pulled back slightly, clambered to his feet, and stood between her legs, unbuttoning his trousers.
'Sit up, Greta,' he commanded. 'Come here.'
He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her head down to his distended penis. 'It's fellatio time, darling.'
'It's what?'
'Time to do unto others as you would have done to you. It's time to suck, Greta.'
Her mouth closed over him and her tongue and lips slid expertly over his penis. He trembled with frenzy. She was good, very good, very, very good. Staring down at the top of her head, the exposed back of her neck, he re
alized how many men she must have done this to, and he was excited by one thing – a desire to sever her head from her body, to dismember her, so that she could do this to no one ever again.
He felt he was coming apart, and then he did, erupting and groaning and groaning.
Later, he patted her cheek. 'You were magnificent, Greta, better than any woman I have ever known.'
'Really? Well, you weren't half bad yourself.'
Holmes dropped the speculum in his bag. 'Then maybe we belong together.'
'What are you saying?'
'I'm saying we seem suited to each other. Why don't you pack your things and move out of here? Move in with me.'
Greta hesitated. 'I'd love to, but what will Minna and Aida say?'
'They'll never know. Move in with me tomorrow. We can live together, and if it works out as I think it will, we can get married. No more of that Everleigh drudgery for you. Will you?'
'Will I!' Greta exclaimed, falling upon Holmes with a hug, and kissing him again and again. 'I'll be there.'
Holmes was scribbling on a piece of paper. 'Here's my address. Any time from noon on tomorrow.'
'I'll be there. I'm so happy.'
'You won't regret it, darling. I'll have a real treat in store for you. I guarantee you one thing. You'll find peace for the first time in your life.'
It was not until just before noon that Minna Everleigh learned that yet another of her favourite girls had disappeared.
The word of this had come from Edmund, who had routinely checked the scattered whereabouts of the Everleigh girls and reported to Minna on what he could learn of their security and behaviour.
This morning he had reported that Greta was missing from the Tremont House Hotel. Edmund had learned that less than an hour before his phone inquiry, Greta had checked out of her room with her suitcases, leaving no forwarding address.
News of this defection had thoroughly mystified Minna and shaken her.
What disturbed Minna most was the constancy of the disappearances. First Fanny. Then Avis. Now Greta. There were two factors that troubled Minna. The first was the number of disappearances within so short a time. Minna had been ac-
customed to losing one girl a year, two at the most. But three leaving without a word in two weeks – it was unheard of. The second factor that concerned Minna was the manner of each disappearance. Until these, when a girl had wanted to leave the Everleigh Club, she usually had been honest with Minna in giving her reason and her destination. A man had proposed marriage to her and she wanted to settle down. She missed her home and family in Denver and wanted to return. Or, simply, she was bored with being enclosed in the Everleigh Club and devoting her life to lying on her back and pretending to enjoy herself. In the past, the departure of each girl, though few and far between, had always been courteous and forthright.
Now Fanny, Avis, and Greta had vanished into thin air, without any explanation.
Minna brooded over the matter for long minutes, and finally she telephoned the young reporter, Chet Foley, at the Chicago Tribune.
'Chet, this is Minna Everleigh at the Club.'
'I'm glad you called. I was planning to come by one day to have a drink with you.'
Minna put on her most gracious tone. 'You're always welcome, except this week and next. We're renovating the place. I'm really calling to ask you a question. If someone close to you disappeared, and you wanted to find them, what would you do?'
Foley answered immediately. 'I'd hire a private detective agency to trace them.'
'That makes sense,' Minna said. 'A detective agency. Why not? What would you say is the biggest one in Chicago?'
'The Pinkerton National Detective Agency, by far.'
'Do you know anything about them, Chet?'
'Not personally. We must have something on file here at the paper.'
'All right,' Minna said, 'I've just changed my mind about your dropping by. You may drop by if you bring me something on the Pinkerton Agency. Can you?'
'Certainly. Do you want to see me soon?'
'Right away. Soon as you have the information, come right over with it.'
Half an hour later, Foley was seated with Minna in her office.
He handed her a folder. 'All we have on the Pinkertons. Some clippings from the Tribune. One from the Observer. An official brochure from their firm. The clippings are repetitious. The brochure should tell you most of what you want to know.'
Minna sat in silence as she thumbed through the material.
The brochure was indeed impressive. It was headed, PINKERTON'S NATIONAL DETECTIVE AGENCY. It had a staring eye as its trademark, and the motto 'We Never Sleep'. The superintendent of the Chicago office was William A. Pinkerton.
Studying the Observer story, Minna saw that it had only praise for William Pinkerton. 'He is America's leading detective, the man through whose medium you may know the exact wealth of Li Hung Chang, how much your clerk bet on the election, or what African jungle hides the clerk who ruined the Bank of Timbuktu. His methods, though effective, are painfully matter-of-fact.'
Minna looked up from the file. 'Their business seems mostly railroads,' she said.
'Their business is crime,' Foley assured her, 'any kind.'
'I suppose you're right,' said Minna, handing back the file. 'I should retain them to look into several disappearances of my girls. If someone's trying to ruin us, I better find out about it. Look, Chet, just hold on while I phone Pinkerton for an appointment. Then we'll have a glass of champagne together.'
After speaking to William Pinkerton and securing an immediate appointment, Minna had Edmund drive her down-
town to Pinkerton's National Agency, at 193 Fifth Avenue in Chicago 's downtown.
Once inside the building, she was escorted to William Pinkerton's cluttered office. He was a great bear of a man, with his hair slicked down flat and a full moustache. He directed Minna to a leather chair beside the desk.
'I'm Minna Everleigh,' she began. 'I don't know if you've heard of me.'
Pinkerton gave a short laugh. 'Who hasn't?' he replied.
'I've run into something that's disturbing me. I think I can use some of your detectives.'
'We don't have detectives,' said Pinkerton. 'We have trained investigators we call operatives.'
'No matter what you call them, they're detectives, aren't they?'
Pinkerton appeared pained. 'All right, if you insist.' He brought what resembled a ledger in front of him, opened it, and dipped his pen in ink. 'Give me the facts first, omitting nothing. On the phone you spoke of a problem concerning the disappearances of some of your employees. Do you want to expand on that?'
'We retain thirty young girls at the Everleigh Club to entertain our guests. In a normal year, I might lose one of them, at the most two, to marriage, homesickness, a desire to change jobs. Just now I have lost three of my best girls in a row, all within a period of two weeks. Each one simply upped and left, vanished into thin air. It gives me the uneasy feeling that someone took Fanny, Avis, and Greta away from me to destroy our Club.'
'Can you give me the girls' full names?'
Minna recited the full names: Fanny Spenser, Avis Kaufman, Greta Ryan. 'All under twenty-two, and pretty.'
'Please describe each one in detail,' Pinkerton said, as he entered the names in his ledger.
Minna described Fanny, Avis, and Greta as best she could.
Pinkerton continued to write. He glanced up. 'Would anyone you know have had contact with these three, someone who might have an idea of their plans or what they had on their minds?'
'The other girls, of course. I have my valet, Edmund, questioning them right now. I'm afraid that won't lead to anything fruitful. The girls are usually close-mouthed about what they know of each other. They'd be especially close-mouthed in a matter like this, about three of them who walked out on us.'
'I see,' said Pinkerton. 'Can you think of anyone else who had contact with these girls who might be more forthcoming?'
'N
ot really, except – well, there's our physician, who visits all the girls once a week and speaks to them intimately and regularly. He might have some clues.'
'His name?'
'Dr Herman H. Holmes. He knew them all. He could possibly be helpful.'
'How would I locate him?'
Minna gave Holmes's address to Pinkerton. 'Do you want his telephone number?'
'No. I think I'll just look in on him without an appointment. Let's find out if he knows what Fanny, Avis, and Greta had in mind.'
'When are you going to see Dr Holmes?'
'Immediately. Today. I'll do it personally. This is a fascinating mystery. I'll look into it right after you leave, Miss Ever-leigh, and then I'll report to you. Perhaps we'll get to the bottom of this or perhaps we won't. But we'll try.'
Dr Herman Holmes lusted for this girl. No longer sexually, but in anticipation of carving up her ample body.
Greta had moved in a few hours ago. He had taken her on a tour of his three-storey offices and home. She had been dazzled by its comfort and size.
As he left her at her bedroom, she said with awe, 'This is going to be my home too?'
'Yours and mine from this day on,' promised Holmes.
'Did you mean what you said about maybe marrying me?'
Holmes smiled. 'I'm a bachelor. I've studiously avoided marriage until I was sure I'd found the right woman.' He met her eyes. 'I think I've found her at last.'
'I'm so happy!' Greta exclaimed, melting into his arms.
He held her briefly, whispering, 'I'll try to see that you're always happy.' Parting from her, he added, 'I can't wait to make love to you again. You go into your room and undress. Have a leisurely bath. Then put on the silk robe you'll find inside and join me downstairs. I'll be waiting for you.'
A half-hour later, when he heard her descending the staircase, Holmes left his office to meet her.
She giggled when she saw him in his underwear.
Tightening the belt of her purple silk robe, she said, 'Looks like you have something special in mind, Herman.'
'I do, my pet.'
'Where do we go?'
'To a place where we can have complete privacy.' He took her arm. 'Come along.'
The Golden Room Page 14