Alice and the Assassin

by R. J. Koreto

  “I haven’t forgotten that,” snapped Alice. “We have no proof that the Great Erie is connected to the Van Schuylers. But very well—you are right, I suppose, about their suspicious behavior. No matter how you look at it, there’s something worth investigating. And yes, we know Czolgosz was working in the Great Lakes region, where he may have met this Archangel. And that proves what I said earlier: I think we’re still on the right path. There are too many connections for there to be a coincidence.”

  “Speaking of the Van Schuylers, Miss Alice, why didn’t your boy Preston mention all the work his family is doing?”

  “His uncle runs the company, not him. They’re expanding their business ventures, clearly.”

  “I’ll give you that. But where to next?”

  “We have to visit Cesare.”

  “Yes. Let’s make a nice visit to a hired killer.”

  “But—”

  I held up my hand. “Enough. I’m too tired to argue this. Even if I was going to take you there, it’s too late. And we have dinner plans.”

  “But I told Dulcie yesterday I’d be home for dinner.”

  “And I told her this morning you wouldn’t. You had an interesting lunch and now you’re having an interesting dinner. We’re going to Mariah’s.”

  “Really? I wanted to—but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “If I had known we were visiting, I would’ve worn something nicer.”

  “I think that’s fine,” I said.

  “From an expert in ladies’ clothing. But nevermind. I’ve wanted to meet her very much.”

  “And Mariah wants to meet you as well.”

  We got into the car and headed uptown.

  “Did you mean that? When Don Abruzzo said he hoped I’d have a husband someday who would control me, and you said you hoped not?”

  I gave her a glance. After what we had done that day, I had forgotten how young Alice was, but now, seeing the hint of shyness and uncertainty on her face, she didn’t look a day older than her seventeen years.

  “Yes. I just think it would be a shame if someone tried to snuff out that spirit of yours. Not that I’d give good odds of any man being able to do that.” She smiled at that and looked a little proud of herself. Then she gave another one of her sidelong glances.

  “Mr. St. Clair, how come you’re not married yet?” She was a little hesitant asking that, which was unusual for her.

  I shrugged. “I don’t really know. I’ve been pretty busy. And Mariah says I’m not ready yet.”

  “I think you would be if you met the right woman,” she said with absolute sureness.

  I laughed. “You’re so smart, Miss Alice. You tell me what the right woman looks like.”

  She looked closely at me again to make sure I wasn’t teasing her. “Very well. Although you are hardworking, you need a push. You need a strong woman to give you purpose and move you along.”

  “Oh, I do, do I?” I said. “I thought I was doing all right.”

  “Just all right. You could do better. So who do you think is your ideal wife?”

  “Never gave it much thought,” I said. “Maybe a nice quiet girl who does what she’s told.”

  She didn’t like that. Crossed her arms and didn’t saying anything for a while. I thought she was angry, but looking back on it later, she was hurt.

  After a few minutes, I tried to get her to talk again. “When we were with Don Abruzzo, you called me ‘the best of men.’ Did you mean that?”

  “That? Merely a rhetorical phrase to show you occupied a position of trust,” she said, and no actress ever delivered her lines with such loftiness. I bit my lip to keep from laughing and watched her blush before putting my eyes back on the road.

  “Mr. St. Clair, do we have time to stop by my bookie off of Houston?”

  “Miss Alice, I believe we do.”

  CHAPTER 9

  I could smell Mariah’s cooking down the hall. I had a couple of bottles of beer stuck in my coat pocket, and Alice held a bouquet of flowers that she had insisted on buying for her hostess. We knocked and Mariah let us in.

  The two women gave each other a quick look up and down. “Mariah, this is Miss Alice Roosevelt. Miss Alice, my sister, Mrs. Mariah Flores.”

  “Flowers? Aren’t you sweet. Joey, be a dear and find a glass to put them in. I’m almost done in the kitchen. You two make yourselves comfortable, and I’ll join you in a moment.”

  I set up the flowers and grabbed a couple of glasses for the beer as we stepped into the parlor and sat on the couch.

  “You didn’t tell me how beautiful she was,” said Alice, like she was accusing me of hiding something.

  “Boys were always hanging around the house, from when she was younger than you.” She wore her hair loose more often than not, and with those black ringlets falling across her pretty face, she led the young men of the county on a merry dance.

  “Do you think she’ll like me?” asked Alice.

  “Why shouldn’t she?” I asked. “And since when have you ever worried about what anyone thought about you?”

  “But she’s your sister,” said Alice, as if that explained everything, and then Mariah joined us. She had shed her apron and adjusted her hair, and she sat down next to me. I poured her a glass of beer and watched while she gazed at Alice.

  “You are every bit as lovely as your pictures,” she said. “You’re still very young, though. You’ll grow into yourself in the next couple of years.”

  “Thank you,” said Alice, a little nonplussed.

  “Is Joey behaving himself?” she asked.

  “Yes. Your brother—Mr. St. Clair—is being a perfect gentleman.”

  Mariah laughed at that, and I started getting a little nervous, seeing where this conversation was going. “He’s done some growing up, then. You should’ve known him back in the day.”

  Alice gave me a sidelong glance. “Did your brother leave a trail of broken hearts?” she asked.

  “More like a trail of angry fathers with shotguns,” said Mariah.

  “Oh, be fair,” I said.

  Mariah laughed, but Alice didn’t join her. She just looked at me solemnly. “I would’ve thought you’d be a little more constant,” she said.

  “Well, we can’t all find our true love right off the bat, like you did with Preston van Schuyler,” I said.

  Alice glared and Mariah said, “No gentleman teases a lady like that. Hon, you can hit Joey if you want, and I won’t blame you.”

  “I think I’ll just ignore him,” said Alice, turning away from me, and Mariah nodded in agreement.

  “Come to the table. It’s dinnertime.”

  I handed forks to Alice, who looked a little confused at first. Roosevelts don’t set their own tables. But it only took a few moments for her to realize what she needed to do, and with a small look of amusement, she carefully set them on the table. Meanwhile, Mariah dished out dinner from the pots.

  “It smells delicious, Mrs. Flores,” she said.

  “Thanks, hon. And call me Mariah.”

  “Then call me Alice,” she said.

  We sat at the table, and Alice looked curiously at the bowls.

  “It’s called chili con carne. It’s not fancy, but Joey has liked it since he was a little boy, and he says I make the best. It’s meat and beans and a whole lot of spices, and it’s pretty hot, so be careful.”

  The chili was a little bit of back home, and Alice liked it fine, eating it eagerly and washing it down with beer.

  “What a day. Chinese food, Italian wine, and now chili con carne in Yorkville.”

  “You need to get out more,” said Mariah, and Alice met her eye and said, “Yes. Yes I do. You’re a talented cook. Where did you learn?”

  “Here and there, out West with Joey here, and I spent some time in Texas and Louisiana. If you ever want to eat well, hon, go to New Orleans.”

  “I will. I want to go everywhere. Oh, but there’s something I wanted to ask you. Your brother said you ha
d been married, but it ‘didn’t take.’ I was wondering why he didn’t take.”

  I slammed my fork on the edge of my bowl. “Oh, for God’s sake, Miss Alice!”

  “What? If she doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not going to make her, but no one in society discusses marriage, so I was curious.”

  Mariah pursed her lips and eyed Alice. “You’re something, hon. I bet you get bored easily.”

  “There’s nothing worse than being bored.” And then her mischievous smile appeared. “Except being boring.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Mariah said, downing her beer. “But about me and Carlos Flores. I wasn’t much older than you. You never know what someone is like until you try to build your lives together, and then maybe you think you have the same plans, but you don’t. That’s what’s important—where you’re going. Think on that.”

  Alice nodded solemnly. “I’ll think on that. Meanwhile, your brother and I are hunting assassins.”

  “Joey told me you two were up to something. How’s the detective work going?”

  I started to talk, but Mariah cut me off. She wanted to hear from Alice.

  “Well enough. But I can’t see the ‘why.’ I can’t imagine why someone cares that we were looking into anarchists. Someone spent money and time to follow us and effort to keep me from finding out who they are. Why does anyone care?”

  “Doesn’t Joey have any ideas? He’s the lawman in the family.”

  “Oh, he’s very smart. But he’s playing his cards close to his chest. He teases me and says he thinks it’s the Van Schuyler family, but I think there’s something else on his mind.”

  “Well, we all have our blind spots, hon. But have you thought about what motivates people?”

  “It must be power,” Alice said. “Isn’t that what everyone wants? Power?”

  I laughed, and Alice looked offended. “Sorry, Miss Alice. I’m not poking fun at you. Where Mariah and I come from, no one has power. No one gets power. You hope for a few extra coins so you can buy a shot of whisky after a week of backbreaking work. In Laramie, I broke up fights over two bits.”

  That seemed to really affect her. “I suppose my background has been a little . . . narrow,” she said. “But this is good. We have money and power. What else?”

  “Desire,” said Mariah. “Just wanting something because you want it.”

  “Ooh, I like that one,” said Alice. “Whatever it is, someone wants it badly, because they hired an assassin, and we’re going to visit him tomorrow.”

  Mariah gave me a dubious look at that. I just shrugged. We were getting into dangerous territory, so I changed the subject. “Mariah, tell Miss Alice about the French Quarter.” She’s a good storyteller, and soon she had Alice entranced.

  “You ought to visit sometime, Alice. I think you’d like it. But while you’re here in New York, you two be careful, all right?”

  Alice slipped her arm into mine and looked me in the eye. “I have no fear. Your brother may be silly and childish sometimes, but he’s an excellent bodyguard, and you should be very proud of him. I’m pleased to have him at my side.”

  Mariah raised an eyebrow.

  After dinner, we started to clean up, and Mariah told Alice she was a guest and should just sit in the parlor. But Alice said Roosevelts didn’t just sit around, and she helped. Then she sat on the couch while Mariah made some coffee, but by the time it was ready, the girl was asleep.

  “It was a busy, exciting day, and between the wine earlier and the beer tonight, it’s no wonder. She’s pretty young. I forget that sometimes.”

  Mariah gave me another one of her slight slaps. “Well don’t. She’s a firecracker, all right, and pretty sharp, but never forget how young she is.”

  “For God’s sake, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

  “You don’t want me to answer that. Anyway, it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s her. She’s taken a fancy to you, Joey. Young girls are jealous and possessive, and when you come from a background like that, you expect to get what you want.”

  “What are you talking about? She’s just a kid who enjoys having her own private cowboy.” Alice wasn’t the only one who had had a long day, so it didn’t sink in for a while.

  “Yes, right. I’m talking about a cowboy and war hero who’s fast on the draw, and for all her sophistication, she’s very impressionable.”

  “You’re the one who told me to follow her, to not get so fat and comfortable.”

  “And that’s fine, but tone down the charm a bit.”

  “I can’t help it,” I said, grinning.

  Mariah just rolled her eyes. “You’re drunk. Have some coffee.”

  So I had two cups, and then I thought it was time we headed home. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, time to get up.” I touched her gently on her shoulder. Alice roused herself, looking surprised and then embarrassed.

  “I am so sorry. How rude of me.”

  “It’s been a long day,” said Mariah. “And it was a compliment to my cooking. Joey always fills up and then goes to sleep, too. I really enjoyed having you over, Alice.”

  “And I’d like to thank you for having me over. I’ve wanted to meet you, and I’m glad I did.”

  I fetched our coats, and as Mariah watched me strap on my Colt, she said again, “You two be careful.”

  “Mr. St. Clair takes good care of me,” said Alice, nestling into her fur coat.

  “I can believe that, Alice. And you take care of my baby brother.”

  We drove back to the Caledonia, and Alice, who was usually chatty, kept silent, even though she stayed wide awake in the cold. We had almost reached home when she said, “What did Mariah mean when she said I should take care of you?”

  “Just big sister talk. She thinks I need looking after.”

  “You always seemed like a man who could take care of himself.” I shrugged. “But I consider Mariah my friend now, so if she asks me to look after you, I will.” She was very serious about it; there was no coy smile. And so I said thank you, and that’s all we spoke that evening until we said good-night at her apartment door.

  After I got into my bed, I kept turning over Mariah’s words. I had always thought Alice just found me a little more entertaining that her New York friends because she had never met anyone like me before, but maybe it had gone a little beyond that. It would be something to watch out for, especially from a girl who didn’t like to be thwarted.

  CHAPTER 10

  Dulcie was making griddle cakes and sausage the next morning, which I consumed with delight, along with more of her great coffee.

  “When are you going to get married so I don’t have to feed you?” she said.

  “Why should I saddle myself with a wife if you’re going to cook for me?” I replied, and that got no better reply than any other joke I made.

  Alice came to get me as I was wiping my hands. She had gotten a full night’s sleep and was looking as keen as a coonhound.

  “Dulcie, that blueberry preserve was divine.”

  “Glad you liked it, Miss Alice,” she said with barely more civility than I received.

  “If you’re ready, Mr. St. Clair, we have work to do,” she said, and a moment later we were out the door and on our way to the car.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Don’t be silly. We’re going to visit Cesare and find out if he can tell us anything about the Archangel.”

  “You don’t see any flaw in this plan? Trying to get information out of a hired killer?”

  “Ah, but he’s a hired killer. And no one has hired him to kill us. I see no reason for him to be uncivil.”

  “I’m so glad you see it that way.”

  Alice sighed theatrically. “Things were going so well, and I thought we had reached a modus operandi. And now you’re being so difficult.”

  “How about a compromise? We grab a few cops and they arrest this Cesare for something—anything—say, keeping a canary without a license.” New York City cops didn’t need muc
h of an excuse to haul someone like Cesare down to the Tombs. “Once he’s safely there, you can talk to him as long as you want.”

  She thought that over. “That shows some imagination. I agree.”

  We headed down to Little Italy again. I wanted to drive by the place to see what we were up against before we brought in the cavalry, but there was already a squad of cops out front. It was one of the darker streets in the neighborhood, and what little light there was was blocked by hanging laundry. Unlike the busy main streets, here no one stopped. Wives carried their bags quickly to their homes, looking down and not showing any curiosity. A few men in scruffy suits briefly gazed at us, but when the cops gave them some hard looks, they moved on quickly.

  I parked the car and we approached one of the boys in blue.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Who wants to know?” he snapped back.

  It’s not fun walking a beat in this weather, I admit. I flashed my badge. “Now who’s in charge here?”

  “Lieutenant Breen. He’s upstairs. Some Italian got blown away. You know what they’re like, always killing each other.”

  Alice sighed and turned away, glancing around the street, as if the answer were out there. A beggar, seeing a rare crowd on this street, sidled up to me and Alice. It was morning, but he was already halfway drunk. Alice absently gave him a coin before one of the cops prodded him with a billy club and told him to move on.

  I turned to Alice. “Stay down here with the police. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  “You’re joking, right?” she said as she pushed past me.

  “Hey, who the hell is the lady?” said the cop we were talking to.

  “She’s the new assistant commissioner. Watch your mouth,” I said, and I followed Alice up the stairs.

  “This isn’t going to be pretty,” I said, but she ignored me. Upstairs, we saw more cops by an open door.

  “Who the hell are you two?” asked the guy who was clearly the lieutenant, and I told him.

  “What’s the Secret Service’s interest here?”

  “They call it the Secret Service,” I said. I never get tired of that, but Breen rolled his eyes.