The Fall Of White City (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 1)

by N. S. Wikarski

  Jane walked back from the window and sat down again. She shook her head sadly. “In some ways, I think it was the more unfortunate case of the two. Do you remember Rosa Grandinetti?”

  “No, should I?”

  “Perhaps not. This happened about a year and a half ago, after you had joined our little band, but I don’t think Rosa ever took any of your classes. Her primary interest was in crafts—weaving and pottery mainly.”

  Evangeline waited for more without interrupting.

  “Anyway, for no accountable reason, she stopped coming to classes here. Since she had been such a regular student, I wondered what had happened and went to pay her mother a visit. When I asked Mrs. Grandinetti about her daughter, she told me that she had no daughter.”

  “She couldn’t have meant that literally.”

  “No, figuratively. Rosa had turned to prostitution to make her living.”

  Evangeline registered surprise. “Was her family in such dire straits that she had no alternative?”

  “Not at all. She had three brothers and a father—all of whom were working at the time. That’s what made the business so unaccountable. I couldn’t let the matter rest. Like you, I suppose I wanted to explain an event that made no sense to me. So I traced her whereabouts and went to see her. I began to ask her questions but she wouldn’t speak to me. Just hid her face in her hands and started crying. It was most distressing to see her that way. Most distressing. She showed such promise, too.”

  Evangeline felt a chill run down her spine as she heard her own words about Elsa repeated back to her. On a hunch, she asked, “Was she unusually pretty?”

  “Oh, my yes. Shy though. Not the sort one would ever expect to take to the streets.”

  “Did you hear anything about a romance that ended badly in connection with her?”

  “No. I couldn’t get anyone in her family to talk about her at all. I was fortunate that they even told me where to find her.”

  “Perhaps she still lives in the same neighborhood.” Evangeline had already begun planning her next move.

  “I’m sure she does.” Jane’s voice held a note of strain. “It’s one of the houses of prostitution on Clark Street. I can give you the address if you really feel the need to speak to her.”

  “That would be a great help to me, Jane. As it is, I’m grasping at straws.”

  The other lady nodded and wrote an address on a slip of paper. As she handed it to Evangeline, she asked, “Engie, you don’t seriously believe there’s a connection here, do you? If that were true, then somehow I can’t help thinking we may all be at fault.”

  Evangeline was troubled by the thought. “Well, that would be a hard truth to face, wouldn’t it? By creating an island of trust here, we may have opened the door to a murderer masquerading as a benefactor.” She stopped short. “No, I won’t have it! The work you do here, the work all of us do here is good. It may have been put to an evil use, but how could we have known it would be? All we can do now—all I can do—is to make certain the wolf who has been preying on your little flock never has the opportunity to do it again.”

  Evangeline folded the paper decisively, placed it in her handbag, and left. She fancied that the worried look on Jane’s face wouldn’t depart until long after she had gone.

  Chapter 22—The New Jerusalem

  “Good morning, Jonathan,” Evangeline whispered playfully.

  The junior banker looked up from his paperwork in surprise. “Engie!” he exclaimed when he realized who stood before his desk. “This is certainly a welcome diversion! I hope it will be the first of many such visits.”

  Evangeline assumed her most pleasing manner. “I’ve come to see if I can persuade you to be derelict in your duty.”

  Blackthorne frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, ma belle.”

  She sat down in one of the wooden chairs facing his desk and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Carpe diem, dear man. The Exposition will be closing next week.”

  “Yes... ,” Blackthorne said guardedly.

  “I’ve had time to reconsider my rather abrupt refusal of your invitation a few weeks ago. It would be grand to see the Fair one last time, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I suppose that it would... but today?”

  “Jonathan, don’t tell me you would be so ungallant as to disoblige a lady?”

  Blackthorne appeared to be impaled on the horns of a dilemma.

  “It’s such a beautiful autumn day. There won’t be many more of them before winter. Do say you’ll come with me! I would be inconsolable if you were to fail me now!” To complete a convincing gesture of appeal, she extended her hand across the desk toward him, waiting for him to take it.

  Blackthorne glanced around him apprehensively. He sighed and looked down at his appointment calendar. After wrestling for a few more moments with his conscience, he took the lady’s hand in his own. “Of course, my dear, of course. I have nothing pressing today, and I would hate to disappoint you. Who knows, second thoughts about one proposal might lead to second thoughts about another.” He stood up, put on his hat, and offered his arm to Evangeline. “Shall we?”

  She approximated a giggle of delight and took his arm. Outside, Jack was waiting at the curb in the driver’s seat of Evangeline’s brougham. “I thought we might take my carriage rather than braving la canaille on the Illinois Central line,” she said as Blackthorne helped her inside.

  He laughed. “Why, Engie, what an undemocratic sentiment to come from you. However, I’m delighted you share my view of the rabble.”

  He swung in beside her and closed the door. Jack steered them as best he could through the traffic-choked downtown streets until they were well south of the business district. Skyscrapers gave way to the genteel dwellings of Chicago’s wealthy citizens along Prairie Avenue. This elegant scenery in turn gave way to a flat, weedy plain, which contained a marvel that some observers had called the “New Jerusalem.”

  For there on the shores of Lake Michigan, in what had formerly been the swampy and undistinguished mud hole of Jackson Park, the world’s most noted architects had fashioned a city of dreams—the great White City of the Columbian Exposition. The fairgrounds ran two miles in length and, like the Grand Canyon that other wonder of the new world, had the effect of exceeding the capacity of imagination to comprehend what the eyes beheld. With endless lagoons and fountains, statuary of Greek gods and goddesses, and exhibition buildings more immense than the great pyramid at Giza, it was no surprise that spectators required the relief of the Midway to bring them back to earth.

  The Midway Plaisance was an offshoot of the Exposition and stretched about a mile from Stoney Island on the east to Cottage Grove on the west. It contained a series of exotic and lurid attractions, which the planners of the fair acknowledged only to the extent that they boosted revenues. Here a polyglot of nations was represented. Here stood the Street of Cairo where Little Egypt danced. Here stood Hagenbeck’s Animal Show and the Dahomey Village where a primitive tribe had been imported for the inspection and amazement of the civilized world. Here, too, the great Ferris wheel pushed the limits of the sky itself. At its apex, the wheel lifted the spectator two hundred and sixty-six feet in the air—commanding a godlike view of the city skyline seven miles to the north, the blue gem of Lake Michigan to the east, and the Midway to the west. A thirty-minute ride on the wheel, costing fifty cents, was as expensive as an admission ticket to the Exposition itself.

  Evangeline instructed Jack to drive to the entrance at Fifty-Seventh Street and Stoney Island, where she and Blackthorne alighted. As the two entered the fairgrounds, Evangeline asked, “Can you guess how many tickets have been sold to this event, Jonathan?”

  Blackthorne surveyed the milling crowd of foreigners, rustics, and city dwellers before him. “Judging from today’s attendance alone, I should say several million.”

  “Over twenty-four million to be more precise. I’ve been reading up on the latest news from the Fair.”

  “Well
, I’m just grateful they aren’t all here today,” he muttered.

  “Jonathan, you seem unhappy to be here. Have I upset you by dragging you along with me?”

  “Not at all, ma belle. Not at all.” He took her hand and folded her arm under his own. “I’m just disappointed that I have to share your company with so many others.” He fixed her with a slow smile. “My sole intention today is to please you. Where do you wish to begin?”

  She affected a casual air that she hoped would disguise the purpose she had in mind. “I should like very much to start at the Palace of Fine Arts, if you please.”

  “I am your servant, ma chérie.” Blackthorne raised her fingers to his lips before he let go of her arm. He then walked over to a concession stand to purchase a guidebook to the exhibits.

  After the two had located their destination on the map, Evangeline said decisively, “Well, let’s be off then. The Fine Arts Building is that way.” She gestured with her parasol toward the far end of the fairgrounds.

  The couple skirted the North Pond, one of the endless shallow pools complete with gondolas that made Jackson Park more reminiscent of Venice than Chicago. They arrived at the colossal bleached building that housed a temporary collection of the world’s art treasures. These were on loan from the royal houses of Europe, primarily through the efforts of Berthe Templar. Evangeline held her hand up to shade her eyes.

  “How bright the glare is from these white buildings. A shame none of them will withstand the blast of one good Chicago winter.” She looked up at the immense stone maidens supporting each side portico of the building by bearing the massive weight of the roof on their equally massive heads. She secretly felt herself as overburdened as they at the moment. The couple climbed the steps and reached the shady protection of the main entrance.

  “Well, it says here that this one will.” Blackthorne consulted the description of the Palace of Fine Arts in the guidebook.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, it seems that the construction was made sturdier and more fireproof at the insistence of the governments that donated so many of their national treasures for the Exposition.”

  Evangeline laughed. “You mean they weren’t willing to trust that Chicago had learned its lesson after the last blaze?”

  “Apparently not.” Blackthorne squinted up at the front pillars. “This building is to be converted to a permanent museum after the fair is over.”

  “Well, that’s something at least! Jonathan, doesn’t it bother you that all this splendor was created out of nothing more substantial than painted burlap and plaster?”

  “Should it bother me?”

  “Doesn’t it seem a form of trumpery to you? To invite the world to come and marvel at our accomplishments when all that we’ve created for their inspection are a series of stage sets, and neoclassical ones at that?”

  Blackthorne squeezed her hand. “My dear, you think too much.”

  Evangeline raised an eyebrow. “How odd. Your mother told me the same thing. It must be a Blackthorne family trait.”

  “But if you just consider the matter, Engie, don’t you see that everything in life is a facade? Civilization is nothing more than a veneer that barely coats the savage within.”

  Evangeline chose not to contradict him. She didn’t want him to become suspicious of her motives for bringing him here. Her plan was to lead him through the exhibits at random and tire him out. When his guard was down, she would make her move.

  ***

  They spent the next several hours touring not only the Art Palace but the exposition buildings devoted to fisheries, horticulture, manufacturing, electricity, mining, and transportation. Evangeline was particularly interested in viewing the Women’s Building designed by a female architect. Finally, as a much-needed diversion from all these educational exhibits, Evangeline proposed that they go to the Midway to see Little Egypt dance.

  Blackthorne scowled at her daring suggestion. “Do you really think that’s an appropriate place for you to be seen, Engie?”

  “Oh, nonsense, Jonathan, it’s a fair, not a bordello. I certainly don’t expect to have my morals corrupted by the sight.”

  “It’s not your morals that are at risk, my dear. But, you are in very real danger of having your purse stolen.”

  She smiled up at him impishly. “I’m quite sure you’ll protect me if it comes to that.”

  Blackthorne sighed. “As you wish, though I find the entire Midway distasteful.”

  “How so?” Evangeline led him on.

  “It’s vulgar and cheap. The Exposition is debased by its proximity to something so common.”

  “You don’t much care for the common man, do you, Jonathan?”

  Blackthorne gave a contemptuous grimace. “I have very little reason to. The city is overrun with foreigners, who seem to do nothing but push and shove their way through the streets and knife one another in alleys. Every time I open a newspaper, I expect to see a list of casualties implying that this city is in the midst of a war.”

  “Perhaps it is a war. A war between the way of life that you and I know, and theirs.”

  Blackthorne looked at her gravely. “God help us all, if you’re right, Engie. I think it was a great mistake to let so many of them overrun our cities in the first place—with their disease and their violence. At times I feel as if they should all be exterminated like the vermin they attract.”

  “They’re human beings, Jonathan. Just as you and I are.” Evangeline could barely conceal the shock she felt at his words.

  “Are they, Engie? Are they?” Blackthorne came to a full stop as they neared the entrance to the Midway. He pointed toward two dirt-encrusted urchins standing outside the gate. He reached into his pocket and casually flipped a nickel in their direction. The boys dove to the ground for the coin, kicking and gouging one another until the victor ripped it away from his mate and took to his heels before a counterattack began. The loser screamed curses in some foreign language and ran after him.

  Blackthorne cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at his companion. “Human, you said. Are you quite sure of that?”

  Evangeline made no direct reply to the question, but she shivered as a cloud blew across the sun. The couple walked in silence through the entrance to the Plaisance. As they proceeded down the central path that led them to Evangeline’s chosen destination, the walls echoed with a barrage of carnival sounds. At close range, the music of a German band contended with North African drums. The odor of food from a variety of countries, French and Turkish, Irish and Moroccan, Dutch and Chinese, assaulted them as they made their way toward the Street of Cairo exhibit.

  They entered the crowded street, which was swarming with a visual polyglot to match the aromas and sounds they had already encountered. They saw Americans and Arabs, Soudanese and Nubians, camels and donkeys, all crowded together as the couple searched for the theater where sword dancers and ladies who performed la danse du ventre could be found.

  Evangeline knew they had arrived when she saw that the crowd milling around waiting for the next show to start was primarily male. They were all eager to see the foreign girl who had started such a flurry among Chicago’s more straitlaced residents. She was a Syrian dancer named Fareeda Mahzar, and she did what was known in local papers as the “hootchy-kootchy.” Although her costume as described in the press contained more material than a lady’s bathing suit, the force of imagination had weighed so heavily that there were those willing to swear they had seen her dance wearing nothing more substantial than a diamond garter. Evangeline was curious to test the accuracy of such reports but, as she was about to press forward through the doorway to the theater, Jonathan gripped her hard by the arm. She wheeled about in surprise.

  “No!” he said urgently. “I cannot allow this! You don’t belong here, Engie.”

  “Jonathan...,” she began to protest, but he roughly pulled her away from the entrance.

  His voice carried an undertone of menace that she had never heard before. “I wil
l not have you polluted by contact with anything this vile! Come away, Engie! I don't wish to be seen here, nor should you!”

  Under normal circumstances, Evangeline would have done as she pleased, but she was too stunned by the raw emotion that Blackthorne was exhibiting. He hadn't released his grip on her arm, and she believed he would have dragged her away if she resisted.

  “Very well, Jonathan,” she murmured in a small voice. “As you wish. I’ll go along peaceably.”

  She allowed herself to be led back to the central path. Blackthorne said nothing the whole time. His composure didn't return until the beating drums and wailing music from the theater in the Street of Cairo were well behind them. Evangeline wasn’t quite sure what reaction she had expected to provoke but the one she received was far beyond anything she anticipated.

  Affecting a sweet smile, she steered him in another direction. “Perhaps you’re right, Jonathan. Perhaps we should confine ourselves to more dignified pursuits.” She linked her arm through his.

  He seemed to relax by degrees as the couple strolled further down the Midway. As if on impulse, Evangeline came to a dead stop in the middle of the Plaisance. “I know what we should do next!”

  Blackthorne looked at her quizzically.

  “Let’s take a ride on the Ferris wheel!”

  She watched him closely to judge his reaction. She could have sworn his swarthy complexion had turned pale. He tried to sound unruffled but she was attuned to a certain nervous tone in his voice. “Why whatever for, Engie? You must have been on that ride before.”

  “Of course I’ve been, Jonathan.” She added, almost as an afterthought, “I have little doubt that you must have been there too, but the view is so spectacular I can’t resist.”

  Blackthorne seemed to hover on the brink of refusal, but he finally relented. “As you wish. I’ve already disappointed you once. I have no wish to do so again. Lead on, my dear, lead on.”

  They traveled the short distance to the base of the gigantic wheel that dominated the fairground. A fence had been constructed around the ride so that only paying customers could ascend the stairs that would lead them to even more Olympian heights. Evangeline happened to notice a young woman standing alone near the ticket booth, obviously waiting for someone.