Vamps, Villains and Vaudeville

by Ellen Mansoor Collier

  “Attaboy. I’ll bet Holly comes around, sooner or later.”

  I’d started polishing off my piece when Mrs. Harper’s phone rang. “There you are,” Burton’s clipped baritone came over the line. “We need to talk. Why don’t I come by and give you a lift after work? How soon can you leave?”

  No hint of irritation in his voice. I bit my lip, angry at myself for acting in such a childish way last night.

  “I’ll be ready in a jiffy. Give me half an hour, tops.” I revised my review to sound more positive and dropped my clean manuscript on Mrs. Harper’s desk. Just in time.

  Agent Burton strode through the Gazette entrance like a good-old-Southern boy in his new Stetson and boots. Even Mack looked up with interest, but I simply smiled and didn’t say a word until we were safely outside, ensconced in Burton’s Roadster.

  “So what brings you here, stranger? New in town?” Fluffing up my hair, I smiled at Burton, hoping he’d forgotten about my little temper tantrum.

  “Part business, part pleasure.” He started the car and punched the gas. “I called Big Red this morning about our John Doe, and fortunately, they said he made it safely out of surgery.”

  “That’s great!” Now I could stop worrying about him and Sammy, at least for a while.

  “Why don’t we drop by now and ask him a few questions? He seemed to trust you so I hoped you’d do the honors—with me in the room, of course.”

  In a way, I felt flattered, but also a bit disappointed. I thought Burton wanted to kiss and make up—instead he wanted to recruit me on a fact-finding mission. Of course, I had a personal and professional interest in this case, but why did he always want to discuss business first?

  “At your service.” I saluted him. “Want me to ask anything special? I can’t just blurt out: ‘Who stabbed you and why?’”

  “Why not? Find out who he is and what he was doing in the area, then lead up to the stabbing. Watch his reactions to your questions, to determine if he’s lying or telling the truth.”

  “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?” I flashed a coy smile. “Leave it to me, James, but please feel free to ask your own questions. Your way.”

  “You know I will. I just thought this case needed a woman’s touch. Your touch.”

  “Why, thank you, kind sir.” I smiled, hoping I could pull it off.

  At the hospital, we parked and entered, looking for Mrs. O’Hara. A few nurses bustled down the halls, carrying pans, trays and clipboards so Burton approached an older nurse, flashing his badge.

  “I’m Agent Burton, and we brought in a John Doe last night, a young man around twenty-five, suffering from a stab wound. They told me he’s recovering from emergency surgery today. I’d like to ask him a few questions, if he’s better.”

  “A John Doe? Last night?” The matronly nurse looked puzzled. “Let me check.”

  Worried, we watched her question a few nurses and the front desk clerk, pointing in our direction, then she scurried down the hall.

  “Wonder what’s wrong?” I whispered.

  Burton frowned. “I thought his surgery was successful. Maybe he’s had a setback?”

  Ten minutes later, the harried nurse returned, a hand on her cheek, her face beet-red. “Agent Burton, I’m sorry to tell you this, but...uh...we can’t find our John Doe,” she gulped. “He’s not in his room, and to my knowledge, he wasn’t formally discharged. To be honest...he seems to have disappeared.”

  ******

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Disappeared? How can a grown man just disappear?” I stared at the nurse in disbelief.

  “A patient can’t vanish in thin air.” Burton looked astounded. “What kind of rinky-dink operation do you run around here?”

  “I beg your pardon?” The nurse threw back her shoulders. “I’ll have you know that John Sealy Hospital is one of the finest institutions in Texas, if not the United States. We only employ the best doctors and nurses...”

  “Are you sure he didn’t...pass away?” I interrupted her tour guide speech, fearing the worst. “Since he wasn’t identified, perhaps they put him in a new room, or listed him under a different name?” Yes, I was grasping at straws, but there had to be a logical explanation.

  “I realize how it sounds, but we don’t misplace people,” the nurse huffed. “Perhaps the man escaped...I mean left. If so, obviously he had some help.”

  “Obviously.” Burton frowned. “Who’s in charge? I’d like to speak to him. Now.”

  “Or her,” I added.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but he’s off duty. You can return Monday and talk to Mr. Stanley Smith.”

  “Fine. I’ll do that, Miss...” Burton studied her badge. “Miss Klondike.”

  “Mrs. Klondike,” the nurse corrected him. “I’ll contact you if the man turns up.”

  “Please do.” He handed her his card. “I’m Agent James Burton. Ask for me by name.”

  She glanced at his card. “You’re the new Prohibition agent? Why are you investigating a stabbing? ”

  Ignoring her, Burton turned on his heel, ushering me out the door, breathing hard. “Can you believe this place? Losing a patient right from under their noses? Very unprofessional.”

  “I’ll say.” No doubt Burton believed Galvestonians were a bunch of hicks compared to the first-rate hospitals in New York—or were they all as disorganized? “I wonder how he got away, without any ID or cash. Suppose he couldn’t pay his medical expenses.”

  “In any case, the story seems fishy. I wonder if they’re covering up something?”

  “You mean like a botched operation?” I mulled it over. “Still, how could he leave without anyone noticing, like she said? What if someone tracked him down and tried to finish the job?”

  “You may be right.” Burton nodded. “Given the location we found him, I’d say it’s gang-related. Maybe he’s a snitch for Sammy’s old pal Johnny Jack. Say a Beach Gang thug found out and knifed him on the Downtown Gang’s turf—to send a message.”

  “Sounds familiar. But he didn’t seem like a gangster. Too clean-cut, too attractive. And he didn’t exactly dress like a goon with his bow tie and tweed jacket—more like a College Joe type.”

  I admit, I’d been fooled before—by cutie pie thug Colin Ferris.

  “So why is this frat rat hanging around bars on Market Street? Looking for some action on the side?”

  “James!” I blushed, recalling our visit to Mrs. Templeton’s brothel. “We both know he can go to Post Office Street if he wanted female company. Don’t you remember, he whispered Viola to me before he passed out? She must be his sweetheart or friend, someone important to him. Maybe he contacted her from the hospital and they ran away together.”

  “Always the romantic.” He reached over and tugged on my curls. “Too bad he won’t get very far in his condition.”

  “Shouldn’t we try to locate him? We can go back to the Oasis and ask the regulars if they saw anything last night.”

  “Maybe later, when the sun goes down and the drinks go bottom up,” he cracked. “Other than that, I’m out of ideas. Without a name or occupation, we don’t have much to go on. And we can’t file a missing person report when we have no idea who’s missing.”

  “Don’t worry.” I patted his hand. “We’ll think of something.”

  Suddenly a young ice cream vendor on a bike veered in front of Burton’s Roadster. “Watch out!” I stuck out my arm across his chest as he gripped the steering wheel tight. Luckily he swerved in time to avoid hitting the youth, cursing under his breath. Jeepers!

  As we neared the boarding house, I spied a male figure on the front porch. But I couldn’t make him out so far away. “Slow down,” I told Burton. “Do you see that fella?”

  “Is that Sheriff Sanders?” He said with a start. “Looks like he’s lost some weight.”

  “Aunt Eva’s beau? I thought he was still on a special assignment in Houston.”

  My poor aunt was heartbroken after her new-found sweetheart got tran
sferred out of town a month ago. Apparently the sheriff did such a good job of uncovering corruption in Galveston, he was in demand all over Texas. Luckily, Sanders kept in close touch—he called Eva at least once a week, usually on Sundays—so their long-distance romance still had a chance.

  “That’s not Sheriff Sanders,” I told Burton as we got out of the Roadster. We both stared at the stranger, our jaws falling open like mechanical banks. “That’s Dick Dastardly.”

  The vaudeville villain sat on our front porch swing, in full make-up and costume, complete with a glossy black cape, top hat and fake handlebar moustache.

  ******

  CHAPTER SIX

  What in the world was Dick Dastardly, the vaudeville villain, doing here—still in costume? Was this a prank? Was he trying to influence my review or snag an interview for the society section?

  Slowly I approached the stranger, casting wary glances at Agent Burton as I trudged up the walk. Thank goodness he was here with me if I needed any help.

  “Jasmine, how are you? I thought that was you on the front row.” The villain barely gave Burton a glance. “It’s been a long time.”

  I did a double-take. How did he know my name? “Sorry, sir, but I don’t recognize you. Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Jazz, has it been that long? Have I changed that much?”

  Jazz? Only my friends called me Jazz.

  The villain’s voice sounded familiar, with a slight Texas twang. Then it hit me: my old high-school sweetheart. “Derek?” Dumbfounded, I stared at him a full minute before I saw past the heavy make-up and dramatic costume. “How could I recognize you with that face paint on? What are you doing here, in that get-up?”

  “Oh, this?” He fingered his cape. “I’m on my way back from a dress rehearsal. The director wants to iron out any kinks in the show. When I saw you last night in the audience, I was shocked...I had to see you again.”

  Long-lost Derek, the wandering ex-beau bound for Hollywood, back in town. We didn’t formally call it quits since nothing kept us together—we just wanted different things, at different times. Never mind the fact he barely kept in touch these past two years, an eternity now. He didn’t so much break my heart as put it on ice for a while.

  “I didn’t see your name on the program,” I stammered. “I had no idea it was you.”

  “The lead never showed up so I had to fill in at the last minute,” he explained. “I’m the understudy for several acts. So how’d you like the show?”

  “Very entertaining. Lots more fun than I expected.”

  “Glad we passed the test.” His gaze lingered on me, looking me up and down like a man just released from prison. “I’ve gotta say, Jazz, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  My face flushed and I wondered if Burton overheard. Clearly he had excellent hearing because he crossed his arms and challenged Derek like a linebacker.

  With his Stetson on, Burton resembled the sheriff facing off against the villain in a scene straight out of a Western: good vs. evil, the villain vs. the hero, mano a mano. Except they weren’t acting and this scenario was playing out on our front lawn. What now? Who was I supposed to be—Pauline in peril? I’ll bet the neighbors enjoyed watching this melodrama as they hid behind their lace curtains.

  “I didn’t know villains made house calls.” Burton glared at Derek, stepping forward, inches from his face. “Jazz, just say the word, and I’ll toss this lollygagger out on his can.”

  The villain—I mean, Derek—blinked with pleading brown puppy-dog eyes. “Give us a minute, James.” Holding up my index finger, I led Derek to the side of the house, away from the street. Not that I wanted to be alone with him, but I was curious.

  His face lit up and he gave Burton a triumphant smile as he waltzed past.

  “How have you been? Do you work in vaudeville full-time now?” I asked casually, trying to ease the tension we all felt.

  “Part-time. Work comes and goes, so I jumped at the chance to travel with a vaudeville troupe. Gives me some great experience, but it’s hard to compete with silly animal acts.” Derek shrugged and let out a frustrated sigh.

  I noticed he didn’t mention me in that sentence, as if our relationship never mattered. Did I have any feelings left over for this fickle fella? So what if I did? He’d made his choice and I’d made mine, for now.

  Derek held his cape across his face and wriggled his eyebrows, more like Groucho Marx than the Phantom of the Opera. “So what did you think of my act?”

  “You were swell. You’re a natural.” I grinned, enjoying his puzzled expression.

  “Is that a compliment? Or are you pulling my leg?”

  “I just turned in my review, so you’ll have to wait for my full report,” I teased him.

  “I’m holding my breath.” He puffed out his cheeks like a blowfish, pretending to swim underwater.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Derek always acted like a clown, making me laugh, quickly changing the subject when our talks became too heavy.

  “Be serious for once. Why’d you come here, today?”

  “I want a chance to talk, to explain why I moved to California so suddenly.” Derek looked away, acting sheepish. “To be honest, Jazz, I thought you’d refuse to see me if you knew who I was. Figured you considered me as a real-life villain, so I dressed the part.”

  “Frankly, I don’t know what to think. So much has changed.” He studied me as I tried to hide my pent-up feelings, much the same way he’d disguised his identity. “Tell the truth. Why didn’t you ask for my opinion before you took off for Los Angeles?”

  “Your opinion—or your permission?” He raised his brows. “Honestly? I was afraid I’d chicken out if I told you my plans first.”

  “Permission? I don’t own you and vice-versa. Never did.” Damn, all the things I wanted to say to Derek, all the anger and resentment I’d built up after he left town two years ago without warning. True, we were too young to get serious, and neither of us wanted to get married. Still, didn’t I deserve an explanation—if not an apology? Even now, I felt wary, hurt, betrayed, all in one.

  A cool breeze ruffled his cape and I laughed nervously, realizing how comical we must look, standing outside in broad daylight. “Derek, sorry I brought it up. Now isn’t the time or the place to discuss our past, especially not here, not in front of Burton.”

  “Why not? They’ll assume we’re rehearsing a play—the villain and the vamp.”

  “Vamp? You think I look like a vamp?”

  “A sexy vamp with dark hair and pale skin, just like Clara Bow.”

  Clara Bow? The “It” Girl? I perked up. Derek moved closer and reached for me, but I turned away, flustered.

  “Sorry, I don’t want to lead you on. As you can see, I’m dating Agent Burton.”

  “Story of my life. Always the understudy, never the lead.” He backed off, hands up like goalposts. “Say, why don’t we have lunch this week? Catch up on the past two years. I’ll be busy at night with the show, but I’m free during the day.”

  “Lunch?” I hedged. “I doubt I can squeeze it in. I’m a full-time reporter now.”

  “Look at you, the big-shot.” He razzed me, flashing a dazzling smile. “Don’t they allow you to eat?”

  “What do you really want, Derek?”

  “Can’t we still be friends?”

  “What kind of friends?” Sure, he seemed sincere, but I couldn’t tell if it was all an act. I stalled, curious, afraid to give in to him. Yet he could be so persuasive...

  “Good friends.” Derek stole a glance at Burton, who was waiting on the walkway, rocking on his heels. “Seems like a stand-up Joe. Lucky fella.”

  “He’s a great guy.” I smiled at Burton, grateful for his patience. So why risk ruining our relationship just for a friendly lunch?

  Burton ambled up, thrusting his chest at Derek. “Your minute’s up, sport. I believe this is your cue to exit.”

  Derek looked startled, then squeezed my arm in a too-familiar gesture befo
re he dashed down the walkway. “Let me know if you want tickets to the show. I’ll call you later.”

  “What was that all about?” Burton worked his jaw.

  Was he jealous? “He’s an old friend.”

  “A friend? What did he want?”

  That’s what I’d like to know. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say we have some unfinished business.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Do you plan on finishing your business?”

  ******

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I tried to keep my face blank so Burton couldn’t see me struggle with my emotions. Which emotions? All I felt now was confusion.

  When I didn’t answer, Burton shrugged. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. He doesn’t seem like your type. Never seen a man wearing so much make-up in broad daylight. I thought vampires only came out at night.”

  “He’s an actor,” I replied, a tad defensive. “Goes with the job.”

  “Well, don’t let me get in your way.”

  Burton started to walk off, but I tugged on his arm. “Believe me, there’s nothing between us. What about tonight?”

  “What about tonight?” he repeated, stone-faced.

  “Don’t you still want to go to the Oasis and look around, talk to the customers? We might find a witness or two.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather watch your actor boyfriend perform?”

  Annoyed, I shook my head. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “The way he made googly eyes at you....seems he has some regrets.” He paused, staring down at his boots. “How about you?”

  “Regrets? We dated in high school, before I met you.” I ran my fingers through my curls. Was Burton teasing or testing me? “Forget about Derek. Aren’t we going back to the Oasis? I want to search the alley before dark, and ask Frank and Dino some questions. Though I doubt we’ll find out much from Amos and Andy.”

  Burton gave me a hint of a smile. “Yes, ma’am. See you in an hour.” He mock-saluted, then drove away without looking back. I entered the boarding house, hurt that Burton hadn’t even walked me to the door.