“And did that redhead with all that talent get a mention?”
“You mean Jessie Reed?” he chortled.
I lightly tapped him on his chest. “No! I mean Mel Flynn from Memphis, Tennessee.”
“Sorry. After all, you did come in too late to make the program, much less catch the eyes of the critics.”
I gave a mock sigh. “I suppose I shall just have to bear the disappointment of not being an instant star.”
He laughed then grew serious. “Is that what you want? To be a star in the Ziegfeld Follies? Then go on to the moving pictures?”
I shook my head. “Nope. I’ve never had aspirations to be on camera. Or even on stage. I’m much more comfortable designin' costumes than wearing them. I needed this job and I’m lovin' it but my goal has always been to design for Broadway. Win a Tony someday.”
“A Tony?”
I hadn’t had an anachronistic slip for at least twenty-four hours. This was major. The Antoinette Perry Awards would not become a fixture of American Theatre until sometime in the mid-Nineteen-Forties. I frantically began to come up with a really good whopper to cover.
Briley took my elbow and guided me across a busy intersection that had remained waterlogged from the day’s rain. “Never mind. I can see your brain churning to fabricate some some ridiculous answer. I don’t want to force you to lie.”
I rapidly changed the subject while I had the chance. “So, is there another party scheduled for tonight? Seems like frivolity is the password for the Follies group.”
“I believe tonight there’s a smaller soiree. Just the cast and crew and a few dates of either back at Francy’s. No press, no money people; only the extended Ziegfeld family.”
“Sounds nice.”
I held my breath wondering if he’d ask if I were planning on going. Of course, since I’d been the one to bring it up in the first place, he probably hadn’t intended to tell me anything.
“Do you think you’ll be going, Mel?”
The comment was slightly off-handed and definitely formal, but he seemed to be looking a bit too intently at the sidewalk. I wasn’t so delicate that I couldn’t step into a puddle without it causing injury and I’m sure he was well aware of that fact.
“I’m considering it. If no one notices my clothes which apparently aren’t the norm.”
I was wearing the gaucho pants again.
Briley smiled. “I like them. They show off your, um, figure, without being obvious.”
I’d just been given a compliment. I had to accept it lightly or I’d never see another one.
“Thanks. I predict in the future this type of pant/dress will become all the rage. Women will buy them along with cuffed cargo pants at funky stores called The Gap and Old Navy.”
“Ah! You can foretell the future?”
“Of course.”
“Great! Want to tell me who’ll win the World Series this October so I can bet properly?”
I smiled. “No, no. No predictions for evil monetary gain. There’ll be enough trouble with this Series without my help. How about I just tell you that in 1969 men will walk on the moon?”
He roared. Five people on Broadway buying food from a vendor turned to stare.
“You’re too funny! And we have only fifty years to wait to see if you’re correct.”
“Okay, wise guy. How about if I tell you that the Follies will be forced to close down for a couple of weeks this comin' August?”
He exhaled. “What?”
“Yep. Actors Equity Strike.”
I couldn’t believe I’d remembered that. But the TV program about Irving Berlin had mentioned that fact and I have an audio graphic memory- especially for ridiculous bits of trivia.
Briley’s face held a mixture of suspicion and humor. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I can foresee the future.”
“Or you’re making a big guess since you’ve doubtless heard about the various shows going on strike since this past spring.”
I winked at him. “Or that.”
We’d reached the theatre by this time and I was glad to put an end to this conversation about my psychic abilities before I really got into trouble.
I plopped down into my chair in the dressing room and began applying stage make-up.
Saree tapped me on the shoulder. “So?”
“So, what?”
“Briley. He walked you to the theatre tonight, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“Jeez, Saree, you’re nosy! So - nothing. We walked. We talked. Nothing.”
“He likes you.”
“He tolerates me. I mean, we’ve been talkin' but there’s too much hurt in his past to let me into his life as anything more than a friend.”
She took my powder puff and playfully thwapped me in the face with it. Powder sailed everywhere. “He likes you.”
“Go away, Saree.”
She laughed, turned then whirled back around “Are you going to Francy’s tonight?”
I groaned. “No. How do y’all keep up this schedule of partyin' one night and dancin' on stage the next?”
“You get used to it. I can’t sleep anymore unless it’s past 3:00 a.m.”
“Well, I’m still a beginner in this. Maybe after a few weeks I can keep up. But I’m the new baby in the crowd and I need my naptime. As for tonight? I may just go home. Hey! You look cheerful. Did you find the Count?”
Saree sighed.“Oh yeah. Waiting for me at my apartment with a dozen roses. Briley called him last night and told him where I was. So he’s thrilled I’m safe and not out with someone else. So we’re back on. “She paused, then chuckled. “For another day or two anyway.”
“Hmm. Got anyone in mind for your next conquest?”
She winked. “Maybe. Mister Issac Rubenovitch has always been really sweet to me. And I like the fact that Izzy has never written about the Follies girls. Stood up for me when Clow slandered me. Plus he’s kinda cute!”
“I’m sorry I asked. See you onstage in a bit. I’m going to finish gettin' ready. Then I’m going to get on stage and be a dancing tulip and shimmy my little behind ‘til ‘I can’t shimmy no more.’ Then I’m going to go back to my rooming house and commune with my pillow.”
She snickered. “You’ll change your mind once the show’s over. You’ll be too excited to sleep. Trust me. It happens to all of us.”
My second show with the Follies went off without a hitch. I felt a bit more comfortable on stage now but still watched the other girls closely for my steps and the sequences. Last evening I’d been acutely aware of every person on the stage; tonight my mind wandered to thoughts of a certain person offstage and what he was doing.
We received another standing ovation. I pulled off the bonnet that went with my finale costume as I headed toward the direction of the dressing room. Saree was right about the excitement. Still, I fully intended on just changing clothes, grabbing a hot dog from a vendor near the theatre then crashing at East 12th for a long sleep. But life took a different turn.
Chapter 13
Briley grabbed my hand. “Mel? Have you seen Denise and Nevin anywhere around tonight?”
“No. Why?”
“They’re missing.”
“Wait. Missing? You mean just not at the theatre right now, don’t you?”
“No. I mean missing. They’re not at the theatre. They’re not at home. They’re not at Francy’s. They haven’t even been at the theatre tonight and it’s not like Denise to be irresponsible. I went by their place. They live right over on West 44th. No one answers. I’ve called everyone who has a telephone to ask if they’ve seen them or know where they are. No one has heard from them. There’s just nothing. I’m worried.”
I’d started to share his anxiety. “I hate to ask, but have you gone to the police station? Checked the hospitals?”
His voice grew grim and quiet. “Not yet. That was going to be my next stop.”
“I’ll come with you.”
/>
He looked surprised. “Why? They’re not your responsibility.”
I shot him a furious look. “What? You have sole claim to worryin'? Thanks a lot. I haven’t known them long; that’s true. But I like Denise and I’m major attached to Nevin. Besides, you said it yourself; they’re part of the Follies Family.”
His face reddened slightly. “I’m sorry. I forget that people can be concerned and want to help for no other motive than they care.”
“Let me get out of this costume and we’re off. Okay?”
He nodded. I hurried to the dressing room and managed to peel off the Salvation Army outfit I’d worn for the show’s finale, then pull on my gauchos in less than a minute. I was super careful hanging up my costume. Denise had made it.
I didn’t waste time taking off my heavy kohl make-up on before joined Briley behind the theatre in the alley. I probably looked like a streetwalker enticing diggers working the tombs of Egypt, but it didn’t matter. The only things of consequence were Denise and Nevin.
The police precinct was like a scene from a Keystone Kops movie. Men in bobby-style hats with nightsticks attached to their belts scurried around the station with as much energy as I’d seen Charlie Chaplin in old films. The desks were wooden and appeared abused. I’d been in the 24th precinct offices on West 55th street only two weeks ago with Savanna when she’d reported someone stealing her purse. The desks there actually looked about the same, but with computers, and the cops had been sporting guns and tazers on their belts along with those nightsticks.
A middle-aged policeman with a reddish face, red hair, and a nametag stating that he was “Officer Jack O’Reilly” gestured us towards seats in front of his work-beaten desk, then pulled out a sheet of paper.
We spent an hour giving Officer O’Reilly the pertinent information. He periodically checked with Officers O’Brien, O’Keefe, O’Flaherty and Theodopolous for reports from the hospitals. If I hadn’t been so upset over Denise and Nevin’s disappearance I would have been in hysterics laughing over the Irish quartet and one handsome Greek.
O’Reilly stated quietly. “‘at’s about all we can do tonight, Mr. McShan. Miss Flynn. Best you be gettin’ on home now, and we’ll keep ya apprised o’ the situation, as it 'twere.”
Briley’s face was ashen. “They’ve been kidnapped. I’ll bet anything. Along with the two other girls who worked for the Follies. Those girls disappeared months ago and were never found. They even worked with Denise on costumes. As did Francesca Cerroni.”
Officer Reilly gave him a sharp glance. “I didn’t want to be bringin’ up Miss Cerroni. At least, not with the young lady present.”
“Are the police looking into all this? What’s happening with the investigation?”
“Well, we umm . . . .”O’Reilly blushed.
I interrupted. “Officer, I’m a big girl. I’m not squeamish, I don’t faint when I see blood, and I’ve even witnessed awful events” Those were on television crime shows, but that was irrelevant in my opinion. “Please tell us what you suspect.”
He sighed. ‘Foin, then. No trace. No bodies. Two attractive young ladies that was both connected to the Follies. Ever since ta war, there’s been some nasty slave trade here in New York and in some of the other bigger cities 'round the country. Especially cities with good transportation centers. Women kidnapped and sold to men with ill designs. If ya get my meanin’.”
We did. I grabbed Briley’s hand. He squeezed mine back.
“Are there any leads?”
Officer O’Reilly shook his head. “Not really. This one puzzles me, though. Mosta these ladies were single girls. Here we got a widder lady with a child.”
Briley looked sick but he gasped out. “Thanks, Officer O’Reilly, for being candid with us. Please - if you find out anything - please tell us.”
I let Briley pull me to my feet. I was trembling so hard I was afraid I’d be unable to walk but with his hand on my back I made it to the door and outside. And promptly burst into tears.
It had suddenly and fiercely hit me that this was real. The time travel journey had first seemed like a dream. Then it had been scary realizing that I’d acutally done the impossible. But finally, I’d started to enjoy this little escapade into the past. The whole experience had seemed as though it was happening to someone else, a Disneyland trip to be talked about when I made it home.
I now realized this was my time. These people were memories in the 21st century, but they were my friends today. White slavery and forced prostitution had all been words I’d seen in history books. But this was all happening. For real.
Briley held me until I couldn’t cry any longer. We walked over to Broadway, which was still teeming with folks on their way back from parties and theatre events. They looked happy.
“Briley? What about Mr. Ziegfeld? Wasn’t he going to hire the Pinkerton Agency to look into Francesca’s death? What about the other missing girls?”
He brightened then shook his head. “He did hire the Pinkertons. But I’m not optimistic about their success. These women have been vanishing for months and no one seems to have a single clue. The Count’s chauffeur, Mr. Bongo, only started his own investigation yesterday. I feel helpless. Where do we start looking? I guess if I knew who was the last person Denise saw? Or where she was? Maybe they could help with that at least.”
“Should we go back to the theatre? See if anything’s changed in the last hour? Did you talk to Caleb, the doorman?”
“Yeah. He hadn’t seen Denise all day, which was unusual. She’s always there in the afternoons before shows checking the costumes.” He shook his fist in the air. “I’m so angry that I didn’t go by the theatre any earlier. I had business to tend to at the Stagehand local office. If only I’d known.”
I tried to calm him down. “You couldn’t. This is not your fault. You’ve got to believe that or you’re going to go crazy.”
“Well, damn it! I can’t just sit on my hands and let anything happen to Denise and Nevin.”
Briley stopped so suddenly I was nearly yanked off my feet. “We’re only a few blocks from her apartment. I’m going talk to every neighbor I find about all this. See if I can come up with some answers.”
I gently said, “I hate to remind you, but it’s two in the morning. I doubt anyone will be willing to be open their doors.”
“Damn and hell!” He flashed a quick look at me. “Sorry.”
I smiled. “I’ve heard worse.”
“Sorry anyway. And - well - you’re right. I’d totally lost track of the time. I’m going to head over to Francy’s then. I’m sure there’s still a crowd. Maybe someone’s heard something.”
I had a quick flash of inspiration.“Briley. I may be crazy, but how about talking to Izzy? He’s up on the latest gossip and stuff concerning the Follies crowd. He might have some ideas.”
He nodded. “Good. He’ll be at Francy’s. He can ask questions we can’t. Even when it’s from a yellow rag like Brevities, somehow people feel compelled to talk to reporters.”
“I agree. That fifteen minutes of fame thing.”
He was so nuts he didn’t even ask what that meant.
We walked the ten blocks to Francy’s in silence, sharing the worry. The restaurant/club was still teeming with Follies cast members, fans, dates, and chorus and stars from other shows, all seeking a good time.
I nudged Briley. “So, are we being out in the open with this, or are we trying to get information surreptitiously? I mean, does everyone already know about them disappearing? Am I making any sense? And something keeps nagging at me. Why take Nevin?”
He smiled for the first time in the last three hours. “Let’s approach the investigation with as much honesty as we can. After all, there could be a very simple explanation as to why Denise is gone. Maybe someone became ill in her apartment building and she had to tend to his care. Maybe she became ill herself and, fearing contagion, is staying away from the Follies cast. The more people we talk to, the better chance we have of find
ing out. As to Nevin? I assume he was with Denise. Wherever she went. It’s that simple.”
I knew damn well the “illness tending” story was a crock but I wasn’t going to say so. And I still felt funny about Nevin but couldn’t nail down why.
I slowly looked around Francy’s ballroom. Almost a repeat of last night’s group. I spotted Izzy chatting with Mary De Luca, my fellow understudy, so I waved vigorously at him.
Izzy queried,“Where have you been? The ladies are asking about you, Briley. And I’ve been bothered by more than one gentleman who’s been interested in dancing with Melody again.” He smiled. “Including me.”
Neither Briley nor I responded with a sarcastic comment. We didn’t respond at all. Izzy looked more closely at the two of us. “What’s wrong? You both look like the show has closed and you’re about to be put out into the street.”
“Nothing so simple, I’m afraid.”
Briley pulled the reporter closer to the entranceway. “Izzy. Denise and Nevin Dupre are missing.” Briley repeated what he had told me earlier about trying to track them down, about them not showing up at the theatre, even about our trek to the police department.
Izzy stated, “I haven’t heard a word about this. Most of these people are not so shallow and uncaring that they could be dancing and drinking while a young woman and her child are in danger.” He stopped. “That’s what we’re all thinking, isn’t it? That they’re in danger?”
Tears choked me; threatened to spill out once again.
Izzy handed me a wrinkled handkerchief. It was slightly warm from his pocket.
I refused it, swallowed then stated almost calmly. “I’m okay. I did a lot of cryin' earlier and it didn’t help the situation a bit. Izzy, we need to chat up everybody who might have any idea of where the Dupres could be.”
Izzy nodded, then headed toward a group of males covered in cigarette smoke who were, thankfully, clustered by the back door.
I looked around the room. Same people, same laughter, same chatter, same glasses of champagne, same smoke fumes as last night. Even Eloise Jenkins seemed to have the same expression as she scanned the dance floor waiting to snare a partner.
Haunting Melody Page 9