Pat O'Malley Historical Steampunk Mystery Trilogy

by Jim Musgrave

  “Maybe Irene is still controlled by Jane the Grabber and John Allen. I told you I was concerned about her addiction to laudanum, and the fact that there were pill bottles all around the room where he was killed shows they both might have been using the drug. We need to wait to see the report on Maguire’s body also,” I pointed out.

  “Jus’ lemme at that punk when ya find ‘er,” said McKenzie, making his big hand into a swollen pink fist and slamming it down on the table.

  “Walter, please have your men bring her to me if you find her. I believe she might play a key link to the solution of the kidnapping of Seth. I know you’re angry, but cooler heads must prevail for the sake of the little boy,” I said.

  McKenzie nodded slowly, but I could tell his heart was not in it. “I think she lied to us all. I never believed she was with child, neither!” he added.

  “I agree,” I said, “but that will all be unraveled once we can capture her safely.”

  “You got it, O’Malley,” said McKenzie. “I’ll get me boy-o’s on it directly.”

  “I am now going to turn in for the night. Tomorrow I will go to my first appointment, but I want to do something before that occurs,” I said, getting up and stretching my arms above my head.

  “Good. We can all turn in. Tomorrow should show us quite a bit to develop our case. My men have set-up your cameras, and we will get the autopsy reports on Maguire and the children. Have a good night everyone,” said Kennedy, and he too stood up.

  Later that evening, as I sat up in my bed thinking about what I was going to do the next day, I heard a slight knocking on my door. “Come in,” I said.

  It was Becky, and she wore a flimsy white nightdress. She came over and sat down on the bed near me. As she fixed her green eyes upon my hazel ones, I knew she was jealous. The intuitive techniques she had taught me were working quite well.

  “Bessie is just worried about Seth,” I told her, as I was hoping to diffuse any fisticuffs. “He is the priority in this case, is he not?”

  “Of course! I wasn’t worried about that. Although, you better keep your Irish roving hands to yourself, Patrick James. I wanted to tell you about what my ladies have told me concerning the killing of child prostitutes. The truth of the matter is that once a child starts in the profession, she quickly becomes friends with other women, and when something happens to anybody in our trade, the word spreads like wildfire,” she said, her hands waving over the bed spread to accentuate the meaning.

  “I understand,” I said, taking her hands in my own to stop her from waving them. “What did they tell you about the murders?”

  “Why, you know how stories begin in order to keep children away from danger like the Grimm Brothers and their fairytales. This story is like that. The child prostitutes started spreading a story about a steam-powered machine that devoured lost children. I know, don’t look at me that way, Patrick. It sounds outrageous. But the fairytale they repeated concerned children who would go into a room with a client, and they would never return. Other ladies who worked in the bordello would report that there were strange hissing and huffing noises that came from the room where the child had entered, and these noises sounded like a steam engine of some kind. That’s how the story about the Huff-and-Puff Machine began.” Becky’s grim expression went along with the subject matter perfectly. It was as if she were Missus Edgar Allan Poe who had come into my boudoir during a thunderstorm to tell me a macabre story.

  “Sounds interesting. Quite interesting, Becky. But how can it relate to our case?” I kissed her hand, but she pulled back.

  “Don’t be condescending, O’Malley. Whenever the Madame or one of her prostitutes came into the room where this child had disappeared there was always a strange mechanical odor, as if there had actually been a machine inside that room. And, of course, there was always the calling card which was left on the night stand.”

  “Calling card?” I was now authentically interested in her fairytale.

  “Yes, it had a strange-looking taijitu symbol on its surface. It was embossed into the card in black-and-white. Nothing else was on it. Just the symbol,” she explained.

  “Thank you, Becky. I believe you have an interesting story, but I don’t think it relates to our case. Please promise me you won’t tell Superintendent Kennedy about this story. I will tell him when the time is appropriate. I must first follow some leads of my own that relate directly to the kidnapping of Seth Mergenthaler.” I squeezed her hands.

  “All right, Patrick. I just thought somebody should know about the story. It does sound rather unbelievable.” She crawled up into the bed and under the covers next to me. Her face radiated under the gas light with a rosy glow. I kissed it, and then my hand moved lower into the fantastic depths wherein little Pip in Mister Melville’s Moby Dick fell, and where little Alice in Mister Carroll’s tale also fell. Would I ever awaken from my dream world? Becky Charming was always a wonderful respite from any danger I was getting myself into.

  * * *

  The next morning, I ate no breakfast and got my professor’s disguise on. Becky said she was going to be assisting Doctor Foote with his appointments. We kissed at the front door, and I saw that Kennedy was already up typing away on his machine. I noticed there was a card with the taijitu insignia on it lying next to the typewriter. Was he aware of the murders? Why hadn’t he told us? I waved to him, and he returned the greeting.

  My hackney left me at the edge of the Tenderloin. I knew exactly where I was going, but I did not know the result of my journey. I wanted to get back to the mansion well before my appointment, so I could obtain the autopsy information on the children’s bodies and on Maguire’s toxicology report.

  Somehow, all of this information was going to come together, and it would point me in the direction I needed to be in to solve this case and find little Seth Mergenthaler. Becky’s story of the Huff-and-Puff Machine and the card with the yinyang symbol proved to be a linchpin for me in my collection of logical clues.

  I walked up into Sisters’ Row, gave my hat and coat to the black greeter at the door, and strode confidently over to my place in the middle of the bar. Thankfully, the same bartender was working behind the long counter. I figured that he would be there because he was my connection for this evening’s festivities. I saw that he wore the same red armband with the taijitu symbol on it.

  “Good morning, Professor,” he said in greeting. “What brings you out here this early? Have you decided to cancel your reservation for this evening?”

  “No, nothing of that nature,” I explained, using my best British accent. “In fact, I was wondering if I might arrange a different kind of rendezvous.”

  The bartender’s face looked curious. He reached up to twirl the right side of his mustache. “Different in what way, sir?”

  I pointed toward the symbol on his armband. “I am told I can be entertained by the clandestine organization that features a machine. Their calling card has your taijitu as its symbol.”

  The lines on his forehead creased immediately, and this frown covered gray eyes that riveted upon mine in concentration. I had never seen such an intense look on a man’s face before.

  “Where did you hear about this?” he whispered.

  “I belong to a group that adores children. We are from all over the world, and we are willing to spend the money to be entertained. When I heard about this group in America, I wanted to see if I could experience the thrill as well. That’s the gist of it,” I said.

  “You understand it will cost you two thousand dollars,” he said, wiping away a fleck of peanut from the counter with his palm. “Also, you must take the serum before you go in,” he added.

  “Serum? I wasn’t aware of any such thing,” I said.

  “This drug is a truth drug. It will make you speak the truth about anything we ask of you. This ensures us that you are not a fraud. This is important to the integrity and the very existence of our enterprise,” he explained. “But it is also quite relaxing. It lowers your in
hibitions to those of a child. That’s your purpose for being there, right? You want to frolic with the kiddies.”

  “I hope I shall get my money’s worth,” I said, and I opened my wallet. “How much should I pay now?” I asked.

  “One thousand now, and one thousand if you’re satisfied with the presentation,” said the bartender.

  I handed over two five-hundred dollar bills. “My time is eight tonight. I look forward,” I said, and I turned to go.

  “It’s the new age of inventions, right doc? We have electro-magnetic machines for our love life, and you have your huff-and-puff machine. We should all enjoy!” he laughed, and he tucked the bills under his armband.

  The huff-and-puff machine was the name of the device in the children’s fairytale according to Becky. I must be getting quite close to the source of this sinister evil. I was also hoping I would get what I needed to know before it was too late for Seth Mergenthaler.

  Command Central at 238 Fifth Avenue was again buzzing with the activity of a bumblebee hive. John literally pulled me into the parlor by my coat sleeve. “Missah O’Malley, you gots to heah this. Deys caught Irene!”

  Sure enough, seated on the purple divan inside the parlor was Irene Sanders. Her head was downcast, and she was weeping, but the case may have had its biggest break yet. She was wearing a red dress with a yellow sash around the waist. The scarf around her head was also red, and she looked like a kind of gypsy woman.

  Kennedy was standing in front of Irene, peering down at her like an inquisitor. “Why did you kill him, Miss Sanders? The autopsy said you were both using the opiate drug, laudanum.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with swollen redness, “I told you, I did not kill Danny! Somebody came into the room, saw him there, and he killed Danny. We were both asleep. I awoke, saw a masked intruder, and I tried to scream out the window. You came up, but the intruder carried me out the back way. They kept me inside a dark basement. They blindfolded me, and they kept me drugged all the time. I don’t know where I was!”

  I wanted to attempt to find out something I had been wondering. I walked over and sat down beside her. I took her hands in my own. “You weren’t pregnant by Danny Maguire, were you, Irene?”

  She looked at me and stared for a few moments, as if she were clearing her head of false memories. “No, it was always him! John the bartender at the Palace Theater. He kept us all under his control! We couldn’t move without his approval. I came with you that day because he approved. He wanted me here to spy on you. I escaped today, and I believe he was keeping me prisoner. When Danny was killed, I wanted out of it all!” Irene sobbed into her forearm until tears were covering it.

  Becky came over, sat down on the other side of the girl, and she put her arm around Irene’s thin shoulders. “All right, Irene. We now know the truth. Did you know Allen and Haskins wanted to kidnap Seth?” she asked, wiping the girl’s face with her own handkerchief that she extracted from her dress’s waist pocket.

  The sixteen-year-old girl slowly raised her head to stare into the older woman’s eyes. “Yes, but they never told me what it was about. They always talked about making more money and moving up-town. I never knew their real plans. They kept all of that secret from us.”

  “How often did they give you drugs?” asked Bessie.

  “Every day. I got so dependent on them I needed them to do anything. The more I used drugs, the more I needed them just to be normal,” Irene explained.

  “They used it to control all the girls, correct?” I asked.

  “Yes, John kept saying it was our connection to paradise.” Irene then started crying again. “He had his way with all of us, and he used the most fantastic lies! When I met Daniel, I thought it would all be over. No! They got me back again.”

  “Patrick, please come with me. I want to discuss Seth with you,” she said, moving toward the door.

  “Excuse me. Missue Mergenthaler wants to be informed about the kidnapping. I will return before I leave for my appointment at Sisters’ Row.” I followed Bessie out the door and down the hall. Bessie walked with her shoulders sagging from fatigue. This experience had obviously taken a lot out of her, even though she was still young.

  “Close the door behind us, Patrick,” she said, and I did so. We walked over to her bedroom divan. There was a large grandfather’s clock in a mahogany case standing beside it and a fringed shaded standing gas lamp next to the divan as well. I sat down with her on the divan, and we faced each other.

  “We received the report from Doctor Epstein at Mount Sinai. As he was instructed, he did not give any more details to Superintendent Kennedy. He did report to me privately about what he had discovered concerning the murdered children.” Bessie’s voice took on a conspiratorial whisper.

  I also whispered, as if our room had a spy hiding in the closet. In fact, I got up, walked to the closet, opened the sliding door and stepped inside. There were no spies, so I exited and returned to my place next to Bessie on the divan.

  “This is good. You have news for me, and I have news for you,” I said.

  “The children were sexually abused before their throats were slit,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Doctor Epstein found sperm deposits in rectums, vaginas, mouths and on their little chests. He said they had probably been used for sex and then somebody murdered them and placed the insignia upon their dead bodies. He said he could tell the branding had been done when their throats were cut because the sperm had been there much longer.”

  “He could tell the age of spermatozoa deposits?” I asked.

  “Yes, the protein can be analyzed under a microscope,” she explained.

  “That means they were sex objects before they were murdered. Do you want my news now?” I asked.

  “There is one other thing,” she said, looking down into her lap and then up again to stare at me hard. “Their skin was burned with what he determined to be steam or some type of hot water.”

  “Really!” I thought immediately about the huff-and-puff machine.

  “There was blistered skin on their backs and on their little tushies. What animals are doing these things, Patrick? You must get my son back to me! You must!” she cried, and I took her hands into mine to console her.

  “I will do everything I can. This bit of evidence gives me another clue in my private investigation. I now know that Irene was a spy, as I had suspected. She really could not have become pregnant in such a short time with Daniel, and I was initially suspicious of her when John Allen let her go so easily at the Palace Theater.” I was leading up to something, and I hoped Bessie was ready to hear it.

  “Why didn’t you say anything before this?” Bessie asked.

  That was the question I was expecting. “When you play chess, you must know what your opponent is doing several steps ahead of when he does it. I needed to be prepared for John Allen, and he was ingenious enough to make the kidnap card work in his favor. Now, however, I believe I am on the right track. I will be going to my appointment with a child prostitute tonight at Sisters’ Row. What I wanted to tell you was that I am meeting this child as a member of the club that uses the taijitu as its calling card.”

  Bessie’s face lost color quickly. “You mean you will be meeting with these killers of children?” she gasped.

  “We don’t know that yet. Something tells me there may be other players in this that we are not aware of. As with chess, one must move a single piece at a time before one is able to check-mate one’s opponent. Let’s just say I am sending my white knight out to the black side of the board. Hopefully, I will be able to return with my life intact.” I smiled at Bessie, and she smiled back.

  “You be careful out there, Patrick. You are the only one besides me who knows what we may be up against. If you die, then who will save my Seth?”

  “I have faith that you will find a way. If things get to that stage, then you should get a contingent of civilians and raid the Palace Theater. Don’t take Kennedy and his men. I believe he is in this fo
r his own political interests.” I stood up to go.

  “I understand. I really didn’t like the way Kenney took over this investigation. He seemed so authoritarian about it. He does not proceed with your tact and intuitive instinct,” said Bessie, also rising to escort me to the door.

  “I hope we don’t need to use our emergency plan,” I said, and I touched Bessie’s cheek with my hand.

  “Thank you, Patrick. May God be with you.”

  Chapter 11: The Public

  Before heading to my appointment at the Sisters’ Row, I wanted to see Becky. She was working with Doctor Foote, and I also needed to discuss the nature of the business in which I was attempting to become a personal customer. Although I had an idea about how it worked, my arrangement was probably a matter of good fortune and not a logical strategy.

  I still did not know who was responsible for the kidnapping, and I also did not know if Hester Jane Haskins was behind it all. The fact that John Allen was reported by Irene to have been the one to control the girls inside the Palace Theater did not prove how much power Haskins had all over the city right now. If Tammany Hall knew what was happening, then they would be accessories to murder.

  I entered Doctor Foote’s offices on Lexington Avenue, and I waved at the nurse at the desk before climbing the spiraling stairs to his office. I knocked once and Doctor Foote answered.

  “Mister O’Malley, please enter. We were just discussing the appointments we have.” The doctor wore a blue waist coat and vest with a watch bob on the inside. He looked quite dapper.

  I could see Becky sitting on the chair in front of Doctor Foote’s big desk, and I joined her on the other, smaller chair to her left. Doctor Foote came around to sit down in his overstuffed leather chair.

  “Patrick, this child prostitution ring must be huge! I believe we shall have enough proof to foment a true revolt among the citizens. This business is both an insult to women and the children they love. Doctor Foote is ready to give his medical opinion on the matter, and we have many other important journalists lined up to write articles.” Becky was wearing a blue hoop dress and a matching bonnet, and her blonde curls were arranged in tresses of gold along each side of her face. She was the most invigorated I had seen her in many weeks, and now I had to make my case for even more enthusiasm.