by Michelle Cox
“Cherry cordial! Give me that,” Mr. Hennessey said, taking it roughly from him. “You need a man’s drink. So does young Stan. You come with me.” Mr. Hennessey grasped him by the shoulder. “This way. A whiskey is what you need.”
Clive managed to look back at Henrietta with another raised eyebrow, which made Henrietta want to laugh as Mr. Hennessey propelled him toward where Rose and Stan stood talking. The two of them stopped now, Henrietta could see, as Mr. Hennessey and Clive approached. Stan nervously slicked back his hair with one hand as he shook Clive’s hand with the other. Clive leaned forward to say something to him, and Henrietta was glad when she saw Stan smile in response. Rose, meanwhile, caught Henrietta’s eye and after whispering something to Stan began to make her way over.
Henrietta watched as Rose approached, drink in hand, pausing only once to avoid crashing into a child as he darted past her. Henrietta was glad to see her face was almost back to normal and that Rose actually wore a smile—a real smile—something she hadn’t seen on Rose since their days at the Marlowe together.
“Hello,” Rose said.
“Hello! I’m so happy you’re here, Rose,” Henrietta said excitedly. “All moved in?”
“How’d you know?”
“Mrs. Hennessey just mentioned it. She said you’ve been a big help.”
Rose let out an unexpected sigh. “I didn’t want to do it, you know, sweets,” Rose said seriously. “I didn’t want to take charity, but I had to. It was either this or move to Indiana, which I don’t really want to do. I mean, Jesus, what would we do in Indiana?” She took a large drink from the highball glass she was holding. “In the end, Stan backed down with the other plan, of course. Said he just couldn’t go through with the rushed wedding, that it would kill his mother if she ever found out, and, besides, he couldn’t get the money for the apartment out of his savings account without his parents’ signature for Christ’s sake.”
“Oh,” Henrietta said, thinking that certainly sounded typical of Stan.
“That’ll have to change, of course, when we’re married,” Rose said, looking over to where Stan stood with Clive and Mr. Hennessey.
“Still going to go through with it, then?” Henrietta asked, taking a sip of the cherry cordial. It wasn’t bad, actually.
“Course I am. Can’t stay here forever,” she said, glancing around the apartment. “Stan’s not a bad guy, really. He’s crazy about me, and I’m obviously used to worse.” She looked back at Henrietta now and gave a mischievous grin. “Says he wants to wait for our wedding night, if you know what I mean. Didn’t know he was a virgin, though it doesn’t surprise me.”
It didn’t surprise Henrietta, either, actually, especially since he had spent several years of his young life dogging her, but she didn’t really want to discuss it. Instead she cleared her throat.
“Is that Billy?” she asked, nodding her head toward the large man she had spotted earlier. He was sitting on the floor now, in a corner, playing cards with several kids.
“Yeah,” she answered, smiling as she looked over at him now, too. “Stan’s real good with him. So’s Mr. Hennessey. I can’t believe how nice they’ve been to me, Hen. Finally caught a bit of luck, you know? Mrs. Hennessey has her quirks, and she’s a bit annoying at times, but she has a real good heart. I can see why you always talked about them. She’s taken a shine to Billy, too. Has him doin’ stuff for her around the bar. I don’t mind. We try to help as much as we can, which is all right, considering I still can’t go back to the Melody Mill.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing, Rose,” Henrietta said, wondering if Rose’s father would go looking for her there. “This way your dad won’t know where to find you. How . . . how was it when you left?” she asked in a low voice.
“Not as hard as I thought it was going to be. I could have done it years ago if I’d have had somewhere to go. All I had to do was wait till he left for Lou’s. I already had our things packed. It was different than those couple of times we ran for Lucy and Gwen’s. I was calmer than I imagined I would be. I guess I’d fantasized about it so often over the years . . . that when it was finally time to get away, I wasn’t frantic or anything. We just calmly took the bus here, and Mrs. Hennessey welcomed us like we were her kids or something.”
Rose set her drink down and rummaged in her handbag for her cigarettes. She took one out and shakily lit it. “Things are good, but I’m kind of more of a wreck now,” she said, turning her chin slightly to exhale a large cloud.
“What do you mean?” Henrietta asked, curious.
“I don’t know. I . . . something kind of strange is happening. I’m afraid to go out. Ain’t that queer? I’m afraid he’ll find us somehow. I walk Billy to work at the electrics, make sure he gets there safe, then I walk straight back here. When I’m in here,” she said, gesturing with her hand, “I feel okay, safe like. But when I go out, I can’t help think he’s going to pop out at me. You know? I come over all shaky. I know that doesn’t make sense. He ain’t got the brain power anymore to find me. I know that, but I’m still scared sometimes.”
Henrietta reached out and rubbed Rose’s arm sympathetically. “It’ll be okay. It’ll pass. I have a good feeling.” She gave her a smile.
Rose merely nodded, her eyes squinting as she inhaled again.
“Why don’t you introduce me?” Henrietta asked, not knowing what else to say in the moment.
“To who?”
“To Billy. I’ve never gotten to meet him, you know.”
Rose paused in her response, peering at Henrietta through the cloud of smoke that surrounded her, as if trying to judge her sincerity, and then suddenly leaned over and swiftly kissed her cheek. “Come on, then,” she said with the hint of a smile about her lips.
Henrietta followed Rose across the room, squeezing between people. Had the Hennesseys invited everyone they had ever known? she wondered. In a far corner of the dining room, Billy and three other children were sitting cross-legged and playing what appeared to be a game of war.
“Billy, this is my friend Henrietta,” Rose said as they approached, gesturing at Henrietta with the hand that held her cigarette.
Billy looked up at Henrietta but didn’t say anything.
“Say ‘hi,” Rose instructed.
“Hi,” Billy said dully and flipped his top card. A couple of the kids looked up briefly at them, but then went back to scraping up the cards and flipping more.
“Nice to meet you, Bill,” Henrietta said.
Billy did not respond, but continued to methodically turn cards, which the other kids collected.
“Billy. Not Bill,” he said stubbornly.
“Sorry!” Henrietta offered. “Billy.” She watched him as he silently flipped an ace, causing the kids to give a little shout and push the pile toward him.
“Billy!” Rose said impatiently. “What do you say?”
Billy looked up again and seemed to see Henrietta for the first time. “You’re pretty,” he said.
Henrietta smiled. “Why, thank you,” she said.
“Billy!” Rose scolded.
“Oh, that’s all right,” Henrietta said. “Let him enjoy his game. War’s always fun, ’specially with more than two. Let’s let him be.”
“He likes kids,” Rose said, turning away from the little group. “I guess that makes sense given that he’s really just a big kid himself.”
“Say, Rose,” Henrietta said, looking out over the room. “Which one is Mrs. Hennessey’s niece? The nurse? Is she here?”
“Ida?”
“Yes, her.”
“Yeah, she’s over there by the front windows. See her?” Rose said, angling her head to see better. “She’s got on the black-striped dress?”
“Yes, I see her,” she said looking back at Rose. “I think I’ll just go talk to her while Clive’s preoccupied. Want to come?”
“Nah, I can take a hint. Besides,” she said, grinding her cigarette into one of the many ashtrays sitting about, “I need to
help Mrs. Hennessey.”
“Thanks, Rose. We’ll catch up in a bit, okay?”
As Rose made her way back to the kitchen, Henrietta looked across the room to where Ida stood talking to another woman. She was tall and nondescript in many ways. Her blonde hair was cut short and curled under, just like Loretta Young was wearing it these days. In fact, Henrietta thought, studying her, she looked a little bit like Loretta Young. She had a drink in one hand, and Henrietta recalled what Nurse Harding had told her about Ida Lynde being dismissed for being “a drunk.” Henrietta watched her for a few moments, but the woman did not, to her eyes anyway, appear drunk or even tipsy. But Henrietta knew from experience that hardened drinkers could easily mask their condition. She had seen it hundreds of times just downstairs in Poor Pete’s. There were always one or two regulars who would be waiting for them to open at ten in the morning, and whose hands would be shaking until Mr. Hennessey laid down their first few shots for them. After that, they were able to speak like any other sober person, and no one would guess that their first drink of the day had not been coffee or tea.
Henrietta took a deep breath and began to walk toward Ida, wondering just how she was going to bring up Dunning. As if for moral support, she looked back over her shoulder to where Clive stood and was surprised to see him laughing with Mr. Hennessey, his pipe out and what looked like some sort of whiskey in hand. Clive rarely laughed, so the sight of him doing so, especially in public, momentarily warmed her. Encouraged, she turned back toward Ida and the woman she was chatting with. Henrietta felt sure she recognized the woman from her days as a 26 girl down below in Poor Pete’s but couldn’t remember her name.
“Hello, forgive my intrusion, ladies, but I thought I would introduce myself. I’m Henrietta Howard,” she said confidently, holding out her hand first to the familiar woman and then to Ida.
The woman shook her hand limply, looking her up and down as if trying to place her. “Mrs. Brzezicki,” she said, looking at Henrietta curiously. She was an older woman with gray hair and black glasses that were pinched up at the ends to give her the appearance of a cat. All of her features were small except for her stomach, which seemed disproportionately large, almost as if she were pregnant, which was obviously impossible given her advanced years.
Ida, however, shook her hand firmly. She was older than Henrietta had first observed from across the room. There were several wrinkles radiating from the sides of her eyes, which were big and brown and looked as though they might be permanently apprehensive.
“Ida Lynde,” she said.
“Are you Mrs. Hennessey’s niece by any chance?” Henrietta asked.
“Yes, I am,” she said, seeming surprised that Henrietta knew this. “Are you a friend of the Hennesseys?”
“I used to work here. For years, actually,” Henrietta said. “First as a cleaner, then a waitress, then as a 26 girl—”
“That’s it!” Mrs. Brzezicki exclaimed. “That’s how I know you! You’re from down below. The bar. You’re the 26 girl! Or you used to be, anyway. Me and Mack always used to come in on a Sunday. You look different, though,” she said, looking her up and down again.
Henrietta smiled. “I got married.”
“I’ll say! Must be doin’ well!” the woman sniffed.
Henrietta had tried to dress in something plain and with little jewelry to better fit in tonight, but with her manicured nails and styled hair, the sheen of Highbury was nevertheless apparent.
“It’s nice of Winifred to come back, isn’t it?” Henrietta asked in an attempt to change the subject.
“Yes!” Ida chimed in. “I haven’t seen her in years! Not since we were kids. Aunt Alice is so pleased, isn’t she?” Ida looked over to where Mrs. Hennessey sat holding little Prudence with Winifred looking on, an annoyed expression on her face.
“Yes, she’s wanted a grandchild for so long; it’s a shame they live so far away.”
“Yeah, but that daughter of hers don’t look so happy. She’s a real sourpuss that one. Look at her. Been watching her all this time. Hasn’t smiled once!” said Mrs. Brzezicki, joining the conversation now.
“Well, maybe she’s nervous. New mother, you know,” Ida suggested kindly.
“Do you have children?” Henrietta asked.
“Me? No. I’m not married,” Ida answered. “I live with my mom. Take care of her.”
Henrietta nodded. She had once upon a time thought that was going to be Elsie’s fate, caring for Ma as she aged and having to forgo getting married. But things had changed for them in a way she could never have imagined.
“I was in the very same boat.” Mrs. Brzezicki gave a knowing nod. “Though that was years and years ago now. But havin’ to take care of Ma didn’t stop me from getting hitched. Simply brought Ma along with me. Worked out fine,” she said with a little sniff at Ida.
Henrietta sighed. How was she going to get rid of this woman so that she could talk privately to Ida?
“Have you tried Mrs. Hennessey’s veal loaf?” she suggested as a possible lure. “It’s her specialty, you know. It won second place one year at the St. Sylvester carnival.”
“Oh, believe you me, I’ve had Alice’s veal loaf before! She talks about it constantly. But I suppose we all have our downfalls, don’t we? Truthfully, though, I couldn’t eat another bite,” Mrs. Brzezicki said, indelicately patting her rounded middle. “Not if you paid me! I don’t really eat all that much these days,” she said with a bit of a proud flourish. “Always laid up with indigestion, I am. Doctor calls it heartburn,” Mrs. Brzezicki sniffed. “So I have to watch myself. I really do. But I will confess that I did have just a tiny slice of Alice’s veal loaf. I couldn’t resist, but now I can feel already I’m going to pay the price.” She patted her stomach again. “In fact,” she said with a wince, “I’d better be going now. Excuse me, won’t you? Better go find Mack and say my good-byes to Alice. Don’t s’pose I’ll get a hold of that baby yet today; Alice ain’t about to give it up for one second, is she?”
Mrs. Brzezicki began to try to budge her way through the crowd when she suddenly stopped and turned back around.
“Nice seein’ you again, girlie,” she said, addressing Henrietta. “You were the best 26 girl they ever had. Miss seein’ ya about. Got a new girl in now. She’s okay, but a little rough ’round the edges, if you know what I mean. I’m Mrs. Brzezicki, if you don’t remember. More than likely you don’t.”
“I remember,” Henrietta said with a smile. “It was nice seeing you again, too, Mrs. Brzezicki.” Henrietta watched as the woman made her way over to where Mrs. Hennessey still sat with baby Prudence.
Henrietta turned back to Ida and smiled unsteadily, wondering how to begin. She should probably ply her with more small talk, but she worried that if she prevaricated too long, someone else would come along and join the conversation and she would lose her chance. “I . . . I hope you don’t find me impertinent, Miss Lynde—”
“Ida.”
“Ida. But Mrs. Hennessey happened to mention that you once worked at Dunning.”
Henrietta observed a slight shift in Ida’s stance, though her face remained a blank.
“Yes, I did,” Ida answered shortly, draining her glass.
“How long ago was that?” Henrietta tried to ask casually.
“About a year ago, I suppose. I work at Jefferson Park Hospital now. I didn’t much like it, as you can imagine,” she said with a thin smile. “At Dunning, I mean. Why do you ask?”
“A friend of my sister’s, well . . . actually, a friend of her friend, was recently sent there, but she died as it turns out. Unexpectedly.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ida said matter-of-factly. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Mrs. Howard,” Ida added after only a moment’s pause.
“Oh, please call me Henrietta.”
“Henrietta, then,” she said with a hurried smile.
“Ida, please,” Henrietta said, “I don’t mean to pry, but Mrs. Hennessey mentioned that you quit because of
something that happened there? Something that scared you?”
Henrietta saw Ida’s face blanch as she nervously looked in Mrs. Hennessey’s direction and let out a deep breath. “You know, I love my aunt; I really do. But sometimes she says more than she should. It was nothing,” Ida said, pulling her gaze from Mrs. Hennessey back to Henrietta. “Aunt Alice exaggerates things, as I’m sure you must already be well aware of since you worked here for so long. I have to be going now, though. I should get back and check on my mother.” She tried to move past her.
“Ida, please,” Henrietta said, laying her hand on the woman’s arm. “It’s important. My husband and I are trying to get to the bottom of this.”
“Of what?” Ida asked her suspiciously.
“Well, it’s just that we—well, I—think there might be more to this woman’s death. There are . . . there are several odd things about it all, and I was hoping you could help me.”
“Why? Who are you?” Ida asked, her eyes narrowing.
“We . . . well, we’re trying to be private detectives, but we’re not really acting in that capacity right now. We’re just trying to help my sister’s friend.”
“Forget it,” Ida said worriedly. “I don’t want to get involved in a police case. I have enough troubles of my own.”
“But it’s not a police case,” Henrietta said as Ida moved past her, not looking back. “Please,” Henrietta said in a slightly raised voice, “there’s a child involved.”
Ida paused and stood still, her tall, stiff back to Henrietta for several moments before she turned around, gazing about the room as she did so. She took a step toward Henrietta and leaned close to her. “All right, then, but not here,” she whispered.
A tingle of excitement ran up Henrietta’s spine. So there was something this woman could tell her! Henrietta hurriedly looked around the room for a quiet corner, but every nook was filled with people.
“Come on,” Ida said with a slight incline of her head.
Henrietta followed her through the crowd, pausing with her at the little window that had been cut out in the wall between the kitchen and the dining room, presumably to make it easier to hand food through, but which currently held various bottles of booze. Henrietta watched as Ida filled her glass with gin and, without looking to see if Henrietta followed, slipped around the corner and down a short hallway where the bedrooms presumably were. Ida paused outside one of the doors and knocked. When no one answered, she let herself in.