A March to Remember (8 page)

“I doubt he'll come forward looking for it,” Billy said.

“But who would abandon a horse?” I said, the irony of my words apparent the moment I spoke them. Billy didn't miss it either.

“A man who would abandon a woman to her death,” he said.

“But horses are valuable property.”

“Yes, but if he's rich, he can afford to buy another, and if he's poor, he can't afford to claim it.”

“But can't the police track down the owner?”

“Like I said, maybe,” Jasper said.

“I see.” I looked at the lamp again and noticed a small carriage bolt lying not far away on the ground.

What else is here?
These things were indistinguishable from any number of carriages. But could I find something that could help the police identify the man who had run away?

Not finding any more pieces of the carriage in the direct path the carriage took, I began to survey the area, starting with the spot where the lamp lay and slowly circling outward.

“What are you doing?” Billy asked.

“Looking,” I said.

“For what?”

“I don't know yet.” Billy scratched his wet head but didn't take his eyes off me.

I found a piece of metal, which I had no idea its purpose, a few yards away but little else until I came to the area where the man had climbed back onto shore. Slightly embedded in the soil were two finely etched pearl dress buttons, with frayed black silk thread still attached. Could these have come from the man's shirt or vest? If so, these were the only evidence, the only link to the man who had abandoned this poor woman to her fate.

“Did you find something?” Billy shouted.

“Yes.” I looked about and saw nothing more so I carried my find to where the men stood waiting.

“What is it?”

“Buttons.” I held them out so they could examine them. “They could've belonged to the man.” Anyone could have lost them at any time, but it would be a great coincidence if someone else had lost them in the exact spot where the man had left the water. And I don't believe in such coincidences.

“Yes, they're definitely from a wealthy man's vest, but not much to go by,” Billy said. “The only distinguishing marks are the geometric etchings. They would never prove who the man was, what he was doing here, or that he'd left a woman to drown.”

“You're right,” I said. “But I'll give them to the police just in case.”

Jasper snorted in disgust. “Why? It won't do any good.”

“It might,” Billy said. “You never know what will bring justice to that poor woman.”

I reflected back on all the murders and crimes I'd had the unfortunate opportunity to be a part of. There had been stranger and smaller things than these buttons that had brought about justice.

“You're right, Billy,” I said. “You never know.”

C
HAPTER
8

“S
o you witnessed the horse bolt and the passengers go into the water?” the policeman said.

“No, when I arrived the horse and trap were long gone,” Billy replied.

“The lady saw everything.” Jasper Neely pointed to me. With a lap robe the police had given me wrapped about me, I'd been watching the two policemen in black rubber coats and rubber wading pants as they dragged a heavy fishing net along the bottom of the pond. So far they hadn't had any more luck finding the woman's body than Billy had.

“So you witnessed folks go into the water?” the policeman said to me.

“Yes.”

“All right then, ma'am.” He licked the end of his pencil and was poised to write what I said in his notebook. “Tell me everything you saw.” So I did, from the reckless driver to the woman's shocking behavior, the horrible crash, the horse's escape, and the man's flight toward the Mall.

“So you got a good look at the man and the woman?”

“No. At first the man's face was obscured by his scarf blowing across it. The scarf must've blocked his sight as well. And then he had his back to me.”

“And the woman?” the policeman said. I hesitated. I had a good idea who the woman was, but how could I admit that I knew her?

“I could identify the dress she was wearing,” I said. “It was the strangest-colored ensemble, and she clearly had blond hair, since she wasn't wearing a hat.”

“Did you get a look at her face?”

What was I to say? That she was too far away, which was true, but that I could guess what she looked like, having seen her twice before?

“Sir!” one of the men dredging the pond shouted, cutting off any answer from me. We all turned to see the policeman carrying the dead weight of a body in his arms. We rushed to the shore and met him as the policeman set the body on dry ground. It was covered from head to toe with green algae.

“Is she dead?” Billy asked, his eyes wide with interest. From the pallor of her skin and her complete stillness, it was hard to believe otherwise. The policeman in charge knelt beside her and placed his fingers on the woman's wrist as I'd seen Walter do countless times before. The policeman nodded.

“She's dead.”

“May I?” I pointed to her dress wrapped high about her bare thighs. He nodded, and I pulled her skirt down to cover her weed-tangled legs.

“So, do you recognize the dress?” the policeman said.

“Yes, this is what the woman in the trap was wearing.” The policeman nodded. I regarded the dress again and wondered what had possessed the woman to match crimson with yellow and lavender. Even without the added green of the algae, it was the most garish dress I'd ever seen.

“Do you know who she is?” I said, still kneeling beside her.

“Well, there doesn't seem to be anything on her to identify her by name, but at least we know where to find her kind. She's sure to be missed tonight.”

“What do mean?” I asked.

“You're a lady, madam. This one”—he pointed to the dead woman at his feet—“is no lady, if you catch my meaning.”

“It's still despicable,” Billy said, spitting out the words. “The man with her didn't even attempt to help this fallen creature?”

“No, not at all.”

“Like I said, despicable.”

“Some men don't put too much value on the likes of her,” the policeman said as he brushed back the hair and weeds from her face.

“It is her!” I exclaimed. I couldn't believe I'd said it out loud. “I know her,” I said, glancing at the men, who were as surprised as I was.

“You do?” all three men said simultaneously.

“She came into Hutchinson's Ladies' Furnishings on Pennsylvania Avenue yesterday when I was shopping. She was wearing the same dress. You don't forget someone like that.” I watched as they picked up the woman's body and carried it to the wagon.

“Hutchinson's, huh? Well, that's not too far from Hooker's Division. Thanks. We'll start there, though I can tell you I'm not looking forward to going door-to-door asking who's missing a whore. Pardon me,” the policeman added when Billy glared at him.

“No need, officer,” Billy said. “We too know this girl.”

Jasper Neely was holding his hat in his hand and nodded. “It's Annie.”

“Annie?” the policeman said.

“She's one of Lottie Fox's girls,” Billy said.

“We just saw her last night,” Jasper Neely said in disbelief.

“So you were at Lottie Fox's place last night, were you?” the policeman said.

This time I took a deliberate step back from Jasper Neely and Billy. I said nothing, but my reproach must have been evident on my face.

Billy said, looking at me, not the policeman, “It's not what you think.”

Jasper Neely laughed. “Of course it's what she thinks.”

“Okay, maybe we did enjoy the company of Lottie's ladies. But we wouldn't have been there at all if we weren't sent on Marshal Browne's business.”

Marshal Browne? How could the co-leader of Coxey's Army have anything to do with this?

“You some of them Coxey's marchers?” the officer said. He glanced over at the wagon that had led him here. The driver nodded, pointing to the banner draped along its side.

“That's right,” Jasper said. “We came into town last night to run some errands on behalf of the Commonweal. And enjoy the fruits of our labor.”

“We went to Lottie's on Marshal Browne's behalf,” Billy said, still addressing me. “She's a follower of the marshal's ‘Christ's soul is in many of us' preaching and had something she wanted to give him.”

“And what would that be?” the officer asked, chuckling. “Or can't you say in front of the lady?”

Jasper Neely pulled out a small purse. He opened it for the policeman to inspect.

“A donation,” Billy said. “When you're starving, you can't reject any offer to feed your lot.”

“How do I know this isn't stolen?” the policeman said.

“You can always ask Lottie Fox,” Jasper Neely said. The policeman dismissed this with a wave of his hand.

“All right then. Did you happen to get a look at who this Annie was with last night?”

“No, she said hello, that's all,” Jasper said. “We were otherwise occupied.” The policeman chuckled and then blushed when he saw the disapproval on my face.

“Pretty happy she was, though,” Billy added. “Said she had made it big.”

“Rich customer, then,” the officer concluded.

“That's what we thought.”

“Could be anyone in this town.”

“Not just anyone,” I said. “Annie had mentioned a powerful man at the store, one who was going to make her respectable.”

Had that powerful man been the driver who abandoned her? I wondered.

“That narrows it down a little bit,” the policeman said skeptically. “Lots of rich and powerful men around here, if he was who he said he was. Lots of pretenders in this town too, you know.”

“These might help.” I held out the fancy pearl dress buttons. He looked at the small objects dubiously. “I found these where the man came ashore. If finding his horse doesn't help identify the man who did this, perhaps these will.” I handed them to him.

“Thank you, ma'am,” the policeman said. He pocketed the buttons, glanced around, and said, “I think we're finished here.”

Before I could offer my name and my residence in case he wished to speak to me again, he strode away. He leaped onto the back of the patrol wagon, banged on the door to alert the driver, and drove away.

“Are you going to be all right?” Billy said. “You've had a shock. Not every day you see a dead body.”

In a more appropriate time and place, I might've laughed. If only he knew how many dead bodies I'd seen of late and in far more horrific scenes than this one.

“Yes, thank you. I'm fine.” I handed Jasper back his jacket.

“Then we'll bid you good day.” Billy tipped his hatless head. Jasper Neely touched the brim of his hat. “May we meet again,” Billy said.

I hope not,
I thought, but didn't say as the two men climbed back into their wagon and drove away.

I stayed, alone, staring at the point where Annie had entered the water. A large carp skimmed the surface of the water, and I shuddered. I had no interest in the fish now. I was distressed by the poor woman's death, but I was equally troubled about the man. By recklessly driving the carriage and causing the horse to bolt and then leaving his companion to drown, he had indirectly caused her death.

“But who would do such a thing?” I whispered to myself. Could the Coxeyites, Billy and Jasper Neely, be trusted? Did they truly not know who Annie was with? After all I'd heard about the marching men, I had no idea. And of course, Billy and Jasper Neely weren't the only ones to have been to Lottie Fox's establishment recently, or who knew Annie by name, including a journalist I knew. What would Sir Arthur do if his friend was involved? What would Sir Arthur think when he found out I had witnessed the whole thing?

Please let me get his blessing first,
I thought, knowing how unlikely that would be.

C
HAPTER
9

“H
alt!”

After returning to the Smith house in Lafayette Square and changing into drier, more suitable clothes and shoes, I proceeded to the Treasury Building for my day's work.

After I had climbed the steps of the Treasury Building and crossed under the shadow of its towering granite columns, a large, burly policeman with a long, drooping mustache stepped in front of me, barring my way to the door.

“Halt,” he shouted again, though we were only a few feet apart. I did as I was told, one foot on the top step. “State your business here.”

He began tapping his club in the open palm of his left hand. I hesitated, staring at the club as it rose and fell into the man's hand.

“State your business,” he repeated, taking a step closer.

“I'm expected,” I said. “I'm researching miscellaneous Civil War records stored here. Here. I have a letter of introduction.” I pulled out the letter Senator Smith had written so as to give me access to the
Index to Property Destroyed by Confederate Authorities and that which was Destroyed by the Enemy,
of which Sir Arthur had requested I make a copy.

The policeman, ignoring the letter I thrust out toward him, never took his eyes off me. “The Treasury is locked. No one from the public is to be admitted.”

“Why?”

The man ignored my question. “Please leave the area.”

“Will it be open tomorrow?”

“I must insist you leave the area now.” He took a step closer while continuing to tap his club in his hand.

I didn't need to be told again. I scurried back down the stairs and took the corner quickly, only slowing when I was out of the policeman's sight. And then I saw another pacing along the eastern side of the building.

What's going on?
I wondered. And then I remembered the conversation I'd overheard in the White House. Could they have locked the building because of Coxey's Army? I needed to know.

I approached the second policeman, who was younger than his counterpart and wasn't holding a club in his hand, hoping for better luck.

“Excuse me, ma'am, you'll have to leave the area,” he said when I was fewer than ten feet away.

“Yes, I know. The brusque policeman at the front door informed me in no uncertain terms.”

“Please leave.”

“I will, I assure you. But I need to confirm the reason the Treasury is closed today, for my employer. Otherwise he'll think I'm being delinquent in performing my duties.” I took a step forward. He said nothing, so I took a few steps more.

“Is it true the Treasury is locked due to the approach of Coxey's Army?”

“Yes, I can confirm that.”

“But why today? The marchers aren't due to approach the Capitol until tomorrow.”

“We are taking precautions. Many of Coxey's men are known to have already made their way into the city.” I too knew this to be true. Besides Billy and Jasper, I'd met Mr. Coxey himself at the Capitol on Saturday. Who knew how many more Coxeyites wandered the streets?

“So it will be locked until the marchers are gone?”

“Most likely.”

“Thank you, officer.”

“You're welcome. Now if you please, ma'am?”

Not wanting to test the limits of his indulgence any longer, I smiled and deliberately walked back down the street.

Now what?

I had allotted myself all morning to copy the property index. I could hike, as my morning hike had been interrupted by the terrible accident. I could take the trolley to Dupont Circle and pay a call on Sarah and Walter. I should return to Lafayette Square and get instructions from Sir Arthur on how to proceed. But I did none of these: I hadn't worn the proper shoes for a hike, it was too early even for a future sister-in-law to visit, and I'd completed all the manuscript pages Sir Arthur had given me. Instead, I allowed my feet to take me down random streets. With my head full of questions about Annie and her mysterious companion, it wasn't a surprise that I soon found myself less than a block from Lottie Fox's establishment again.

And then I saw Chester Smith. He was skulking around the corner of Lottie Fox's building. What was he doing here? And in broad daylight? I had no idea these types of places were open for business at this time of day. He glanced about him furtively and then disappeared around the corner. Without a moment's thought, I followed after him.

I hurried to the point where he'd disappeared and discovered an alleyway that ran alongside the building, lined with whiskey barrels filled to the rim with torn linen, empty bottles, and rotten produce that attracted hundreds of flies. Chester was nowhere to be seen. I tiptoed the length of the alley, covering my nose with my handkerchief as I passed a particularly pungent waste barrel, overflowing with soiled newspaper, hairbrushes, combs, half-empty bottles of toothpowder, and dozens of rubber syringes, the purpose of which I didn't want to know. I crouched down as I passed each window until I came to the last window of the house. It was open. I halted and slowly raised my head until I peeked through snowy white Chantilly lace curtains, all that was between me and a den of iniquity. Two dimmed figures stood a few feet away.

“Ah, Mr. Smith,” a woman's voice said from within. “So good to see you again. We've missed you these past months.”

“Is Jenny here?” Chester Smith said.

I squinted to see what type of buttons Chester Smith wore on his vest. They looked to be pearl, but the light was too dim to be certain.

“Jenny is currently with another gentleman, sir. May I suggest perhaps another girl for your pleasure today?”

“What about Annie?”

I gasped and immediately covered my mouth, hoping no one heard me. Chester Smith knew Annie? Could he have been the man in the trap this morning? Was he the powerful man she'd bragged about? Had he come back to learn her fate? Had he come back to throw suspicion off himself by appearing not to know what had happened? But then wouldn't the woman have seen him here last night? Or had Annie met him somewhere else?

One of the figures glanced toward the window, and I ducked below the windowsill. I pressed my body as flat against the side of the building as I could. A line of small black ants that I hadn't noticed before made a trail from the ground to a slight hole in the clapboards a few inches from my cheek. Heavy footsteps approached the window. I didn't dare look up.

“Annie?” The woman's voice rose in pitch. “What do you want with Annie?”

“She comes . . . recommended,” Chester said, his voice clearly coming from mere inches above my head. If he leaned out and looked down, he'd see me. I held my breath.

“Well, Annie is not here. She went out last night and never came home.”

Home? That's the last thing I'd call a bawdy house,
I thought.

“Too bad but not surprising, eh? Girls like these aren't the most reliable.”

“Well, Mr. Smith,
my
girls are reliable,” the woman declared. “It's not at all like Annie not to check in with me.” The distress in her voice was undeniable.

So the woman, who I assumed was the madam, Lottie Fox, didn't know what had happened. Hadn't the police arrived yet?

“I guess Fanny will have to do,” Chester said. “Assuming she's still here.”

“Of course, Fanny would be delighted to—”

“What the hell?” Chester said.

“Someone's at the front door,” the woman said. “The police, by the sound of it.”

To confirm her suspicions, a voice shouted, “Police! Open up, Lottie.”

“I can't be found here,” Chester said. His heavy footsteps stomped away from the window.

I counted to three before daring to peek through the window again—in time to see Chester fling open the back door.

Oh, no! He's going to see me here
.

I glanced about in a panic for somewhere to hide. Finding nothing, I began to turn to flee when a large, fleshy hand covered my mouth. And then an arm swung around the front of my shoulders and impeded my escape. Was that spearmint I smelled?

As I struggled to free myself, desperately trying to open my mouth wide enough to bite my captor, a familiar voice whispered in my ear, “What are you doing here, Miss Davish?”

I turned, with the loosening of his grip upon me, into the face of Simeon Harper.

“I'll release you, but please, for all our sakes, be quiet.”

Voices, the familiar baritone of the policeman who had questioned me this morning in particular, carried through the open window. I nodded my assent and he let go of me. I immediately stepped away from him, glancing about for a glimpse of Chester Smith. He was nowhere in sight.

Guessing my concern, Mr. Harper whispered, “Chester's not here. He took one look at me and thought he'd chance it with the police.”

“He did?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “He took the other alleyway, simply by chance.” In a rush, I let out the breath I'd been holding.

Un, deux, trois,
I silently counted in French, trying to gain my composure.

As I did, I couldn't help but study the journalist, glancing first at the buttons on his vest. They were plain brown agate. Was he the man who had abandoned Annie in the carp pond this morning? Luckily I have had long practice keeping my emotions and my suspicions from showing on my face. Without that skill, I would have been dismissed from almost every position I've ever had.

“So what are you doing here?” Harper asked again.

“I could ask the same of you.”

“I came here on a tip. I followed the police. Now hush a minute.” He put his ear as close to the window as possible without being seen.

Assuming he was telling the truth and didn't know about the accident, who could've known to tell Harper? And then I remembered—Billy and Jasper. They knew Harper from the march. He'd camped outdoors with them for months. They would trust him. Jasper had voiced doubts that the police would investigate. Maybe he thought a reporter might do better.

“Jasper Neely told you, didn't he?” Simeon Harper jerked around to face me so fast he nearly stumbled.

“How in the hell—? Excuse my language, but damn! How did you know that?”

I ignored his question and said, “Where were you this morning?”

Simeon Harper looked sideways at me and then laughed heartily in a hushed voice, until the blood rose in my cheeks with embarrassment.

“I've heard about you, Miss Davish, but I never thought you'd aim your investigative eye toward me. I told Sir Arthur you'd make a top-notch journalist if he didn't have you otherwise employed.”

Brushing aside the compliment and the fact that he hadn't answered my question, I said, “You've heard about me?”

“Of course I have. You were in the papers.” Of course, a journalist of all people would have read the newspaper articles mentioning my involvement in the murder cases of several prominent people.

When will people forget?
I wondered. Perhaps they never will. Then I'd have to use this to my advantage.

“Well, then,” I said, “you didn't answer my question. Where were you this morning?”

“I see you're like a bulldog, never giving up. Yes, ma'am, you would've made a fine journalist.” I raised my eyebrows as I continued to stare at him. He still was evading the question. “I give up!” He mockingly held up his hands. “But before I tell you, answer me this. Why do you want to know?”

“Because I know why the police are here.”

“And you'll tell me what you know?”

“If you tell me where you were this morning.”

“Deal.” Harper held out his hand. I hesitated for a moment before shaking it.

“Oh, no, no, no!” a woman inside the building cried. I closed my eyes, trying to ward off the pain in her voice.

“What's going on in there?” Simeon Harper whispered, straining to see through the window without being caught.

“Let's walk. Neither one of us needs to be found here.”

“You certainly shouldn't be.” The journalist laughed before heading back along the alley.

I crouched down and followed, careful not to bump into the garbage barrels. Thankfully, I couldn't see Mr. Harper's reaction to the discarded rubber syringes he must've noticed as we passed. He glanced around the corner of the building, hoping to avoid the police, and waved me forward when the sidewalk was clear.

“My gig is this way,” he said, and started to walk briskly down C Street. After walking in silence for several blocks, he said, “Well?”

“First answer my question. Where were you this morning?”

“I was in Coxey's camp. It is still the biggest story in town, you know. I spent the night there, one last time, and was there until after breakfast, what little there was of it. Jasper came back, insisting I make a call on Lottie. He said it would be worth my while. So I left. I stopped at the Treasury first to check something out, but it was closed. So then I came here. And you know the rest. Now what's going on in there?” He pointed back toward Lottie Fox's place.

“Why were you at the Treasury?”

“You don't give up, do you?” I waited in silence. When he realized I wasn't saying a word until he answered, he said, “I was there to follow up on a tip I got two days ago involving a certain bank I've long suspected was involved in fraudulent dealings during the whole gold depletion crisis last year.”

“Gold depletion crisis?” I tried to keep current with the news, public affairs, and world events. I tried to read the newspapers whenever I had spare time. “Does that have anything to do with the Sherman Silver Purchase Act?”