Ill-Fame (A Detective Harm Queen Novel Book 2) (7 page)

“Don’t call her that,” she scolded. “She’s a chambermaid and her name is Maple. Did she stay long?”

“I offered to let her sleep in my flat, but she looked horrified when I mentioned it. She said she had another place to go, anyway.”

She’d hoped that Maple would make it safely. It had been a lot asking her for her help, but she’d given Maple a sapphire ring in payment for the risk. The poor girl had little in the way of money, and was eager for the chance to make such a score. Nellie had hoped beyond hope that the girl wouldn’t abscond with the jewelry and leave her high and dry. But tonight’s visitor was proof that good old Maple hadn’t let her down.

“I’m glad you came, Dick. Really I am.” She took his hand and walked him over to the bed. They sat together on its edge.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

She smelled the orange peel on his breath and relaxed with its familiarity. Her fears always melted away when he was near. He made her feel safe. Dick was a man who would gladly give his own life to protect her, she was sure.

“We said no notes,” he reminded her, giving her another kiss on the forehead.

“I didn’t know how else to get you a message.”

“But notes, Nellie. They’re too dangerous. If my father found any connection between us he’d kick up some dirt fast.”

“You mean he’d be humiliated because his golden son is taking tumbles with a whore, right?”

“It’s just none of his business.”

He put his arm around her and they sat, in silence. They were such a mismatched pair, she understood with bitter clarity, as she ran her thumb over his. It was a wonder that they’d ever fallen in love to begin with. Madame Clifford had warned her about developing personal attachments with customers. All of the girls were told this. Any intimacy outside the bounds of business would be trouble, as sure and certainly as McKinley was president and the milk jars were delivered on the door step at 6:15 sharp. But he’d come with university friends one evening, as a lark. A night about the town, to blow off steam. Her mind had immediately cautioned her that a man who visited resorts could never be trusted, but they’d made an instant communion at first meeting. He was young, handsome, well-clothed and clean, and made her laugh, which she’d rarely done since arriving in the Twin Cities. She knew from his puppy-dog stares that he was smitten with her from the get-go as well.

He’d visited every night for a month after that, and she’d readily cleared her schedule to comply. It had helped that he’d liberally paid for that honor. Madame Clifford had disapproved, but not enough to turn down the cush and the pals that coasted on his coat tails and into the front door alongside him.

Even though he bought her time, there was a distinction in her mind between Dick and the other men she rolled with. She refused her portion when it came to him. It wasn’t only about making goo-goo eyes with Dick, either. They’d talk, and joke and drink, often times so late into the night that they’d be too exhausted from each other’s company to do anything else. He’d regale her with his exploits on the gridiron and adventures in the classroom, and transport her from the confines of her brothel bedroom to the campus she’d always wanted to call her home. On those nights she lived vicariously through this boy, and his company gave her momentary reprieve from her own loneliness.

Now that he was set to graduate, he came less frequently, but their bond was still strong. She knew he still held things back from her. She was sure that he dated university girls in his regular life. Although he didn’t vocalize his displeasure with out-and-out anger, he was certainly bothered by the nature of her occupation, and jealous, she knew, of the other men who visited her chambers when he wasn’t there. However he hadn’t offered an alternative, to let them be together, so she assumed that they had reached their farthest point. It wasn’t to say that the point was bad. It was what it was. But now her situation had changed. Changed for the worse, it seemed, after she’d seen the terrible beating that Trilly had taken. She’d been a front-row witness to Kilbane’s true nature, and it shook her to her core.

“What’s this?” Dick asked, breaking the quiet. He motioned with the tip of his shoe to the open trunk next to the bed.

And here was the moment, she thought. Faster than she’d have liked. But it was here, and he needed to know.
It was for his own good.

“I’ve something to tell you. Something I hope you understand. I’ve been given an opportunity,” she said.

The lie came out more smoothly than she’d anticipated.

“An opportunity for something better... than this.”

“What do you mean? What kind of opportunity could be given to you?”

He hadn’t meant it, she knew, but she still felt the sting of his question. She pulled away from him, stood up, and moved to the window. I can’t let him see me cry, she thought, or this will be so much more difficult.

“I’m so sorry, Nellie. As soon as I said it, I realized it was wrong.”

She heard his step behind her, and felt his hand on her shoulder. She wanted to push it away, but she couldn’t.

Being around him tore up her emotions when he was said such things, but she also felt so at ease in his presence.

Love was confusing.

Assuming that this was love, which she wasn’t sure it was. Whatever it was, though, both the moments of tenderness and the thoughtless comments made her feel alive. It was almost euphoric, this exploration of emotions she’d forgotten could have. They cut through the dull ache that throbbed in her soul.

Even so, she still dreaded what she had to tell him. They’d grown so close. But she’d made up her mind.

“Dick. I’m to run my own place.”

“A resort?”

“Yes. I’ve been approached by a wealthy individual...”

Moonlight’s face twitched with a look of panic and jealousy. “What? What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m going into business.”

“With some man? How could you do something like that?”

“What am I supposed to do? Stay here all of my life? What happens in ten years, when I’m no longer young?”

He scrunched up his mouth in frustration. Rarely did Moonlight Darling have difficulty coming up with something to say, but he did now.

“I don’t expect to stay here all my life, if that’s what you mean,” she continued, choking a little. “You’re about to graduate. Move on to great things. Work for your father, probably....”

“Never,” he snarled, and turned away.

“Why wouldn’t you? You’re his heir, you’ve said. I don’t know anything else about the man, except that you don’t want him to know about me.”

“That’s because he’s not worth mentioning.”

“But you understand your position, and mine, don’t you? I have to make my own way.”

He looked back at her, perspiration soaking his brow. It was funny how he could bound across a football field, barely breaking a sweat, but a conversation such as this made his forehead slick and wet.

“I’ll take you with me,” he said, with a wild, determined look.

“You can’t be serious,” she replied. “That would never work. I know there are other women. What would your university steady say?”

“Those girls don’t mean anything.”

“And how do I know? You’ve also got your whole future to think about.”

He shot her a hot glance. “Obviously you’ve been thinking about yours.”

She slipped his handkerchief from his chest pocket and wiped his brow dry. “You worry too much, Dick.”

“How could I not? You’ll soon be in bed with a stranger.”

He would be a dangerous one, too. Far too dangerous for Moonlight Darling’s college sensibilities. She needed him away from her for his own good.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” she told him.

“And I’ll make sure of it.”

She sighed. It was going as unpleasantly as she’d figured it would. But the worst was still to come.

“I can’t continue on like this, Dick. I’ll be very busy soon, and the distraction of you will be too great.” She stroked his hair again, trying to let him down gently. “I care for you, but everything is changing, and our relationship, as it’s been, is too much of a burden at this moment....”

“A burden? A
burden
?”

She’d known this would be difficult for him, but she hadn’t expected this level of despair. He wasn’t accustomed to being told no, either.

God, this was hard. If there was a better way to cut ties with the one man she might actually love, she wished she knew.

He pulled a pint-bottle of something from his pocket, unscrewed the top, and took a deep swallow. Once it found its way down, he shuddered, but managed only an imitation of his usually impish grin.

“You seem to be taking your leave of me, Nellie,” he finally said.

“We’re in such different positions, you and I.”

And it could have been different, she thought. Perhaps if she’d made it off the station platform safely, and entered school like she was supposed to, they might have met, and loved, and it could have been different. But her lot had been cast in another direction, and that was that.

He rested his head on her shoulder, and they sat in silence. This would be their last night together, she’d decided. There was no other choice.

CHAPTER 8

He’d turned to Peder, as always, for the help he couldn’t get from his own police force. Peder, as always, came through. The Norwegian had provided Queen with a coal wagon, and a driver, Big Snorre, along with the appropriate clothes: work shirts, overalls and boots.

The idea of a disguise was a sour one to Queen. Parading around in a silly costume bordered on cowardly, in his own opinion. He was a police detective, and proud of that fact. If he couldn’t get the information he wanted by being himself, he had no business doing the job.

In this instance, however, a disguise made sense. Queen was not wanted in Saint Paul. The last time he’d been here, he’d irresponsibly raced a streetcar down the capital city’s busiest avenue, crashing it in spectacular fashion. The police hated him, and a certain Irish gangster desired him dead.

But Pock insisted that Maisy was here.

Queen didn’t trust Pock for a second. An ambush might easily be waiting ahead, or Pock might be looking for some perfect moment to escape into a city where he knew Queen wouldn’t ever find him. But this seemed to be the only way forward, so he’d prepared in haste. He had tucked a small roll of money and his pistol into his pocket, along with a handful of extra bullets.

He’d also asked Peder not to tell Karoline where he was going. She can’t be worried about me, he told himself. She needs to focus on her preparations.

Buck up and shoot straight with her,
he told himself
. She asked you not to go to Saint Paul, yet you’re still doing it. You’ve broken your promise already.

But he’d made a promise to someone else, as well. It had been a promise to Sheriff Dix Anderson, one that followed him around like a maddening itch.

She would understand if she knew, and this might be my only chance.

The fact that Maisy Anderson was still missing bothered Queen to no end. Even as he worked his business in Minneapolis, he’d still kept his eye out for her. Asking questions. Looking for clues.

He might have looked harder, he knew. He might have asked more questions. He might have hunted through the city’s brothels more thoroughly, or hired his own private detectives to continue the search on the sly. As far as he knew, no one else cared about the young lady, and that gnawed at him. A young girl, without a family, trying to survive under quite possibly barbaric conditions, made his normally gruff personality soften into warm butter. It just wasn’t right, and as the old sheriff had died in his quest, Queen owed it to him to jump on any opportunity to finish it.

So when Pock mentioned her name, he knew he had to call the weasel’s bluff. This was his chance to make amends, and to redeem his pledge to Anderson. No one in the police department would help him, he understood. Colonel Ames would have a conniption if he knew what Queen was up to. This had to be kept quiet.

And I’ll be home in a few hours, to say goodbye to Karoline, with no one the wiser.

There. He felt rotten for the deception, but it was for a greater good, and she would understand. He wasn’t alone either, and Karoline would certainly feel better knowing Big Snorre was by his side. He was grateful to have Snorre’s muscle, despite their inability to verbally communicate with each other. He glanced up at the hulk, who filled up most of the seat with his wide girth. Snorre refused to carry a firearm, but chose to arm himself with a massive metal pipe wrench instead. While it wasn’t a match for a gun, in close quarters Queen could only imagine what damage the bruising Norske could inflict with that weapon.

Pock, on the other hand, needed to be carefully watched. He sat in the wagon, across from Queen, with his arms around his knees, staring at the houses on the street. They’d crossed the Lake Street Bridge, which became Marshall Avenue once it hit reached the Saint Paul side. Then they made their way to Summit Avenue, clopping along broad crushed-slate streets as they headed towards the heart of the city. The sun was shining and birds were bountiful; singing and chirping from small trees lining the avenue. Scattered houses and wide fields began to condense as they moved east, and the houses became larger and more opulent.

Hammocks hung from stately front porches, and gardeners planted flowers to brighten the yards. Rich families wearing their Sunday church finery strolled down the sidewalk, along perfectly manicured and fenced lawns. Queen looked for men that he might recognize, and tried to match the names with their homes. Even Big Snorre smiled pleasantly as he sucked in the sunshine and the tranquil scene.

But something was wrong with Pock.

He fidgeted in his seat and mumbled under his breath. His eyes were digging daggers into the extravagance surrounding them.

It was then that Queen realized they shouldn’t have come this route. Summit Avenue was the home to Saint Paul’s elite, and Pock’s latest little game was taking issue with the moneyed.