The Fall Of White City (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 1) (4 page)

“Franz, you mustn’t say such things. Not if you’re really innocent.”

“The martyrs of Haymarket,
Fräulein Klarheit
, were they not innocent? And yet they were hanged just the same.”

Evangeline felt a chill creep down her spine at the memory of the infamous Haymarket riot. At a rally to support striking railroad workers, someone threw a bomb killing several policemen and onlookers. The organizers of the rally were put on trial for murder. None of them had thrown the bomb, but five were condemned to death and two to life imprisonment because their words were considered an incitement to murder.

“Only two months ago Governor
Altgeld
pardoned the ones who were left—the men sentenced to life in prison,” Evangeline offered uncertainly.

“And Governor
Altgeld
will never be re-elected again. He is hated everywhere for freeing these men who are called anarchists.”

Evangeline made no reply. She felt the truth of Franz’s comment.

“Look at me,
Fräulein
. What chance do I have? I am German. I am a newspaper writer for the
Sozialistische Tageszeitung
,
a radical paper, and above all, I am a member of the
Neue Arbeiter Partei
, the New Workers’ Party.
 
In the eyes of everybody, all these facts make me an anarchist.”

Again Evangeline couldn’t contradict his words. A German writer for a red newspaper, who was interested in organizing unions, would have been automatically branded an anarchist. Such a man, causing a disturbance in a public place the evening before a murder was committed, could as easily be branded a killer.

“What is the term they use for this thing that is happening to me?” Franz seemed already to know the answer.

“A witch hunt. It’s called a witch hunt, Franz.”

“Yes, that is what I thought.” Franz smiled ruefully at his visitor. “And so,
Fräulein Klarheit
, I ask you now:
Was kann ich tun
?
”

“What to do?” Evangeline echoed his words. “I don’t know yet, Franz. I truly don’t know. But I won’t stand by and do nothing.”

The prisoner took her hand and kissed it. “I thank you for trying to help, but even so...” He sighed heavily, “
Ich denke das ich bereits tot bin
.”

Evangeline raised a skeptical eyebrow. “
Ist das so, mein freund? Ich denke nicht
.
You give up hope too easily. You are not dead yet!”

Chapter 4—Aide-De-Camp

It was late Friday afternoon and Frederick Ulysses Simpson was in a buoyant mood. He fairly danced up the walk to Evangeline’s front door and knocked with the air of a man who expected to receive a warm welcome. Delphine, Evangeline’s housekeeper, answered the door with the air of a woman confronting a tradesman who had forgotten to use the service entrance.

“
Bonjour
, Delphine,” Freddie said jovially. Before the housekeeper could translate her scowl into its verbal equivalent, the young man took a note out of his vest pocket and waved it before her eyes. “Do you know what this is?” He paused for effect. “Non? Well then, let me tell you. It’s an invitation to tea from Miss LeClair. As she so prettily puts it, the honor of my presence is requested at four o’clock. And as you can hear from that monstrosity in the hall behind you, it’s chiming the hour even as we speak.” He stopped and waited, silently daring Delphine to contradict a direct order from her mistress. She hesitated a moment, then shrugged and showed Freddie in.

Over her shoulder, she called out to Evangeline
, “Ne te déranges pas, ma chérie. C’est seulement le jeune Monsieur Freddie.”
Her accent on the word “
jeune
” made Freddie wince.

He was painfully aware of just how young he looked. Freddie was tall, and still awkward for a man in his late twenties. He would have struck an observer as all elbows and knees with an Adam’s apple thrown in for effect. His boyishness was further emphasized by the humiliating profusion of freckles that decorated his clean-shaven face.

Delphine’s eyes held a gleam of malicious delight at the young man’s discomfort. She spoke English fluently, reserving her French for those moments when she wanted to appear particularly insufferable to someone—in this case Freddie.

Evangeline had just descended the double staircase into the front hall in time to see him arrive. “Ah, there you are. Quite prompt.”

Delphine did not appear at all pleased by Evangeline’s cordial greeting to her visitor. She had never given up hope that her darling mistress would marry someone suitable and seemed to believe that Freddie, by monopolizing the lady’s time, was keeping away more eligible bachelors. Refusing to comprehend the obvious, she asked pointedly, “
Eh bien, ma chérie
, will the young fellow be staying for tea,
vraiment
?”

Freddie made a mental note that at least this time she was insulting him in English.
 
Evangeline answered with great determination. “Yes, Delphine, and bring him some of the special pastries I know you’ve got hidden in the pantry. We’ll be in the small parlor.” Delphine sighed, nodded, and disappeared without further comment.

Given the scale of Evangeline’s home, the word “small” seemed inappropriate when applied to any room in the house with the exception of the coal bin. The couple proceeded to the imposing parlor at the front of the house. Despite its heavy draperies and overstuffed upholstery, the room managed to look inviting bathed in the sun’s late afternoon rays.

Even Delphine’s inhospitable behavior couldn’t dampen Freddie’s spirits at the invitation. He seated himself comfortably in a purple velvet armchair to one side of the tea table. “I must say, I really feel honored,
Engie
.”

His hostess smiled as she seated herself on the loveseat. Her voice sounded almost apologetic. “It was the least I could do after your ordeal two days ago.”

Freddie basked in the glow of her approval. “Only too glad to lend you moral support in your time of need,
Engie
. I’d do it again in a trice.”

“You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that, Freddie.” The lady looked at her companion pointedly, a small smile playing about her lips.

Something in her tone alerted the young man to danger, but at that moment Delphine entered carrying a tray. She set down the tea things with a thump and departed, allowing Evangeline to serve as hostess. Because this was a gentleman’s tea, the fare consisted of items a bit more substantial than watercress sandwiches. The lady of the house plied her guest with walnut mayonnaise sandwiches and chicken salad. Sweets included ice-cold coffee jelly with whipped cream, seed cake, and lemon gingerbread. While Freddie was busy consuming these delicacies, Evangeline poured tea and chatted amiably about the horrible Mrs. O’Malley.

As Freddie sat digesting, his benign mood undiminished, he commented, “You know, it’s funny. The last time you invited me to tea was when you were drumming up money for the Ladies’ Charitable Auxiliary, and you wanted me to make a contribution.”

“Did I really?” Evangeline’s face expressed mock surprise. “How cold-blooded of me to turn a social occasion to such a nefarious purpose.” The half-smile played about her lips once more.

Freddie caught his breath abruptly, feeling the same sensation as a man who has just stepped into a bear trap. “Oh no! Not again!”

Evangeline laughed demurely. “Freddie, calm down. It’s not as bad as all that. I don’t want any money from you, but I did want to talk to you about something—something very important.”

“Ye gods, what is it this time?”

Her tone shifted abruptly from flirtatious to grave. “It’s not only important, it’s deadly serious.”

Freddie eyed her skeptically.

Evangeline stood up and walked toward the north window. “I went to see Franz Bauer in jail yesterday.”

“You did what! You went to see a murderer without telling me? Without telling anyone?”

“I didn’t think I was in any danger. I had to see for myself. A man is supposed to be innocent until proven guilty.”

“Innocent! Did you read yesterday’s paper? They found the murder weapon in his room, with traces of blood on it.” The words tumbled out of Freddie’s mouth so quickly they tripped over one another.

“He told me the knife wasn’t his.”

“Well, of course he’d say that! He’ll hang straightaway if he admits it was.”

Evangeline turned to gaze directly at her friend. “I don’t believe he was lying about the weapon, Freddie. He told me he couldn’t remember what happened that night.”

Freddie opened his mouth in protest. Evangeline stilled him by raising her hand. “I’m not sure either, Freddie. He’s convinced he wandered around the city all night. It’s possible he doesn’t remember what he did. He was nearly hysterical when I saw him, and that was several days after the murder. He may have been out of his head. I’m sure of his sincerity. I just don’t know about his innocence. Either way, finding a weapon in his dresser drawer looks a little too pat to me.”

The wind had been taken out of Freddie’s sails. He trusted Evangeline’s judgment enough at least to consider the matter from a new angle. “What you’re saying is that the police planted the weapon.”

“Yes, and I can think of at least two reasons why they would. I’m sure there’s been pressure from any number of ranking citizens to find the murderer quickly and get this matter out of the papers as soon as possible. And... ,” she trailed off, shaking her head.

“And?” Freddie sat forward in his chair and craned his neck to follow Evangeline’s movements around the room.

“Franz Bauer writes for the
Sozialistische Tageszeitung
,
and he’s a member of the
Neue Arbeiter Partei
.
”

“He’s an anarchist!” Freddie spat out the word as if it were a curse.

“There’s no proof that he’s plotting to plant a bomb in city hall! There’s only proof that he’s a hot-headed young man who tried to save his sister from ruining her life!”

“Tried to save her life by causing a scene in the hotel right before she died!”

“He says he never got past the lobby.”

Freddie stopped short and mentally calculated the odds weighed against Franz. “Well, if what he says is true, then he’ll be executed for being the wrong sort of person in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Evangeline was pacing to the far end of the room. Without looking over her shoulder, she said softly, “No matter what doubts you have about him, even the doubts I have about him, someone has to give him a chance. Someone has to look farther afield for an answer. We have to try, Freddie. We have to do something.”

 
The young man stared at her in disbelief. “What are you saying? That you want to go gallivanting around the city collecting clues like some detective for hire? You have no idea how to go about it. Neither do I. What he needs is a good lawyer! Maybe I can get a senior partner from my firm to help.”

Evangeline threw back her head and laughed bitterly. “A member of your firm? Oh, that is amusing! With the clientele they usually defend? If Simpson And Austin were to act as legal counsel to a known anarchist, their wealthy patrons would desert them like rats abandoning a sinking ship. Besides,” she hesitated for a moment, “did having a good lawyer help Albert Parsons?”

The analogy gave Freddie pause. Parsons had been one of the conspirators executed after the Haymarket Riot.

“The only way we can help Franz is to produce a stronger set of facts pointing to another suspect. And since the police already think they’ve found the guilty man, they’re unlikely to lend us any help.”

Evangeline crossed the room to stand directly in front of her friend’s chair. “Freddie, don’t you see? We’re in the best position of all to find out the truth. We can talk to people who would never consider going to the police. At the funeral, I spoke to Patsy O’Malley. I won enough of her confidence that she agreed to meet me on Saturday to talk about Elsa. Do you think she would have uttered so much as a peep if a man in a blue uniform with a
billy
club came knocking on her door?”

Freddie gazed up at her a moment, considering his reply. “Well, if you’re so good at winning trust from the reticent, what do you need me for?”

She sat down on the ottoman next to his chair and took one of his hands in both her own. “Because, my dear friend, you can go places where I can’t. If I were to walk into a police station and ask to speak to the officer who first saw the body, do you think something like that would go unnoticed? We need to be discreet and to make ourselves as inconspicuous as possible while we’re conducting this investigation.”

Freddie recoiled and sat upright in his chair. “First of all, there is no ‘we’ here. Second, there is no ‘investigation.’ You’re starting to sound like a detective already. If you’re looking for employment, you can apply to the
Pinkertons
. They’ve been known to hire female agents, though God only knows why!”

Evangeline was undeterred. She gently took Freddie’s hand back again. “Do you think I’m doing this just for me?”

“No, of course not.” He relented slightly. “I know you care about Elsa and her brother, and you want to see justice done.”

“It isn’t only that.” Evangeline smiled one of her mysterious smiles. “I want to do this because of you, too.”

“What?” She had succeeded again in losing him down one of the side passages of her logic.

“Don’t you think I know what’s more important to you than anything else in the world?”

He was about to reply, “I didn’t realize you knew how much you matter to me,” but caught himself in time. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

She continued, “I know you don’t want to be a lawyer. You want to be a reporter.”

“Oh, yes, that too.” The words were out before he could stop himself.

“What?” For the first time, she looked puzzled herself.

“Never mind,” he said hastily. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“Well, think about it from this perspective. What would it require for your friends at the
Gazette
to sit up and take notice of you?”

“Maybe if I died on their doorstep before fetching their lunches for them,” he sighed gustily.

“No, Freddie. I’m serious. Do pay attention. What if you were able to bring them an exclusive story?”

Freddie’s mental clouds were evaporating quickly. He leaned forward in his chair. “You mean...”

Evangeline smiled. “Exactly! We get all the facts that none of the other papers bothered to ferret out. If Franz didn’t do it, then we’ll be the only ones able to prove who did. You tell the
Gazette
that you have all the information to provide a front-page story that will beat out all the other papers in town. But the price... ,” she stopped for effect.

“Yes? Yes?” Freddie was already swept away by the vision.