Time Out of Mind (51 page)
Authors: John R. Maxim
Tags: #Horror, #General, #Psychological, #Suspense, #Memory, #Thrillers, #Fiction, #Time Travel
Lesko laughed. He'd tell his mother next time he called
Florida. “Yeah, but what's the connection with Green
wich?” he asked.
She shook her head. ”I really don't know. Some scandal
about prostitutes back then who moved up here from New
York and married locals.”
“
What happened? The guy struck out on
September
Morn,
so he decides to bother retired hookers? Every town
in the country must have at least a couple.”
”
I suppose,” Carol guessed, “but this is Greenwich.
Most of us could care less, but some of the older families
are sensitive. Mrs. Blackthorne' s people have been here for
ever. After a while they make a hobby out of being very
Greenwich. Ancestor worship is part of the hobby. Some
of these people don't even want you to know they go to
the bathroom, so you can imagine how they get if you start
poking around their family trees with anything less than
admiration.”
I suppose,” Carol guessed, “but this is Greenwich.
Most of us could care less, but some of the older families
are sensitive. Mrs. Blackthorne' s people have been here for
ever. After a while they make a hobby out of being very
Greenwich. Ancestor worship is part of the hobby. Some
of these people don't even want you to know they go to
the bathroom, so you can imagine how they get if you start
poking around their family trees with anything less than
admiration.”
Lesko closed his atlas. He liked this girl and was enjoy
ing the conversation, but he wasn't sure if it was heading
anywhere useful. But Sturdevant, on the other hand, must
think he's on to something. A guy named Anthony Corn
stock comes here a hundred years ago and starts rooting out ex-hookers. There's got to be a connection with the
Tilden Beckwith who was a ringer for Corbin, but what's
the connection between Beckwith and a hooker? Did he
stash one here? Why out here? Why would he go to the
trouble?
ing the conversation, but he wasn't sure if it was heading
anywhere useful. But Sturdevant, on the other hand, must
think he's on to something. A guy named Anthony Corn
stock comes here a hundred years ago and starts rooting out ex-hookers. There's got to be a connection with the
Tilden Beckwith who was a ringer for Corbin, but what's
the connection between Beckwith and a hooker? Did he
stash one here? Why out here? Why would he go to the
trouble?
“
Thank you, miss.” He tipped an imaginary hat to Carol
Oakes. “Nice talking to you.”
Lesko wandered past the card files to a point where he
could see down aisle seven. Sturdevant was at the far end on one knee, one book under his arm and another in his
hands. He was checking its index. Lesko guessed he could
count on at least a minute to go back and see what Stur
devant had on the microfilm machine. He walked quickly
in that direction.
could see down aisle seven. Sturdevant was at the far end on one knee, one book under his arm and another in his
hands. He was checking its index. Lesko guessed he could
count on at least a minute to go back and see what Stur
devant had on the microfilm machine. He walked quickly
in that direction.
Sturdevant had left the machine on and a fuzzy front
page was projected onto the reading surface. Lesko touched
the focus knob. The
Greenwich Graphic,
the masthead said,
August 1890. Comstock's name jumped up from a two-
column headline,
comstock beaten,
it said. Then under
neath in bold type, “Thrown Down Stairs.” Then in
smaller type, “Vows to Press On Fearlessly.” Who threw
him down the stairs? Beckwith? No. Some doctor named
Palmer. Way to go, Doc.
Sturdevant's note pad was lying open on the projector.
His notes were spotty. Cryptically written. A lot of names.
Comstock. Margaret/Charlotte fearful?
Dr. Miles Palmer. Delivered J's grandfather?
Carrie Todd and Belle Walker. Retired prosts? Possibly.
Laura Hemmings too. Did they recognize Margaret?
Charlotte. Lesko raised one eyebrow. Charlotte Whitney
Corbin, right? Corbin's great-grandmother. She lived here
in Greenwich? Sturdevant sure thinks so. And she had a
kid here. Corbin's grandfather. His namesake.
All the other names, except for the doctor, seemed to be
known or suspected ex-hookers. Charlotte Corbin too? Oth
erwise, why should she be afraid of Comstock? Margaret.
Margaret slash Charlotte.
Wait a minute.
Holy shit!
Lesko backed away from the machine and looked to see
if Sturdevant was on his way. He was but someone stopped
him. Up near the information desk, a tweedy-looking man
of about sixty had just intercepted Sturdevant. Mrs. Blackthorne was returning to her seat and Carol Oakes was giv
ing her a “you're such a twit” look. The man in the tweeds
had to be Mr. Hoagland who, Lesko assumed, had to be
the head guy around here. He was questioning Sturdevant
and Sturdevant was not loving it. But Sturdevant at least was not telling him to buzz off as Lesko would have. He
was opening one of the books he carried and asking a question in return. Lesko decided he had another minute at least.
He hurried back to the machine and flipped Sturdevant’s
notebook to its preceding page.
More names and notes, most of which meant nothing to
him.
Colonel Mann. Town Topics.
Something about the col
onel blackmailing Tilden. And a lot of stuff about a bliz
zard. Someone named
George Baremore. Baremore found
first, then Ella.
Lesko moved back one more page.
There it was.
Margaret Barrie and Charlotte Corbin
—
same woman.
Lesko scanned the rest of the page. There
were references to a Hiram Corbin who had died in a train w
reck, leaving Charlotte a widow. But the tone of Sturde
vant's notes seemed to doubt that Hiram Corbin ever ex
isted, or at least that Charlotte was ever married to him. Sturdevant thought she'd been carefully set up here by Tilden, probably with a full but concocted life history. Lesko
put the note pad back the way he found it.
So, Lesko asked himself, what do we have? Tilden has
a mistress, probably a hooker, who gets pregnant. The preg
nancy is probably deliberate because hookers don't have that kind of accident. He moves her up here with a new
name so she can have the kid in peace. But then along
comes Anthony Comstock a year or so later and makes everybody so nervous that they're still touchy about it. But why, come to think of it, did he come? Did someone blow
the whistle?
a mistress, probably a hooker, who gets pregnant. The preg
nancy is probably deliberate because hookers don't have that kind of accident. He moves her up here with a new
name so she can have the kid in peace. But then along
comes Anthony Comstock a year or so later and makes everybody so nervous that they're still touchy about it. But why, come to think of it, did he come? Did someone blow
the whistle?
Lesko shifted his attention back to the projected page of the
Greenwich Graphic.
The story about Comstock being thrown down the stairs offered little more information except that he'd broken three ribs. It contained almost no
background detail, which suggested to Lesko that Corn
stock’s activities were being reported on a continuing basis
and that this was just the latest episode. The rest of the
page contained routine local news, a few ads and social
notes, an argument over whether the main street should be
electrified. The name Laura Hemmings caught his eye. It was one of the names in Sturdevant’s notes. The item was
a report on the weekly meeting of the Women's Christian Temperance Union of Greenwich. They were going to have
a tea dance in September. Laura Hemmings would head the
dance committee and—aha!—in charge of decorations
would be Mrs. Charlotte Corbin. The item went on to say that this inseparable pair was the same duo that organized the famously successful July 4 pageant and the uproarious
roller-skating party of last May. Lesko sniffed. Reformed bimbos are as bad as reformed drunks. But this group didn't sound like the Carrie Nation types who used
to go around
smashing up perfectly good saloons with hatchets. It
seemed more like a social club than a bunch of pain-in-the-
ass teetotalers.
Greenwich Graphic.
The story about Comstock being thrown down the stairs offered little more information except that he'd broken three ribs. It contained almost no
background detail, which suggested to Lesko that Corn
stock’s activities were being reported on a continuing basis
and that this was just the latest episode. The rest of the
page contained routine local news, a few ads and social
notes, an argument over whether the main street should be
electrified. The name Laura Hemmings caught his eye. It was one of the names in Sturdevant’s notes. The item was
a report on the weekly meeting of the Women's Christian Temperance Union of Greenwich. They were going to have
a tea dance in September. Laura Hemmings would head the
dance committee and—aha!—in charge of decorations
would be Mrs. Charlotte Corbin. The item went on to say that this inseparable pair was the same duo that organized the famously successful July 4 pageant and the uproarious
roller-skating party of last May. Lesko sniffed. Reformed bimbos are as bad as reformed drunks. But this group didn't sound like the Carrie Nation types who used
to go around
smashing up perfectly good saloons with hatchets. It
seemed more like a social club than a bunch of pain-in-the-
ass teetotalers.
“
I'm afraid I'm using that machine.” Lesko heard the
voice behind him.
Shit!
“
Oh, sorry.” Lesko moved aside. “Those old ads just
caught my eye.” He saw an expression of annoyance on Sturdevant's face, more than his being there should have
justified but Lesko understood. After being bugged by Mr.
Hoagland and Mrs. Blackthorne, Sturdevant didn't need an
other nosy local taking an interest in what he was doing.
Lesko touched a finger to the projected page. “Dr.
King's New Discovery for Consumption.” He smiled.
“Says here it contains chloroform and opium. A couple of
shots of that and you wouldn't know whether you were sick
or not. I didn't know they could sell opium like that.”
“
Oh yes.” Sturdevant relaxed a notch. “Opium and co
caine. There were millions of addicts in this country at the
turn of the century because of patent medicines like that
one. Even Bayer's aspirin used to contain cocaine.”
“
No kidding.” Lesko raised his eyebrows. ”I knew
about booze in these old medicines but I didn't realize
about the drugs. A drugstore I was in once had this old
poster for Hostetter's Celebrated Stomach Bitters. Whatever
you got, this stuff would fix it. A little card underneath the
poster said it was forty-four percent alcohol, which is a
fairly decent shot.” Come on, Lesko said in his mind, smile
at that. I'm just a harmless guy who hangs out in libraries.
No smile? Okay. We'll try something else.
“
My grandmother wouldn't touch a drop,” Lesko lied.
”I mean, she was one of these temperance ladies, but if
she was feeling down she'd swig some stuff called Lydia Pinkham's Extract right from the bottle and it was as good
as a martini, I find out later.”
“
Temperance ladies?” He had Sturdevant’ s attention.
“You mean in Greenwich?”
“
Yeah.”
“
Your family's been here a long time?”
“
Since just after the Civil War. They had the butcher
shop in town.”
“
Does the name Charlotte Corbin mean anything to
you?” Sturdevant asked. “Your grandmother might pos
sibly have known her.”
Lesko shook his head. “Doesn't ring a bell.”
“
Or Laura Hemmings?”
Lesko shrugged. “Sorry. She told a lot of stories about
the old days but I don't remember those names coming up.” Come on. Ask.
“
Did she ever mention a man named Anthony Corn
stock? He caused a stir in town back around 1890 by trying
to root out some former prostitutes who'd come here to live.”
“
The religious nut. Yeah.” Lesko brightened. He told Sturdevant the story of
September Morn.
“Some people around here still get touchy about all that hooker stuff he
did.”
` “So I've learned.” Sturdevant gestured in the general direction of Mr. Hoagland while hefting the two volumes
he was carrying. “And these Greenwich histories don't
shed much light on it either. There's barely a mention.”
No shit, Lesko thought. Who do you think would bother
writing a history of Greenwich except someone with two
last names, like Carter Woodruff the third, who lives back
in the four-acre zoning and who wants all his friends to
have something nice for their coffee tables? One of those types is going to write about ex-bimbos? He's going to say,
Guess what, some of our grandmothers screwed half the
U.S. Navy before they moved up here and picked out a
Yalie to settle down with?
”
I guess those newspaper files are your best bet.” Lesko
pointed. “You're trying to track down those two women
you mentioned? What were they, hookers or temperance?”
I guess those newspaper files are your best bet.” Lesko
pointed. “You're trying to track down those two women
you mentioned? What were they, hookers or temperance?”
“
I'm not really sure. They were both certainly members
of the Women's Christian Temperance Union.”
“
You could try Chicago,” Lesko said offhandedly. As
he expected, Sturdevant’ s eyes widened in surprise.
You could try Chicago,” Lesko said offhandedly. As
he expected, Sturdevant’ s eyes widened in surprise.
“
Chicago? How could you know?” He stopped.
“
The WCTU,” Lesko explained. “They got their na
tional headquarters out there. Up in Evanston. My grand
mother, if she wanted to look up a member she lost track
of, she'd write to Evanston and if they had the address they'd forward the letter.”
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