Fallen Women (38 page)

“She was selfish,” Beret said, trying to sound sympathetic.

Varina ran her hand against the post. “Jonas had found out Lillie was alone at that place, and he drove me there. He parked the carriage in an alley so that no one would see us, and I went to the back door—me, in that degraded place. Lillie opened it, expecting your uncle or some other degenerate, I suppose. She was surprised to see me, oh my, yes. But it didn’t seem to bother her. ‘Hello, Aunt Varina. Nice of you to call. Won’t you come in? I’ll fix tea.’ That was what she said to me, just as if it were natural for me to call at a whorehouse.” Varina spat out the last word. “Perhaps it was. It was I who sent her there, you know, after I found out about the business between her and your uncle. It was fitting. She was already a harlot. I sent Jonas to speak to Hettie Hamilton. She didn’t know Jonas worked for me, but she figured Lillie was from a society family, so she demanded five hundred dollars.”

“You paid her to take in Lillie?”

“Oh, I knew I didn’t have to pay, but I did. I wanted Lillie gone that much. And she was amused at the whole idea of being a prostitute. Amused! I didn’t even have to insist on it. She told me, ‘At least it’s an honest life, Aunt. We’re all fallen women one way or another. You included.’ Oh, you didn’t know her, Beret, although you do now. She was a degenerate. A fallen woman is worse than any man.”

“You thought Uncle John wouldn’t visit her in such a place?” Beret asked.

“I was wrong about that, wasn’t I? Jonas told me what was going on. Your uncle had the impertinence to ask Jonas to drive him there.”

“He was loyal to you, Jonas.”

“Oh yes. More than to your uncle.”

“So the two of you went to see Lillie?”

“No, Jonas stayed outside. I went in alone. Lillie took me to her room. I offered her money to give up John, jewels. She didn’t care about him. I knew that. Women like Lillie play games, you know. They make men fall in love with them, and then they throw them over.”

“I have seen it,” Beret said.

“She turned me down. So I told her I’d have her arrested for stealing my diamonds. I knew she’d taken them. She said if I did, she would tell the newspapers your uncle had given them to her. And then she laughed. She said, ‘It was so easy to make him fall in love with me. I was tired of him, but now I think I’ll keep him on my string. Poor old dried-up Aunt Varina.’”

“That was cruel.”

Varina nodded. “I had never been so angry. She wouldn’t stop laughing at me. I picked up the scissors. I didn’t intend to hurt her, but I had to stop her from laughing. You understand, don’t you, Beret? She must have laughed at you, too. She told me how she and Teddy laughed at you.” Varina searched Beret’s face for some sign of sympathy.

But Beret’s face was rigid now. “And so you stabbed her,” she said in a monotone—a statement, not a question.

“You understand, don’t you, Beret? You would have done the same thing, wouldn’t you?”

“And then you took the earbobs.”

“I saw them sitting on the bureau, but I forgot about them until I got to the carriage. I sent Jonas back for them. I had to. I couldn’t leave my own sister’s jewelry for some
whore
to wear. You wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“I would not have wanted you to kill my sister,” Beret said by way of reply.

“They were Marta’s, and they are yours now.”

Beret could not believe her aunt could speak so casually about jewelry after admitting what she’d done. “I don’t want them,” she said. Then she had a sudden thought. “If you killed Lillie, why did Uncle John admit to it?”

“Why, to protect me, of course, because it was all his fault. He knew that. I’d gone there to protect him, you see. He knew the minute you showed him the earrings what I’d done, but he couldn’t allow me to take the blame. You must know that. He is honorable that way. But he was foolish. He should have said Jonas put the earrings into my jewelry box. That would have been so much easier. He thought he could trust you, I suppose. How would he know that detective was lurking behind the door? Now you must convince the police it was Jonas, after all, that your uncle confessed only to protect him.” She all but smiled at Beret.

Beret ignored the suggestion. “I don’t understand why Jonas attacked the other two prostitutes.”

“That was his idea, and I told him it was brilliant. We agreed that if another prostitute or two was murdered, people would think a madman was on the loose. I knew he would take care of things for me. He was such a loyal boy.”

“You would’ve let him kill two women?”

“They were only whores. I’m sorry Jonas is dead, but it worked out perfectly, don’t you see? You shouldn’t have any trouble making the police believe Jonas was guilty of Lillie’s death, too. You’ll find a way to explain it to them.”

“But he wasn’t guilty, Aunt Varina.”

“A small point. The thing now is to clear your uncle before all this scandal robs him of the Senate appointment.”

Speechless, Beret stared at her aunt. The woman thought after everything that had happened, Judge Stanton would become a senator.

“No, Aunt. You must go to the police and tell them the truth.”

“What?” Varina jerked up her head and stared at Beret.

Beret nodded.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s the only thing that will save Uncle John.”

“I thought you understood. I thought when I explained what had happened, you would help me. We are flesh and blood.”

“So was Lillie, and you murdered her.”

Varina looked incredulous. “You won’t help me?”

“No. I will accompany you to the police station, and if you refuse, I shall go there myself.”

“Who would believe you? It is your word against mine.”

“Detective McCauley will believe me, and I think Chief Smith will, too.”

“You are as heartless as your sister, Beret. I should have known I couldn’t trust you. I will make sure you tell no one.”

“You would stab me, too? There are no scissors in this room.”

Varina stared dumbly at her niece, and then she said, “No, but I have this.” Varina fumbled in the pocket of her jacket, then withdrew a small gun and pointed it at Beret. It was a woman’s pistol that contained only one shot, but Beret knew if the gun was aimed properly, it would be deadly. “I always carry this when I go out. Jonas gave it to me.”

Beret stood very still and thought about how she could reason with her aunt. “The servants will hear the shot. And how would you explain my death to the police?”

“William will take care of everything. He is loyal to me. And don’t bother to cry out. The servants are in the kitchen. They won’t hear you.”

“What about the suit? Look there, on the bed.” Varina looked away, and at that instant, Beret leaped forward, knocking the older woman down. Beret reached for the gun, but Varina held on to it, as the two women rolled across the floor. Beret felt the gun against her head and was still.

“I am sorry, Beret. You were my favorite. I thought if I explained, you would understand, that you would help me. But you give me no choice,” Varina said.

Desperate for some words to stop her aunt, Beret closed her eyes, and at that instant, a voice said, “Madam.” She felt the gun ease as her aunt turned to the voice, and Beret reached up and yanked the gun from her aunt’s hand. She rolled away from the older woman and stood, not knowing whether to point the weapon at Varina or at William.

“Take it from her, William,” Varina hissed.

William looked at the old woman, then at Beret, who realized then that the butler might be the greater threat. If she shot Varina, William could overpower her, but without William, she had a better chance with her aunt. Beret pointed the gun at the butler.

William stared at it, disdain on his face. And then he said, “You may put down the weapon, Miss Osmundsen. We have heard the confession, Louise and I, and can back you up. Louise has already gone to summon the police.” He turned to Varina and helped her stand. “I am sorry, madam.” Then he looked again at Beret. “And I am sorry we put you in danger. I allowed this to go too far.”

“You knew about my aunt?”

“We suspected after the judge was arrested, but we had no proof. Then this morning, Nellie found the garments hidden away in Madam’s dressing room. She brought them to me, and I knew the blood on them was Miss Lillie’s. I sent Nellie away for fear Mrs. Stanton would harm her if she found out Nellie had discovered where the clothing was hidden. It was I who placed the soiled garments in your wardrobe where you would be sure to see them. I believed you would know the right thing to do. I had assumed you would take them to the police and had not thought you would confront Mrs. Stanton. Fortunately, I saw her go into this room and took the liberty of listening at the door.” He said, as if explaining a breach of etiquette, “It was not closed, you know.”

The three of them stood like that, not speaking, until they heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. “That will be the police,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. He turned to go, then stopped and looked at Beret. “Will that be all, madam?”

Beret closed her eyes and nodded. “That is all.”

Chapter 25

Varina Stanton did not go to jail for the murder of her niece Lillie Osmundsen. Judge John Stanton, Varina’s husband, was a powerful man with many friends in the judiciary, and he arranged for his wife to be found insane and incarcerated in a sanitarium for the rest of her life.

The judge did not stay on in the Grant Avenue house. He moved into his club and put the house with a sales agent. Beret offered to help him make the adjustment, but he said it was not necessary, that William would do it. Judge Stanton offered Beret his wife’s jewels, but she wanted nothing and suggested her uncle sell the pieces and donate the proceeds to charity. There was no further mention of a Senate appointment.

Beret sought out her former husband, Edward Staarman, to bid him good-bye. She wished him well, and they parted amicably. Neither brought up the subject of a reconciliation. Later, Teddy married a California widow who had inherited a good-sized estate. Beret never saw him again.

She called at the police station for a final meeting with Detective Sergeant Michael McCauley but was told the detective had been sent to Leadville to bring back an escaped prisoner and would not return for several days. Beret was downhearted by the news, because she had wanted to see Mick one more time.

So just a week after her aunt was arrested, Beret left Denver. She felt uncomfortable and unneeded in the Stanton house, as William had taken complete charge, and there was no further reason for her to remain. She returned to New York, although not by herself. Nellie, the maid, would be out of a job as soon as the Stanton house was sold. So the girl accompanied Beret, who gave her employment at the Marta Osmundsen Mission. Nellie was both tough and compassionate and became a great favorite among the women and children who sought help there.

Beret returned to her duties. With time, she came to accept her sister’s death and the sordid events that surrounded it, although she never could bring herself to forgive her aunt for murdering Lillie. From time to time, she remembered Detective Sergeant Michael McCauley and wondered what might have been between them if things had been different.

Epilogue

Mick McCauley sat at his desk in the police station for the last time, looking around the room where he had worked for so many years. He straightened the chair beside him where the snouts and boosters, the bummers and touts once sat and swept off the top of the desk with his arm. Only the pen and ink bottle, a sheet of paper and an envelope remained.

“You going to miss it?” Officer Thrasher buttoned the coat of his uniform. The buttons were polished, but the coat was a little worse for wear now, and so was the policeman. It hadn’t taken long.

Yes, he would miss it, Mick thought. He would remember the harlots and macs, the pickpockets and panel men who had made the job interesting, even the newshawks who had turned him into a celebrity after the Lillie Osmundsen murder six months before. “Maybe. Would you?” Mick asked.

“I’m too bare-ass poor to afford memories,” the officer replied, picking up his hat and heading toward the door. “You coming, or you going to sit around moping?”

The boys were waiting for him at the Arcade. Mick’s cousin Caro had thrown a grand party for him the night before, attended by a large portion of Denver’s upper crust. His uncle, Evan Summers, had declined to attend, but Judge Stanton, who was going out in society a little now, was there. Tonight would be a bruiser, and what with everybody wanting to buy him a drink, Mick wondered if he’d be sober enough to catch the train in the morning.

There was just one more thing to be done, and he had delayed it, put it off because he did not want to give time for a reply. Mick smiled a little to himself as he opened the bottle of ink and dipped in the pen. It would be a short note, nothing fancy. He wrote,
Dear Miss Osmundsen.
But Beret had told him to call her by her first name, and Mick liked that. He crumpled the paper and pulled out another sheet. It was foolscap, the paper the reporters used, but she didn’t seem the type to demand proper writing paper. He dipped the pen into the ink again and started over.

Dear Beret,

I’ve quit the police force in Denver and am going to New York, where I’ve been hired on as a detective. I’m leaving on tomorrow’s train and should arrive on Thursday. I look forward to resuming our friendship.

Mick

Mick read the letter and grinned. It was short and to the point. She wouldn’t like anything flowery. He folded the paper and slid it into an envelope, which was already addressed and stamped. Then, making sure that Officer Thrasher was gone, Mick went to a cabinet and searched through files until he found the one for the Osmundsen murder. He flipped through the notes and papers and reports to the
carte de visite
of a woman in a sable jacket, her hands in a matching muff, that he and Beret had found under the mattress in Lillie’s room at Miss Hettie Hamilton’s. He removed the picture of Beret and put it into his pocket.