Ill-Fame (A Detective Harm Queen Novel Book 2) (4 page)

“Help me take off this gown, and then the dress.”

“Miss Boyce? Don’t you need a corset, first, for a dress like that?”

“No, Maple. Just help me fasten it from the back. And when you’re finished, give me a spray of the perfume in the white bottle.”

There was no point in a corset, when it most likely would be off in twenty minutes. After a moment’s thought, however, she picked out a black silk one and handed it to Maple. She didn’t feel quite herself, as her grandfather was on her mind. The idea of a grind with a client suddenly made her stomach turn.

Whichever man waited for her below wasn’t going to get a purring vixen today.
I want to look like a lady
, she decided, and took a deep breath as Maple pulled the corset’s laces tight. The dress went on next. It fit well. Finally, Maple fetched a pair of lace-up boots, and helped her with the slow process of tying them up.

She went to her dressing table. Putting on cosmetics was taboo in normal ladies’ circles, but she didn’t belong to any of those. She arched her eyebrows with a pencil, darkened her lashes, applied some liquid rouge with a bit of cotton, and made her lips with her grenadine stick. She knew the age-old insinuation. Painted ladies ruled the night. Depravity, wickedness and other nonsense. She didn’t care, however. She enjoyed the way the makeup made her look, and how it highlighted her facial features. She examined herself in the mirror; at her button-shaped, slightly turned nose. Her cheeks were full and her eyes large and blue. She had the look of a Scandinavian; even the yellow hair, which Maple was putting up in a bun. She had been blessed with good looks, and while they financed her fineries now, she also knew that they had been to blame for her abduction. That made her think of her grandfather again, and she felt more nausea. Whoever was downstairs, she thought, had better not expect a roll with her today. It would anger Madame Clifford, but she was resolved. Just like her grandfather, she thought: stubborn, once she’d made her mind up at something. That thought sent a rush of happy warmth through her body, and strengthened her determination.

You can withstand the reprimand
.

She stood up, ready to face her employer and whoever else demanded her attention.

CHAPTER 4

His little bay was deceptively fast. It gave him a mild startle when he took the corner too quickly and felt the gig rise up a little on one wheel. Queen yanked on the rein to slow, and bounced down the dirt lane until he reached a squat frame house. The perfect-sized home, he thought with tenderness, for a bachelor and his sister. Peder Ulland was Queen’s best friend, and quite possibly his only real one. They’d met years back when the detective had done some work for Peder, who made his living as an advocate for the masses of Scandinavian immigrants who were pouring into Minnesota. Many of them had settled in the working areas of Minneapolis, and needed employment, certainly, but in many cases their needs were much more immediate: shelter, clothing, food and medical care. This meant lots of contacts amongst the meager and disregarded. Queen figured his friend might be able to stretch out his feelers for murmurs of men with the whiff of revolution about them.

He hopped off the gig and immediately swore. Pain in his knee.
You’re not a young man anymore,
he chided himself. He shook out his leg but before he could take a step, Peder was already at the door, waving and smiling. His thinning blond hair sat high on his head, whipping about from a breeze that crossed the yard.

“Vell, vat do ve haff here?” he asked, as he pointed to Queen’s horse. “You’ve giffin up stealing police vagons to get around?”

“And about time, right?” Queen walked to the door, shook Peder’s hand fondly, and followed him inside. It was a cozy interior, with a wicker settee, a rocking chair and a stuffed corduroy armchair filling the room. A parlor stove stood in the corner, and a kerosene lamp swung from a hook in the ceiling. A rag carpet lay on the floor, striped with red and blue, where a tabby cat stretched out lazily in the warmth.

Queen smiled when a waft of sour cream pie caught his nose, and he heard light footsteps in the kitchen. Karoline was here.

“I’d like to speak to you, Peder, while we’re alone,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I need your help.”

“Vit vat?”

Queen told him the mad account of the chewed-off finger, and when the detective asked him for his favor, Peder nodded, concern rumpling his brow.

“Ya, ya. I can send some men to ask around. Dere’s a saloon near de river. A rowdy place, vit a lot of dat kind of talk. I’ll send Egeberg.”

Egeberg was a cunning fellow, and Queen approved of his choice. However, while the man’s English was perfect, his ability to use his fists left much to be desired. Queen didn’t want to take any chances.

“Could you send Big Snorre as well? I think Egeberg might need some clout behind him.”

Peder thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Ya, dat is a good idea, Harm.”

“And as quickly as you can,” he said, just as his future bride stepped in from the kitchen. Beaming, she ran to him and threw her arms around his back. He laughed; she pulled his head down to match hers, and after they exchanged a kiss, he glanced over at his brother-in-law-to-be with a sheepish half-smile.

“I don’t care,” Peder said, amused. “Ve don’t have pretensions in dis house.”

“Sit down,” Karoline said, eyes sparkling. “I’ve missed you ever so much.”

“And I you,” he replied, putting himself in the rocker. It creaked under his weight, but not as much as it would have four months ago, before he’d stopped drinking. Since he’d halted his daily intake of whiskey, he felt more vigorous. More on edge, certainly, but not as depressed as before. Of course Karoline was the main reason for his sprightly cast. She wasn’t a classic beauty, but he saw nothing but loveliness in her world-wise eyes, working hands, and unwaveringly positive spirit. She still had an air that would turn the heads of envious men, but it was naturally there. Nothing was hollow or contrived with her.

“Have you been staying to the straight and narrow?” she asked with a laugh, knowing the answer already.

He held back a smile and looked down, shaking his head. “That old chestnut, dearest? My job isn’t peril-free.”

“But you’re not putting yourself in danger’s way, are you? Not purposely?”

“No, Karoline.”

“You were almost killed. Once in Saint Paul, and then near Hastings.”

“I’m not going to either of those places anytime soon.”

“Promise me, then,” she said.

“Unless I’m invited to Saint Paul for lunch with the mayor, I’ve no business there.”

“Good,” she pronounced happily. Her smile broke wide.

Queen decided there that he was completely helpless against Karoline. He had no resistance when it came to her affection.

“I’ve got wonderful news, Harm!” she exclaimed, her cheeks glowing pink with elation. She sat on the settee near him, and then motioned Peder away with her hand. Her brother chuckled and slipped into the kitchen.

“Are the alterations on your wedding gown going well?”

“No,” she laughed, “not that. Not something so insignificant as that.”

“What, then?”

“Well, the wedding has been overwhelming.”

“And I’ve warned you not to overdo yourself. I try and help when I can. I’ve arranged the finest private room at the West Hotel for July Fourth. We’ve got patriotic bunting and other decorations purchased, as you desire, not only to celebrate our union, but to celebrate your becoming an American citizen.”

“I know, I know,” she said, patting his hand. “And I love you for giving me everything I’ve wanted in this.”

“What then?” Recently their days together had been occupied by a whirlwind of wedding plans. Details he honestly cared nothing about, but pretended to with every ounce of concentration and enthusiasm he could muster. Now he heard her tone change slightly. It wasn’t flippant, nor patronizing, exactly, but it had a slight edge he wasn’t expecting.

“I love you, Harm. You know I do. I still want to get married. It’s just that an opportunity has arisen, and it is a very rare opportunity.”

His chest felt afire, as if a blast of lightning had struck him from above and skewered him through the heart. He’d counted on this wedding to set him straight. No. He’d required it. He didn’t want to hear what was next.

“Don’t look so despondent, Harm. Please, listen to what I have to say.”

He nodded, not even able to look her in the eyes.

“I’ve been invited to Chicago for three months. Jane Addams has invited me,
personally,
Harm, to live within her Hull house. To directly assist her in the famous Nineteenth Ward.”

Queen found his mind suddenly racing, searching for reasons to convince her not to go. “That is one of the most dangerous areas of the city. And
you’re
worried about
me
?” he finally managed.

“But Miss Addams is there, and her organization is world-renowned. How could there be any danger?”

His head hung low, like a twenty-pound round shot had replaced his skull. He rubbed his neck, and slowly raised his eyes to hers. “So you want everything to stop? Cancellations? Forfeited deposits? Is that it, then?”

She looked at him with tears forming in her blue eyes, and gave a smile so sweet and warm that he wanted to melt right into the rocking chair. “I love you, Harm.”

“But you want this? More... more than me?” The words sounded horrifying as they slipped from his lips, and he immediately wished he could suck them back in. Her expression took no offense, however. She still looked at him with such affection, that he knew he wouldn’t be able to get angry. She was born with an altruistic impulse, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

“Miss Addams says that this life is a glorious span of experience through which the upward surge of the race impels ceaselessly to action, action reacting always upon ourselves.”

“What does that mean, Karoline? We’ve got plenty of action in Minneapolis.”

“People here,” she replied, “are in such need. Families are desperate. We... I have an obligation.”

“But what will going to Chicago solve? You’re already helping your brother’s charities, and volunteering at the hospital almost every day.”

“I’ll
learn
better, under Miss Addams. She is the premiere social worker in the country, Harm. And she knows me by name and by reputation. It’s such an honor. I have to go.”

He felt guilty even asking, but it was nagging at his heart, so he did. “Is it something I’ve done?
My
reputation? Does it embarrass you?”

“No,” she said, emphatically shaking her head. “It is about kindly human service. You understand that it is what gives me passion, don’t you? You understand that?” Her eyes were pleading, and she was wringing her hands. He could tell she was concerned about his reaction, and hadn’t anticipated that he would take the news the way he was. “You said you were drawn to me, to some degree, because of that. Please tell me that’s true.”

Queen loved her too much to question her feelings or motivations anymore. He felt sad, and he thought his expression likely showed it, because Karoline was crying now. He stood up, took his thumb, and gently dabbed at the corner of her eyes. She hugged him tightly around the waist. So tightly he felt his knees almost buckle. But he wasn’t going to let her know that, because he was enjoying the embrace far too much.

CHAPTER 5

As the request for her presence had already grown stale, she bustled into the hallway. She passed the rooms of her fellow sports, and heard only some hard breathing from the room at the end. Otherwise, all was quiet. The other girls no doubt were in the reception room, waiting for business to pick up. Madame Clifford usually expected her there too, however Nellie still went to her own room when things weren’t busy. She knew the madam was aware of her desire for quiet time, and allowed it as long as her generosity wasn’t abused.

Nellie went down the stairs and the chambermaid followed, trying to keep the dress from catching on the corners or rails. Once below, she swept through the ballroom, and knocked on Madame Clifford’s office door.

“Enter,” came the reply.

When she walked in, she saw the madam sitting behind her French mahogany desk. An elaborate marble fireplace mantel stretched behind her. Next to that, a door led to the front parlor and the main entrance.

Madame Clifford was a graceful, taciturn creature in her early forties, both beautiful and wise. Her hair was black and her eyes equally dark, and she pursed her brow with mild disapproval at the tardiness. Nellie gave an apologetic curtsy, as trim and neat as the madam had taught her, and stood, waiting, for what was to come.

“Miss Nellie Boyce. Why are you dressed for tea?”

“Well... Madame Clifford. I felt... well... my intuition told me that formality was required.”

“I see. Please, take a seat. This won’t be long.”

“Yes, Madame,” she said, and sat on the red velvet sofa, folding her hands in her lap.

“I have someone waiting who requires a conversation with you.”

“About what, if I may ask?”

Her eyes were sharp and puncturing. “My dear, have you benefited from your time in this place?”

Nellie was unsure of how to answer. Madame Clifford saw her discomfort and gave a restless sigh.

“Do you remember your time before coming here? Your situation was less than genteel, was it not?”

“It was very unpleasant, Madame. Yes.”

“And the man who took you from that vile place, and brought you to me. Do you remember him?”

“Mr. Kilbane? Of course.” She remembered her first and only encounter with the man very clearly. Five months and thirteen days into her captivity in that damnable hole, he had come.

Emil Dander had been swine-drunk that night. Drunk enough to hand out a beating, and she’d expected it from the moment he’d stumbled into the door, cursing and reeking and threatening whatever came into his vision. He’d been trying in vain to stick a fork with a piece of gray meat into his mouth when Mr. Kilbane came hurtling through the door, eyes blazing. She recollected his orange hair, as wild as the flames of a fire, and the way he searched the room, until he’d set his sights on her. She’d been unclothed, with her hands tied behind her back, lying on the floor. She’d watched with numb fascination as Kilbane’s neck began to spasm and his hands tremble in outrage. Opium had dulled her senses, but not enough to not understand what was happening.