The Harlot’s Pen (22 page)

He didn’t wait for an answer, but went methodically through Violet’s clothes. He opened the drawer that had held her journals and was about to close it when he saw something in the back and pulled the drawer open wide. Violet held her breath, and released it as he pulled out a brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” he asked, opening it.

Violet frowned. “I don’t know.” She stepped toward him, reaching for the bag.

“No, ma’am.” He pulled it out of her reach and dipped a finger in. He licked the white grains off his finger. “Tastes like Doc Simmons’ headache powder. My wife swears by it for her, eh, her monthly times.” He rolled the bag back up and put it back.

Violet started to say, “But I don’t use that stuff. I don’t get headaches or cramps
,”
but caught the look on Sharon’s face. She remembered the powder she brought Rose.

“How did Rose die? One of her spells?”

The sheriff nodded. “I don’t see anything in here,” he said to the agents. “Shall we proceed?”

The agents exchanged glances. “Go ahead, Sheriff,” the fat one said, “we’ll just take this subversive Russkie and these incriminating papers down to Macondo, and you can do what you want with the broad. She’s a lot of fun, especially after you smack her around a bit.”

He pulled Gold to his feet. “That’s my dolly,” he whispered to her. “Well done.”

Sheriff Cabrera turned to Sharon. “Your room next. I don’t know what you’ve got against Miss Kitty, but if she gets shut down you’ll be turning your tricks on the waterfront like the old days, and you won’t like it one bit.”

“Sharon,” Violet said, holding out the bag of powder. “This is yours.”

Sharon shook her head. “Not mine,” she said. “Never seen it before in my life.” She turned to Spires. “Tell the sheriff what you told me—about how they’re a threat to all Americans. She’s lying, you know, and a real patriot doesn’t lie. Right?”

“That’s the God’s honest truth, young lady,” Spires answered, more moisture collecting on his moustache. “This commie’s a threat, and you shouldn’t believe a word she says,” he gestured at Violet.

Doc Simmons appeared at the door. “Violet, Miss Kitty wants you… “ He caught sight of the bag. “Headache powder? From my apothecary?” Violet shook her head.

He reached for the bag in the sheriff’s hand. “It’s Violet’s,” Sharon said.

“I’ve never seen you in my shop, Violet. Sharon, you bought this bag yesterday, because I’ve got the date stamped on the bottom.” He opened it. “You must have had quite a headache—you’ve used enough to kill a horse.”

Sheriff Cabrera stood very still for a moment, then turned to Sharon. Sharon, her face white with fear, ran screaming down the stairs. He caught up to her at the foot of the staircase, and all stood silently, listening to the scuffle on the porch. A car door slammed.

Doc Simmons looked at Violet. “Cruel, but not very bright.” And he turned to follow the sheriff downstairs.

Violet looked at Spire and Carson, one holding Gold and the other her journals. “No. You can’t take the journals. I demand them back.”

“Demand all you want. Now that your little protector of a sheriff is gone, I think your fancy talk is going to be just that: talk.”

“Wait a minute,” Spires said. He reached into the drawer. “When that dumb cop found the little drug bag, I thought I saw something else.”

Violet felt the room go gray. It was over.

With a shout of triumph, Carson pulled the keys from the recesses of the drawer. His eyes gleamed, and he licked his fat lips. “You saved them,” he said softly, and she shuddered. “Oh, sister. You are going to pay for these.”

He waved his gun at her. “Step lively, Miss Stone. We’re going to be sticking together while we go through your journals and see who your real accomplices are.”

He gestured with the gun. Violet wondered if he would shoot her. Carson ran his tongue along his teeth. Yes, perhaps he would. She glanced at Gold, and he nodded, almost imperceptibly. Shakily, she headed down the stairs.

“I’ll get us out,” she whispered back to him, but they were already pulling him from the room. She heard him bumping down the stairs behind her as they dragged him, still cuffed, down to the front of the house.

* * * *

Kate came round the side of the house and watched Sheriff Cabrera bundle Sharon into his car. He looked up at her. “I’m sorry, Kitty. I have a feeling Sharon overplayed her hand here. But Rose is dead, and I’ve got to take her in.”

“Overplayed her hand? How?”

“She gave Rose the headache powder. According to Doc Simmons, there was enough to kill a horse.”

Kate thought of the lemonade glass, with the sugar clumped in the bottom. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Sharon? Sharon, how could you?”

“She had a headache. She asked me for some,” Sharon said sullenly. “It’s not my fault she was so high on opium that she took too much.”

“Then she hid the bag in Violet’s drawer,” the sheriff went on.

Sharon looked at the ground.

“She didn’t mean to hurt Rose,” Kate said. “I’m sure she didn’t.” But she wasn’t as sure as she said, and her voice was flat. She passed her hand over her brow.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Sharon said. “I never meant to hurt Rose. I love her. She’s like a sister, like Lily. You’re the only family I ever had. I wouldn’t ever hurt you.”

“Say goodbye to the Resort,” Kate said dryly.

“It’s that God damned bitch Violet’s fault. Just look there, she’s getting hauled away like the communist she is.”

Kate turned and saw Gold, handcuffed and bleeding, being pulled to the large, black car parked behind the sheriff’s. And following them at gunpoint, was an ashen Violet, and the stocky federal agent behind her, gun in one hand, a stack of notepads in the other.

“You don’t even know what a communist is,” Kate said to Sharon.

“Oh, yes I do! I saw the ad in the paper, the one where if you know something is up, you can telegraph the federal agents that protect our country. I may not read much, but I could read some of what Violet had written in her nasty papers, and I let them know, that’s for sure. I’m getting a reward, too.”

“You won’t be able to spend that reward if you hang for Rose’s murder,” the sheriff said.

“I’m not going to hang!” Sharon’s voice went up an octave. “I didn’t kill Rose! Miss Kitty, you can’t let them take me away! Please, please don’t!” She started to sob, trying to climb out of the sheriff’s car. He pushed her back in, just as the coroner’s wagon came around the corner.

“And say good bye to Rose,” Kate said, her voice catching. “They’ve come for her.” Then she turned back to the sheriff. “I’ve got another surprise in poor Rose’s room.”

Before she could move, a man came shuffling around from the other side of the house. It was the lead agent, Macondo, his face bloody, his hands still handcuffed behind his back, and his pants and drawers around his ankles.

“What the hell?”

“He tried to rape Rose’s poor body. We stopped him in time.”

“That’s not true!” he screamed. “Arrest this woman! She attacked a federal agent! Spires! Carson! Get over here!”

The two agents emerged from their car. “Hey, boss, caught you with your pants down!” Carson said.

“Shut up, you idiot, and get these cuffs off me.”

“Sorry, bub,” the sheriff said. “No can do. If I’ve got a pervert rapist here, I’m definitely taking him in. And don’t go for your gun,” he added, his already drawn. Carson and Spires stepped back. “In the car with you,” he added, pushing the agent into the back of the car next to Sharon. “I’m sure that this lady will know just what to do with that equipment while we drive back to Sonoma.”

“If she wants her reward, she’ll pull my pants back up.”

“I’ll bet a whore never got that order before!” said the sheriff, and he got into his car.

“What about Violet and Gold?”

“I can’t do much for them, Kitty. I’ve got to take care of the crimes I know about, not the ones I don’t.”

Kate shook her head. “Violet!” she called.

“Tell Mr. Young,” she called back. “He’ll know what to do.”

Clancy Young. Yes, of course he would. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll go into Sonoma and call him tonight.”

“I have a telephone connection,” the sheriff said. “Want to ride along?”

Kate glanced back at the house. Lily, Moses, Samantha, and Jake were standing on the porch, watching the scene unfold. She walked quickly back to Lily. “You’re in charge, honey. It’s all going to be all right. Moses, take care of everyone. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll stay until you do,” Jake said.

Kate looked into Jake’s kind, tired, blue eyes. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a fine man, Jake. Thank you.”

“You’re a damn fine woman, yourself.”

* * * *

“The steam dredge Nevada was used to form and maintain the levees along Sonoma Creek…it did the work of 1000 men.” Sonoma Historical Society

“So, where do we take them?” Spires asked Carson. “We can’t go to the local jail. That country bumpkin of a sheriff won’t let us in, I’ll bet.”

“Back to San Francisco, then.”

“It’s a long drive, buddy.”

“Well that’s too damn bad. But there’s a new bridge over the creek. We can go that way. It’s a shortcut. And even better, there’s a whole lotta dark swampland around that bridge. Maybe our guests might have a little adventure.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, Carson. You hoping for a promotion?”

“Shut your trap, jackass.”

“Well, with Mister Big there with his jewels hanging out in the back seat of the sheriff’s car, I’m thinking that
you’re
thinking
the coast is clear for a kick upstairs. In fact, isn’t it a coincidence that we’ve got the girl and the Russkie, and Macondo is in the paddy wagon?”

“You’re not set up for thinking,” Carson answered. “So shut your yap.”

Spires laughed. “Suit yourself. I like your idea of a little adventure along the way, so don’t get all irritable. Even if you did set up Macondo.”

“Shut up, for the third time. And Macondo set himself up. His weakness for unconscious broads isn’t news to anyone. Hey, broad!” he said, turning around in the seat. “Remember when you were unconscious?” He laughed. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t. You were unconscious. But Macondo liked you just fine. And the rest of us would of too if that damn cop hadn’t interfered.”

Spires giggled, a sound that made Violet sick. “Maybe we’ll get our chance tonight, huh? I like them alive. You know, before we dump them in the swamp.”

“My God, Spires, you’re an idiot. We’ve captured a couple of commies. We’re not going to dump them! We’re gonna bring ‘em in and get a reward. Jeez,” he sighed, “you almost make me miss Macondo.”

Violet moved close to Gold to comfort herself and give him hope. He smiled a little wan smile at her. “We’ll get through this,” she whispered to him.

“Shut up back there. Hey, Spires, how come you let them sit together back there, letting them plot something? We ought to split them up.”

“Fine, you go back and sit next to the kike, and put the broad up here with me.”

“No, thanks, jackass. I get the broad.”

“Well, I’m not going to sit with some stinking Jew.”

Violet put her hand on Gold’s leg and squeezed lightly. She’d never really thought of how offensive the epithets were. She felt a moment of shame for her prior ignorance, but there were more pressing problems to face. She worked her hand behind Gold and tried to find the clasp to the handcuffs.

“We’ll just have to let them sit together then,” Spires concluded. “Tell you what, Carson. Seeing as I have to drive, why don’t you read me a story? Let’s hear what Miss Stone’s diaries have to say.”

“Leave my papers alone!” Violet cried from the back seat.

“Be quiet, whore. Now, let’s see, should I begin at the front of the diary?”

“That’s where most books start,” Spires said.

“Now who’s looking for a promotion? All right,” Carson cleared his throat, “‘November 7, 1919…’”

Violet hid her face in Gold’s shoulder. She felt his lips on her hair, but she could not be comforted. Carson read with mockery in his voice, but had he read it deadpan she would have felt equally mortified. The innocence of her words, the ignorant, foolish thoughts she had penned, made her cringe with shame. When he got to the date of Mrs. Whitney’s speech, Carson crowed with joy. “We’ve got her! We’ve got her! And her friends, too!” In their jubilation they slapped one another on their backs, almost sending the car off the road.

“Keep your hands on the wheel, idiot!” Carson sneered.

“You’re a brave, wonderful woman,” Gold whispered to her. “I knew you were someone else.”

She nodded her thanks, but she knew what kind of bombshell this was. It would sink her, her future, her friends. She had been such a fool, and to think of the trouble she was bringing on Leticia, on kind Jacqueline and Francis.

She fingered the cuffs still, unable to find a lever or hinge to open. They hadn’t used a key, so there had to be a technique.

“It’s getting too dark to read,” Carson said. “But you get the gist. Oh, baby, you’re going to fry for this one,” he said to Violet. “And now we know all the co-conspirators’ names, too. Spires, we’re going to both get rewards
and
promotions.”

“Here’s the turnoff to the new bridge,” Spires said. “Look at that nice, wet swampland. I got an idea. How would you two like to take a little walk in the swamp? It’s even wet in the middle of the summer, a miracle. Now that the creek is freshly dredged, this muck is wet even in June.”

“If it isn’t nature boy,” Carson said.

“I grew up in Mendocino,” Spires said. “I know all about weather around here.”

“Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass about what you know. Why should we let them out? So they can get away?”

“Where would they go? No, you idiot. I was thinking we might have a little fun with them before we keep driving. Once we get to the City, we’ve got to take them downtown, and you know that’s the last we’ll see of them. And I want my chance with the bitch. I didn’t get her last time.”

“What do we do with the Jew while we’re having our fun with Violetta?”