Ill-Fame (A Detective Harm Queen Novel Book 2) (19 page)

“Ve heard dat you vere in jail. It vas too much for her to bear. She couldn’t stand the tot of you dere, so she bought a ticket for tonight.”

“What? When?”

This couldn’t be. He needed to speak to her, and smooth things over. He wanted her to understand why he did what he did. She had said she’d wait for him.

“So she’s on the train now?”

“She left in a hurry. I yust dropped her off at de Milvaukee Depot an hour ago. She vanted to get dere early. She didn’t vant to take any chances to miss her departure.”

He put his hand to his vest pocket, but his watch wasn’t there.

“What time does her train leave?”

“Half past six.”

“And what time is it now?”

Queen waited for the pause.

“A quarter past six. Harm, I yust don’t tink it’s a good idea...”

He dropped the receiver and ran.

Milwaukee Depot was only blocks away, but it seemed an eternity to his tired knees. He kept running, though, running to keep his fiancée. Running to keep his friend. Running to keep his anchor. More than once he stumbled on the sidewalk, and cursed his forty-year-old body for not moving as fast as it used to.

The pain soon began ripping through his legs, as he hotfooted past fruit markets, saloons, hotels and finally the tangle of railroad tracks that marked his approach to the passenger depot. He could see the waiting, rumbling trains and hear conductors from behind the fence as he ran for the nearest door.

“What train is leaving for Chicago?” he yelled, as he pushed by a line of people to a ticket window.

“The first track,” said the attendant, “but you need a ticket!”

He barely heard him as he willed himself to ignore the pain, and made a final burst for the departure gate.

CHAPTER 24

She’d insisted on finding Trilly when they left the suite, but Dick shook sense into her immediately.

“We need to eat first,” he said. “Then we’ll go back upstairs, and you can bathe and change into one of your friend’s dresses. And I’ll try to find a suit of my father’s that doesn’t look like a drunken hobo’s upchuck. Then, we’ll think about our next step.”

She agreed, and decided she would enjoy her time with Dick. Her fear for her friend was tempered, she realized with some guilt, by the excitement of freedom and time alone with her beau. It was wonderful to have a dinner with him in a real restaurant, with real waiters, and from a menu with a dozen spectacular choices. There was wine as well, and a lit candle, and she soon melted under the spell of the restaurant’s soft atmosphere.

Madame Clifford had taught her how to conduct herself like a lady at the dinner table, and she was now delighted to have the opportunity to put those skills to full effect. She knew the right fork for the salad, and the right spoon for soup, and was thrilled to use them, for once, without the heavy veil of expectations hanging over the meal.

Moonlight still had his college manners, and she’d had to stifle a laugh as he tackled his chicken with greasy hands. He ate like he hadn’t eaten in days, and even ordered a second meal, which made her throw her hand over her mouth in mock shock. He was surprisingly cheery, considering a thief had made off with a fortune that belonged to him. She knew the reason why, though. She could see his eyes glazed with love for her, and she felt giddily happy in return.

Then, her thoughts turned to Trilly again, and her mood darkened.

“Where do you think she could be, Dick?” she asked, as a cheese and fruit plate arrived, along with fat slices of chocolate cake.

“Whoever took the money has her,” he replied.

“Yes, yes, that has already been established,” she said impatiently.

“My darling,” he replied, putting his hand on hers.

“It’s just so frustrating. They could be anywhere.”

“But we will find her. We have each other, and can do it together.”

She smiled at his sweet words, and grasped his fingers in hers. He pulled them out with a little grin.

“I’ve got to go to the boy’s room,” he said sheepishly.

“Yes, go.”

He walked away, and her attention turned to the candle on the table. It flickered seductively, and she took a sip of red wine while she watched its glow. This was her first real night out with a man, she thought, simply for the pleasure of his company. While it was scarred slightly by the nature of the day’s events, she decided, again, that she wasn’t going to ruin the moment.

A man dressed in a tuxedo strolled through the dining room singing an Italian aria with a lilting tenor voice. She vaguely recognized the tune, but couldn’t place it. It didn’t matter, however, because the words, even in a language she didn’t understand, set a romantic mood. She watched him walk from guest to guest, smiling and bowing when someone handed him a coin. The singer walked past tables, making patrons turn and listen. She felt as though she was being lifted to heaven, enraptured by the melody and the scene.

Then a man walked in. He was on a big drunk, she could tell, by the way he swayed. And there was something queerly disquieting about his face, but hard to make out from across the room. She watched him walk up to the singer and clap in his face, but he couldn’t quite get his hands to work together. The singer gave an uncomfortable nod, and took a step back, but the man tilted forward, grabbing onto his coat.

“What the hell are you doing, chum?” Moonlight asked, emerging from the corridor. He took the man and pushed him backwards, into a table. The man and the table collapsed together on the floor.

“Stay down.”

The man lifted his head, leered at the room, and gave a repulsive wink before finally lying still.

She watched Moonlight kneel next to him, and wipe his finger on the man’s nose. He held it up for her, and she gasped.

It was covered in a slimy white cream.

“Get up, you son-of-a-bitch,” Moonlight shouted.

“Who turned the lights on? Why’s the room spinning?”

“I need to speak to you,” Moonlight said, and he pulled the man up.

“Get in line,” the man slurred. “I’m a pop’lar fella.”

Moonlight put the man’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him out, apologizing to the maître d’ and handing him money.

Maisy gave a rueful smile to her waiter, and took out her own purse to lay some coins on the table. She followed them out into the lobby, where Moonlight had laid the man on a sofa.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Detective Chris Norbeck, at your beck and claw.” As she got closer, she could make out better the man’s bulbous nose and red-stained face. She looked at Dick, and he returned the look with a shake of his head.

“He’s incoherent,” Dick said. “He knows his own name.”

Dick patted the man’s jacket and trousers, finally pulling out a badge.

“He’s a cop, all right. From Minneapolis.”

“Say, ain’t you Moonlight Dick Darling?” Norbeck rubbed his eyes and licked his lips. “I seen you and your fingerless friend a few days ago. You remember? My compliments, once more on a elegant ol’ season. You got quite a set o’ haunches on you.”

“Enough about me,” Moonlight said. “We know you were in Kilbane’s room, and you had your sticky hands all over the safe. Where’s the cush?”

“Looks like you’ve got a corker there, young buck. I’d expect no less, of course.”

“What were you doing in my father’s room?”

Norbeck’s eye’s lit at this question. “Your father? You don’t say, huh? A Gopher football star whose pops is the notorious Jiggs Kilbane! What family dinner freakery that must have been!”

“I asked you where the money is.”

“Don’t have it,” Norbeck replied, weakly lifting his arms and holding out empty hands. “It was already gone.”

“What were you doing there?”

“I was looking for a bird named Trilly Flick. You know where she’s shakin’ that dairy air?”

Maisy covered her hand with her mouth, and fought back a choke.

“I need a glass of water,” Norbeck choked in turn.

“Maisy,” Moonlight said. “Can you get him some?”

“Maisy, you say? Maisy
Anderson
?” He leered again.

She felt her face blush at the sound of her last name.
How does this disgusting man know Trilly, and how does he know me?

Norbeck seemed to notice her reaction. He licked his finger and smoothed down an eyebrow, in a bootless, last-gasp effort to look presentable.

“You got to come with me, Miss Anderson.”

Dick grimaced. “And why the hell would I let her do that?”

“I’ve got someone who has been looking for you for a long time, and he’s going to do a goddamn back flip when he lays eyes on you.”

“Who?”

“Detective Harm Queen, sweetheart. We have to get a cab. Now.”

CHAPTER 25

Queen sat on a bench, his head in his hands. The pit of his stomach had sunk to the soles of his shoes.

The train was closing its doors when he’d skidded onto the platform. He’d been so out of breath, so desperate, that he hadn’t been thinking straight, and he kicked himself now for not brandishing his badge to keep the train from leaving.

But all he could think of to do was to run up and down the length of the train, peering through windows to catch a view of Karoline. He tried to call out, but the shrill hum of the waiting engine made it difficult to be heard. Then the bells began their rhythmic clang and the crankpins turned as the train began its slow departure, and he scanned the windows for any sign of his beloved. There was none. She hadn’t seen him, or if she had, his presence wasn’t important enough for her to leap out and into his arms.

He wasn’t used to crying, and fought like hell to keep the tears from coming out as he tried to decide what to do. While he knew, deep down, he couldn’t leave, a part of him was tempted to buy a ticket and follow her. The hell with all of this, he thought. He was tired of the manipulating colonel, he was still shaken by his arrest in Saint Paul, and from the deepest reaches of his aching bones, he was plumb exhausted. He could leave everything behind with a wave, and find his place in Chicago, by Karoline’s side.

It was a pipe-dream, though, and nothing more. He had to protect the old man, who was like a father to him. And not only protect him from an assassin’s bullet, but also from himself. The Ames brothers’ cloak of corruption was thin, at best. While it still covered the city, there was no one except for Queen to keep it from being stripped away. He was the glue that held the entire racket together. And he was the only one who could prevent the foxes in the henhouse from tearing each other apart.

He lit a cigarette and smoked it, watching the stars twinkle through the gaps in the truss-roofed shed that sheltered the platform. He thought about going home for a good night’s sleep, but only momentarily. It was still early, and there was still work to be done.

So he put on his derby and limped back to City Hall.

He was at his desk in the detective’s room, when Norbeck stuck his head through the crack of the door.

“Hey, boss. How goes the battle?”

Queen stood. “In, Norbeck. Now.”

The detective slunk forward, and Queen could smell the reek of alcohol and cigarette smoke on his clothes.

“Goddamn it, Chris. I told you not to drink tonight.”

“You told me not to tipple ‘til I found her.”

“So you did?”

“Nope,” Norbeck chuckled. “She was gone when I got to Kilbane’s place.”

“So why are you here, and in this state? There are other places to look, for Christ’s sake!”

“I found someone else I knew’d you’d want to meet.”

“And who in God’s name is that?”

Norbeck pushed the door wide open, and a young lady walked in, wearing a billowy, forest-green dress. She was lovely, with round cheeks, deep blue eyes and blonde hair pulled back under a peacock-feathered hat. There was something about her air, her poise, that immediately reminded him of someone. It was an expression of defiance, although on her it was a beautiful defiance. Her eyes burned with independence and self-determination.

“Er... good evening Miss...?” He glared at Norbeck for an introduction.

She held out her gloved hand. “A pleasure to meet you, finally, Detective Queen. My name is Maisy Anderson.”

Queen closed his eyes, and then opened them. If Karoline could be here to see this, she would understand, finally.

He leaped out of his seat and took her hand, fighting to contain a smile.

“Miss Anderson. I’ve been searching for you.”

She smiled back, and it was all he could do not to fall over at her beauty.

“I’m so sorry to have wasted your time, sir. Detective Norbeck, on the way over, explained the troubles you’ve put yourself through to find me.”

“I am thrilled, Miss Anderson, that you are alive and well. I was close this morning to locating you....”

“I know, now. Thank you for trying to find me.”

“My pleasure.” He didn’t know how to continue, what to say. Miss Anderson, however, seemed to sense his hesitation, and began telling him everything that had happened to her from the very beginning. Norbeck, usually not known for his sensitivity, even shut the door and left to give them some privacy. And Queen sat, transfixed, as she explained what had happened to her for the last two years, from her betrayal at the station by Martin Baum all the way up to Dick’s altercation with Norbeck at the hotel.

Many things struck Queen during their conversation. As soon as Maisy had mentioned Trilly Flick’s name, his mind raced back to the last time he’d seen the other girl, and how she’d treated him with flippant disregard. He’d made love to her just hours before, but realized too late that she had used him for information, with every intent to cast him aside.

He could still see Trilly’s pouty lips in his head, and the stunning eyes whose lashes could bat for the Millers baseball team. Then he felt that momentary lust that had gotten him in trouble to begin with. When he finally found Trilly, he’d do his best to convince her to tell the truth about Edna Pease’s murder to Police Chief O’Connor. If she refused, then he’d put her on a fast train to the farthest corner of the country. He wanted no more of that trouble. Now that Kilbane was dead, he decided, she’d probably high-tailed it out of town already.