Haunting Melody (12 page)

“Go away, Saree.”

She laughed, turned then whirled back around
“Are you going to Francy’s tonight?”

I groaned. “No. How do y’all keep up this
schedule of partyin' one night and dancin' on stage the next?”

“You get used to it. I can’t sleep anymore
unless it’s past 3:00 a.m.”

“Well, I’m still a beginner in this. Maybe
after a few weeks I can keep up. But I’m the new baby in the crowd
and I need my naptime. As for tonight? I may just go home. Hey! You
look cheerful. Did you find the Count?”

Saree sighed.“Oh yeah. Waiting for me at my
apartment with a dozen roses. Briley called him last night and told
him where I was. So he’s thrilled I’m safe and not out with someone
else. So we’re back on. “She paused, then chuckled. “For another
day or two anyway.”

“Hmm. Got anyone in mind for your next
conquest?”

She winked. “Maybe. Mister Issac Rubenovitch
has always been really sweet to me. And I like the fact that Izzy
has never written about the Follies girls. Stood up for me when
Clow slandered me. Plus he’s kinda cute!”

“I’m sorry I asked. See you onstage in a bit.
I’m going to finish gettin' ready. Then I’m going to get on stage
and be a dancing tulip and shimmy my little behind ‘til ‘I can’t
shimmy no more.’ Then I’m going to go back to my rooming house and
commune with my pillow.”

She snickered. “You’ll change your mind once
the show’s over. You’ll be too excited to sleep. Trust me. It
happens to all of us.”

My second show with the Follies went off
without a hitch. I felt a bit more comfortable on stage now but
still watched the other girls closely for my steps and the
sequences. Last evening I’d been acutely aware of every person on
the stage; tonight my mind wandered to thoughts of a certain person
offstage and what he was doing.

We received another standing ovation. I
pulled off the bonnet that went with my finale costume as I headed
toward the direction of the dressing room. Saree was right about
the excitement. Still, I fully intended on just changing clothes,
grabbing a hot dog from a vendor near the theatre then crashing at
East 12th for a long sleep. But life took a different turn.

Briley grabbed my hand. “Mel? Have you seen
Denise and Nevin anywhere around tonight?”

“No. Why?”

“They’re missing.”

“Wait. Missing? You mean just not at the
theatre right now, don’t you?”

“No. I mean missing. They’re not at the
theatre. They’re not at home. They’re not at Francy’s. They haven’t
even been at the theatre tonight and it’s not like Denise to be
irresponsible. I went by their place. They live right over on West
44th. No one answers. I’ve called everyone who has a telephone to
ask if they’ve seen them or know where they are. No one has heard
from them. There’s just nothing. I’m worried.”

I’d started to share his anxiety. “I hate to
ask, but have you gone to the police station? Checked the
hospitals?”

His voice grew grim and quiet. “Not yet. That
was going to be my next stop.”

“I’ll come with you.”

He looked surprised. “Why? They’re not your
responsibility.”

I shot him a furious look. “What? You have
sole claim to worryin'? Thanks a lot. I haven’t known them long;
that’s true. But I like Denise and I’m major attached to Nevin.
Besides, you said it yourself; they’re part of the Follies
Family.”

His face reddened slightly. “I’m sorry. I
forget that people can be concerned and want to help for no other
motive than they care.”

“Let me get out of this costume and we’re
off. Okay?”

He nodded. I hurried to the dressing room and
managed to peel off the Salvation Army outfit I’d worn for the
show’s finale, then pull on my gauchos in less than a minute. I was
super careful hanging up my costume. Denise had made it.

I didn’t waste time taking off my heavy kohl
make-up on before joined Briley behind the theatre in the alley. I
probably looked like a streetwalker enticing diggers working the
tombs of Egypt, but it didn’t matter. The only things of
consequence were Denise and Nevin.

The police precinct was like a scene from a
Keystone Kops movie. Men in bobby-style hats with nightsticks
attached to their belts scurried around the station with as much
energy as I’d seen Charlie Chaplin in old films. The desks were
wooden and appeared abused. I’d been in the 24th precinct offices
on West 55th street only two weeks ago with Savanna when she’d
reported someone stealing her purse. The desks there actually
looked about the same, but with computers, and the cops had been
sporting guns and tazers on their belts along with those
nightsticks.

A middle-aged policeman with a reddish face,
red hair, and a nametag stating that he was “Officer Jack O’Reilly”
gestured us towards seats in front of his work-beaten desk, then
pulled out a sheet of paper.

We spent an hour giving Officer O’Reilly the
pertinent information. He periodically checked with Officers
O’Brien, O’Keefe, O’Flaherty and Theodopolous for reports from the
hospitals. If I hadn’t been so upset over Denise and Nevin’s
disappearance I would have been in hysterics laughing over the
Irish quartet and one handsome Greek.

O’Reilly stated quietly. “‘at’s about all we
can do tonight, Mr. McShan. Miss Flynn. Best you be gettin’ on home
now, and we’ll keep ya apprised o’ the situation, as it
'twere.”

Briley’s face was ashen. “They’ve been
kidnapped. I’ll bet anything. Along with the two other girls who
worked for the Follies. Those girls disappeared months ago and were
never found. They even worked with Denise on costumes. As did
Francesca Cerroni.”

Officer Reilly gave him a sharp glance. “I
didn’t want to be bringin’ up Miss Cerroni. At least, not with the
young lady present.”

“Are the police looking into all this? What’s
happening with the investigation?”

“Well, we umm . . . .”O’Reilly blushed.

I interrupted. “Officer, I’m a big girl. I’m
not squeamish, I don’t faint when I see blood, and I’ve even
witnessed awful events” Those were on television crime shows, but
that was irrelevant in my opinion. “Please tell us what you
suspect.”

He sighed. ‘Foin, then. No trace. No bodies.
Two attractive young ladies that was both connected to the Follies.
Ever since ta war, there’s been some nasty slave trade here in New
York and in some of the other bigger cities 'round the country.
Especially cities with good transportation centers. Women kidnapped
and sold to men with ill designs. If ya get my meanin’.”

We did. I grabbed Briley’s hand. He squeezed
mine back.

“Are there any leads?”

Officer O’Reilly shook his head. “Not really.
This one puzzles me, though. Mosta these ladies were single girls.
Here we got a widder lady with a child.”

Briley looked sick but he gasped out.
“Thanks, Officer O’Reilly, for being candid with us. Please - if
you find out anything - please tell us.”

I let Briley pull me to my feet. I was
trembling so hard I was afraid I’d be unable to walk but with his
hand on my back I made it to the door and outside. And promptly
burst into tears.

It had suddenly and fiercely hit me that this
was real. The time travel journey had first seemed like a dream.
Then it had been scary realizing that I’d acutally done the
impossible. But finally, I’d started to enjoy this little escapade
into the past. The whole experience had seemed as though it was
happening to someone else, a Disneyland trip to be talked about
when I made it home.

I now realized this was my time. These people
were memories in the 21st century, but they were my friends today.
White slavery and forced prostitution had all been words I’d seen
in history books. But this was all happening. For real.

Briley held me until I couldn’t cry any
longer. We walked over to Broadway, which was still teeming with
folks on their way back from parties and theatre events. They
looked happy.

“Briley? What about Mr. Ziegfeld? Wasn’t he
going to hire the Pinkerton Agency to look into Francesca’s death?
What about the other missing girls?”

He brightened then shook his head. “He did
hire the Pinkertons. But I’m not optimistic about their success.
These women have been vanishing for months and no one seems to have
a single clue. The Count’s chauffeur, Mr. Bongo, only started his
own investigation yesterday. I feel helpless. Where do we start
looking? I guess if I knew who was the last person Denise saw? Or
where she was? Maybe they could help with that at least.”

“Should we go back to the theatre? See if
anything’s changed in the last hour? Did you talk to Caleb, the
doorman?”

“Yeah. He hadn’t seen Denise all day, which
was unusual. She’s always there in the afternoons before shows
checking the costumes.” He shook his fist in the air. “I’m so angry
that I didn’t go by the theatre any earlier. I had business to tend
to at the Stagehand local office. If only I’d known.”

I tried to calm him down. “You couldn’t. This
is not your fault. You’ve got to believe that or you’re going to go
crazy.”

“Well, damn it! I can’t just sit on my hands
and let anything happen to Denise and Nevin.”

Briley stopped so suddenly I was nearly
yanked off my feet. “We’re only a few blocks from her apartment.
I’m going talk to every neighbor I find about all this. See if I
can come up with some answers.”

I gently said, “I hate to remind you, but
it’s two in the morning. I doubt anyone will be willing to be open
their doors.”

“Damn and hell!” He flashed a quick look at
me. “Sorry.”

I smiled. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Sorry anyway. And - well - you’re right. I’d
totally lost track of the time. I’m going to head over to Francy’s
then. I’m sure there’s still a crowd. Maybe someone’s heard
something.”

I had a quick flash of inspiration.“Briley. I
may be crazy, but how about talking to Izzy? He’s up on the latest
gossip and stuff concerning the Follies crowd. He might have some
ideas.”

He nodded. “Good. He’ll be at Francy’s. He
can ask questions we can’t. Even when it’s from a yellow rag like
Brevities, somehow people feel compelled to talk to reporters.”

“I agree. That fifteen minutes of fame
thing.”

He was so nuts he didn’t even ask what that
meant.

We walked the ten blocks to Francy’s in
silence, sharing the worry. The restaurant/club was still teeming
with Follies cast members, fans, dates, and chorus and stars from
other shows, all seeking a good time.

I nudged Briley. “So, are we being out in the
open with this, or are we trying to get information
surreptitiously? I mean, does everyone already know about them
disappearing? Am I making any sense? And something keeps nagging at
me. Why take Nevin?”

He smiled for the first time in the last
three hours. “Let’s approach the investigation with as much honesty
as we can. After all, there could be a very simple explanation as
to why Denise is gone. Maybe someone became ill in her apartment
building and she had to tend to his care. Maybe she became ill
herself and, fearing contagion, is staying away from the Follies
cast. The more people we talk to, the better chance we have of
finding out. As to Nevin? I assume he was with Denise. Wherever she
went. It’s that simple.”

I knew damn well the “illness tending” story
was a crock but I wasn’t going to say so. And I still felt funny
about Nevin but couldn’t nail down why.

I slowly looked around Francy’s ballroom.
Almost a repeat of last night’s group. I spotted Izzy chatting with
Mary De Luca, my fellow understudy, so I waved vigorously at
him.

Izzy queried,“Where have you been? The ladies
are asking about you, Briley. And I’ve been bothered by more than
one gentleman who’s been interested in dancing with Melody again.”
He smiled. “Including me.”

Neither Briley nor I responded with a
sarcastic comment. We didn’t respond at all. Izzy looked more
closely at the two of us. “What’s wrong? You both look like the
show has closed and you’re about to be put out into the
street.”

“Nothing so simple, I’m afraid.”

Briley pulled the reporter closer to the
entranceway. “Izzy. Denise and Nevin Dupre are missing.” Briley
repeated what he had told me earlier about trying to track them
down, about them not showing up at the theatre, even about our trek
to the police department.

Izzy stated, “I haven’t heard a word about
this. Most of these people are not so shallow and uncaring that
they could be dancing and drinking while a young woman and her
child are in danger.” He stopped. “That’s what we’re all thinking,
isn’t it? That they’re in danger?”

Tears choked me; threatened to spill out once
again.

Izzy handed me a wrinkled handkerchief. It
was slightly warm from his pocket.

I refused it, swallowed then stated almost
calmly. “I’m okay. I did a lot of cryin' earlier and it didn’t help
the situation a bit. Izzy, we need to chat up everybody who might
have any idea of where the Dupres could be.”

Izzy nodded, then headed toward a group of
males covered in cigarette smoke who were, thankfully, clustered by
the back door.

I looked around the room. Same people, same
laughter, same chatter, same glasses of champagne, same smoke fumes
as last night. Even Eloise Jenkins seemed to have the same
expression as she scanned the dance floor waiting to snare a
partner.

Briley also surveyed the ballroom. “There’s
really nothing else we can do here tonight. Izzy will do a good job
of interrogating these folks. Mel, I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t have too. I’m capable of gettin'
back on my own.”

He scowled at me. “I don’t want to have to
worry about you, too. No arguments. I’m seeing you safely to your
door.”