Parlor Games A Novel

THE VERDICT



FROM MENOMINEE TO POINTS BEYOND—FEBRUARY 1917



I tiptoed into Gene’s bedroom. Laying my hand on his blanketed shoulder, I nudged him. “Gene, wake up.”

He moaned and turned toward me. “What time is it?”

“Nearly seven. You have to take me to the train station.”

He blinked his eyes open. “What? You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I have to get the money.”

I was dumbfounded—there can be no other word for it. To think those jurors sat in the jury room for six-plus hours poring over my purported debts. To think they ignored the release Frank had signed. To think they ordered me to pay her fifty-seven thousand dollars. Unbelievable.

Gene raised himself up on his elbows. “Does Paul know?”

“No, he wouldn’t understand. Now, get up.”

“Paul told me to make sure you don’t sneak off.”

“Sneak off?” It was just like Paul to obstruct me. “I have to get the money.”

“Where?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“We might lose the house and the business and you can’t tell me?”

Paul had obviously involved Gene in his plot to foil me. Well, he wasn’t the only one who could cook up a plan. “Just get up. I have something to show you.”

Tokyo nosed his way through the cracked door and whimpered at my feet.

Gene flopped back on his pillow. “I’m not taking Tokyo out. You do it.”

“Fine. Now, hurry.”

I’d dressed in my warmest attire—my black gown with fluted collar. After easing my fur hat over my coiffed hair and donning my moleskin coat and leather gloves, I led Tokyo out the front door, down our shoveled walkway, and onto the sidewalk. A short distance behind me I discerned the idling of an automobile, but strolled along as if I cared not a jot. Over the course of the trial, I’d granted a few interviews to newspapermen who had staked me out, but I was in no mood to talk to them this morning, let alone allow them—or Dougherty—to sniff out my imminent departure.

I ambled to the end of the block, the snow on the walkway creaking and crunching underfoot. Turning back, I could see, three doors down from the house, the auto’s gray fumes billowing against dawn’s eerie pink; it was one of the ubiquitous black Model T’s driven by Menominee’s few taxi drivers. I pretended indifference, not wishing to attract attention or raise suspicions. When I turned up the walk to our front door, the driver made no move. Still, I didn’t like the looks of it—a taxi parked in clear view of the house the morning after the trial’s conclusion.

I found Gene in the kitchen in a red flannel shirt and baggy wool pants, his hair pillow-flattened in back and sticking out on top. As Tokyo scampered up to him, I asked, “Everybody still sleeping?”

“I guess,” he said, standing at the stove and warming the kettle and his spread-out hands over the flames.

I extracted the baby announcement letter from Helen and David O’Neill from my purse and showed the envelope to Gene, pointing to its Chicago postmark. “Some friends are keeping my money for me. But you mustn’t tell anyone where I’m going.”

He kept his hands open to the blaze. “What about Daisy?”

“I left her a note. Can you bring the car up to the back door?”

He swung around to face me. “And what do I tell Paul?”

“That I’ve gone to get the money.”

“He won’t believe that.”

“You have to trust me, Gene. It’s our only chance.”

“Let me wake Paul up and see what he says.”

“No, if I miss this train my plan won’t work. I’m the only one who can retrieve the money.”

“You promise you’re telling the truth?”

I gripped his shirtsleeve and looked up into his eyes. “Yes. Now, hurry.”

We loaded up my three suitcases. As our car turned onto the street, I ducked down in the front seat.

“What in the world?” Gene asked.

“I thought a reporter might be lurking about.”

“No, no cars around.”

I righted myself. “Oh, I thought I saw one earlier.”

We reached the train station near the tail end of boarding time. After I purchased my ticket and the attendant loaded my suitcases onto the wagon, Gene accompanied me to the platform.

I knew I might never see him again, but I couldn’t pour my heart out to him. I dropped my travel bag down and, gripping Tokyo’s leash, reached my arms around him. “Love you, little brother.”

He leaned over to hug me, but his grip was limp. “Will you send the money or come back with it?”

“I can’t say yet.”

Gene released his hold. “When will we hear from you?”

“Give me two weeks.”

The stationmaster hollered, “All aboard.”

“You better get going,” said Gene.

I grabbed my case and stepped up into the car. As I coaxed Tokyo up the stairs, I turned toward the platform. Gene stood just as I’d left him, groggy and slump-shouldered. I waved to him. He lifted his hand to elbow level and opened it to a lackluster wave. Poor Gene. What did he have to look forward to now but dreary Menominee?

To conserve funds, I’d taken a second-class seat, which I straightaway found and settled into, removing my hat and coat and turning to the window. I was in no mood for conversation. All the money I had to my name was a meager $1,863. I had left Daisy word to await my instructions. Soon I’d no longer be able to afford her services, and she’d eventually make her way back to New York, but I’d not go there. In fact, I’d get as far away from here as I could. Look at this countryside—nothing but snow-covered fields and logged-out woods as far as the eye can see.

Here and there, we whisked past isolated farmhouses, so similar one could be forgiven for picturing their inhabitants as paper cutouts of men a-milking in dungarees and pink-cheeked wives bustling about their kitchens. And had someone ordained that they all paint their houses white and their barns red?

No, I thought, even Canada is too close. Nor would I get near the war in Europe, especially with the United States about to enter the fray any day. I’ll cross the Pacific, find some haven to make a fresh start, and tell no one of my whereabouts. Forty-seven is not so very old. My figure is still pleasing, my hair mostly brown.

A voice startled me out of my reverie. “Why, Baroness de Vries.”

I looked up. Reed Dougherty’s gaunt face loomed over me. My God, might he foil my escape? What I wouldn’t give to make him disappear. If only Daisy were with me, we could plot to throw him in a ditch. I summoned a cool “Good day, Mr. Dougherty.”

“Would you care to accompany me to the dining car? I’ll gladly buy you breakfast.”

Would I never be free of this cursed man, with his bent for inserting himself in my life at the least opportune moment? He’d obviously been watching me from the taxi this morning. “You are too kind,” I said. “But I really have no appetite.”

“Surely you wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee.”

“My apologies, Mr. Dougherty, but it is the company I would mind.”

“Come, now. There is a little detail we really must discuss. It’d be a shame to dine alone when we could be enjoying lively company.”

There was no hiding from him now—or the latest “little detail” he intended to harass me with. I herded Tokyo into his traveling case and rose from my seat. No words passed between Dougherty and me as we shuffled through the swaying cars.

“Are you sure you won’t eat anything?” Mr. Dougherty asked once the waiter visited our table.

My stomach had awakened, and I decided I might as well allow Dougherty to buy my breakfast. “Perhaps some griddle cakes to warm me up. And coffee.”

Mr. Dougherty ordered eggs and potatoes and began his questioning, as I knew he would.

“Might I ask where you’re bound?”

“Of course you understand I have some business to attend to.”

“Ah, yes, perhaps there are some assets you must sell?”

“What business is it of yours, Mr. Dougherty?”

“It’s only fair to inform you that Miss Shaver has secured my services.”

“Frank did not learn of you from me. You must have contacted her.”

“On the contrary, it was she who contacted me.”

Our coffee arrived, and I stirred a generous helping of cream into mine. “I don’t believe you.”

Dougherty drank his black. Raising the cup to his narrow lips, he said, “Have I ever deceived you, madam?”

“In fact, you have. The very first time we met.”

“Yes, of course.” He put on a rakish sneer. “I plead guilty. In the line of duty and all that.”

“So why should I believe you now?”

“If you must know, Miss Shaver learned of me through Dr. Whidbey’s London detective.”

“And straightaway hired you?”

“No, she only hired me yesterday, after the verdict came in.”

“So you traveled all the way up here just in case she might hire you?” That seemed odd. I couldn’t help but wonder if Ernest too had hired Dougherty. “Or are you also in Dr. Whidbey’s employ?”

“No, but I learned some very interesting things during my London visit.”

“What happened in London has no bearing on the current situation.”

“I couldn’t say that. But my foremost concern is the money you owe Miss Shaver.”

“Why do you think I left town?”

“You mean other than to jump the judgment?”

“I’m going to secure the funds.”

He took a sip of coffee and wrapped his hands around his cup. “And I’m going to make sure you do.”

I sighed, to show how tiresome I found this line of conversation. “You needn’t worry.”

The waiter wheeled the tray to our table and slipped our breakfast plates before us.

I studied Dougherty’s face. He still sported a mustache and beard, which no doubt hid some of the age lines creeping onto his long face. For the first time I noticed gray tingeing the dark hair at his temples. “Have you a family, Mr. Dougherty?”

“A wife, but no children.”

“What a shame. I’m sure you would make a wonderful father.”

“I hardly make a good husband, traveling as much as I do.”

I extracted my napkin from under my silverware. “Perhaps one of these days you’ll settle down.”

“Not in the near future.”

“Then I’m sorry for your wife. She must miss you terribly when you travel.”

He shrugged, as if embarrassed at being found out.

“Why, look,” I said, “you traveled all the way to Menominee before you’d even secured the case.”

“My employer did, of course, approve the trip.” Dougherty took up his knife and fork.

“And do I have him to thank for this breakfast?”

“My dear Baroness, when did you ever question who was paying your way?”

“Why, whenever I suspected their motives.”

He tossed his head back in laughter. “I truly have missed our chats. Please, do enjoy your breakfast.”



I hadn’t planned on Dougherty’s watching over me like a devoted dog the whole train ride. He probably intended to hound me until I paid the fifty-seven-thousand-dollar judgment, and I simply couldn’t allow him to corner me. I had purchased fare no farther than Chicago, to allow myself time to determine my next destination, but hadn’t told him I intended to stop there.

After I alighted from the train and gathered my luggage for taxi transport, Dougherty approached.

“Baroness de Vries, you weren’t going to leave without saying good-bye.”

“How could I be so rude?”

“Are you staying long in my fair city?”

“Yes,” I said, hoping to throw him off my trail. “I intend to stop a few weeks to see to some business matters.”

“And might I ask where you’re staying?”

“No, you may not.”

“My agreement with Miss Shaver requires me to keep you in my sights.”

“That won’t be necessary. I understand I must abide by the court’s judgment.”

“You have proven yourself a most dangerous woman, a woman not to be trusted.”

“Claiming I’m dangerous is merely a means to feather your nest. You, sir, are the height of perversity.” I signaled to the taxi edging toward me.

“You know if you don’t produce the money the house and your brothers’ automobile business will be taken over by the court?”

I turned away from him and reached for the cab door.

He cut between me and the auto. “Do you really want to drag your own flesh and blood down with you?”

“You needn’t interject yourself in my affairs, Mr. Dougherty.” I stepped around him.

He turned on his heel and clapped a hand on the cab door. Reaching into his inside suit pocket, he extracted a folded paper and, one-handed, flapped it open. “I have here documentation of the insurance money Lloyd’s paid out on your yellow-diamond necklace, a necklace you happen to be in possession of.”

Blood rushed up my neck, into my cheeks, over my forehead. I felt my ears might explode from the pressure.

He cocked his head. “And Scotland Yard would certainly be interested in that little detail.”

I glared into his beady eyes. The scoundrel had been toying with me, like a cat batting a mouse about, waiting until the last possible moment to pounce. As never before, I grasped the urge to murder. If I’d had a gun in my hand, I would have leveled it at him.

He opened the taxi door. “But I’m sure we can reach an agreeable arrangement. Which hotel do you wish to register at?”

In a flash it became clear to me—I would need to either bargain with or outwit him. Forcing calm into my voice, I stated, “The Congress.”

He motioned for me to enter the taxi and slid in after me. After loading our luggage, the driver sped off.

Relaxing into his seat as if he were in his own private parlor, Dougherty said, “I believe you’ll find my proposal quite generous. If you produce fifty-seven thousand dollars and the necklace, I’ll turn the piece over to Lloyd’s. I won’t even mention you or your accomplices.”

“Where did you ever get the idea I own such a necklace?”

His crossed one leg over the other. “Apparently, you couldn’t resist showing it off to Miss Shaver.”





A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE



THE END OF THE LINE—FEBRUARY 1917



Dougherty accompanied me to the hotel, where I secured a suite large enough to accommodate myself and Daisy. He agreed to allow me four days to produce the fifty-seven thousand dollars, during which time he would keep me under surveillance. If I failed to deliver the funds and my yellow-diamond necklace at 5 p.m. on Tuesday, February 6, he would seize all my belongings and alert Scotland Yard to my “crime of insurance fraud.” And he warned me against trying to slip away: “After all, I’ve never failed to track you down.”

I immediately wired Daisy: LEAVE ON MORNING TRAIN FOR CHICAGO STOP COME TO CONGRESS HOTEL STOP. That would put Daisy into Chicago the next evening, Saturday.

I spent Saturday window-shopping all around Chicago, to give myself time to think, and to keep Mr. Dougherty’s colleague occupied. The pudgy fellow I roused from his lobby roost tagged after me all afternoon, likely walking off a few pounds that day, which he promptly replaced over dinner across the Congress dining room from me. Watching him chew his cud while he kept his eyes fastened on me was enough to resolve me to take all future meals in the suite.

Once Daisy arrived, I explained the dire circumstances.

She sat beside me on the sofa in our room, her still-packed suitcases piled beside the wall and her coat cast over them. “Good heavens, that devil really has boxed you in this time.”

“Yes, I fear that myself.”

“Can you come up with the money?”

I drummed my fingers on the sofa arm. “Even if I sold all my jewels, I couldn’t get enough value on such short notice.”

I hadn’t told Daisy about Dougherty’s mention of the yellow-diamond necklace and threat of insurance fraud. It would only have prompted her to panicked flight, and I needed her assistance. Still, perhaps because she feared detection as an accomplice, she introduced the topic.

“Shouldn’t you at least get rid of the yellow-diamond necklace? So it won’t be found on you?”

“I can’t bear to part with it. And we shouldn’t risk its falling into police hands.”

“What about your brothers? And the house?”

“Everyone, including my brothers, must stand on their own two feet at some point. After all, that’s what I’ve done all these years.”



I refused to allow Dougherty to defeat me, even as I despaired of finding a way to escape his clutches. I could think of only one strategy, a fairly risky one at that. If it failed, I would find myself held hostage to a fifty-seven-thousand-dollar judgment—and charged with insurance fraud in London. With so much at stake, I at least had to try.

Since Dougherty was probably having my phone calls listened in on, Daisy left the hotel—we had ascertained that they had no interest in tracking her—to walk Tokyo and telephone my dear Chicago friends Helen and David O’Neill. Would they be so kind as to come visit me at the Congress with their newborn baby? Yes, they’d be happy to. Daisy arranged for them to visit on Monday afternoon.

They arrived at one; shortly afterward, Daisy left to run errands and determine which member of the Pinkerton team was encamped in the lobby.

“Helen, dear, show me little Elizabeth,” I said, after taking their coats.

“I must thank you for that lovely rattle,” Helen said as she unwrapped the baby’s swaddling blanket and handed her to me.

“Nothing is too good for my favorite couple and their new baby.” I scooped the baby into my arms. Tokyo circled at my feet—jealous of the baby, I imagined.

Helen leaned over her baby. “Isn’t she the most beautiful bundle of pinkness you’ve ever seen?”

David, a handsome young man of modest height, edged closer, forming us into a triangle with the infant at its center. Baby Elizabeth jerked her freed arms at her sides.

David held out his little finger for her to grasp. “I call her bouncy Betsy.”

I gazed into one-month-old Elizabeth’s face, at her placid blue eyes, cherub lips, plump cheeks, and smooth forehead. She seemed to be looking right at me. Admiring the blond fuzz swirling atop her head, I said, “She’s all wonderment and innocence, the little darling.”

We passed an agreeable visit in the suite, the three of us, plus baby Elizabeth, catching up on the news, and then I requested their assistance with a delicate matter. Of course they had read about the lawsuit in the Chicago papers, so I gave them the inside story about its most unfair outcome and how I needed to travel out of town, unnoticed. The lovelies were only too willing to help, so, after Helen nursed the baby, she and I retired to the bedroom to enact step one of the plan.

Helen, a shapely woman two inches taller than I, removed her dress while I slipped out of mine. I tried hers on. Though a little roomy around my middle parts—Helen had let it out to accommodate her post-baby waistline—it otherwise fit well.

Helen regarded me, one hand on her hip, “Yes, I think that will do.”

Helen put my dress on and smoothed her hands over it. “It’s a bit snug, but I can stand it for an hour or two.”

We quit the bedroom and rejoined David, the baby, and Daisy, who had just returned from her errands.

“Which one’s in the lobby, Daisy?” I asked.

“It’s Dougherty.”

“Oh, yes, he’s a sly one,” I said, careful not to sound too alarmed, for I did not wish to alert Helen and David to the danger of our mission. But my heart fluttered with anxiety over the prospects for my plan; eagle-eyed Dougherty would be watching everyone who passed through the lobby.

I donned the new shoes Daisy had purchased for me, a pair of high enough elevation so I could approximate Helen’s height, and examined myself in the mirror. “Well, I’m not fooling myself—or any of you, I suspect.”

“But your outfit’s not complete,” offered Daisy.

“No, my coat and hat are the finishing touches,” said Helen.

I turned to Helen. “Show me how you hold little Elizabeth. How you walk.”

Helen picked the napping baby up off the couch, nestled her against her shoulder, and wrapped both arms lovingly around her. Baby Elizabeth did not wake. As Helen strolled from one end of the room to the other, I studied the evenness of her short steps.

She stopped before me and gently passed Elizabeth to me. “Now you try.”

I carefully snuggled Elizabeth against me and adjusted my two-armed hold so that the baby and I fit comfortably into each other. Imitating Helen’s gait, I walked from one end of the room to the other.

Helen watched me cross in front of her. “Relax. Hold your shoulders level.”

I realized I had slanted my frame, as if to compensate for the baby’s weight. Correcting the balance of my shoulders, I took up my walk again.

“Much better,” Helen said.

“Slip your hips back a bit,” said David. “Helen’s caboose is more pronounced than yours.”

Everyone chuckled at that, and I tried the walk again, this time pushing my hips back a bit, but it felt awkward and off balance.

“No, that’s not enough,” said David.

“I’ve got it. Hold on a minute,” Daisy said. She fetched one of my cotton dresses and tied the arms around my middle, tucking its folds across my buttocks to give them more heft. “Now put on Helen’s coat.”

I eased the sleeping baby down onto the couch, and Helen helped me into her coat. I buttoned it up and walked, turning around in front of David.

He watched me closely. “Yes, that’s more like Helen.”

I stepped across the room and back a few times, pretending I held the baby in my arms as I practiced my posture and gait.

I glanced at each of them. “Am I ready, do you think?”

Helen nodded.

“I believe you’ve got it now,” David said.

“Yes,” said Daisy, “that walk doesn’t resemble yours too much.”

“Then let’s be off,” I said to David, knowing I needed to act quickly and with confidence to ward off the anxiety rising in me.

He stood and took up his coat.

I embraced Daisy. “I don’t know when I can be in touch again.”

“I understand.” She gripped me in a smothering hug. “Take care of yourself.”

I leaned over and patted Tokyo on the head. “Be good for Daisy.” I hated to leave my dear Tokyo behind, but Daisy loved him equally well, and I couldn’t exactly melt into the masses with him. Still, I kept my voice nonchalant so as not to alarm him. Unfortunately, his whimper suggested he already discerned something was afoot.

“Are you ready, David?” I asked, accepting Helen’s broad-brimmed hat from her.

“Yes, my dear,” he said, pretending to be my husband.

I placed Helen’s hat on my head, dropping the front to obscure my face, and clasped her purse.

Helen bundled Elizabeth’s blanket tight around her and handed her to me. “She’s waking up. If she starts crying, just bounce her a bit. She’s a good baby.”

David opened the door for me, and we headed for the elevator. On the way down, I felt Elizabeth squirming in my arms. I looked at David. “She’s uncomfortable, I think.”

“I imagine she’s doing what babies do best.”

“Oh,” I said.

The elevator dinged and I stepped out, concentrating on my walk. David took my arm, and we marched forward. Elizabeth wriggled. As we reached the middle of the lobby, she unleashed a streak of screaming “waah”s. I bounced her, not daring to raise my head for fear of being identified by Dougherty. Surely he was watching us.

David put his arm around me and leaned in, bringing his face close to Elizabeth’s. He cooed, “Sweet baby Betsy, sweet little girl.”

Still she wailed. I seethed with worry over the spectacle we were making. It took all my concentration to strike the right gait and keep my eyes trained on Elizabeth.

The doorman stepped up as we approached and opened the door for us. A gust of wind hit us, upending my hat. David grabbed it in midair and clamped it back on my head. I reached out and pulled the blanket forward to shield Elizabeth’s head. I dared not look around. I kept all my attention focused on baby Elizabeth.

David stepped forward and hailed a cab.

“Here we are,” he said, opening the car door for us.

I eased in, bottom first, and swiveled around, scooting over to accommodate David and keeping my head bent down toward the baby.

David slammed the door shut behind him and ordered the cab driver, “One twenty West Delaware.”

I maintained my silence, even pressing a finger to my lips to warn David not to speak, fully aware that Dougherty might decide to interview cabdrivers once he discovered my absence.

Together we fussed over the baby, with me muttering sweet words and David cooing to her, all the way up the steps to their red-brick home.

“Were we followed?” I asked David as we stepped inside. Baby Elizabeth had calmed herself during the taxi ride, but now she started wailing again.

“No, I don’t believe so.” He closed the door and looked out on the street. “Not a vehicle in sight.”

“Thank heavens. Now, what can Elizabeth want?”

“I wonder—would you mind changing her?”

“Not at all.” Could it be? Had I eluded Dougherty for the first time in my life?

“Come, I’ll show you her room.”

Once David had situated me upstairs at Elizabeth’s changing table, I asked, “Would you mind keeping watch? And hollering if anybody approaches the house?”

If changing a baby’s diaper was the price to pay for occupying my nervous hands, I gladly applied myself to the task, though I couldn’t stop wondering what to do should David issue a warning. I’d have to leave Elizabeth kicking in the middle of her bassinet and run for the back door—without any of my belongings.

The minutes spent cleaning up baby Elizabeth, pinning her in a fresh diaper, and slipping her into a long flannel gown ticked by without alarm. I carried Elizabeth down the stairs and rejoined David in the front parlor. Helen showed up in a taxi less than an hour later, with my belongings packed away in Daisy’s suitcases. David carried my luggage out the back door, arranged it in his car, and drove me to the train station in Aurora, west of Chicago and far from the Pinkerton’s watchful eyes.

I thanked him profusely for his and Helen’s assistance and boarded the Burlington line for points west. Relaxing in my seat, I watched the Illinois scenery slip by—the quaint homes on the edge of Aurora, the corn-stubbled fields covered with sparkling snow, the silos standing tall. I’d take trains across the whole country, to the end of the line. Once I reached the West Coast, I’d set sail for fresh terrain. Wouldn’t Reed Dougherty be surprised when he rapped on my hotel door twenty-four hours hence only to learn from Daisy that I had—here Daisy would, according to rehearsal, throw up her hands and say “poof”—completely vanished?