“What sort of messages?”
“Having the first letter of each line spell out C-H-I-C-A-G-O and so forth.” Norma made it sound like Constance was out of step for not knowing such tricks.
“I’ve never known Fleurette to go in for secret code. You’re the one they should kidnap. You’d send back all kinds of codes and hidden messages.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do with a hidden message if I sent one.”
“I don’t even know what to do with this newspaper story, so I suppose you’re right. If you mean to suggest that Fleurette is only sending these notes under some sort of threat from kidnappers—well, I just can’t go along with that.”
Norma buttoned her collar up under her neck and made ready to leave. “That’s fine, because I’ve already taken care of it.”
“How?” Already Norma was walking away. Constance followed her outside and waved away a guard who’d been sent downstairs to fetch her. She practically had to shout, as Norma was walking so fast.
“Norma!” Constance called. “What did you do?”
She turned around and fluttered her hand in the air a bit regally. “I turned the matter over to Belle Headison.”
41
NORMA AND BELLE HEADISON as co-conspirators! How had this been brought about? They’d never been introduced, so far as Constance knew, but she must’ve said something about Mrs. Headison at home, Paterson’s first policewoman being a noteworthy topic. Still, it was astonishing that Norma would take it upon herself to go and visit anyone for any purpose, much less to enlist the help of a perfect stranger in a family matter.
Although as Constance considered it, she had to admit that the two were almost a perfect match. Norma couldn’t be bothered to muster Mrs. Headison’s sense of moral outrage over the generalized threat to virtuous womanhood that lingered in the air, but she more than outpaced Mrs. Headison in vigilance and suspicion of individual shady characters.
Norma, in other words, had no moral mission, other than to identify those particular parties whom she found lacking and to gather evidence against them—particularly when they interfered with her family. Mrs. Headison, on the other hand, ran a crusade. Put together, they were a dangerous combination.
It was also true that Mrs. Headison was altogether stiff and rigid in her way of thinking, and believed that the best answer for every girl was to be picked up by the scruff of the neck and delivered back home to her mother, to resume her crochet-work and laundry duties. She had little sympathy for a girl who wanted anything else. If Edna Heustis had fallen into the custody of Mrs. Headison, she surely would have been made to resign her position at the powder works and return home to her mother.
And now, thanks to Norma, Fleurette had become Mrs. Headison’s latest target. Constance wouldn’t wish that fate on any girl, much less her own.
It was conniving of Norma, Constance thought, to make such an announcement and then walk away, stomping down the gravel drive toward the approaching trolley car, when she knew that Constance was needed at work and couldn’t chase after her. The reason the guard had been sent to fetch her was that a woman had just been arrested on a swindling charge, and it fell to Constance to register her, put her through the bathing and de-lousing ritual, and issue her a clean set of clothes.
She would’ve put the guard off and run over to Paterson to speak to Belle Headison that minute, but apparently the inmate was kicking up quite a fuss and none of the other guards wanted to listen to her. Constance had no choice but to put that business aside and tend to her duties. The swindler thought she might fight Constance over the removal of her clothes and the humiliation of a jailhouse shower, but she soon found herself outmatched and submitted to a vigorous scrubbing and a caustic hair rinse. “I suppose it’s for everyone’s good if the bugs are got rid of,” the swindler muttered, and Constance praised her for her community spirit.
As soon as she had the inmate settled, she went directly to speak to Mrs. Headison but found her office empty. A note pinned to the door said she wouldn’t be back for the rest of the day. Constance’s shift at the jail was over by then, so there was nothing to do but to go home and face Norma.
Constance found her next to the barn, tossing pigeons in the air. Her friend Carolyn Borus was standing across the road, watching them flutter up into the sky, circle around, and come back to land on the roof of their loft.
Mrs. Borus had arrived by horseback. She wore a smart riding costume and high boots. Her chestnut bay nibbled at a pile of hay behind the barn.
“Your sister has the most remarkable ideas!” she shouted to Constance.
“Yes, I’ve been noticing that lately,” Constance called back.
Mrs. Borus scrambled out of the little gully alongside the road and walked over. “She believes she can predict the fastest flyers by watching their flight pattern as they take off. Have you ever heard of such a thing? She’s been keeping records for weeks now. We’ll know for certain when we run our test flights, but I think she’s onto something.”
Norma reached into the pigeon loft, took two more birds in her hands, and tossed them up. This time neither Carolyn nor Norma bothered to watch their flight.
“Those two are slow, but it’s only fair to let them try,” Carolyn explained.
“How are yours faring under this system, Mrs. Borus?” Constance asked.
“Oh, very well. I’m about to leave for Columbus for our next test flight. And then it’s Chicago after that. I wish you could persuade your sister to come along. It isn’t easy to manage a dozen pigeons by myself.”
“If I go, there’s no one to give an accurate time when my birds return,” Norma said. “Constance is never at home. Even if she was, her timekeeping is unreliable.”
“That’s true,” said Constance. “I shouldn’t be trusted with a pigeon clock.” She had long ago understood that the only way to be dismissed from pigeon duty was to make a mess of the timekeeping. It was wonderfully effective: Norma never asked her to do it anymore.
Mrs. Borus took her horse from around back and led it down the drive. “I’m leaving on Friday. You have time to change your mind.”
After she rode away, Constance followed her sister into the barn. Norma took up a rake and started mucking out the chicken coop.
“I don’t know what made you think Mrs. Headison should get involved in any of this,” Constance said to her, now that pigeons and trains were no longer their topic of conversation.
“She seemed quite willing,” Norma said.