The Fall Of White City (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 1) (2 page)

Chapter 2
—Grave Faces

By the time the couple exited the
Kinzie
Street train station, Evangeline still hadn’t given Freddie a hint as to their ultimate destination.

“We’ll take a streetcar from here,” she said, marching off in the direction of Clark Street.

The young man trailed in her wake but was so caught up in contemplating Elsa Bauer’s fate that he failed to notice a streetcar bearing down on him as he crossed the intersection.

“Freddie! For God’s sake, look out!”

The trolley clanged a warning, missing the young man by inches.

He scuttled to the curb as the cable car went careening past. The vehicle, still refusing to slow, narrowly avoided a collision with a fruit peddler who had just nosed his cart out of the next side street.

Evangeline clutched at the young man’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“Did you see that? He did it on purpose!” Freddie was outraged.

“I’m sure he did. I’ve always believed that motormen take a solemn oath to terrorize and, if possible, dismember every pedestrian in their path.”

“I hope he derails the damned thing!” Freddie dusted off his coat and adjusted his hat, trying vainly to regain his dignity.

“Not unlikely. We’ve had at least three derailments in as many days. The sacred brotherhood must be attempting to set a new record this week.”

Evangeline gave Freddie a moment to catch his breath before nudging the young man toward the corner to await the next northbound car. When it arrived about ten minutes later, there were no seats available. The couple was forced to stand on the stairs at the side of the car, grasping the leather straps that were supposed to keep passengers from falling out of the open doors while the vehicle lurched along. Even though the air was bracing, the closed winter cars hadn’t yet been put into service.

A few blocks into their journey, Freddie realized their ultimate destination. “I didn’t expect she would be buried at Gracehill,
Engie
. How could she have afforded it? It’s a private cemetery—not for the likes of the
Bauers
of Ashland Avenue.”

Over the sound of street traffic and the bumpy motion of the cable car, Freddie could barely hear Evangeline’s reply.

“She couldn’t afford it, Freddie... but I could.”

“Well now, isn’t this carrying charity a bit far? What possible claim could she have on that much generosity?”

“As I said, she was different, and I had great hopes for her future. If left to the County, she would probably have been buried at the Poor Farm or in some potter’s field south of Bubbly Creek.” Evangeline was referring to the acid-choked south fork of the Chicago River, which had been used for years as a dumping ground for waste from the stockyards. “It would have been a poor end for a life of such promise.”

“And you think the end she made was worthy of anything better?” The young man had trouble keeping a note of surprise out of his voice.

“I think I don’t yet know how she came to the end she did and am willing to reserve judgment until I do!”

Freddie was silent for a moment. Not wanting to antagonize Evangeline by casting moral aspersions on her favorite, he turned the conversation in another direction.

“I take it she didn’t have any family?”

“Only a brother named Franz—a twin brother at that. They came over together from Germany about four or five years ago. No surviving family there. When they arrived they both found work. She as a seamstress and he as a furniture maker, though he’s since become associated with some German socialist organization and writes for one of their newspapers. When the two of them first came here, they made the unlikely choice of subletting rooms in an apartment with an Irish family rather than a German one because they thought it would help them learn English more quickly.”

“I wouldn’t think an Irish family would welcome outsiders that easily.”

Evangeline smiled thinly. “From what I’ve heard of their landlady, Mrs. O’Malley, the green of a dollar bill carries far greater weight with her than the green of a shamrock.”

“Have you spoken to the girl’s brother since the
er
...
er
...”

“No, I haven’t. I sent word to their house directly after I heard about her death, but the landlady said no one had seen Elsa’s brother. No one knew what had become of him. The funeral arrangements were made by my attorney in town. There was to be no wake. The last thing I wanted for Elsa was to find curiosity seekers gawking at her remains. So we settled on a brief ceremony over a closed casket as the best alternative.”

Freddie raised his eyebrows and whistled faintly through his teeth. “Well, that’s a bit high-handed even for you,
Engie
. How do you think her brother will feel about all of these ‘arrangements’?”

Evangeline craned her neck to see whether the hapless soul just stepping off the curb in front of their trolley was about to meet an untimely end. After he darted back to the safety of the sidewalk, she replied to her friend’s question. “I don’t know how he feels about it, Freddie—or her landlady either. Their feelings in the matter are of very little consequence to me. What I do know is that when the police were ready to release the body, no one came forward to claim it or to make arrangements for her burial. I expected better of Franz, but under the circumstances there was nothing else to be done.”

The pair stepped off the streetcar at the corner of Irving Park Road and proceeded on foot through the main gate of the cemetery. The weather hadn’t improved. The drizzle and fog continued, though the wind didn’t carry the icy edge that it would possess by November. Evangeline walked down the main path, making straight for a gravesite a few hundred yards away where a small group had assembled around a casket. Freddie concluded that this must be their destination. A minister stood patiently waiting to perform the final ceremony. The only other company in attendance appeared to be Elsa’s landlady and family.

As Evangeline and Freddie came into shouting range, a red-faced woman whose skin seemed too tight to contain its generous folds of fat trundled toward them. She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Oh, Miss LeClair! It must be you, for the lawyer said you would come! How can we ever thank you for what you’ve done!”

As the woman was still fifty yards away, Freddie was impressed by the volume of her voice. Under his breath he mumbled to Evangeline, “Well, that answers one question about the landlady’s attitude.”

“Yes, Freddie, it answers the question,” Evangeline winced, “but at such a pitch!”

The rotund woman lumbered toward them, dabbing her eyes and professing her gratitude. She was still out of earshot of a normal conversation, which tempted Freddie to continue his running commentary. “Brace yourself,
Engie
. We’re in for it now.”

Evangeline kept an absolutely straight face. “Courage, man. I’ll protect you. I always carry a derringer in my reticule.”

They stopped their conversation abruptly as the female juggernaut bore down upon them. Pausing only long enough to catch her breath, Mrs. O’Malley launched into another round of exclamations and lamentations—each expression of woe being accompanied by a sweep of her arms. “Oh, the poor girl! Poor, poor Elsa! What a world we live in nowadays! To be done to death in such a cruel manner!”

“Yes, yes, Mrs. O’Malley, it’s very sad.” Evangeline vainly tried to stem the tide as the three approached the gravesite.

Her words had no effect whatsoever. The woman continued unchecked until the minister decisively cleared his throat, stopping her in mid-sentence. Recollecting herself, she stammered, “Oh, where are my manners, so caught up as I am in this terrible, terrible tragedy! This is Reverend Schultz, who has kindly come all the way from Elsa’s church to perform the burial service,”
sotto
voce
, she continued, “them being Lutheran and all.”

Mrs. O’Malley allowed herself a brief interlude of lamentation and eye-dabbing. “And here next to me is my husband, Mr. O’Malley.” She poked the emaciated man at her right sharply in the ribs. “Patrick, shake hands with the lady and gentleman!”

Rousing himself from whatever daydream he was pursuing, the man quickly pulled off his hat and extended a hand toward Evangeline. “Ma’am” and “Sir” were all he said as he greeted each in turn. Having fulfilled his wife’s commands, he stepped back and let her continue.

“And here’s my daughter, Patricia.” Mrs. O’Malley pushed forward a timid girl of about ten. “Patsy is what we call her. She and Elsa were great friends, weren’t you, Patsy?” She gave her daughter a thump on the back to equal the blow that she had dealt her husband. “Greet the lady and gentleman in a proper manner, child! Do you want them to think I didn’t raise you right?”

The thump was followed by a shove as further incentive toward the meeting. The girl stepped forward but didn’t lift her head to look either Freddie or Evangeline in the eye. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She bobbed a lopsided curtsy and scuttled aside.

Unruffled by this awkward display, Mrs. O’Malley then propelled forward two boys of about five who had taken refuge behind her skirts to stare up in safety at the strangers. “And these two are my youngest,” she said with a glimmer of maternal pride. “Born only a year apart, they were.” She nudged the boys forward and bent down to whisper to one of them, “Michael, take your hand out of your mouth, and shake hands with the lady and gentleman.”

To Freddie’s everlasting gratitude, the child couldn’t be made to comply. Eventually the two boys were allowed to resume their original positions behind their mother’s copious skirts.

***

The introductions having been completed, Mrs. O’Malley kept still and allowed Reverend Schultz to begin the service. Evangeline chose to ignore the proceedings and scrutinize the
O’Malleys
instead. Mrs. O’Malley had already impressed her as energetic and overbearing with a strong penchant for personal drama. In contrast, her husband was withdrawn. Evangeline peered sideways under her hat brim to get a better look at him. He didn’t exhibit any signs of grief, though it would have been difficult to guess his state of mind under any circumstances. He hardly seemed the sort of person to encourage an emotional confidence from anyone or offer one in return. Elsa had said he occasionally drank. Seeing the man in person, Evangeline was prepared to ignore the word “occasionally.” His face hadn’t made the acquaintance of a razor for at least two days, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His wife outweighed him by more than 100 pounds, though how she managed to attain such majestic proportions on the meager wages her family and the
Bauers
brought home was something of a mystery. Elsa had told Evangeline that her landlady didn’t work, being content to order the affairs of her household from a seated position in her cramped, dark parlor.

The little boys were of less interest to Evangeline than the young girl who stood to her right. The child was small for her age. Her hair was thin and mouse-colored, and her complexion unnaturally pale. The overall impression was of something so ephemeral that Evangeline felt she was standing beside a ghost rather than a girl of flesh and blood. As she looked more closely, she noticed that the girl was crying. Since Patsy didn’t seem to share her mother’s taste for drama, Evangeline could only conclude that her grief was sincere. In a spontaneous gesture of sympathy, Evangeline put her arm around the girl’s narrow shoulders. For the first time, Patsy looked directly at her, startled and ready to pull away. Evangeline exerted a faint, reassuring pressure on the girl’s arm and leaned closer. “It’s all right. I know how you feel. I’ll miss her, too.”

Patsy appeared dumbfounded, not quite sure how to react. Eventually, trust must have won out over shyness since she didn’t withdraw. She favored Evangeline with a hesitant half-smile through her tears. The two stood together, sharing a melancholy silence for the remainder of the ceremony.

After the casket had been lowered into the ground and the official ban on speech was lifted, Mrs. O’Malley began a new torrent of verbiage. “How sad a day this is, and a sad day for our house too. To be left destitute, just destitute, Miss LeClair!”

“Oh, surely not destitute, Mrs. O’Malley.”

“Yes, destitute, I say again, Miss LeClair. Both Franz and Elsa gone. What will become of us now?”

“There will be other boarders, no doubt, Mrs. O’Malley. You will be able to rent your rooms again, I’m sure.” Evangeline tried to reassure the woman and extricate herself at the same time.

“But when, Miss LeClair? I ask you, when? Times are hard. Money is harder still to come by.”

Realizing the precedent she had set by paying for the funeral, Evangeline made the offer she knew was expected. “If I were to pay the amount that the pair of them owed you, plus enough to cover the inconvenience you suffered when these unfortunate events transpired, would that suffice?”

Mrs. O’Malley was all graciousness. “Oh, Miss LeClair. You are too kind. Lord love you, such generosity! I never expected you to come forward like this. But I cannot accept your kind offer. Sure it is, I cannot. My conscience would never allow it.”

“Really, Mrs. O’Malley, you must try to overcome your natural diffidence.”

The irony was lost on the landlady. “Lord bless you, miss. You are the soul of generosity. The very soul of it, I say.”