Jubilee Trail (11 page)

“Private?” Oliver repeated with a puzzled frown.

“Yes sir. You see, one of these men she killed was a fine gentleman, yes indeed, had a beautiful home and just the sweetest young wife you ever saw, heartbroken the poor lady is. Name of Selkirk.”

Garnet did not hear Oliver’s answer. The big man’s words had scalded her mind. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

The big man was still talking. “Yes sir, I’ll tell you how it was. She shot Mr. Selkirk because, well, to be frank, he’d been keeping her when he was a bachelor. You know how some of them rich men are with actresses. But when he got married, he told this fancy woman he was done with her, just like a high-minded man ought to do. But she wouldn’t let him go. He was her last chance, you see. She was through at the Jewel Box. Not that them girls at the Jewel Box are supposed to be angels, but she’d got too drunk and disorderly even for them.”

Garnet felt a stab of wrath. Florinda was
not
drunk and disorderly. Last night she had ordered milk with her supper, and this morning she had refused a glass of wine. Garnet looked anxiously at Oliver. He was not looking at her, but she saw a tiny crinkling at the corner of his eye. She had seen it before. It meant that Oliver was being very polite, but that he was faintly, privately amused.

The big man went on. “She pestered poor Mr. Selkirk and pestered him, but he told her as plain as he could that he was through. So finally, when she found out he meant what he said, she followed him to the Alhambra Gambling Palace one night. The Alhambra Gambling Palace on Park Row. She followed him there, and shot him dead.” Mr. Kimball gave a slow nod. “Now ain’t that a terrible thing?”

“Terrible,” Oliver agreed virtuously. The little crinkles were fairly quivering now. “But you said she shot two men. Who was the other one?”

“Name of Mallory, sir. He was another fellow happened to be gambling there that night, sort of a bum. I guess one of her shots went wild.” Mr. Kimball shook his untidy head regretfully. “Well now, after all this, would you believe it, the police let this woman get away. Yes sir, she got right out of town. She disappeared. I guess she thought she was safe.” He paused for his climax. “But guess what happened then.”

“I can’t imagine,” Oliver said dryly.

“Well sir, poor Mr. Selkirk had a friend. Fine gentleman named Mr. Reese. And this friend, he couldn’t stand the idea of this disgraceful woman going free. So he hired us to look her up. And finally we traced her to New Orleans. It took quite a while, New Orleans being two weeks from New York and it taking such a long time for letters to go back and forth. But we found her,” he assured them complacently. “And when we found her, here was this shameless creature, flaunting herself right out on a public stage just like she didn’t have a thing on her conscience.” He shook his head again, saddened by the thought of such depravity. “Ain’t it dreadful what a woman can do? Yes sir, sometimes I think when they’re thoroughly abandoned, they can carry on worse than us men.”

But now that he had heard the story, Oliver was not interested in Mr. Kimball’s philosophy. As though he had just remembered Garnet, he said,

“Thank you for your explanation, Mr. Kimball. But frankly, sir, I must ask you to withdraw. I believe my wife has heard about all she cares to.”

“I’m sure of it,” Mr. Maury urged. “My good man, you should not have gone into those sordid details in the presence of a lady. I hope, Mrs. Hale, that you suffer no ill effects from this experience!”

“Don’t you worry, ma’am,” Mr. Kimball said to Garnet soothingly. “We’ll get that woman before the day’s out. By night we’ll have her safe in handcuffs.”

The word “handcuffs” ran over Garnet’s nerves like a rat. She stood up and faced her visitors.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Hale!” Mr. Maury begged her miserably.

Garnet looked him over disdainfully. “I am not worried about anything,” she said with frozen composure, “except having my name on the register of a hotel that is patronized by such people. I assure you, gentlemen, that I am not used to living under the same roof with murderers and—and strumpets!”

Mr. Maury was wringing his hands again. “But Mrs. Hale, how could I know?”

“This is my honeymoon trip,” said Garnet. “I thought it was going to be a beautiful time that I could remember as the beginning of my life’s happiness. And here my room is broken into, I am accused of harboring a—a woman of ill repute—”

“Mrs. Hale!” groaned Mr. Maury.

She drew herself up. “I don’t think you knew who she was, Mr. Maury. But if you want respectable people to stay here, I certainly think you’d better be more careful.” She turned to Oliver, though she did not dare to meet his eyes lest they both start giggling. “I feel quite faint,” she murmured.

Oliver responded nobly. He gave her his arm, and she leaned against him.

The manager and Mr. Kimball bowed themselves away with more apologies. Oliver closed the door behind them. Turning the key, he said clearly,

“My dearest, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you were disturbed like this! Lie down and try to compose yourself. Would you like a glass of sherry?”

His lips were trembling with mirth, but his voice was tender. Garnet answered plaintively.

“Why yes, thank you, that might be refreshing. You are always so considerate of me.”

“I’ll pour it at once,” said Oliver. He brought the sherry, letting the bottle clink noisily against the glass as he poured.

But when she had taken a sip of sherry, Garnet could hold herself in no longer. She whispered,

“Can’t we let her out, Oliver? She must be about to smother!”

“I’ll draw the curtains,” said Oliver, with a glance at the door. “Perhaps darkness will help relieve that headache.”

Garnet nodded. He drew the curtains and lit a lamp. As he approached the wardrobe, Garnet felt a tremor. She was wondering how Florinda was reacting to what that awful man had said about her. He had such a strident voice that she must have heard every word.

The wardrobe door swung open. Oliver said in a low voice,

“All right, Florinda, the coast is clear.”

But for a moment Florinda did not move.

She was shaking with laughter. To keep silent she had gagged herself with one of Garnet’s petticoats, stuffing the cloth into her mouth and clamping her teeth on it. At the sight of Garnet and Oliver a fresh gust of merriment swept through her, and she continued to hold the petticoat to her face, helplessly. They waited, laughing too.

At last Florinda pulled the ruffles out of her mouth. She took Oliver’s hand and stepped down.

Garnet held out her handkerchief. Florinda took it and began to wipe away the tears her laughter had brought to her eyes. She sank into a chair.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “But I couldn’t help it. You were so funny, both of you. I never heard such an act.” She blew her nose joyously.

Garnet was reflecting that it was odd about people. Some of them reveled in trouble, rolling over in it and wrapping it around them, never talking about anything but what they had been through and demanding respect for still going through it. One would think, to hear them, that it was a virtue to pinch a wound every morning to make sure it would not get well.

But others, like Florinda, simply rejected trouble. They pushed it away as soon as they could. They laughed at it.

Florinda had leaned her head against the back of her chair and was stretching herself from head to foot like a cat.

“Gee, it’s good to get unwound again,” she said to them. “Garnet, that last bit from you nearly put me in chains. One more line about insulted virtue, and I’d have laughed out loud and they’d have heard me.”

Oliver pulled up a chair and sat down. “Well, that settles it,” he said with finality. “I’m on your side.”

“I got that by the way you talked to them,” said Florinda. She laid a finger along a stripe of her taffeta skirt, as though to be sure her glove matched the stripe in color. Without looking up, she asked, “But why, Mr. Hale?”

“I don’t know anything about the Selkirk murder,” said Oliver. “I’ve heard of it—in fact, I bought some goods from the Selkirk estate for my Western trade. But I don’t believe that tale about somebody’s disinterested friendship.”

Florinda gave him a sardonic smile, sideways. Oliver continued,

“It costs a lot of money to search the country. And after all, Selkirk is dead. It’s not doing
him
any good.”

Florinda had listened with shrewd admiration. “You figured that out all by yourself, didn’t you? You’re a bright young man, Mr. Hale.”

“I’m bright enough, but I think even a blockhead could see through that. One might almost get the idea,” Oliver concluded, “that Selkirk’s friend had a strong personal reason for wanting you hanged.”

Garnet went cold. “
Hanged
?” she echoed.

“That’s what happens when you’re convicted of murder,” Oliver reminded her.

Florinda shrugged. “Well, frankly, Mr. Hale,” she said, “I don’t think any jury would hang a girl with a face like mine. But I could get a term in the New York state prison. And I probably would.”

“That’s awful enough!” cried Garnet.

“And when I came out of there,” Florinda said, “I wouldn’t have a face like this.” She said it so bitterly and knowingly that Garnet exclaimed,

“Florinda! You’ve never been to
jail
, have you?”

“No, darling. But I’ve known some women who have. I know what they do to you there.”

“What, Florinda?” Garnet demanded. She felt slightly sick. She had never thought about jails before.

Florinda spoke tersely. “You work fourteen hours a day making bags and blankets. The food they give you is swarming. If you break the rules they beat you with a leather strap on your bare back.” Her hand went out, almost unconsciously, to stroke her fur cape as it lay on the chair beside her. “I’ve seen them when they come out,” she added. “All they want is a bottle of gin and a hole to crawl into.”

Garnet’s lips were drawn back from her teeth. “I never heard of anything like that!” she cried. “I’ve lived in New York all my life!”

Florinda smiled at her briefly. “I guess we didn’t grow up in the same part of town, dearie.”

Garnet thought of the stately quiet of Union Square. She thought of all those streets in New York that she had never been allowed to walk on.

“You’re not going to prison,” she said firmly. “Florinda, you didn’t do what that dreadful man said, did you?”

Florinda stood up. With both hands she pushed back her silver-blond hair. Her back to the curtained window, she faced them both.

“No,” she answered.

“I knew it,” said Garnet.

Oliver spoke practically. “Who did kill Selkirk, Florinda?”

“That—‘disinterested friend.’ His name is Reese. I think you’ve guessed that already.”

“All right,” said Oliver. “Go on.”

Florinda put her hands on the back of the chair in front of her and held it tight while she answered.

“I did work at the Jewel Box. I was the top star there. The stage name I used was Charline Evans.”

Oliver nodded. Florinda Continued,

“But it’s not true about Selkirk. Oh, I’m no angel with a halo on my head, I guess you know that. But it just happens I never had anything to do with Selkirk. I never even spoke to him in my life. And I didn’t kill him.”

Oliver said, “Were you accused of killing him when it happened?”

“Yes. Reese killed him. Then he told the police that yarn about my being Selkirk’s girl-friend and said I’d killed him in a rage because I couldn’t get him back. Reese is a rich man, old family and all that sort of thing, I knew the police would believe him before they’d believe me. So I got out of town. My friends helped me get away. I came down here. It’s a two weeks’ journey, it seemed like coming to the end of the world. For a while I kept out of sight. But I didn’t hear a whisper from New York. There were at least fifty people who saw Reese take out his gun and shoot—the police would have to believe some of them. So finally I thought the whole thing had blown over as far as I was concerned. And I was dying of lonesomeness, I’m a sociable creature. Besides, I can’t live forever without working. So I went down and got a job.”

“How do you get a job in a place like the Flower Garden?” Garnet asked eagerly.

Florinda smiled. “Why dearie, it’s not hard, not if you know your trade. I went to see the manager and told him a yarn about London and Paris, which he didn’t believe, and then he said, ‘Why did you quit?’ and I said, ‘I had a little trouble about a man.’ He believed that, so he said, ‘What can you do?’ I said, ‘Give me some music and I’ll show you.’ So he called a fellow who played the piano. He said I could do a number in the show he was opening for Christmas. I did the number, and stopped the show.”

“I don’t wonder,” Garnet said softly.

“Yes, dear, you saw me last night. I’m the greatest entertainer in the country.”

“And you still heard nothing from New York?” asked Oliver.

“Not a thing. I didn’t get a hint that anybody wanted me until this morning. I came out of my room on the way to rehearsal, and saw Reese and that beefy gent at the end of the hall. I’d never seen the beefy one before, but I knew Reese right away. I ducked behind that cabinet before they saw me. It didn’t take me two seconds to figure out what had been going on. I think Selkirk’s family has been after the police to put somebody on trial for shooting him, and Reese hired that crew to bring me back so I could take it instead of him.”

“And you think you could be convicted?” Oliver said.

Florinda shrugged wisely. “Reese can bribe witnesses and scare the police, Mr. Hale. I can’t.”

Oliver nodded slowly. He asked, “Were you there the night of the shooting?”

Florinda made a grim little movement of her lips. It could hardly be called a smile. “Yes,” she answered, “I was there.”

She said nothing else. Oliver considered. Florinda had been speaking in a steady voice. But Garnet saw that her hands in their fancy green gloves were holding the chair rigidly, as though she needed support, and her eyes were narrow and tense. Garnet could see by Oliver’s thoughtful face that he was still not content. She demanded in alarm,