Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (10 page)

“Go home and put butter on them,” Lily instructed. “You were lucky, Irene. I thought you were a goner.”

“Abe and Joe were so quick. They put the flames out right away,” Irene said, with admiration in her eyes. “They were wonderful. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank them.”

“Oh, I expect you’ll find a way,” someone said, getting a general laugh and making me realize that chorus girls weren’t all little angels.

I watched how the other girls removed their makeup and followed suit. Somehow I’d have to buy the necessaries of stage makeup before the next dress rehearsal. I wondered if I could ask Blanche for expenses over and above my fee. This little jaunt could turn out to be an expensive business.

Beside me Elise had taken off her ballet shoes and was attending to her feet. She was unwinding bandages and pulling pieces of cotton wool out from between her toes. One of the pieces of cotton had blood on it.

“Oh no. Did you hurt your foot?” I asked.

She looked up at me, amused. “We’re on our toes a lot in this show. It’s hell on the feet. Look.” And she showed me a dainty foot with bruised, blistered, and bloody toes. “All part of the job,” she said. “Some dancers have worse feet than mine.”

“I’m glad I’m not expected to dance then,” I said. Those girls had looked so dainty and ethereal as they glided over the stage on their toes. I had no idea that they paid such a price for that delicate motion.

As we came out of the stage door, we were met by a crowd of young men. At first I thought they might be suitors but one of them came up to us as we emerged, his notebook at the ready. “So what happened tonight, girls? Did the phantom strike again?”

“We’re not allowed to talk about it,” one girl said and walked primly past him.

“So something did happen!” the reporter said, eyeing the rest of us for the one most likely to spill the beans. “There might be something in it for the girl who gives me a hint.”

Lily slipped her arm through his. “Take me out to supper, ply me with wine, and I might very well let down my guard,” she said.

Elise leaned close to me. “Miss Lovejoy will kill her if this gets out,” she said. “If she asks you, don’t rat on Lily, okay? Act innocent. Pretend we know nothing.”

“All right.” I nodded.

“And just wait until it’s a real performance,” Elise went on. “You won’t believe the crowd you’ll find out here. You have to positively fight your way past the admirers. And you never have to buy your own supper, you know. There is always some stage-door Johnnie waiting to take out a chorus girl. It’s nice, really. Of course some of them want payment for the supper, if you know what I mean. I never let it go farther than a kiss or two, but some of the girls are rather free with their affections. Every season one or two of them wind up in trouble. Just make sure you’re not one of them.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I said. “I have a very jealous beau of my own. He doesn’t like the idea of my being on the stage to start with. If he hears about the stage-door Johnnies, he’ll be standing by that door waiting for me every single night.”

“You’re lucky to have someone like that,” she said wistfully. “I keep hoping one of those rich young bucks will take a shine to me. But I’m too wholesome looking. They go more for the flamboyant types, like Lily. And Miss Lovejoy herself, of course. She has her pick. Or she used to have her pick when she was a little younger.”

I went home deep in thought. Whether Miss Lovejoy liked it or not, news of what happened in the theater tonight was going to leak out. And another thing struck me. The one person we hadn’t seen tonight was Desmond Haynes. Mr. Barker had been watching from the stalls, so it was possible that Desmond was also out there, but I hadn’t seen him, and he hadn’t come through to the stage after the calamity.

FOURTEEN

By the time I got home it had started to rain, a miserable sort of freezing sleet that soaked me through between the El station and Patchin Place. So I was tired and dispirited as I trudged through the slush to my front door. I had an absurdly irrational hope that Daniel might be standing there, waiting for me, but of course there was no sign of him.

“Drat the man. Why can’t he ever appear when he’s needed,” I muttered and realized instantly how ridiculous I was being. When he was there I told him to go away and when he wasn’t there, I wanted him. I suppose this was because our relationship had to be put on hold until the charges hanging over him were finally settled, and frankly, I didn’t trust myself when we were alone together.

Tonight, however, I didn’t care about being cautious. I needed to be hugged and held and to feel safe. The incident with the wind machine had shaken me up more than I cared to admit. I told myself that it could only have been started by ordinary human hands, but I still remembered the chill draft around my legs before that great blast of wind. The theater had definitely gone cold. Maybe I was starting to believe that a malevolent spirit might just be responsible.

It was too late to barge in on Sid and Gus, so I let myself into my little house and went around lighting all the gas brackets. I looked for a note from Dr. Birnbaum, but there was none, which was also vexing. He had promised to deliver a report on his way home. I hoped that his strong code of ethics hadn’t gotten the better of him and he wasn’t going to divulge his diagnosis to me. I went over to the stove and made myself a cup of tea. I remembered then that I’d promised to bring some nourishing food to the girl at the hospital. I had no time to make a soup now. I’d have to buy something on my way to visit her tomorrow.

My dreams that night were troubled. Somehow the mute girl in the snowdrift mingled with the ghost in the theater. “You see, I have robbed her of her voice,” he said. “She will never speak again.” And he laughed a horrible laugh that echoed through the theater and through my head. I woke with my heart racing and found it hard to get back to sleep with the consequence that I dropped off just before dawn and woke late. I was still pottering around my kitchen in my robe and slippers when there was a knock on my front door. I fully expected it to be Sid or Gus, on their way back from the French bakery with croissants, coming to invite me for breakfast, and was horrified when the caller turned out to be none other than Dr. Birnbaum. He was immaculately turned out as always in a great coat with an astrakhan collar, his gold-tipped cane tucked under one arm.

“Holy Mother of God,” I muttered. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I wasn’t expecting a gentleman caller this early. I thought you’d be my friends from across the street. Please forgive the attire.”

He smiled. “My dear Miss Murphy, I assure you that I have seen more shocking things than your dressing gown during my years as a doctor.”

“In that case, come on in,” I said. “I’ve just made a cup of tea. Can I pour you one?”

“Thank you, but no. I have just had coffee at my hotel. I came to explain why I did not leave a note for you as promised. I saw the girl, and what I saw disturbed me greatly.”

“Can she speak yet?” I asked. “Did she say anything?”

“Nothing. Not a word. She stared at me blankly as if she didn’t understand or hear me.”

“But she is not deaf?”

“No. I tested her hearing and she reacted normally to sounds out of her range of vision. She hears. She also has the power of speech, I believe. The sisters tell me that she moans in her sleep and she has no abnormalities that I could detect. I can only conclude that some great trauma has robbed her of her wits.”

“Poor girl. How terrible,” I said.

“It is indeed. I remember that my mentor, Dr. Freud, in Vienna had such a girl as a patient. She also appeared to be mute until Dr. Freud was able to cure her through hypnosis. I should dearly like to work with this young woman and see if I can help her regain her senses and her voice.”

“Oh, do you think you can help her? That would be wonderful.”

“If I am given the chance,” he said. “Nobody has come forward to identify her. If she is not claimed soon, I rather fear that she will be shipped off to the insane asylum.”

I gasped. “Oh no. They can’t do that.”

“What else is to be done with her? When her body is healed she can no longer take up space in a hospital bed. And when she’s in the asylum she will be beyond my reach. That institution has its own doctors and its own methods, which I hear are primitive beyond belief.”

“We can’t let that happen, Doctor,” I said. “I’m not going to let it happen.”

“How can you stop it?”

“Let me think,” I said, pacing around the room. “We can put an advertisement in the New York newspapers, and I have a friend on the New York police force—a female officer called Mrs. Goodwin. I’ll ask her to look into any reports of missing girls. Somebody somewhere must be worried that this girl hasn’t come home.”

“There are lost girls aplenty in New York—girls who have run away for one reason or another.”

I shook my head. “Not this girl. She was nicely dressed. She was wearing delicate little evening shoes.”

“Then let us hope that your friend can assist us,” he said. “And as to the advertisement in the newspapers, I will be happy to take that chore upon myself. I find her case most interesting, and most challenging.”

I saw then that scientists and ordinary folk like myself saw things very differently. I was worried about the girl. Dr. Birnbaum saw her as a challenge.

He gave a little bow. “I bid you good day, Miss Murphy. Let us stay in touch,
ja?
”

As I opened the front door I saw a figure standing outside, arm raised and about to knock. I gave a little gasp of horror, then recognized Daniel, swathed in the scarf again.

“You nearly scared the living daylights out of me,” I said, laughing.

“Sorry, I suppose I do look a little intimidating,” Daniel said and was about to come into my house when he saw Dr. Birnbaum standing in the hallway. “What’s this, Molly?” he asked.

“You mean who is this, surely,” I said.

“I mean a gentleman caller at this hour with you still in your night attire,” he said in a cold voice.

I laughed again. “Oh Daniel, don’t be so silly. This is my friend Dr. Birnbaum from Vienna. He is an alienist, Daniel. He agreed to look at the poor girl in hospital and came around specially to report on his findings.”

“I see.” Daniel’s voice was still expressionless.

“Dr. Birnbaum. May I present Captain Sullivan,” I said formally. “Captain Sullivan, Dr. Birnbaum.”

Daniel extended a hand but Birnbaum clicked his heels and bowed, making for a rather embarrassing moment.

“I will take my leave then, Miss Murphy,” Dr. Birnbaum said, putting his homburg back on his head. “You will let me know if your friend has any news.”

“I will. And thank you.” I escorted him to the door and closed it behind him to find Daniel still glaring at me.

“Molly, have you no sense of propriety?” he demanded. “You let strangers into the house dressed like that?”

“As to that, Daniel Sullivan, this robe reveals no more of my body than any dress would and the man is a doctor. He has presumably examined plenty of females clad in considerably less than I am wearing. And for your information, I only opened the door because I thought it was Sid and Gus coming back from the bakery with rolls. Now are you satisfied?”

“I suppose so,” he said grudgingly. “So what news did your German friend have about the girl?”

“That she is as capable of speech as you or I, and that some great trauma has robbed her of her wits. He believes he can restore her to sanity through hypnosis.”

“Really? Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?”

“It would be but they may not keep her in the hospital much longer. If her next of kin is not found, she’ll be shipped off to the insane asylum.”

“Dear God.”

“As you say. I’m going to do all I can to prevent that from happening.”

“And what can you do, pray?”

“Dr. Birnbaum is placing advertisements in the papers and I’m going to see your colleague Mrs. Goodwin. She can find out if any reports of missing girls fit her description.”

“Good thinking,” he said. “Oh wonderful. You’ve just made tea.”

I poured him a cup and he sat, cradling it in his hands.

“So I see your pneumonia is already on the mend,” I said sweetly.

“Don’t mock. Yesterday I felt terrible. Now I will admit that it has turned into no more than the usual grippe.”

“Did you have to stand out in the elements until the early hours again?”

“Fortunately, no. Mr. Roth had an early night. His lights went out at ten. Mercifully, I went home to bed. I think we can probably conclude this case, don’t you, Molly? You can report that the young man is wholesome enough to marry anyone’s daughter.”

“There’s one more aspect of the case that I haven’t yet managed to investigate properly,” I said. “His business and financial transactions. No bank or businessman will discuss such things with a woman.”

“Of course not.” Daniel nodded. Before I could respond to this typically male insult he went on, “And you’re right. That is something I can do easily. And during the daylight hours without getting chilled to the marrow. So what about your new assignment—did you encounter the ghost?” He looked up, smiling.

“As a matter of fact we did,” I said. “At least somebody or something caused a horrible disruption during the play last night. The wind machine was turned on and blew over scenery. One poor girl’s dress was set on fire. There was absolute panic.”

“And what makes you think that this was caused by a ghost? It sounds more like a human prank to me. Surely ghosts don’t have to resort to wind machines. Their mere presence, wafting across the stage, would cause the same kind of panic.”

“You’re right,” I said. “But there’s only one person in the theater I couldn’t account for when the incident happened.”

“And does he or she have a motive for causing havoc?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said. “My next task will be to find out.”

“So you’re going to continue with the case?”

“Yes, I am. I’ve been given a part in the play. Come to opening night and you’ll witness your Molly onstage.”

“Really? As what?” He looked amused.

“A harem dancer,” I said glibly, then laughed at his reaction. “No, I won’t give away the part I play. You’ll have to come and see for yourself.”

“And how long do you think this farce will go on?”

“It’s not a farce, it’s a musical comedy.”

“You know what I mean. The farce of ghost hunting.”

“Until I get to the truth.”

“I hope she’s paying you well.”

“I hope so, too,” I said. “But who knows, maybe this job will turn out to have extra benefits. Maybe I’ll make a name for myself and become a big star. And you can wait at the stage door and drink champagne from my slipper. That’s what they do, you know, the stage-door Johnnies. I gather the chorus girls are constantly whisked off to dine with rich men.”

“Who then expect more than supper, I suppose,” Daniel said. He put his hands on my shoulders again, looking down at me with a worried expression. “Oh Molly. I can’t wait until this nightmare is over. I want to get back to my normal life again. I want to be able to support you so that you can stop taking these ridiculous risks.”

“And take up embroidery?” I demanded.

He laughed. “No, I don’t suppose you’ll ever take up embroidery. But I worry about you, you know.” And he hugged me to him. This time I let him, feeling the roughness of his jacket against my cheek. But my thoughts were racing. Did I look forward to giving up such a precarious way of life someday? It was true that I did worry about money when no cases came in for a month or so, and I had faced danger from time to time. But why did women have to make an absolute choice between their accepted role and men’s world of commerce? Nelly Bly seemed to have bridged the gap, I decided. Maybe she could tell me how it was done.