Chicago Max
by Gary Inbinder
Chapter 15: Bubbly Creek
part 2
Alma got up from her chair, opened the robe and lifted her chemise. The frail body was covered with marks from recently healed welts, cuts and burns, from her small breasts down to her thighs. “Have you ever seen anything like that, Mr. Detective? My back’s even worse than the front. Do you want to see more?”
Max frowned and shook his head. “I’ve seen enough, Alma. Cover up before you catch a cold.”
She lowered her chemise, closed the robe and sat down. Her eyes burned with contempt while she waited silently for Max to continue.
“I’ve seen it all, kid,” he said. “If I could write a story as bad as this world, no one would buy it. Willie gave it to you straight. I can walk out of here with the goods and the dough and leave you nothing. But I want information about the countess, the burglary, the marks on your body, everything. Level with me, and you and Willie can take the three grand and walk away free. Now, Charlie must be freezing outside, and I’ve had a long day. Is it a deal?”
She eyed him shrewdly for a moment before saying, “You said you work for the countess, but it sounds like you’re working for yourself.”
Max smiled. “That’s a smart observation, Alma. Now, are you ready to answer my questions?”
She took another puff on her cigarette before stubbing it out on the tabletop. “OK, Mr. Hawk. What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with how you came to work for the countess. Are you from Chicago?”
“No, I grew up on a farm near Kenosha. My name’s Alma Johansen. I changed it to James when I came to the city, three years ago.”
“Why did you leave the farm?”
Alma sighed and looked at Willie. “I need a drink. There’s a bottle ’round here, somewhere.”
Max pulled out his flask. “Try this, Alma. It’s good stuff.”
She reached across the table, said, “Thanks,” and grabbed the flask. She swallowed a stiff shot and handed the flask back to Max. Then she said, “Things weren’t so bad when my dad was alive. But he died when I was sixteen. Within a few months, my mother married George, one of our hands. It weren’t no secret they were playing ’round behind my father’s back. He ought to have done something about it, but he was too sick.
“Anyways, George was a mean bastard with fast hands. Do you get the picture, or you want me to go into details?”
“No, Alma, I get it. So, you ran away to the big city. There are girls like you down at the depots every day.”
She smiled bitterly. “That’s right, Mr. Hawk; plenty of us running away from something and thinking we’ll have it better in Chicago. I took twenty bucks and some change from my mother’s dresser drawer. I’d never done anything like that before, so I guess that began my life of crime.”
“I’d say what you did is understandable, given the circumstances. So, you took the twenty bucks and hopped on the next train to Chicago. What happened next?”
“One summer evening I stepped off the train onto the platform in a huge station full of people going round in all different directions. I’d never seen anything like it. So much noise and bustle. All at once, I was scared and excited. So, this is the big city, I think to myself. But my next thought was about finding some cheap eats and a place to sleep. I figured the next day I’d start pounding the pavement looking for work. Anyways, that’s what I was thinking when I ran into Oliver — or rather he ran into me. I mean he actually bumped into me in the middle of all those people going back and forth.”
“You met Oliver Parr on the railroad station platform?”
“Actually, it was in the concourse near the concession stands. I’d never met anyone like him. A real gentleman, or so I thought, with his good looks, nice clothes, fancy manners and limey accent. But now I know better. Oliver’s like all the mashers, confidence tricksters and white slavers who hang round the downtown depots on the lookout for greenhorns and dumb hicks like me.”
“So, you met Oliver. Then what?”
“He chatted me up about what a nice, pretty girl I was and did I have family or friends in Chicago and, since I didn’t know anyone in the city I ought to be careful with strangers. How about that? What bullshit. He was like a rattlesnake giving a warning before he struck.
“Anyway, he was really smooth. He told me he worked for a nice rich couple, an English lord and his lady, who was looking for a maid. It was good steady work, with room and board in a swell mansion. Would I be interested in the position? I said ‘sure’, thinking I was the luckiest girl in the world.
“Then he took me for a ride in a Hansom cab and bought me a meal in a swell restaurant. Afterwards, he took me straight to the mansion and introduced me to Lord and Lady Brumstone, who seemed awfully friendly and hired me on the spot with hardly any questions and no references. If I wasn’t such a rube, I would’ve known they was up to no good.”
She paused a moment before asking, “Can I have another swig?”
“Sure, kid, finish it,” Max said and handed her the flask.
Alma downed the whiskey and lit another cigarette. Then she continued: “For the first couple of weeks, everything was swell. The work wasn’t too hard, I got along with the rest of the help, and I had a clean bed, three meals a day, and a few bucks a week to spend or save as I pleased.
“Then, one day, Oliver comes up to me and says the countess wants to see me about something private. I was scared. I wondered if I’d done something wrong. Maybe my mother reported the twenty bucks to the police. Anyways, all that was running through my mind when I went to see her in the parlor. I must have seemed nervous, but she acted sweet and friendly to put me at ease.
“She came off smooth, like Oliver did, telling me how pleased she was with my work, and what a nice, pretty, well-mannered girl I was, and so on. The same baloney. Then she asked me would I like to make a little extra money. I said sure, almost without thinking.
“So, she says the Earl and some of his friends have a little hobby; they like to take ‘artistic’ photographs of pretty girls. If I didn’t mind posing for them, they’d pay me ten bucks for an hour. Can you imagine? More than two weeks wages for one hour of work. Of course, I said yes. And that’s how it started.
“The Earl took me up to an attic room and photographed me posing in my underwear. I thought that was harmless. But things changed when he started taking me out to this place on the West Side to pose for his “friends.”
“You said he took you to a place on the West Side. Do you know the location? Can you describe the place?”
“I don’t know where it was, but it was a long drive, I guess about an hour one way. I could tell we went straight west because of the sunset, and he didn’t turn north or south much. Of course, to the east there’s nothing but the lake. Otherwise, I couldn’t see nothing except a little sunlight and felt the warmth on my face. He made me wear a hat with a heavy veil, and beneath the veil, I was blindfolded the whole time. The Earl said the hat, veil and blindfold was for my ‘protection,’ and I didn’t ask questions.”
“Was it just you and the Earl in the automobile?”
“Yeah, just us. The Earl drove and I sat in the back with the top up.”
“Did you go in the Packard?”
“Do you mean the big green car Charlie drives?”
“Yeah, or is there another?”
“At first, we went in an older car. It was red with lots of shiny brass. They got rid of that one and got two new ones just before the Earl went on his hunting trip.”
“Do you know the make of the cars?”
“No, I don’t. One’s dark green, the other’s dark blue. Charlie almost always drives the green one; Oliver tools round in the blue.”
The Pope-Toledo? Max thought. “Does the countess still have both cars?”
“Yes, or at least she did the last time I was there. Charles keeps them in the carriage house in back by the alley.”
Max made a mental note of the two cars and their location before continuing. “What happened at the place on the West Side?”
She looked down at her hands and sighed. “You see some of it on my body. The first time wasn’t too bad. They just made me pose naked. But then, they made me do things with men, and women, too.”
“You said ‘they’. I assume those were the Earl’s ‘friends’. Can you tell me anything about them?”
Alma shook her head. “No, I can’t. But they took the photos and made the film. The men and women who... who did things with me, I don’t know who they were. I don’t know about any of them, except for the Earl, and he’s dead.”
“Could you tell if there was one particular person who hurt you, who made those welts and burns?”
She stared hard at Max before saying, “Yeah, it was one guy. I can still feel him, smell him, and hear his voice. He stripped me, tied me down on a bed and did what he wanted while the others watched and took their pictures. And there’s more.” She pulled up her sleeve and showed him the needle marks. “He gave me shots of dope to keep me quiet. Now I’ve got the hop habit, bad.”
Prescott Fielding’s M.O. “Did you ever hear any names spoken? Think hard, Alma. Can you identify anyone who took part in the incidents at the house on the West Side?”
“No, I can’t.”
“How long did this go on?”
“About once a month for almost two years, until the Earl had his accident.”
“But you stayed on working for the countess?”
“Yeah, I stayed. Where else could I go after that? The street, a whorehouse, a prison?” She continued staring at him; her pale face reddened, and her hands shook. “They ought to pay for what they did to me. I got a right to the money... I got a right.”
“Do you know if they did this sort of thing to other girls? Have you heard anything like that?”
“I don’t know, but I can tell you who does. Oliver the pimp and that bitch of a countess. They know everything.”
“All right, Alma. Is there anything else you want to tell me before I go?”
She looked down and shook her head without speaking. Max turned to Willie.
“Listen, Willie, you and Alma take the dough, split up and get out of town. Chicago ain’t healthy for either of you, at least not for the time being.”
“OK, Mr. Niemand; we’ll do as you say. Thanks.”
Max picked up his flask and left the three-thousand dollars on the table. He looked at Alma for a moment. Her head was down, her eyes fixed on her trembling hands. He wanted to say something to her. But he could not find the words. He figured she was as good as dead; if someone didn’t kill her, the dope would, sooner or later. Nothing he could say or do would help. Instead, he said, “Good-bye,” got up from the table and walked out the door.
* * *
Dawn crept up on the lakeshore horizon. Max returned to the mansion. On the way, he chatted with Charles, flattering the driver and the car. “This Packard is swell. Does the countess have another car, or is this the only one?”
“She has a new Pope-Toledo, but it’s mostly for Mr. Parr’s use.”
“That’s great, Charlie. Two fine automobiles. Maybe someday I’ll have one of my own.”
The countess waited for him in the sitting room. She had been chain-smoking and drinking all the time Max was gone. When he entered the room, she saw two men walking toward her, like Siamese twins or a pair of prisoners shackled together. She tried to get up and walk over to greet him and tripped on her skirts.
Max helped her up. The smell of whiskey and tobacco overtopped her seductive perfume.
“Are you OK, Cora? I got the goods. It all went off without a hitch.”
She blinked her eyes and shook her head to dispel the boozy fog. “You... you got it?” she slurred. “Lemme see.”
Max set the leather case down on a table and opened the latch. She began to rummage through the photos and negatives. Then she looked up at Max with a questioning frown: “You... you know what this is?”
“Yes, Cora, I know. No problem. The secret’s safe with me. And you won’t be hearing from those burglars again, I guarantee.”
She staggered toward him and gripped his arm to steady herself. She gazed up and smiled. “Forgive me, Max. I’m a bit fuddled. I couldn’t help myself; I was so worried. But you’ve done a wonderful job. I’m so grateful.”
“That’s swell, Cora, but I’m beat. Just pay me and we’ll call it a day.”
His blunt reference to money had a sobering effect, like a splash of ice water on her face. “Oh yes, of course, your fee. One-thousand cash. Oliver has it. I’ll call him.”
She walked more steadily to a cabinet, took out a telephone and spoke to Oliver. Then she put down the phone and turned to Max. “He’ll be here soon. Let’s wait together, over there on the sofa.”
He joined her on the couch. She held his hand and spoke softly.
“Max, I hope this is the beginning of a mutually advantageous friendship. I need a man like you, someone strong, clever, discreet and dependable.”
He smiled wryly. “That’s nice of you, Cora, but you’ve already got Ollie to run your errands.”
She laughed. “Oh, Oliver. He’s all right for certain purposes, but he’s nothing like you. You’re something special.” She closed her eyes and moved her lips in his direction.
A knock on the door interrupted. “It’s Oliver, ma’am. May I enter?”
Cora opened her eyes, pulled away from Max and said, “Come in, Oliver.”
Oliver opened the door and entered. He eyed the couple on the couch and smiled knowingly. “I hope I’m not intruding?”
The countess got up from the couch, smoothed her skirt and glared at him. “No, you are not. Mr. Niemand and I have concluded our business. Do you have Mr. Niemand’s fee?”
Oliver took a wallet from his jacket pocket and counted out ten one-hundred-dollar bills. “One-thousand dollars, Mr. Niemand. I trust that’s satisfactory?”
“Quite satisfactory, Ollie.” Max walked over to Oliver, took the bills and pocketed them.
“Very well, Mr. Niemand. Charles is waiting out front with the motor. I’ll show you to the door.”
Max smiled at the countess. “Good morning, ma’am. If you’re ever in a jam, you know where to find me.”
She returned his smile and said, “Good morning, Mr. Niemand. We’ll be in touch.”
Max turned to Oliver. “After you, Mr. Parr.”
Oliver escorted Max to the front entrance. He did not offer to shake hands. Instead, he said, “You’ve performed admirably Mr. Niemand, but I doubt we’ll need your services again.”
“You never know, pal. I’d like to buy you a drink one of these days. It’ll make up for that little scrap we had in the alley.”
“That’s very sporting of you, old man. But we don’t really move in the same circles, do we?”
Max grinned. “No, pal, I guess we don’t.” He walked out the front door, down the steps and up the pathway to the Packard waiting at the curb.
Copyright © 2015 by Gary Inbinder
