Chicago Max
by Gary Inbinder
Chapter 24: Lady Cora
Max stopped at Otto’s and picked up dinner: corned beef on rye, potato salad and a bottle of beer. He walked to his apartment along quiet sidewalks under a night sky so clear you could see stars. Chicago seemed to be resting, like a snow globe on a mantelpiece. But it wouldn’t take much to shake it up.
As he neared his apartment building, Max spotted a large automobile parked out front. It’s Cora’s Packard, he thought.
Charles greeted him in the front hall. “Good evening, Mr. Niemand. I’m sorry to impose, but the countess wishes to see you.”
“That’s swell, Charlie, but I got my dinner here, and I’m hungry. How long have you been waiting?”
“About ten minutes, sir.”
“I see. Well, come upstairs. I got another bottle of beer in the ice box, and you’re welcome to it.”
“Thank you, sir, but the countess says it’s a matter of the utmost urgency.”
“I’m sure it is. But it can keep another twenty minutes. I’m starved.”
Charles followed Max up to the apartment. As soon as they entered, Max said: “Take off your hat, coat and boots and settle in. I won’t be a minute. How about that beer?”
“If it’s all right with you, sir—”
“Stop calling me sir. When her ladyship ain’t around it’s Max, OK?”
Charles smiled. “OK, Max.”
“Now, you’re a big strong guy. One little beer won’t hurt you.”
“Very well, Max. Thank you.”
Max lit a couple of gas jets and entered the kitchen while Charles staked out a chair in the living room. A few minutes later, Max came out with his meal and two uncorked bottles of beer on a tray. He set the tray down on a round table and occupied a chair opposite the chauffeur.
Max started in on his sandwich and potato salad. After a moment, he said, “I don’t suppose you know anything about this ‘matter of utmost urgency’?”
“No, sir... Max, I do not. But it might have something to do with the countess returning to Europe. And Mr. Parr seems to have disappeared. No one knows where he’s gone.”
I guess Ollie’s shaking hands with the Devil. As for Cora, I’ll bet old man Huber told her the facts of life. I wonder how much he’s paying her to get out of town. “So, she’s going back to Europe and Ollie’s gone missing. What are your plans?”
Charles took a swig of beer before answering. “This is quite good, Max. I’m not used to drinking cold German lager. It’s lighter than our English brew. At any rate, I suppose I’ll accompany the mistress.”
Max finished half the sandwich and started on the rest. After a while, he put down the remains and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Did you ever think of leaving the lady’s employment and striking out on your own?”
Charles finished the remains of his beer. His face flushed and he loosened up. “My family’s served the Brumstones for four generations but, at times, I’ve thought of making a change. Automobiles are getting better and more common and affordable. On occasion, I’ve considered opening a garage, and perhaps, if that’s successful, a dealership.”
Max noticed a familiar gleam in the chauffeur’s eye. We all have our dreams, he thought. He finished his beer and set the empty on the table. “Two dead soldiers. I got more in the icebox. How about it?”
“I don’t know, Max. Her ladyship—”
“Her ladyship can wait. Don’t worry, pal. Just blame it on me.”
Max went to the kitchen and retrieved two more bottles. He pulled the corks, handed one to Charles and said, “Here’s to the land of the free and the home of the brave.”
“God save the king!” The chauffeur grinned and lifted his bottle.
“To each his own, Charlie.”
About halfway through the second bottle Max said, “That’s a swell idea you have. I mean about opening your own business. Have you saved up some jack?”
“A little. But I’m afraid I’d need a loan to get it going, and the banks won’t take a risk with a servant, especially on something new like automobiles.”
“Screw the banks. I know guys who’ll give you a square deal on a loan at the same rates the big banks give their best customers.”
Charles frowned. “I don’t understand. Are you talking about the loan sharks?”
“Yeah, that’s what they’re called. But when I said they’d give you a square deal, I meant it. I got pull with them. They owe me. That’s how things get done in this town.”
Charles rubbed his chin. After a moment’s thought, he said, “I suppose it works that way where I come from, too. It’s just harder to rise above one’s station back home.”
“Charlie, here you make the jack then you buy your way into society. The guys building mansions on Lake Shore Drive came up from dirt. They were cattle drovers, small farmers, shopkeepers, clerks and common laborers. Sky’s the limit here. Think it over.” Max glanced at his watch. “Guess we better go before her ladyship has a conniption.”
“Righto.”
They got up unsteadily, staggered to the door, and put on their hats, coats and boots. On the way to the Packard, Max recalled one of his favorite operas, Saint-Saëns’ Samson and Delilah. He always thought of Samson as a poor chump who fell for a double-crossing dame. Now, he wondered if the fortification provided by strong beer was sufficient preparation for a rendezvous with Lady Cora.
* * *
Cora ambushed Max the moment he crossed her drawing room threshold. He had imagined any number of greetings as the Packard chugged along over the dark, icy streets. Nothing prepared him for what occurred upon his arrival. Cora broke through his defenses, grasped him in her arms and held on tenaciously.
Cora’s softness, heady fragrance and beauty beguiled him and, in an instant, Max came to a shocking realization: If her lovely hand concealed a dagger, she could have plunged it into my heart before I knew what was happening. His Japanese jiu-jitsu instructor had told him stories about the infamous Geisha assassins. To paraphrase Kipling, the Cora Brumstones of the species were more deadly than the Bugsy Battaglias.
She looked up at him with anxious eyes. “What kept you? I’ve been so worried, Max. Oliver’s dead.”
Max took her by the shoulders and pushed back gently to create a safe distance between them. “I’m sorry, Cora. I came home late, and Charlie was there waiting for me. We came as soon as we could. As for Ollie, I know all about him and the house on the West Side.”
Cora frowned; the dark blue eyes flashed. “What do you know, Max?”
“I know about the white slavery and pornography racket. And I know you played a role in it.”
“You know something, Max, but you don’t have the whole picture.”
“Complete it for me.”
“All right.” She glanced back at the couch where they had made love. The implication was not lost on Max. Cora turned to him with a wistful smile. “Let’s go over there and discuss this like civilized people. Would you care for a drink?”
“No thanks; not right now.”
“Do you mind if I indulge?”
“Suit yourself.”
She led him toward the sofa. Max went for the armchair on the other side of the coffee table.
“You’d be more comfortable over here, darling.” Cora sat and patted the seat cushion next to her.
“I’m OK where I am, thanks.”
Cora nodded without speaking. She poured herself a drink. She took a sip and smiled. “The Earl’s finest. I believe you’ve acquired a taste for it.”
“Yes, I have.”
Cora glanced around the elegantly furnished room. “There’s a lot more to this life than fine whiskey. Do you think you could acquire a taste for it all?”
“Are you offering?”
“Yes, darling, I am. More than you can imagine.” Her red lips parted in an alluring smile.
“That’d be a lot, baby. I’m very imaginative. First, let’s talk about the racket. How did you fit in?”
She gazed at him for a moment with a questioning, enigmatic smile. “You don’t know my situation, Max. When I was very young, my father arranged my marriage to an aristocrat who needed money. Aside from father’s wealth, the Earl liked to have me around for his pleasure and amusement. He thought I was pretty and fashionable, so he could show me off to his friends. I wasn’t any more to him than a new automobile or a set of golf clubs. He had other women and his own way of life.”
“Excuse me, Cora,” Max broke in. “I’m sorry you had an unhappy marriage, but you’re avoiding my question. Maybe I should leave?”
“Don’t go, Max. You’re here to judge me. Won’t you allow me to plead my case?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not your judge. I know a few things. You were involved in a dirty business, Oliver’s dead, and you’re going back to Europe. You brought me here on ‘a matter of the utmost urgency.’ Why don’t you tell me what’s so urgent, and then maybe we can discuss the role you played in the racket?”
Cora remained calm; her mildly suggestive expression did not change. She set down her glass and smoothed out her skirts. The sight and sound of her hand brushing over the rich material covering her thighs stirred something in Max, a need he fought to suppress.
After a moment, Cora looked him in the eye and said, “My father gave the Earl a small fortune in a marriage settlement. To be fair, Father tried to protect my property rights while at the same time bargaining me away in exchange for a title that would be his key to unlock the doors of high society. But the Earl was in the habit of spending far more than he had. When we came back to Chicago, he was dead broke and mired in debt.
“I had to beg father to save us from bankruptcy. He was not sympathetic. He blamed me in part for my extravagance. But I had to keep up appearances. That’s the price of being ‘in society.’ At any rate, he paid our debts, gave us this house and a small allowance. It wasn’t enough. That’s when the Earl decided to get involved in what you call ‘the racket.’ He brought in his old acquaintance Oliver, an experienced procurer with a tony clientele. I kept my mouth shut and did as I was told. That’s not to my credit. I’m ashamed, but there it is. Now you can judge me.” She reached for her glass and finished the whiskey.
“You could have gone to your father. You could have gotten a divorce. What’s more, when the Earl died, you could have dumped Ollie and gone straight.”
Cora laughed and poured another drink. “You make it sound so easy. Can you imagine the scandal surrounding a divorce, especially when everything came out in the press? Even if we escaped criminal prosecution, we’d have been ruined, cast out of society. Father would have disowned me. As for Oliver, he knew too much for me to get rid of him. I feared blackmail. At that point, I had no choice but to stay in the game.” She paused a moment before saying, “You’re judging me, Max. I can see it in your eyes. They’re hard and cold. Do you hate me?”
“No, Cora. I don’t hate you.” He looked down at his hands and shook his head.
She placed her glass on the table, got up and slinked toward him. He heard the rustling of her skirts, inhaled the floral and musk scent of her expensive French perfume. Max seemed paralyzed, like prey suffering from the effects of a black widow’s venom.
Cora insinuated herself onto his lap, a pampered cat who wanted petting. Her face tilted upward, her eyes closed, and her lips parted to meet his.
Max kissed her; her crimson painted mouth tasted like sugar cake dipped in pricey scotch. I’ll bet she arranged the Earl’s ‘accident,’ he thought. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she bribed Crunican to get rid of Ollie and the evidence. He got up from the chair with Cora nestling in his arms. He carried her to the sofa where he sat her down, gently.
“Come on, lover,” she said. Cora reached out to him, invitingly. She gazed up with sparkling sapphire eyes.
Max looked down, grinned and shook his head. “Business before pleasure, baby. You said something about an offer. Let’s hear it.”
A pout wiped out Cora’s seductive smile. She swung her legs over the side of the sofa, sat up and reached for a cigarette case and matches on the coffee table. Max was about to give her a light, but she beat him to it. She turned toward him, puffed smoke in his direction and picked away a strand of tobacco from her rouged lower lip. Cora took another drag before putting the cigarette in an ashtray. Max kept his eyes on her, but he did not move as he waited for her reply.
“I’m leaving Chicago, Max. I want you to come with me,” she said calmly.
“Is that your offer? You want me to replace Ollie?” Max was not surprised, and he remained cool.
Cora sighed and shook her head. “No, Max. Father’s been generous. I can have pretty much what I want, if I leave the States and avoid scandal. I’m returning to Europe. You’ll be my bodyguard and well paid for your services, but that’s to keep up appearances. In fact, you’ll be so much more. I need you. Don’t you care for me, just a little? I thought you did, but I could be wrong. Maybe what happened between us meant nothing to you. Is that it? Am I the sort of woman you can use and discard as you please?”
“You got that wrong, Cora. You’re not a woman I’d take lightly.”
“Is that your way of saying yes?” Her eyes brightened with a self-satisfied smile.
Max switched the subject. “Tell me about Prescott Fielding. I know he was a valued customer. How did he fit into the racket?”
Cora reached for her cigarette and took another drag. The question irritated her, but she tried not to show it. “My husband and Oliver dealt with Fielding. I had nothing to do with him.”
“Are you sure, Cora? Fielding belongs to a prominent Chicago family. Didn’t you know him socially?”
“We didn’t move in the same circles. I know his reputation, and I don’t approve of it. I can see you’re judging me again, but I can’t blame you for that. I’m on the level, Max. If you don’t believe me, I guess there’s nothing more I can do or say to persuade you of my good intentions.”
“Do you know where Fielding is now?”
“No, I don’t... and I could care less.”
“A girl’s gone missing, Cora. I suspect Fielding has something to do with it. If so, I fear she’s in danger. You sure you don’t know anything about it?”
“Who’s the girl, Max? What is she to you?” She went on the attack, answering with a question meant to put him on the defensive.
Max did not take the bait. “She’s a human being. I know what Fielding does to women, and so do you. Those pictures you hired me to recover were the real thing. Nothing was faked.”
Cora stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. She rose from the couch gracefully, as she had been taught in finishing school. Somewhere deep inside she was screaming and hurling sharp objects in Max’s direction; on the surface she was composed as befitted a woman of her superior status. The “audience” was over; her demeanor became calmly dismissive.
“It’s late. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Of course, you’ll be compensated for your trouble.”
“Keep your money, Cora. I don’t need it.”
Her face reddened and her hands trembled, but she said nothing. She walked to the telephone table and pressed a button that summoned Charles. The chauffeur came immediately.
“Mr. Niemand is leaving, Charles. Please see to it that he gets home safely.” She turned to Max. Her face did not display anger. Instead, the slight frown and sad eyes exuded disappointment. “Goodbye, Max. I doubt we’ll meet again.”
The finality of her words, the soft tone of her voice and facial expression moved him to a depth of feeling beyond his understanding. He almost lost his resolve, as though she had discovered the source of his strength and sucked it out of him. His feet felt heavy and shackled to the floor. Doubt entered his mind. Could I have been wrong about her? Will I ever know? Max struggled for an instant before reasserting his will. “Goodbye, Cora,” he said. “And good luck.”
On the way home, he asked Charles, “Have you thought about staying in Chicago and opening a garage? I meant it about helping you get a loan.”
“I’m sorry, Max. I can’t leave her now. She needs me.”
Max nodded. “I understand, Charlie.”
Copyright © 2015 by Gary Inbinder
