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“Hopefully, he was still experimenting.”
“I’m not counting on that,” said Isaac Bell.
“Did he say anything?”
“He said he was in love.”
“In love? And he killed himself? Are you going to talk to her?”
“I couldn’t hear her name.”
—
Like most upper-crust brothels, Miss Dee’s ten-dollar parlor house on North Wichita Street was a hangout for politicians and prosperous business men. Compared to New York or Chicago, its setting was less than glamorous, on a street bordered by a lumberyard, a blacksmith, a foundry, gas storage tanks, and tenements.
Wichita, thought Archie, where expectations were modest.
“Come right in,” the madam greeted him warmly. Wealthily dressed men made good customers. Handsome, wealthy customers with exquisite manners were a rare treasure. She remarked that she had not seen him before. Archie said he was not from Kansas. She said that she was not surprised and asked what in particular she could do for him.
“Would it be possible to make the acquaintance of a young lady named Jane?”
“Very possible, we have several Janes.”
Archie drew on Mack and Wally’s description. “Jane of hair as red as mine and eyes like lapis lazuli.”
“That Jane.”
“Is she still here?”
“Still here,” the madam said grimly.
“You don’t sound pleased,” said Archie.
“She’s tough on the business. The old geezers fall hard for her. One of these days, fisticuffs in my parlor will end in a heart attack.”
“I hope I’ll be immune,” said Archie.
“Frankly,” said the madam, “I hope you fall so hard, you take her home with you . . .”
—
Archie popped the question on the train to Chicago, a city that the round and bright-eyed Jane told him she had always wanted to visit. Archie had promised a paid vacation and a shopping trip (at Van Dorn expense). If Mr. Van Dorn balked, he would hit Isaac up for the dough. Any luck, Jane’s gratitude would materialize as the name of her dead admirer’s blackmail victim. Best of all, while in Chicago he could sink his teeth back into the Rosania case.
Archie waited until they were highballing out of St. Louis before he asked about Reed Riggs. Jane’s lapis lazuli eyes darkened, turning a sad, stony blue.
“Reed was a good man. A gent like you, Archie. Not fancy like you, but a gent in his heart. That’s why he couldn’t follow through. He was no blackmailer. It just seemed like a good idea to save his refinery, but when push came to shove he couldn’t do it.”
“Did he ever actually approach the victim?”
“He told me he went to New York and talked to him.”
“At 26 Broadway?” Archie asked casually.
Jane laid a plump hand on the back of Archie’s. “Stay a gent, Archie. Don’t try to trick me.”
Archie said, “I understand that you would never dishonor Reed Riggs’ memory by betraying the name of the man he decided not to blackmail. But what if I told you that the man we think it was just tried to kill John D. Rockefeller?”
Jane said, “Most people would think he had a pretty good idea.”
