Ill-Fame (A Detective Harm Queen Novel Book 2) (5 page)

“I told you she wasn’t to be hurt,” he’d said, choking back his fury. “This was only ’spose to’ve been temporary.” And the words he’d uttered in a low voice after that, she’d never forgotten. “This will cost you dearly, Dander.”

Kilbane first cut her free with a thin dagger drawn from under his jacket. As she stood and tried to get her balance, she saw him suddenly fly at Dander like a coiled snake. She could see the flash of the iron knuckles that crowned Kilbane’s fist, and watched Dander’s face collapse into a mash of pounded meat and blood under the weight of the blows. Kilbane had been her raging, dancing, demonic savior.

She’d left with him that night, stabs of guilt in her gut for the other girls left behind. But she was too scared to ask for their rescue, as Mr. Kilbane wore an expression of absolute hatred on the ride back to St. Paul, seething in his seat and muttering under his breath. Without a word to her, she’d been left with her current employer, in the depth of the dark night. Madame Clifford had greeted her at the door with only a nod, and swooped her under her cloak like a headmistress at a private school.

And here, she was tutored. Educated in the art of seduction, desire, and fulfillment.

One day, she’d mustered the courage to ask Madame Clifford why it had been her, and not one of her friends, who had been chosen for tutelage. She’d expected a stern lecture about biting feeding hands, but surprisingly, the madam had answered her readily, without protest. She’d explained that Kilbane had seen some pluck and intellect in her. Some spark of life that would have been wasted, and probably extinguished, at Dander’s low joint.

And now Mr. Kilbane was back, a year and a half after depositing her on the brothel’s doorstep.

It was curious.

“You’d told me that Mr. Kilbane was a concerned gentleman, interested only in seeing me free from harm. Is he here to check on me?”

“I did tell you that, Nellie, and it is true. But not the entire truth. It is why I wanted to talk to you privately for a moment. Before you met him face to face.”

Nellie had always taken the madam’s words at face value. She was surprised and a little nervous at this admission of deception. She sat a little straighter in her chair.

“He is not a benefactor, Nellie. In fact, I’ve been paying him a percentage of the money you earn.”

“So he’s been profiting off of me?”

“Yes, Nellie, he has.” Madame Clifford’s face stayed calm, but her voice hardened. “It was the arrangement for you coming here. For your safety.”

It dawned on her then. “But I could have left at any time, you said. I am free to go, you said. How could that be, if he had expectations of compensation?”

“We haven’t had to address that situation, Nellie, because it has never happened. You’ve never left.”

“What if I leave, though? What if I decided to go now?”

The madam gave a grim smile. “It has never been an issue.”

“So I haven’t, really, had my freedom?”

Madame Clifford looked away and stood up. “We cannot wait any longer. He’s a busy man, Nellie. Please listen to his offer and consider carefully.”

And as if the door had ears, it banged open, and in capered Jiggs Kilbane, tossing it shut again behind him. He was cut in garish green fabric, and he jounced when he walked, like he’d been caged for so long that he’d forgotten how to walk normally. Nellie stood up, startled at his sight.

Instead of the furious, twisted face she’d remembered, he wore a sneer. And the disturbing thing about the sneer was how comfortable he looked with it on. Nellie got the impression that this was the way his face looked when he wasn’t smashing someone’s skull in with a brick.

His eyes met hers, and she felt instantly like a block of meat at the butcher’s shop. He was eating her with his stare, like a starving, bone-hungry animal. After an uncomfortable few seconds he blinked twice, and then put out his hand. She knew she had to take it, and did. His sneer widened into an ear-to-ear grin as he planted a whiskey-scented kiss on her fingers.

“Miss Boyce. It has been some time.”

“It has, Mr. Kilbane.”

“Please, call me Jiggs.”

She was further unsettled by the drop of formality. Someone as powerful as this man doesn’t relinquish the title of sir or mister, especially to a prostitute. She didn’t know how to respond.

He stood, waiting, not comprehending her discomfort.

“Nice to see you again,
Jiggs
.” She bit her lip to mute the embarrassment.

“Well, I’ll be Injun skinned,” he said. “You look like a goddamn proper lady.” As soon as he cursed, he gave a sheepish laugh at the realization of his faux pas. “You’ll have to excuse my language,” he said, with a loose bow to Madame Clifford. “I’m used to communicatin’ with buffoons for most of my working day. Hard to break the habit.”

“Entirely fine,” said Madame Clifford, forcing a gentle smile. “Would you like a chair, Mr. Kilbane?”

“Not on your tintype. I got business to run. Did the good madam tell you why I’m here?” he asked, turning to Nellie.

“I thought it would be best if you relayed the news to her,” said Madame Clifford.

“Very good!” He lit a grin that threatened to decapitate his face. “Miss Clifford has taken very good care of you. A fine young lady with many talents, I’ve heard.”

Nellie gave a simple curtsy.

“Without getting into the nuts and bolts of it, Minneapolis is a prime bit of real estate, currently, for establishments such as this. I’ve got plenty of my own places scattered about, but none in Minneapolis. Do you have any idea about what’s goin’ on over there?”

“None, sir.”

“It’s a goddamn free-for-all, is what it is. They’ve got a police superintendent practically begging people to come to the city and set up shop. They collect what they call fines, of course, like here. That’s how they make their dirty money. Shakin’ down madams. But even at a hundred dollars a month, it is still worth the fucking price of admission. And they want more!”

Nellie had lied to him. Of course she’d heard about the situation. There was plenty of scuttle amongst the girls over the opportunities in Minneapolis. She had no idea why he was telling her, however. Since when was she worthy of a conversation about business with someone like this? From Madame Clifford’s deference, Kilbane had to be important. He’d had the power to bust into Dander’s house and mangle him on the floor, without a single finger raised against him.

“So, here’s the thing,” he said with a gleeful smile. “I’m not exactly a welcome man in that city right now. And that’s putting it goddamn mildly. I need someone I trust. Someone who owes me.” He paused, waiting for the words to take their effect. “I want to give you the money for your own house. We’ll be partners.”

Her jaw went slack, and she looked immediately to Madame Clifford, who looked back at her without a hint of expression. She had no idea what to say. Her recent realization that this wasn’t the kind of life she wanted to live anymore had given her thoughts of picking up and leaving. However, Madame Clifford had also just alluded that her ability to leave freely might be open to interpretation. That had certainly shocked her, and she hadn’t had time yet to put her feelings all together. Now, however, Mr. Kilbane was here, in person, insisting that she was in his debt. It was all too much to properly digest.

Jiggs Kilbane looked pleased as punch at her awed expression. “I’ll take that as a yes, then, Miss Boyce,” he giggled and took her hand without waiting this time. He also lingered a moment longer in a kiss, leaving a strand of saliva on her painted nails.

“Wait, sir. I mean Mr. Kilbane.
Jiggs.
This isn’t something I’m capable of doing, I don’t think. First of all, I don’t know anyone in Minneapolis. And why would you trust your money to me? You don’t know my abilities... ”

“I do, Miss Boyce. Better than you.” He folded his arms with assurance. “I may not have the manners of a prince, or the bearing of James J. Hill, but I’m a goddamn good businessman. I’m good at sizin’ people up, and figurin’ them out. And, you, Miss Boyce, have that elusive ‘jer-ner-see kwa’.”

“What about a building? Permits? A staff? Women to work? Where would I start?”

“Awww, hell,” he said. “My lawyers’ll take care of nailing down the location and other arrangements. And the fact that you know what a fucking permit is already sets you a part from the other addle-headed titties in this joint. But I need you, as the face of the place, as front and center. I got someone to help you, too.” He winked at her, and then suddenly turned. “I know yer listening behind the door!” he shouted.

Nellie’s eyes grew wide in astonishment and recognition as the door creaked open. It was a girl she knew, intimately, from her months of confined hell.

Trilly Flick sauntered over, and stood next to Kilbane. Her pouty lips formed the barest of smiles, and she put her hands on her shapely hips, as if to emphasize her presence.

“Well, hello, Maisy Anderson,” she purred.

Nellie’s head swooned at the familiar sound of her name. Madame Clifford had insisted from the very moment she’d stepped inside that her real name should never be used again. But she was even more moved by the familiar voice that spoke it.

“You remember Trilly Flick, don’t you?” Kilbane crowed. “She said she remembers you quite well.”

“You made it out? I’m so happy you did!” Nellie’s heart almost burst with relief. Her worst fears hadn’t been realized after all.

Trilly nodded. “Jiggs got me out, just like he did for you, honey.”

“So!” Kilbane exclaimed, with an impatient tap on his pocket watch. “We’ve had our little reunion. You’ve got a friend beside you. Everything is settled, then!”

This was all happening too fast. A madam? Could she do it? It would take her out from between the sheets, which she wanted. As far as she knew, she had no skills at running a business, although she’d planned to go to college to study mathematics. Balancing books would be easy for her. Her grandfather had been a taker of action. He’d made his way through the world living on principles and morals. Prostitution was not a moral institution, she understood. But it had to exist, she’d learned the hard way. She didn’t know how yet, but perhaps she could use her grandfather’s lessons, combined with Madame Clifford’s, to create her own place, where women were respected and could call their own plays. Make their own decisions.

Could a brothel be democratic? Would a partner such as Jiggs Kilbane allow that?

Perhaps she might even reach out to Edna Pease and Ellie Van Allen, wherever they were. If Trilly had found her freedom, might Edna and Ellie have discovered theirs as well?

In her heart she already knew that this offer wasn’t one she’d be allowed to decline. But if there was a chance to rescue the other girls, she had to ask. She took a breath and did.

“There were two others in the house you took me from. I’d like them with me.”

Kilbane’s sneer turned to an uneasy frown, and he looked at Madame Clifford, who nodded and stepped forward.

“I should have told you earlier, my dear.”

“Told me what?”

The madam shook her head solemnly. “There was an unfortunate incident at that house, Nellie. It led to the deaths of two of your friends, and of Emil Dander and his men. I’d meant to tell you when it happened, but didn’t want to upset you.”

Nellie looked at Trilly, who covered her mouth with the back of her hand and turned away. Grief swelled in Nellie’s bosom, and she faltered back a step. Madame Clifford gently held her waist and Kilbane whipped out an embroidered purple handkerchief to offer her.

She put up her hands and steadied herself. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Friends were hard to come by in this world. Two of them gone, now? And one left, here, in front of her. Trilly looked like an angel to her now. They’d been through so much together.

“Can we do this, Trilly? Can I really rely on you?”

“Hell, yeah, I would, Maisy. I’d do anything for ya.”

She mustered her grandfather’s courage.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Kilbane said, his chronic sneer set again on his face. “But one more thing.”

A man emerged from the ballroom’s door. She was surprised at that, as the room had been empty when she’d walked through minutes before. He wore a fitted suit that was tied at the waist by a brightly colored wool sash. His hair and eyes were gray, and his shoulders were broad. He walked with a swagger, but his brow was low and his expression was cold and distant.

“My dear,” said Kilbane to Nellie. “This is my guard. Allow me to introduce Henri.”

Nellie felt her throat clench at the forbidding figure. The man stopped behind Kilbane and Trilly, with his hands behind his back, as if he meant to block escape.

And then she screamed when Jiggs Kilbane grabbed Trilly by the back of the head, and hurled it into the wall. Trilly crumpled to the floor, blood seeping from her forehead, bits of plaster sprinkling her dress.

The gangster reached down and grabbed Trilly by the hair. He dragged her up, until her wide, terrified eyes met his.

“Don’t you ever fucking say the name Maisy Anderson again. Do you hear me?” She nodded weakly, and he dropped her back to the floor.

Then he turned to Nellie, spit hanging from his chin, and grinned. “I’m excited to work with you, Miss Boyce. Let’s get this shit-cloud of a venture goin’ at once. We’ll be here tomorrow morning at eleven to get you.” He leaned in to her ear, and she shuddered at the stink of his breath.

“Don’t be late,” he whispered. “Now shoo, fly. Shoo.”

CHAPTER 6

Queen maneuvered his gig through the lively tumult and roaring trade of Cedar Avenue, hollering Arthur forward through the packed streets. The air buzzed with the wonderful din of competing immigrant languages. While he didn’t speak Danish, Norwegian or Swedish, he still recognized and enjoyed the gentle roll of the “r,” and the cadence that accented the first syllable of their words. Their speech sounded lilting and magical to him. Perhaps it was the Ullands’ stories of the old country. The ravishing fjords, the ancient towering bridges, and the glistening blue ice were things he wanted to see one day, with his wife as his guide and escort, and the sound of their languages was a transient gateway to that dream.