Sara Paretsky - Sisters on the Case

‘‘No, no, he loves me, I know he does!’’ She gave me a brave smile.

I touched the scar on my cheek. ‘‘Slick loved me too, yes indeed.’’

Her eyes locked onto mine. ‘‘And you left him?’’

‘‘Yes. A little afterwards he was shot. I don’t like to think about it. But tell me, did you look in the box to see why Jake was angry?’’

‘‘No, I mustn’t. It’s his.’’ She sniffled and added, ‘‘Besides, he’s started hiding the key somewhere else, I don’t know where.’’

Well, hang it, my chance to regain my bracelet had slipped away for now. When payday came, I took the train to New York, and had better luck, eventually joining a national tour with dear Mr. Booth.

Of course I read the news from Chicago wherever my tour took me. Jakey became a hero when he helped capture Lingg, who was put on trial with seven other anarchists, including dear August. The charge was the murder of Officer Degan, the only one killed by the bomb instead of bullets. The police hadn’t caught the bomb-thrower but said the eight had conspired to cause someone else to throw a bomb. They even got one witness to claim he’d seen August light the fuse, though he’d been half a block away on the speaker’s wagon. Clearly the police wanted to be the heroes of this melodrama and they’d cast poor August as a villain. Everyone knows villains must be punished, whether the plot makes any sense or not. I wasn’t surprised when the jury decided to hang them.

There were appeals, and three of the eight ended up with prison terms instead of a death sentence, but in November of 1887 dear August was hanged. I have to admit I shed a tear.

The next time I saw Mabel was the autumn of 1888. I’d just returned from a horrid stay in London, and was on my way to St. Louis to see my dear little niece, but I didn’t want to arrive empty-handed, so again, I stopped in Chicago. I found a temporary role at the Columbia Theatre because one of the young ladies in The Bells of Haslemere had turned her ankle.

I knew there was little hope of recovering my bracelet but for Juliet’s sake I was obliged to try. It was evening, after the show, when I called on Mabel Loewenstein.

The boy who’d brought us cakes before took up my card, and in an instant Mabel herself, in mourning, appeared on the steps to welcome me upstairs. ‘‘Mabel, what is it?’’ I asked, concerned by her distraught appearance.

‘‘Oh, Bridget, you are just the one to tell me what to do! Please come in!’’

I followed her into the parlor. It was as richly appointed as before, with a few additions in the form of new lamps and paintings.

As she prepared tea she explained, ‘‘Ever since he helped capture that anarchist Lingg, Jakey has been praised by all. Captain Schaack continues to favor him-seems almost afraid of him! I think both of them are-well, not entirely honest.’’

‘‘What makes you think-oh! Did you find the key to the box?’’

‘‘Keys,’’ she corrected me. Tears glistened on her lashes as she handed me a cup. ‘‘Now there are three boxes. And one of them holds your bracelet.’’

‘‘Oh, thank you, Mabel! It’s just a trifle but I’m fond of it. How can I ever-’’

‘‘No, wait! I can’t return your bracelet! He’d know that I’d been nosing about, and he’d-’’ The sobs broke out. ‘‘I’m so afraid he no longer loves me!’’

I asked, ‘‘He still strikes you, then?’’

‘‘He comes home so late, and so drunk-and he says it is my fault our dear baby did not survive! But how could I protect the little one when I can’t-’’ She dabbed at her eyes.

I said, ‘‘Mabel, I’m so sorry. How can I help?’’

She reached tentatively toward the little scar on my cheek. ‘‘You said you left him. Please, tell me how!’’

Well, hang it, there was a poser! It’s easier to up and leave a fellow when you’re a traveling artiste, and have friends around the nation. But Mabel seemed so settled here. I asked, ‘‘Do you have family in other cities?’’

‘‘No, my sister and brother are here. Oh, I don’t want to leave town!’’

I waited for a fresh spasm of sobs to subside, and finally said, ‘‘I see a way you can leave Jake yet stay in Chicago, but first I must ask if you can bear a bit of scandal.’’

‘‘Oh, must I? That Captain Schaack already says I’m disreputable. Liar!’’

‘‘I promise you, in the end it will fall on Jake and not on you.’’

‘‘He would hate that!’’ she said with a damp smile.

‘‘The first thing to do is count up our strengths. We must look in the boxes.’’ I raised a palm to quiet her fearful protest. ‘‘Will Jakey be back soon?’’

‘‘No, he’ll be late and drunk, but he’ll know!’’

‘‘We can replace everything just as before.’’ She still hesitated and I added, ‘‘Do you want to be safe?’’

‘‘Yes. No, I want him to love me!’’

‘‘But does he?’’ When her face fell, I added, ‘‘The keys. Hurry!’’

With fearful steps, she went to the boot stand in the entry and, picking up a man’s polished boot, pulled three keys from the toe. We pulled the boxes from under the tall carved bed, opened them, and there, clumped with other jewelry in a corner of the second box, was my bracelet! My heart danced a happy jig.

The rest was even better than I’d hoped. There were watches. There was a fine silk scarf. There were handsome dresses-‘‘Oh, that’s the one stolen from Mrs. Hill!’’ Mabel said, warming to our task. ‘‘The thief was arrested, but Mrs. Hill never got her dress back.’’ There were rings and brooches. ‘‘Look, remember the anarchist Lingg left a brooch to his sweetheart, and after he died they couldn’t find it? There it is!’’ Best of all, there were official papers. ‘‘Yes, that’s the man who testified he saw August Spies light the bomb!’’

I frowned at the page. ‘‘That’s not what he says here.’’

‘‘This is the man’s original testimony. Captain Schaack and Jakey pay people to say what they want them to, so in court this man swore August Spies lit the fuse.’’

‘‘And then Jake hid the original statements.’’ I flipped through the rest of the papers. No wonder that low-down Schaack was afraid of Jake. And it looked as though Black Jack Bonfield had reason to fear exposure as well. I beamed at Mabel. ‘‘Mabel, your future is bright! Bring a little valise or carpetbag.’’

Looking hopeful, she complied, and protested only a little as I slid the papers, the silk scarf, and Lingg’s brooch into the little black valise she brought. My bracelet, of course, was already safe in my bustle pocket. I was closing the valise when the downstairs door slammed and we heard a heavy tread on the stairs.

Mabel gave a terrified squeal. I grabbed her arm. ‘‘Hush! You must act as you always do! Don’t mention me!’’ I finished relocking the three boxes and kicked them under the bed.

From a floor below came a muffled, sleepy Scandinavian voice. ‘‘Yakey, be quiet, yah?’’

Mabel whimpered, ‘‘Don’t leave me!’’

‘‘Don’t worry. Just help him to bed, all the usual things.’’ I gave her arm a little shake. ‘‘Are you listening?’’

‘‘I help him to bed?’’

‘‘Yes, good!’’ I ran into the parlor. Jake’s heavy steps sounded very near now, so I dove behind a settee that was angled across a dusky corner of the room. I held my skirts close about me and trusted to the shadows and to Jake’s inebriation to protect me.

‘‘Jakey, dear!’’ Mabel said as the door opened. She was trying, but I could hear the quiver in her voice. ‘‘Do you want a beer?’’

He tossed his coat onto a peg, his gun peeking from its pocket. ‘‘Nah, I’m tired. Move!’’ And he added an oath that no lady should be forced to hear, although Mabel did not seem surprised. He tugged off his boots and staggered to the bedroom to fall onto his pillow.