Irving Wallace - The Golden Room

Edmund whirled about, hastened through the restaurant, and raced for the Everleigh office.

He flung open the door without knocking.

Minna and Aida were on a sofa, chatting. Minna raised her head. 'What is it? Did old Armbruster leave yet? I didn't hear the Professor's song.'

Ignoring the question, Edmund entered the office, and propelled himself across the room to face the Everleigh sisters.

'Miss Minna,' he panted, 'I have some terrible news. There's been a terrible mistake. I just heard about it.'

'What is it?' Minna asked worriedly, rising.

'Someone escorted Alan Armbruster upstairs to – to be entertained by Margo in bedroom six. There was a mistake. Alan was led into bedroom nine, instead.'

'Nine!' Minna exclaimed, aghast. 'That's Cathleen's private room. I don't believe it! Are you sure?'

'I'm positive, Miss Minna.'

Minna's hands went to her head. 'Oh, my God, what a disaster. By now he knows Cathleen's Aunt Minna and Aunt Aida own a whorehouse, and by now he must believe Cathleen is a prostitute in this house. It's the worst thing that could have happened. I must put a stop to it -I must explain -'

Aida was on her feet. 'Minna, don't go out there – Arm-bruster's there -'

But Aida's warning came too late. Minna had already dashed out of the office.

To get to the entry hall quickly and up the staircase, Minna cut through the restaurant. She ran up an aisle, oblivious to several guests who tried to greet her as she raced past.

She was approaching the far end of the restaurant when she came on a lone diner, a hefty man puffing on a cigar as he watched her. He narrowed his eyes, then stared at her.

He threw down the cigar and leaped to his feet, stepping into the aisle to block her.

'Miss Lester!' he exclaimed. 'Can this be Minna Lester? What in the devil are you doing in this house of assignation? What are you doing here?'

She stopped in her tracks, confronted by his bulk. For seconds she was speechless. At last she spoke. 'I own it,' she said. There was simply not another thing to say.

'You own it?' Armbruster bellowed. 'You own this whorehouse?'

'I own it, my sister and I own it,' she repeated. She tried for an explanation. 'My brother in Kentucky doesn't know a thing about it. That's why he felt he could safely send Cathleen and Bruce to stay here before the wedding. I could never tell him. And Cathleen doesn't know. We changed everything, almost everything, so she wouldn't know. So, please…'

'This is unthinkable!' roared Armbruster, grabbing Minna by the arm. 'Come on, I want to get my son out of this

infamous Gomorrah!'

He dragged Minna out of the restaurant, through the entry hall, towards the staircase landing.

They both halted as they looked up in time to see Alan, fully clothed, a benign smile on his face as he descended.

As he reached the foot of the stairs, Alan grinned at his father. 'Thanks, Dad. You were right. I had a girl, and now I have enough experience for the wedding.'

Armbruster let go of Minna and snatched his son by the arm. 'Wedding, you say? What wedding? I'm not letting my son marry the niece of two whorehouse madams. It would destroy me in Chicago for ever, ruin everything I ever tried to build. Come on home!' Armbruster wheeled to confront Minna. 'As for you, don't you dare to come near me or any of us. You're not setting foot in my home again. There'll be no wedding! The wedding is off!'

With that, he pulled Alan away. Minna watched them go and then burst into tears.

Mayor Carter Harrison always came to his City Hall office at promptly nine o'clock in the morning.

He was surprised, upon his arrival this morning, to see that there was already a visitor in his office. The visitor was Harold T. Armbruster, admitted half an hour earlier by the mayor's administrative aide.

'I hadn't expected you,' said Harrison, removing his hat, shaking hands, and sitting down across from the meat-packer. 'What brings you here?'

'Something that may be of use to you,' said Armbruster.

'Please go on.'

'This morning my mind was on your campaign for mayor. That was the first time we met.'

'I remember very well.'

'What I remember is something else. My interest in you was based on your desire to expand our railroad system. But I recall you didn't speak of that much when I heard you. You spoke of reform, of getting rid of the whorehouses in this city.'

'Correct,' said the mayor. 'I am dedicated to fulfilling that pledge.'

Armbruster nodded. 'Until two days ago I knew only vaguely about the Everleigh Club. Now I know a good deal more. Mayor, why haven't you closed the Everleigh Club?'

The Mayor sighed. 'Mr Armbruster, the legal fact is that I can't move against it until I have evidence first-hand that it is operating as a whorehouse. The sisters have become more cautious about their activities. Thus far, it's been impossible for me to prove the Club is presendy anything more than a restaurant.'

Armbruster stood up. 'Mr Mayor, I assure you, the Ever-leighs are still in the business of prostitution.'

'You know for certain?'

'For certain,' said Armbruster. 'They are in business and I can prove it. As you know, my son is getting married this week. I thought – repugnant as it was to me – it would be valuable to him to gain some experience with a woman before his marriage. Everyone I asked told me to take him to the Everleigh Club. So last night I did.'

The mayor was fascinated. 'You took your boy to the Everleigh Club?'

'To let him have a woman.'

'Did he have a woman there? Did you pay for it?'

'He had a girl, by his own admission. He won't give me any details, except to say he did have sexual intercourse. And yes, I paid for it. It was added to my dining bill, which is in my pocket.'

The mayor was on his feet. Coming around his desk, he took Armbruster by the shoulders. 'Am I hearing you right, Mr Armbruster? Are you telling me you have first-hand evidence that the Everleigh Club is – right now – operating as a house of prostitution?'

'As a whorehouse, a real, working whorehouse.'

The mayor's excitement was growing. 'You can prove it, testify to this?'

'Definitely. That's why I'm here. To side with you in your reform movement. Last night, after my son was sent upstairs to cohabit with one of those professional chippies, I learned by accident that the house is owned by Minna and Aida Everleigh, who have misrepresented themselves to me as socialites. They were to give the bride – their niece – away. I was shocked. I instantly called off the wedding. No son of mine is marrying into the family of whorehouse madams. The wedding is cancelled.'

'I'm saddened to hear that, but the banquet… Will you still have the banquet for the prince of Prussia?'

'The banquet is on. The wedding is off. And I'll not be satisfied until the Everleighs are in jail and their establishment shut down for ever.'

The mayor was beaming. 'I need only your sworn testimony before my chief of police, Francis O'Neill, to accomplish that end.'

Armbruster raised his right hand. 'You have my promise that I'll testify against the Everleighs and their Club immediately.'

The mayor linked his arm inside Armbruster's. 'Let's get you downstairs to the chief of police, swear you in, and take your deposition. Then I'll be free to accomplish what I've been trying to accomplish all these weeks – bring an end to the careers of Minna and Aida Everleigh.'

Minna had been sitting in the Gold Room in the early evening trying to distract herself from thoughts of the run-in with Harold T. Armbruster. She was reading the collected poems of Shelley when Edmund appeared in the doorway.

'There you are, Miss Minna,' Edmund said. 'I've been looking everywhere for you. There's someone here to see you.'