found such an apt description of the confused souls who seek their dead and lost ones in hired parlors, and of the woman who lived so well off those fears and doubts?
At the corner, Mr. Barnum tipped his top hat and went off in the opposite direction. “I will write to your father, if I may,” he promised jovially. “I still await Mr. Alcott’s response.”
Cobban’s silence was so pointed that Sylvia felt compelled to explain. “He has offered to hire Mr. Alcott for speaking engagements,” she said.
“Father will not agree, of course,” I added.
But young Constable Cobban’s mouth went very tight as he repressed a smile, obviously enjoying the same bizarre vision that I’d had of Father onstage seated between a magician and a contortionist.
Cobban and Sylvia locked eyes and then looked furtively away from each other.
“One other thing,” Cobban said. “We still haven’t found the pipe she used. Searched all over that room. Seems strange, don’t it?”
“Many things about this affair seem strange,” I said. We three walked in companionable silence then, concentrating on keeping our footing on the slick sidewalks and thinking our own thoughts.
The docks were busy that afternoon. There was some ice in the harbor, and the commercial vessels had weighed anchor farther out, so that an entire fleet of smaller boats rowed back and forth, loading and unloading. The sailors and dockworkers rushed to and fro, and the women who gathered in places where the laborers sought amusement had themselves gathered in taprooms and coffee shops for gossip and talk of the town.
I did not like to think of Suzie Dear in such a place as the Sailors’ Arms. She was young. She still had choices ahead of her that could lead to a happier and healthier life.
“She lay low yesterday,” Cobban said. “But she’ll be hungry by now, and feeling less worried about it all. She’ll be outand about and probably wearing some of Mrs. Percy’s jewelry on herself, if I’ve got this right.”
He had it right. We found Suzie in the fourth taproom, sitting at a little table, surrounded by other women at various ages and stages of their lives. Two looked as young and pretty as Suzie, with smooth faces, thick hair, and slender arms. Three were middle-aged and already thickened and wrinkled; a sixth woman was in her fifties, white-haired, slack-jawed, dressed in little more than rags. They could have served as a Currier illustration of the downfall of woman.
Suzie Dear giggled when she looked up and saw us. “Some tea, ladies and gentlemen?” she asked, and then almost fell off her chair, so hard did she laugh. Her hair had come undone and fell over her eyes and shoulders in riotous black curls. Her companions fell into similar bundles of mirth. There were several empty gin bottles on the crumb-strewn table.
“None today, thank you,” I said, though I knew she was laughing at me and all those she deemed respectable, predictable, fussy, and boring. It did hurt my feelings a little, but I remembered the times that I and my sisters had secretly laughed at some very pompous matron or a tut-tutting gentleman.
“Miss Dear,” I said gently, “could we speak in private for a moment?”
Constable Cobban had no such niceties in mind. “Stand up,” he ordered. “Put your coat on.”
Suzie fell into another fit of the giggles and did not stop laughing until Cobban pulled her from her chair. Standing now, she struggled into a much-worn woolen coat with a ragged fur collar, her heavy gold and silver bracelets clatteringand clinking. I recognized those bracelets. Mrs. Percy had worn them.
The collar of Suzie’s coat rolled under, and Cobban reached up to straighten it.
“Here, now!” shrieked one of Suzie’s companions, and the others began to shout and push in protest. For a moment I feared there might be a riot, but the publican, seeing what was up, shouted, “Drinks on the house!” and Suzie’s friends fled her to seize their
At the corner, Mr. Barnum tipped his top hat and went off in the opposite direction. “I will write to your father, if I may,” he promised jovially. “I still await Mr. Alcott’s response.”
Cobban’s silence was so pointed that Sylvia felt compelled to explain. “He has offered to hire Mr. Alcott for speaking engagements,” she said.
“Father will not agree, of course,” I added.
But young Constable Cobban’s mouth went very tight as he repressed a smile, obviously enjoying the same bizarre vision that I’d had of Father onstage seated between a magician and a contortionist.
Cobban and Sylvia locked eyes and then looked furtively away from each other.
“One other thing,” Cobban said. “We still haven’t found the pipe she used. Searched all over that room. Seems strange, don’t it?”
“Many things about this affair seem strange,” I said. We three walked in companionable silence then, concentrating on keeping our footing on the slick sidewalks and thinking our own thoughts.
The docks were busy that afternoon. There was some ice in the harbor, and the commercial vessels had weighed anchor farther out, so that an entire fleet of smaller boats rowed back and forth, loading and unloading. The sailors and dockworkers rushed to and fro, and the women who gathered in places where the laborers sought amusement had themselves gathered in taprooms and coffee shops for gossip and talk of the town.
I did not like to think of Suzie Dear in such a place as the Sailors’ Arms. She was young. She still had choices ahead of her that could lead to a happier and healthier life.
“She lay low yesterday,” Cobban said. “But she’ll be hungry by now, and feeling less worried about it all. She’ll be outand about and probably wearing some of Mrs. Percy’s jewelry on herself, if I’ve got this right.”
He had it right. We found Suzie in the fourth taproom, sitting at a little table, surrounded by other women at various ages and stages of their lives. Two looked as young and pretty as Suzie, with smooth faces, thick hair, and slender arms. Three were middle-aged and already thickened and wrinkled; a sixth woman was in her fifties, white-haired, slack-jawed, dressed in little more than rags. They could have served as a Currier illustration of the downfall of woman.
Suzie Dear giggled when she looked up and saw us. “Some tea, ladies and gentlemen?” she asked, and then almost fell off her chair, so hard did she laugh. Her hair had come undone and fell over her eyes and shoulders in riotous black curls. Her companions fell into similar bundles of mirth. There were several empty gin bottles on the crumb-strewn table.
“None today, thank you,” I said, though I knew she was laughing at me and all those she deemed respectable, predictable, fussy, and boring. It did hurt my feelings a little, but I remembered the times that I and my sisters had secretly laughed at some very pompous matron or a tut-tutting gentleman.
“Miss Dear,” I said gently, “could we speak in private for a moment?”
Constable Cobban had no such niceties in mind. “Stand up,” he ordered. “Put your coat on.”
Suzie fell into another fit of the giggles and did not stop laughing until Cobban pulled her from her chair. Standing now, she struggled into a much-worn woolen coat with a ragged fur collar, her heavy gold and silver bracelets clatteringand clinking. I recognized those bracelets. Mrs. Percy had worn them.
The collar of Suzie’s coat rolled under, and Cobban reached up to straighten it.
“Here, now!” shrieked one of Suzie’s companions, and the others began to shout and push in protest. For a moment I feared there might be a riot, but the publican, seeing what was up, shouted, “Drinks on the house!” and Suzie’s friends fled her to seize their
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