Minna Everleigh stood beside the desk in her study, angrily rereading the front page of the Chicago Times. She glared at the headlines:
CARTER HARRISON WINS MAYORAL RACE
INCUMBENT DEFEATS STEWART 146,208 TO 138,548
SLENDER MARGIN DUE TO
SURPRISE TURNROUND IN FIRST WARD
REFORM CANDIDATE HARRISON
PROMISES IMMEDIATE CLEAN-UP OF CITY VICE
Minna looked up as Aida returned from her telephone call. 'Well?' Minna asked.
'I spoke to Bathhouse, told him you wanted to see him,' said Aida. 'He expected the call. He and Hinky Dink are already on their way.'
Still seething, Minna flung the newspaper on the desk. 'Those double-crossers!'
Aida picked up the paper. She scanned the bold headlines. 'It was close, anyway.'
'Close only counts in bed,' snapped Minna.
Aida continued to scan the front page. 'Minna, listen to this. Prince Henry of Prussia, the brother of the kaiser of Germany…'
'What about him?'
'He's coming to Chicago soon. Minna, he'll attract a lot of people. It could mean more business for us.'
'What business? We'll be out of business. Harrison will see to that.'
'Why don't we find out what Bathhouse and Hinky Dink have to say?' pleaded Aida. 'Here, let me pour you a whisky.'
'Make it a double!'
Fifteen minutes later, as Minna and Aida sat brooding, Edmund the valet knocked, opened the door, and showed John Coughlin and Michael Kenna into the office.
Minna snatched up the paper and waved the front page at Coughlin. 'After taking all of our pay-off money, how do you explain this? Your very own ward turned the tide for Harrison. How did that happen?'
'We passed your money around,' Coughlin said with sincerity. 'Apparently it wasn't enough. Someone else must have come along and outspent us.'
'I don't believe you,' said Minna sharply. 'I'll bet you pocketed it all yourselves.'
'Minna, I swear -' began Coughlin.
'We spent it all,' interjected Kenna. 'Somebody on the mayor's side just came along and bamboozled us.'
'It makes no sense,' persisted Minna. 'The Levee vote was suicidal. Everyone voted against themselves. Everyone is going to be wiped out, and first of all the Everleigh sisters.'
'No, that's not true,' said Coughlin. 'That's what I was coming over here to tell you.'
'What do you mean, not true?' Minna demanded.
'Please sit down, Minna. You too, Aida, and let me explain what really happened.' He waited for the sisters to sit, and then picked up the newspaper. 'It says here you lost, but I can tell you that you really won.'
'That's a slick one, Bathhouse,' said Minna bitterly. 'We lost but we won.'
Coughlin pushed on. 'Just listen to me. Hinky Dink and I were with Mayor Harrison this morning. To congratulate him. I tell the mayor, "You can do whatever you want to do with the other houses in the Levee. But you can't close the Everleigh Club." The mayor rears up at that. "Who says I can't close the Everleigh Club? It's the one whorehouse I mean to close and fast." Then Hinky Dink speaks up and says, "Mayor, we have it on good authority it is not a whorehouse. Sure, it was once. But it isn't one now. The Everleigh Oub is a restaurant, and the girls there are dancers and entertainers." The mayor is furious. He says, "I know it's a whorehouse." So I says to him, "Mayor, you better prove that for certain before you can close it down." That shut him up for now.' Coughlin beamed at Minna. 'So there you are, home free.'
'Who's home free?' Minna demanded. 'If I haven't got our house and our girls, what have I got?'
'An expensive restaurant, with special charges for seeing the girls perform, in whatever way they perform. Maybe a way can be arranged for some of them to perform upstairs if you're careful to screen all visitors.'
'But, in effect, we still don't have a house anymore,' insisted Minna.
'Not exactly. You can earn enough on the restaurant to keep going, and let the girls do floor shows as entertainment.'
'You know our real money comes from upstairs.'
'So you'll lose a little for a short time,' said Coughlin cheerfully. 'Gradually, the heat will be off. The mayor will have other, more pressing matters on his mind. He can claim he reformed you and forget about it. When he does, you can resume business as usual – no more problems. So maybe you think you lost, but Hinky Dink and I say you won, in the long run you won.'
'That's a terrible scheme, but I'll go along with it for a little while, as long as you do your part.'
'Meaning?'
'Meaning that you see to it that none of the Harrison-people get in here. I don't want spies who'll try to prove we're still running a whorehouse.'
'Hinky Dink and I will do our best. You have to do your part too.'
'Like what?'
'You have to get your girls to pledge they won't peep a word of any goings-on upstairs. That means your servants too.'
'Don't worry about the girls and the servants. They don't want the place shut down. They want their jobs.'
Kenna moved up beside Coughlin. 'One thing, Minna. Do you have any outsiders who work here?'
'Outsiders? Just one. Dr Myers from the Loop. He comes here weekly to examine the girls.'
'Can you trust him?' asked Kenna.
'How do I know?'
'Not good enough,' said Coughlin. 'Fire him. We have someone to replace him.' He looked at Kenna, who nodded assent. Coughlin resumed. 'We know of a Dr Herman H. Holmes, who specializes in female complaints and who has offices in Englewood, which isn't that far away. We heard he's the most close-mouthed and trustworthy doctor around. We can tell him what's going on, and I know you can depend on him. We'll send him over Saturday. Mayor Harrison'll never learn a thing. Then you can use the restaurant front, and quietly keep up your business.'
'Sounds reasonable,' said Minna. She glanced over at her sister. 'Aida, let's assume it'll work, and let's have a bottle of champagne on the reformed Everleigh Club.'
When Harold T. Armbruster received the call from Mayor Harrison's secretary, Miss Karen Grant, inviting him to drop by for a moment that afternoon to convey his thanks for the meat-packer's assistance in the election, Armbruster hesitated momentarily. He was a busy man, and normally he would have suggested it would be sufficient for the mayor to thank him on the telephone. But then Armbruster remembered something else he had read in the morning newspaper besides the election results. What he had read was very much on his mind.
He had decided that it might be a wise idea to meet with the mayor in person, after all.
'Yes, fine,' Armbruster had said. 'Tell Mayor Harrison I'll be delighted to come by this afternoon at three o'clock.'
Now, at five minutes after three, Armbruster sat comfortably in a tufted leather chair across from the mayor's roll-top oak desk.
'Congratulations,' Armbruster said again. 'It was a wonderful victory you had yesterday.'
The mayor leaned back in his own high leather swivel chair, plainly pleased with his triumph. 'Thank you for your kind words,' Harrison said, 'and more than that, thank you for your contribution. That probably made the whole thing possible. Let me repeat, Mr Armbruster, if there is ever anything that I can do for you…'
Armbruster interrupted him. 'As a matter of fact, there is something.'
'Ah, good. You need only name it.'
'There was an item that I read in the paper this morning.'
'And what was that?'
'It was about Prince Henry of Prussia, head of the German Navy, the brother to Kaiser Wilhelm. He's coming to the United States to pick up the kaiser's new yacht – and he intends to make one side trip – right here to Chicago, presumably because of our large German population. May I ask you, Mayor Harrison, is this true?'
'Absolutely. I don't have the date, yet, but I believe that Prince Henry will be in our fair city in about three weeks.'
Armbruster leaned forward intently. 'Mayor, the fact is, I would like to meet Prince Henry.'
'I'm sure that can be arranged.'
'I don't mean merely a handshake. I would like to have a relaxed talk with him. Will he be very busy?'
The mayor thought about it. 'Well, Prince Henry's visit is still in the planning stage. We hope to have him place a wreath on the Abraham Lincoln Monument. Then we plan to escort him on a quick visit through the city. About this talk you want with Prince Henry – is it important?'
'To me it is, yes, very important,' Armbruster said urgently. 'I want to request that the prince assist me in becoming
ambassador to Germany.' Armbruster checked himself briefly. 'Let me confide in you, Mayor Harrison. I have at this stage in my life almost everything a man could wish. A prosperous business. A beautiful mansion for a home. A devoted family and good friends. I have as much wealth as I could ever want. I have everything that Armour, Swift, Marshall Field, and my peers have, except one thing – social status. My peers have it. I don't. For the benefit of my wife, my children, myself, I would like to have social status too. Becoming ambassador to Germany would give me exactly that.'
Mayor Harrison was confused. 'But aren't ambassadors appointed by – well, wouldn't that come from our secretary of state or President Roosevelt?'
'Of course, Mayor. But they could be influenced. If I had an opportunity to ingratiate myself with Prince Henry, he could pass my name on to the kaiser, and the kaiser in turn could suggest to President Roosevelt that he would like me appointed ambassador. I'm sure that would do it. I may not have diplomatic background, but I am German and speak German perfectly. I'd be a logical choice.'
'I'm sure you would be,' said Harrison. 'The problem is arranging time for you to speak privately with Prince Henry. He's going to have a tight schedule.'
'What are you planning for his evening here?'
'Why, a formal banquet, of course. I haven't worked it out yet, but -'
'That's it!' Armbruster exclaimed. 'Let me host the banquet with you. By happy coincidence, I'm preparing a big banquet of my own. My son Alan is engaged to a lovely Southern belle from Kentucky – Cathleen Lester, the niece of two socialites in Chicago. They will be married at my home about the time of Prince Henry's arrival. I should like to have Prince Henry attend the wedding and the banquet and ball to follow. At such a sentimental event he should be most responsive. I can draw him aside and bring up the ambassadorship. How does that strike you, Mayor?'
Mayor Harrison stood up, smiling broadly. 'I like it very much. It takes a great burden off my shoulders. I'm sure it can all be arranged, subject only to Prince Henry's approval. How's that?'
'Capital! Splendid!'
Shortly after lunch, Mayor Harrison summoned his immediate staff to a crucial meeting in his office.
Harrison lay back in the tall chair behind his desk, faced by a semi-circle of aides. The only woman in the room was the attractive young secretary, Karen Grant, whom he had hired several months before the election.
'It's about my major campaign promise,' Harrison began. 'I made many secondary promises to the public, and they will eventually be fulfilled. But my primary promise to the electorate, as you all know, was to introduce sweeping moral reforms in this city. All houses of ill repute in the Levee must be eliminated. Of these houses I focused on one in particular. I refer to the Everleigh Club. I am determined that the Everleigh Club must be my first target. The Everleigh Club is the one brothel known throughout the United States and Europe. I want to go after it immediately, shut it down, and prove to the voters that I meant what I said in my campaign. There is one problem.'
Harrison halted, opened his humidor, and extracted a cigar. He clipped one end, put the cigar in his mouth, and waited as one of his aides jumped forward to light it.
'Thank you, Evans,' the mayor said. He addressed the entire group once more. 'I have been informed that the Everleigh Club had been a full-fledged brothel, yet now the Everleigh sisters claim it is no longer a brothel. This information was conveyed to me early this morning. Miss Grant was in this office with me when the two aldermen from the First Ward so informed me.' Harrison turned to his secretary. 'Miss Grant, you have your notes at hand?'
'I do, Mayor.'
Karen Grant placed her note pad on the edge of the desk, picked a folder off the floor, and pulled out a sheet of paper.
'Read aloud what transpired,' Harrison instructed her.
Karen bent her head over the paper. 'Mayor Harrison met with Alderman John Coughlin and Alderman Michael Kenna, who stated that while they were supporters of the mayor, they were also long-time friends of Minna and Aida Ever-leigh. "We must tell you, Mayor," Alderman Coughlin said, "that the Everleigh Club has mended its ways. It has given up prostitution. This was a direct result of your reform campaign. The Club has converted itself into a fancy restaurant -nothing else." The mayor said, "I happen to know there are thirty women in the Club. What are they doing there?" Alderman Coughlin replied, "They are not prostitutes. They may have been at one time, but they are not prostitutes today. They are simply performers, dancers, singers, actresses, putting on a nightly floor show for restaurant diners." Alderman Coughlin stated that the Everleighs reap their profits from their expensive restaurant, with its floor show and two orchestras. "Since it is a legitimate restaurant, there would be no cause to shut it down," Coughlin said. "Alderman Kenna and I advise you to abandon the effort." The mayor thanked his aldermen and dismissed them.'
Harrison puffed on his cigar, then turned his attention to his aides.
'Gentlemen,' Harrison resumed, 'I have thought about this information and I believe it to be false. I do not believe the Everleigh Club is merely a restaurant. I believe it continues to be a house of prostitution – the biggest, the richest, the most important one in our city – and I have every intention of proving that I am right and of shutting the brothel down. The one problem I am faced with is obtaining proof. How do I prove the Everleigh Club remains a house of ill repute? I must have real proof before I can lock its doors for ever and show the voting public that Mayor Carter H. Harrison keeps his campaign promises. That is why I have assembled all of you here – to solicit your suggestions about how I can obtain the necessary proof.'
Mayor Harrison's eyes moved around the room.
'Any suggestions, gentlemen?'
Jim Evans held up his hand. 'Why not question the girls? Even offer them a little something? Surely one of them might talk.'
Harrison shook his head. 'Useless. None of them will speak against the Everleighs. They're paid five or ten times what other prostitutes get. They won't risk losing their income.'
'What about the servants?' asked Jim Evans.
Again, the mayor shook his head. 'They're well paid also.'
'Why don't we question some of the regular customers?' someone wondered aloud.
'Negative,' Harrison replied. 'A sure strike-out. Customers enjoy the Everleigh Club. They want it to remain open. Even if one wanted to talk, he couldn't afford to be a witness in front of the police. He'd be worried about his wife or sweetheart or family finding out he frequented a brothel. No chance. Forget it.'
'Why not try to locate ex-Everleigh girls and get one of them to talk?' said aide Gus Varney.
'No good,' countered Harrison. 'Even if we could find them, they'd only be able to talk about the past, not about what is going on there today.' Harrison was briefly thoughtful. 'Something else just occurred to me. A better idea, if it can be made to work.'
'What's that?' inquired Gus Varney.
'The old Trojan horse trick.'
Varney appeared puzzled. 'Trojan horse trick?'
'Filtering someone from our side into the Everleigh Club. Letting that person find out first-hand that the Everleigh girls are still taking men to bed for pay. That would be solid proof.'
'It would be, indeed,' agreed Evans. 'But how could you get such a person in without arousing suspicion? I imagine the Everleighs will be doubly cautious about customers right now.'
Harrison nodded. 'They've always been cautious. They've admitted only persons well known to them, or customers who were recommended by trusted friends or who could prove their social standing and respectability.'
'How does a man make himself obviously respectable?' asked Jim Evans.
'Many ways. It could be his manner of dress, a refined voice, even something as simple as a fancy business card.' Harrison put down his cold cigar. 'Definitely a business card,' he said with certainty. 'Simply print an embossed card with a name on it, the name of a real factory in – in, say St Louis. Who could tell it was fake? I'd say the Everleighs would believe it immediately.'
Several aides voiced their approval.
'One of you, properly attired for the evening, could present this card for admittance. First, you'd ask for a girl, and the two of you could have a real costly dinner to prove you're a sport. Then the two of you could go upstairs and have your fun. After that, you could be a witness before Chief of Police O'Neill.'
'Wouldn't that be entrapment?' someone called out.
'I think our friendly courts might shut their eyes to that. Of course, it would be better, once finished, to tell the girl what you're doing. Since she'll be out of a job anyway, you could suggest she come along as a witness to back you up -in return for a sizeable bribe. That would be perfect.'
'Who's the lucky man?' Gus Varney wanted to know. 'Who gets the call?'
'Well, let me think a moment -'
Harrison examined each of his aides carefully, trying to imagine which one might be able to carry out the infiltration best. Most of them had been on his staff too long a time and might be recognized by another customer at the Everleigh Club. At last, his gaze fixed on Gus Varney.
'You,' said Harrison. 'You're the lucky one, Gus. Not because you're so beautiful and sexy.' Varney was, in fact, a beanpole and almost chinless. 'You've been on my staff the shortest time. You're from Detroit and haven't been around Chicago very long. Not that many people are familiar with you. You're the least likely to be recognized. Yes, I should say you'd be about right. You want the job?'
Varney grinned. 'If you're willing to pay for the evening, I'd love to have dinner and drinks, and a tumble in the hay with a beautiful girl.'
'Then you've got the job,' said Harrison. 'Get yourself dressed neater than you are now, get that business card printed, and find out from Coughlin and Kenna how things are managed in the Everleigh Club. Let me work out the amount we can spare for a bribe, presuming anyone can be bribed. Are you sure you can do what you have to do in bed?'
'Haven't failed yet,' said Varney.
After worrying for twenty-four hours about bringing the matter out into the open, Minna Everleigh finally decided that she had no choice. She sent Edmund around the Club to inform his fellow servants, the musicians, and all the girls that Minna wanted to meet with them at three o'clock in the afternoon.
Minna was in the Turkish Room, rearranging the pillows and divans and shutting off the gushing water fountain in the centre of the room, when the girls and servants began to appear.
The coloured servants arrived first, most coming from their comfortable quarters in the basement. Next, the five members of the Everleigh Club orchestra arrived. Standing at the perimeters of the Turkish Room, they watched as the girls filed in, a few fully dressed, most still in peignoirs, a dazzling array of youthful brunettes, blondes, redheads. As they came in to take their places, Minna stood at the head of the room and greeted each by name. 'Hello Virginia… Avis… Margo… Fanny… Belle… Phyllis… Cindy,' and so on until she had welcomed them all.
When the entire group was settled, and with all curious eyes on her, Minna began speaking in her deep voice.
'Aida is tending the front door, so I'm handling this gathering alone,' Minna began. 'It is of great importance, this meeting, and I thought I had better let you in on our problem as soon as possible.'
Minna scanned the still-puzzled faces before her and then she resumed.
'As you all know from yesterday's papers, Mayor Carter Harrison is our sworn enemy. I need hardly remind you that he won re-election on a reform platform. He had pledged to clean up the Levee, and his first priority was and is the Ever-leigh Club. Can the mayor shut us down? The answer is a definite yes, if he can prove that our Club is a house of prostitution. You and I know that is absurd…'
There was a ripple of laughter in the Turkish Room.
'… and so I am glad we all know what this is,' continued Minna, also laughing. 'From now on, the Everleigh Club is a very fine, exclusive restaurant and all of you – I address the girls now – are floor show entertainment. That fact has been conveyed to the mayor by two of our friends, Aldermen Coughlin and Kenna. Now the mayor must try to prove that we are more than a restaurant. He will need actual witnesses if he hopes to shut us down. We must make sure that no investigation will reveal that we are anything but the soul of purity and innocence.'
Phyllis, a tall blonde, came to her feet. 'Minna, what happens to our earnings if we can't have men upstairs?'
Minna chuckled. 'Who says you can't have men upstairs? I just say no one must ever know about it.'
Finding her package of Sweet Caporals, Minna shook a cigarette free and lit it.
'There will be business as usual,' Minna went on, 'but maybe not quite as usual. While we can trust our regular customers, we will have to be entirely wary of strangers. Unless they come in with bona fide referrals, or with suitable identification, we will have to turn them away. This may lead to a slight cut in your income, but you will still be doing well enough, certainly better than any other females in the Levee. Aida and I can screen the customers. You can leave that to us. What we cannot screen is your own behaviour away from the Club when you go strolling in the afternoon or when you have your day off to shop, attend the theatre, or whatever. If any one of you even hints that the Everleigh Club is continuing as a brothel, and a witness to your words goes to Harrison or to the police, then we are lost. If loose talk gets us shut down, then we will be forced to close. That will mean all of you will be out of work. You'll be struggling to get any kind of low-paying and degrading job in some shack in the Levee.'
Avis, a small, curvaceous brunette, rose to her feet. 'Minna, how long do we have to live under these conditions? I mean, worrying about everyone who comes in here and being quiet with everyone on the outside. How long?'
'Not long,' said Minna. 'Just long enough to let the mayor be satisfied that his reform effort has worked, and that he has satisfied voters he has kept his campaign promise. By then he will relax, and devote himself to larger matters. It won't be long.'
'But how long?' Avis persisted.
'Let's say maybe two weeks,' Minna said. 'Think you can stand that?'
There was a chorus of assents.
Minna was pleased.
'All right,' she said, 'our policy of caution goes into effect immediately – today – tonight. Tomorrow I intend to hire a new doctor, who will be instructed to observe the same cautions. If all of you do as you're told, we have not a thing to worry about. We can go forward and continue to live the good life.'
After deciding to get rid of her horse and carriage, Minna Everleigh had gone shopping for the ever more popular horseless carriages or automobiles. She had liked the Peerless, but had found it too expensive at $4,000. Finally she had narrowed her choice down to either the Haynes-Apperson, the Columbia Electric car, or the Model A Ford. The Haynes-Apperson was also a trifle expensive. She had been drawn to the silent, ladylike Columbia coupe, with its curved plate-glass windows, silk curtains, broadcloth upholstery, and vanity compartments, but decided against it because it could drive only five miles before requiring a battery recharge. She had settled on the Model A Ford as the most practical vehicle. Despite the fact that it was a slow car, with a speed of not quite ten miles an hour, and therefore needing no windshield, horn, or lights, Minna had bought one of the 200 produced in 1903. It had cost her $900, and she adored it. Although Minna had never driven it herself, she allowed Edmund to chauffeur her wherever she went.
Now, this morning in the front seat to the right of the begoggled Edmund, with the tonneau seat in the rear unoccupied, she was enjoying the drive to Englewood for her interview with Dr Herman H. Holmes. She was enjoying, also, the attention her Ford attracted, with its red body striped in gold, its vase of flowers near the steering wheel, and gleaming black fenders.
Consulting the address in her hand, Minna watched the house numbers glide past, then tugged at Edmund's sleeve. 'There it is,' she called out, 'on the south-west corner of Wallace and Sixty-third streets. See it? The three-storey brick building with those battlements and towers on top? No wonder Bathhouse told me it was named the Castle. Pull up in front of it, Edmund, and park. I won't be long.'
After descending from her Ford, Minna walked around it to the front door of the peculiar building and used the doorbell. Moments later the door opened, and Minna found herself confronted by a surprisingly attractive middle-aged man in dapper suit and vest.
'I'm Minna Everleigh,' she announced. 'I have an appointment with Dr Herman Holmes.'
'I am Dr Holmes,' he said, stepping back to admit her.
He was a rather small man, she saw, perhaps five feet eight and 150 pounds. He was strikingly handsome, with a high forehead, hypnotic blue eyes, and bushy moustache upturned at the ends. When he spoke, his voice was soothing, melodious. Everything about him was gracious and charming.
'Do come in and make yourself comfortable, Miss Everleigh,' he added, gesturing her past the two fluted columns inside the front door. As she came into the foyer, he went on, 'If my little residence seems excessive – there are, indeed, ninety rooms, about thirty on each floor – do not be put off. I built it myself, as a hotel for the Columbian Exposition. When the fair was over, I decided to stay on and to return to medical practice. I won't exhaust you by showing you around. Why don't you come with me to my office, where we can be cosy and have our little talk.'
Walking to his office, Minna was bewildered by several staircases seeming to lead nowhere.
'I never quite got to finish them,' Dr Holmes explained. 'Now, into my office.'
Except for an oak table desk with eight drawers, a white-sheeted examination table nearby, an elaborate fireplace holding a heavy yellow vase shaped like Venus de Milo and filled with dried flowers backed by a high mirror above it and blue drapes on either side, and a square table piled with medical books and folders, the room was relatively austere. There were two wooden side chairs in front of his desk. Dr Holmes drew one chair closer to the desk, indicated that Minna should sit there, and settled into the other chair.
'Alderman Coughlin telephoned and told me to expect you,' Dr Holmes said. 'Do you know him?'
'Not really. He called, introduced himself – of course, I'd heard of him – said he'd heard I was a reputable physician with a special interest in female problems, and that you were dismissing one doctor and seeking another.'
'Did he inform you why I am seeking a doctor?'
Dr Holmes smiled winningly. 'The alderman reminded me – although it wasn't really necessary – that you and your sister own the most elegant brothel in America.'
'Yes, the Everleigh Club on Dearborn. We have thirty very beautiful, high-class girls on the premises. I need a doctor for them. Does the idea of working as a doctor for a brothel offend you?'
'Offend me?' said Dr Holmes. 'I'd be privileged. Attending to the concerns of thirty young women would be a delight and a challenge.'
'Well,' said Minna, 'do you know anything about my present situation?'
'Not much, really. Only that you require a physician who is discreet.'
'Someone who won't talk about what is going on in the Club.'
'It is a basic rule in my profession to keep patients' histories private.'
'There is more to it than that,' said Minna. 'Mayor Harrison won re-election on a reform platform. His major pledge was to shut down the Everleigh Club. He has been advised it is no longer a brothel, but merely a restaurant featuring a floor show.' She paused. 'The truth is, Dr Holmes, it will continue to be a brothel, as long as the mayor has no evidence of it. Henceforth, we will screen customers, and my servants and girls have promised not to discuss their activities. The only hole to be filled is to find a doctor who could be equally discreet.'
Dr Holmes offered his winning smile once more. 'Miss Everleigh, rest assured that in me you have found such a doctor.'
'Well, that's the main thing.'
'You'll find I never discuss women I'm involved with.'
Minna nodded. 'Good. Your duties would be to come to the Club two days a week, mornings and afternoons – the girls are otherwise occupied evenings – to examine the girls and report to me if anything is amiss.'
'You mean if any one of them has a venereal disease?'
'That is my sole concern,' said Minna. 'These girls of mine are the best and most expensive, and they must be clean.'
'I presume, Miss Everleigh, your real concern is syphilis.'
'Exactly. Are you familiar with the latest treatment of syphilis?'
'It is one of my specialities, of course,' said Dr Holmes.
'I am familiar with the symptoms,' said Minna, 'but I am not a medical person. I don't know how one examines for this and the latest methods of cure. Can you enlighten me?'
Dr Holmes seemed at ease and perfectly frank as he answered her. 'The big problem in examining your average female who may be afflicted is a prevailing sense of false modesty. This infectious disease is usually the result of so-called impure sexual intercourse. The male's poison enters a female's minute wound or lesion. Syphilis is rarely fatal, but the effect on a female is extremely debilitating. She suffers from the disease and she passes it on to other partners. Faced with false modesty, I often find it impossible to examine a patient's genitalia. It must be more possible to touch the inflamed area to locate syphilitic chancres, but this female delicacy makes real effectiveness all too difficult.'
'But you wouldn't have the same problem of modest resistance in examining a prostitute, would you?'
'No, I wouldn't. That would make it much easier for the patient and myself. I merely look into the vagina with a speculum. If I find a chancre, I will prescribe the standard medication – mercury, in pill or ointment form. It will not be difficult for me.'
Minna stood up. 'Dr Holmes, you sound capable and I feel you can be trusted. You have the job, if you want it.' Dr Holmes came to his feet. 'It would be an honour and my pleasure to serve you and your ladies. Definitely a great opportunity.'
'There's still the matter of your fee. If you will come to the Everleigh Club at eleven tomorrow morning, you can meet my sister Aida, and she will work out a satisfactory arrangement. Then I'll take you around and introduce you to our girls. Is this agreeable?'
'Most agreeable, Miss Everleigh.'
Minna allowed Dr Holmes to see her to the door, then walked to her Model A Ford, where Edmund was waiting to assist her into the seat.
As they drove away from Dr Holmes's Castle, Minna felt pleased. Dr Holmes was a professional, a gentleman, and her instinct told her he would be trustworthy in protecting the Club against Mayor Harrison's incursions.
As the Ford continued away from the doctor's Castle, Minna glanced back at it. The third storey could still be seen from a half-mile's distance. The chimney was visible also, and it was odd that the chimney was emitting smoke.
Crazy, Minna thought, to be using a furnace in the spring. Still, admittedly, there was a chill in the air, and whatever he was doing to warm himself, Dr Holmes certainly knew what was best for his own health as well as theirs.
The minute Dr Herman Holmes was certain that Minna Everleigh had departed the area, he hurried to his office, reached under a drape beside the fireplace, and pressed up a lever on a concealed panel to release pent-up gas.
After a while, he strode into the hallway to a metal wall with a wood grain finish over it, reached behind a thick-leafed rubber plant, pressed a button, and watched the door slide open to his secret soundproof chamber in the rear. He went inside the dimly illuminated, gloomy room, sniffed to be sure the gas had cleared, and found his sixth wife, Georgianne, still sprawled on the floor where he had left her.
He had decided at noon, after he had learned Minna Everleigh was coming to interview him, that once he had the job, Georgianne would no longer be useful to him. She would be in the way when Minna appeared, and create too many problems when he had access to the Everleigh Club and its fantastic girls. As Georgianne had bent her thick head of hair over her lunch, Holmes had come up behind her and whacked her on the back of the head with a crowbar. He had caught her before she slumped to the floor, dragged her into his gas chamber, stripped off her clothes, then sealed the windowless chamber lined with sheet iron. From his office he had turned on the gas.
Minna had arrived punctually and – as expected – he'd earned the job at the Everleigh Club. Getting the job thrilled him. It would be a feast. He would have all those flawless young women to choose and pick among – some for love, some for money – and when necessary, he would dispose of them too.
Now, staring down at Georgianne's corpse, Holmes suffered no remorse. She had served her purpose, given him her money and many nights of acrobatic love-making. Alive, she would have been in the way. Georgianne was just another corpse. There had been so many before her, a few men, mainly women, whom he had bilked of their savings or used for the pleasures of his body. One human being more or less meant nothing to Holmes. There was pleasure in taking advantage of stupid human beings, using them, and getting rid of them when they became burdensome. He had read in a medical book that all serial killers were insane. Holmes felt positive that he was totally sane. He simply derived happiness from what he did. It was, perhaps, a strange but wonderful kind of lust.
Without wasting any more time, he lifted Georgianne's limp corpse off the floor, carried her across his shoulder to the first trap door, pulled the door open with his free hand, and dropped her down a greased chute to the basement.
Closing that trap door, he tugged at a second trap door which opened to a narrow stairway that also led down to the basement.
Once in the seven-foot high basement, Holmes worked efficiently. He carried Georgianne to a fourteen-foot cedar tank lined with zinc and filled with quicklime. He dropped her body into the quicklime, which rapidly began to dissolve her flesh.
After a short time he emptied the tank, drew on his rubber gloves, removed what was left of Georgianne and settled her remains on his surgeon's table. He found his scalpel, lancet, other knives. He was proud of his skills with a scalpel, which he had first learned in his youth at the Medical School of the University of Michigan. Expertly, he began to dissect Geor-gianne's remains. There was a little blood, not much, and when his wife lay in seven parts on the table, Holmes went to his large kiln, revived the fire, methodically took the seven parts of Georgianne and threw them on the flames. In half an hour, there would be no more of Georgianne except the smoke coming out of his chimney and a few charred bones among the ashes.
After that, Holmes washed his hands, then climbed back up to his asphyxiation chamber to put everything there in order.
With everything neat and in place, Holmes left his secret chamber, closed it, and returned to the office.
He surveyed his office, his expression as innocent as when the crafty yet gullible Minna Everleigh had sat there to question him.
He settled down behind his desk and enjoyed a pipeful of Dutch tobacco. He was now a free man once more, free to enjoy and profit from the Everleigh Club's harem of pleasures.