The Dame Did It Page 9

  “Hey, miss. This here’s a crime scene. You can’t stay here.”

  “But I know Mrs. Gorton. I stopped by to see her.”

  “Mrs. Gorton is not in a position to speak to anyone right now,” he responded.

  “Who is looking for me?” Cora Gorton interrupted. “I swore I heard my name.”

  Hazel saw Cora Gorton right as she remembered her. Self-centered, brash, and bold all summed up the wife of Hazel’s stage manager. The two women were pretty close to the same age. Hazel never quite understood why Franklin put up with Cora, except perhaps for the money. Cora’s family oozed wealth even in the leaner times, which made it possible for them to adopt Cora as a baby and raise her to be their little heiress. They’d even made sure to milk a ton of publicity out of it by showing how they’d given a poor unwanted little girl a new lease on life. Never mind she threw it away by eloping with a man who booked stage acts for a living, but fortunately for her Cora’s adoptive parents would rather endure the shame of a lower class husband than the shame of publicly cutting off their little public relations piece.

  “Hello Cora,” Hazel said. “I came looking to see if Franklin might be around. Or is he out venue scouting?”

  Cora burst into tears. “My Franklin is dead! Someone came and shot him cold!” Then, with the cops still present, Cora’s sadness turned to anger and she pointed directly at Hazel. “This broad was one of the last to see my Franklin alive! He was at her club performance last night and they came home in a cab. You should see what she knows!”

  One of the policemen pulled Hazel aside. “Is that true, miss?”

  Hazel nodded. “My name is Hazel Atwood. I am, well I guess I was, one of Franklin Gorton’s acts that he managed.”

  “Can you give us some of your time?”

  Hazel answered all the questions the police had for her, and then an officer drove her back to her Aunt’s home, letting her know there might be follow up contact for any further questions.

  Hazel worked on chores at home, tidying up the house when the bell rang. She went to the door and discovered the man who wanted an encore at the Swan Song stood at the front door.

  “Quick, let me in,” he requested.

  “I’m sorry, but my Aunt’s not home yet. Can I help you?”

  “I’m not looking for her really. I am actually seeking her niece, Hazel Atwood. Which I know is you, I heard you singing at the Swan Song.”

  “I can’t let you in. I don’t know you.”

  “Ah, but you do know me from the club. I called for the encore at the club to try and get your attention. This is highly urgent. It concerns the death of your father.”

  Hazel knew Luella would be very upset if she just let a stranger in. Yet this man seemed bound and determined to see her since last night and would only do so with privacy.

  “All right then, quickly, come inside.”

  The man entered and Hazel shut the door.

  “Hurry, before people talk about me letting in strange men when home alone.”

  “All right then, I’ll be quick. I used to be one of your father’s clients back when I owned a speakeasy, in times when getting drink was hard. I was the person who hired your father to find out why I no longer seemed to be getting the booze I’d been paying handsomely to have smuggled to my establishment in 1931. Because of what happened to your father, I sobered up—pardon the expression—and got out of the business.”

  “Then why are you here now?” Hazel asked, puzzled.

  “Because I’m hearing rumors that the people who were behind the booze running are trying to come back into town in a big way, to try and run other illicit schemes. I don’t want to see you or your Aunt made out to be targets because of your connections to your father. So I wanted to warn you.”

  “So you just expect us to run while you get your revenge?”

  The man shook his head in the negative. “No, I’m just passing through to let you know. I need to try and stay one step ahead of them before they find me. I owe your father a great deal for trying to help, so I think it would be wrong of me not to try to warn his family.” The man grabbed the door and opened it. “I must go now, I need to be on the move. Stay safe, Hazel Atwood.”

  Before Hazel could ask more, the man disappeared.

  That night, Hazel tried explaining what happened to Aunt Luella.

  “The visitor that came, what did he tell you?”

  “He said that these people are the ones who saw to it that my father was killed, and that they’re working their way back on coming in to town. Even though booze running won’t make them much, they’re looking into other ways to be profitable in the city.”

  Hazel saw the color drain from her Aunt’s face, and then Aunt Luella rushed to her bedroom. Hazel followed.

  “Aunt Luella? Are you all right?”

  Luella pulled out a suitcase and flung it open on her bed.

  “We have to pack everything we can. We have to get out now!”

  “What? Aunt Luella, I don’t understand!”

  Luella began opening drawers and flinging contents into the suitcase. “Hurry, child!”

  Hazel grabbed Luella’s wrist. “Aunt Luella, don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little? If we run away immediately, everyone will know something is up. Besides, who will run the store? We’ve got to be cautious but think this through.”

  Luella eased off and calmed down. “I guess you’re right. But please, be careful. If your visitor was correct, those were powerful people that took down your father. That’s why no one ever brought them to justice. But do know we will be leaving as soon as I can figure out what to do with the store. Surely these people won’t be back tomorrow. But we can’t risk staying.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Luella,” Hazel said, and then she hugged her Aunt. She hoped this strategy bought enough time to figure out the truth.

  That night, Hazel slept anything but soundly. Her mind filled with fitful dreams, all of them including the mysterious man that she first encountered at the Swan Song. Her dreams played out various scenarios as to whom he might be. Perhaps the man would be a long lost relative, or an old friend of her father’s. Hazel didn’t know and wished she had more information as right now she risked her very life on the words of a stranger.

  The next day, Hazel stayed home until Luella left. Then she decided to go back to the Gorton brownstone one more time to see if she might learn anything else. As she approached the door, Hazel could hear that Cora already had a visitor, though she didn’t recognize the male voice.

  “I know it is hard with your husband being gone,” the clearly older male said. “But it will get better soon, Cora. I promise you that.”

  “What makes you so sure, Bertram?” Cora’s scared voice replied.

  “Come tomorrow night to the old clothing factory I just purchased. Let me show you all the great things I have planned that you can be a part of, and that you were always meant to be a part of. Without your husband, you’re free to be who you were really meant to be, my sweet Cora.”

  Hazel listened as the man gave details and an address. As it sounded like he planned to leave soon, she darted away and hid behind some nearby trees in order to see the man exit. The man appeared to be well-dressed, confident, and seasoned—perhaps a few years older than Hazel’s own father would be if he still lived. She then recognized that a stylish model car parked on the street contained a driver that specifically waited for Cora’s caller, as its driver got out and then opened the door for the man. Then the driver got back in the car and it drove away. That Cora associated with others of money should be no surprise given her background, but what remained so important about this specific older man wasn’t clear. Based on what Hazel knew from the press clippings, the man would not fit the description of Cora’s adoptive father.

  Hazel got a cab and returned home to find the mysterious man from the Swan Song waiting on her doorstep.

  “I thought you were leaving,” Hazel told him.

  �
�I know, I thought so too. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “Me neither. I don’t even know your name. I’ve got so many questions to ask you.”

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” he told her, dodging her question for the moment. “I heard about your manager friend dying. I never thought others would get hurt by this. I’m so sorry. But you need to know it’s the same people. You’re not safe.”

  “I’m going to find whoever it is,” Hazel said. “I’m going to find who killed my father and my manager. I don’t want to lose anyone else I care about.”

  “It’s not worth the risk.”

  “Yes it is!” she insisted. “Who else will get hurt if I don’t do something?”

  “You are very brave. In that case, I can only give you one more clue before I go,” he said. “Ask Luella about her crime of passion.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hazel pointed out.

  “And that is why you need to ask around,” he insisted. “I have really risked staying around too long, and you are the temptress that brought me around to doing so. Now I must be going. When your father’s killer is gone I promise to return. Goodbye.”

  He turned and left. Just then, Hazel Atwood realized that she still didn’t know the man’s name. She called after him to stop, but he just kept on going. This left her little to do but follow the man’s advice. However, Luella still wasn’t home yet so she decided to go to sleep. She still dreamt of the man as her subconscious turned over the latest words.

  Dawn came, and Hazel bolted up in bed. She still had the stranger’s last words echoing in her head. So quietly, Hazel dressed and went downstairs, where she found Aunt Luella reading the newspaper.

  “Did you have a good night?” her Aunt asked.

  “I guess so,” Hazel said with a shrug. “Tell me something. Has there ever been someone special in your life? Or some exciting crime of passion? No one I’ve talked to ever thinks so, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

  “That’s admittedly a bit out of the blue, Hazel.”

  “Well, I just wondered. Well I’ve wondered before but only just now got around to really asking about it.”

  “There was,” Aunt Luella replied. “But no one noticed because we kept it rather secret. The family had its reasons. Not everything goes as you expect.”

  “What was his name, Aunt Luella?”

  “His name,” Hazel’s Aunt explained, “was Bertram. I’ve long forgotten the last name.”

  “Still, kind of unusual sounding,” Hazel replied. “I can see why you’d remember the first name at least.”

  Hazel also found it interesting that the man Cora talked to would also possess the same first name. That was the name she thought she heard Cora say while listening in, at least.

  Her Aunt nodded. “Indeed, just as unusual as the man attached to it. Bertram proved charming, attractive, and all of those sorts of things that make people take notice. I definitely would be no exception to his allure.”

  Hazel tried to imagine her Aunt Luella being in love with anyone. Yet, everything pointed to this Bertram wounding her Aunt so deeply that no further relationships ever blossomed and she buried herself in her work. Also, Hazel knew she needed to focus and see if there were any ties between this part of her Aunt’s life and her own father’s untimely end—suspicions needed to evolve into fact or fall away as fiction. She continued on with her line of questioning.

  “How did you meet Bertram?”

  Hazel’s Aunt leaned back and sighed as she drifted off into memory.

  “Through my father’s clothing business, long before I ran the shop. As you know, your grandfather owned a successful men’s suit store for years. Not only did he procure locally, he also knew how to bring in high end fashions from both the United States and Europe. So when Bertram came to town, he felt that a man of his style should only be outfitted with the best. Naturally, referrals brought him to my father’s doorstep.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain how you met.”

  “Patience,” said her Aunt. “I am getting to that part. Sometimes I would work in the store, helping my father, especially once my older sister—your mother—started courting the man she would eventually marry.”

  “Mother worked in the store too? I never knew that.”

  “Yes she did. With her out, I was working the first time Bertram visited the store. I found myself smitten at first sight.”

  Hazel noticed that her Aunt did not use the word love when describing her feelings towards Bertram back then.

  “By the time Bertram left my life he took everything. Bertram took away my ability to love. He also took away my innocence, in all ways.”

  “I’m trying my best to follow,” Hazel said after giving it some thought.

  “Well, after a few months your grandparents needed to hide me away, before I bore Bertram’s child into the world.”

  It never occurred to Hazel that her Aunt Luella being alone all those years would root in a broken heart and family shame.

  “This child would be my cousin,” Hazel said. “What happened?” Hazel immediately covered her mouth in embarrassment, and then slowly removed her hand. “I am so sorry. I had absolutely no right to ask.”

  “The question is a natural one. Honestly I do not completely know the answer. My parents sent me to live at a home for unwed mothers until my daughter was born. I never saw her again. Then I returned to my father’s shop and worked there until he died, eventually inheriting it myself.”

  Hazel got up out of her seat. “Thank you, Aunt Luella. I understand so much more now. But I know you need to get going.”

  “Indeed I do. There’s a full day ahead at the shop.”

  After Luella left, Hazel got down to business figuring out what she would need to do in order to acquire clothing that would either be decidedly male in appearance, or unisex enough such as shoes to not stand out. She knew that only so much could be done if she continued to walk around clearly looking like Hazel or even as a woman. So she did the only thing that made logical sense to obtain men’s clothing, which would be to stop by her Aunt Luella’s store. She would hate lying to Aunt Luella, but she didn’t see any other way.

  “Why hello dear,” Luella perked up as Hazel entered the store. “It’s such a rare occasion you stop by. Is everything all right?”

  “Actually, a local theatre company stopped by seeing if the store could make any donations.”

  “To the house?” Aunt Luella asked suspiciously.

  “I think they were asking the whole neighborhood for any old or outgrown clothes. I didn’t have any at home of course, but said I’d promised to check the store. Are there any slightly imperfect items we might have in the back?”

  “There’s some I’ve got, feel free to take a look. I usually put those out for sale a few times a year, so don’t take anything you think might sell. But even a medium design flaw may not stand out on stage.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Luella,” Hazel said, and then proceeded to check around the store for what might be usable for her own personal theatre company of masquerading as a man.

  After a while she collected a small bag of clothing and came back out front. “I found a few things that might work. Don’t worry, I saved the best to still be sold.”

  Aunt Luella waved in appreciation. “Thank you dear. It’s always good to be nice to the community. But now to get back to my customers!”

  Back at her Aunt’s house, Hazel started to sort things out and get ready for the evening to come so she could make her move. After dark, keeping her gaze focused on the dusty and chipped mirror, Hazel took her Aunt Luella’s sewing scissors and began hacking away at the beautiful hair her father loved so much. Tonight, however, she could not afford to be detected, or let the slightest thing give her away. This would be her one and only chance to set things right.

  Soon the long flowing hair disappeared, replaced with a choppy cropped short hairstyle. Placing her father’s hat on he
r head, she saw it did a fairly good job of hiding what hair remained. After doing some final small cuts to even it out, using the hat as a guide, Hazel began to dress in the clothes she’d managed to get her hands on earlier in the day. They wore baggy but not so loose that they fell off in any way—just enough to hide her true form.

  Lastly, she carefully picked up one of her father’s old trench coats and put it on over her shoulders. Glancing back into the mirror, Hazel saw a completely different person staring back. This new person exuded confidence and mystery where Hazel Atwood seemed fragile and garnered pity for her existence.

  Hazel’s next challenge would come leaving the home unnoticed by the neighbors. Fortunately Aunt Luella slept heavy, but still Hazel could not afford to see neighbors notice her coming out the front door. Slowly and carefully she opened her bedroom window and crawled out onto the second story fire escape. Hazel looked down, trying to see how safe the drop would be if she didn’t extend the almost certainly squeaky ladder.

  Now that she’d managed to slip down the fire escape, she would need to make her way to the old abandoned factory in time for the hinted rendezvous. She could afford a cab, but flagging down a car for a ride might call attention if the driver memorized too many details about her and became suspicious. So she would just need to hope that the shoes she’d managed to procure would hold out for a trek across town, not to mention her feet. Fortunately, Hazel knew her way about the city well and felt confident that she would not get lost in it.

  As she walked toward the more industrial area of town, Hazel noticed a growing discomfort with walking alone. Not because she didn’t feel capable of fending for herself, but her Aunt Luella never let her walk alone at night, fearing that she would not be safe. Even for the performances, Aunt Luella always insisted Hazel be in her manager’s company. Tonight, with the world thinking her a man, Hazel toyed with a freedom to which she found herself unaccustomed and decided it to be thrilling. After a long walk she finally reached her destination.

  Hazel Atwood eyed the old abandoned factory from across the street. From the outside, it appeared completely unassuming and unimportant, just awaiting a wrecking ball if anyone could afford to tear it down. Yet, Hazel knew that inside significant events had unfolded just a few short years earlier. Inside deals went down and money changed hands to get a gumshoe, who had gotten a bit too close to the action, off of a very hot trail.