The Golden Room

THREE

It was early evening when Gus Varney entered the foyer of the Everleigh Club. Although well dressed, from bow tie and waistcoat to striped trousers, he felt awkward and strange. He tried to give no sign of nervousness as he removed his derby hat. He patted his pockets to reassure himself that he had no means of identification except for a wallet bulging with the money the mayor had given him and his beautifully embossed but fake calling-cards.

A rather plump, brown-haired, plain young woman approached him. She extended her hand. 'I'm Aida Everleigh,' she said. 'I can't remember seeing you before. Have you ever been here?'

'No, I haven't, but many of my friends in St Louis have, and they insisted I not leave Chicago without dining at the Everleigh Club.'

'That's lovely,' said Aida. 'May I ask your name?'

Varney fumbled inside his jacket for his wallet, and tugged it free. He made a show of displaying the fifty-dollar bills in his wallet as he searched for his packet of business cards. He withdrew one card and handed it to Aida Everleigh. 'I'm Jack Simon, president of the Quality Beer Company.'

Aida studied the card, surveyed Varney carefully from head to foot, then smiled and pocketed his card. 'We're pleased to receive you, Mr Simon. What do you have in mind for this evening? Have you had supper yet?'

'As a matter of fact, I haven't had a bite all day. A good meal would sit well with me, along with some wine.'

Aida turned to lead Varney into the Club. 'Do you have anything else in mind?'

'I… I heard you have some rather attractive girls here. I wouldn't mind having one join me for dinner.'

'That can be arranged right now. There are three or four young ladies in our Blue Room. It's early and the other girls will be down later. But I'm sure you'll find someone available who will be suitable to your taste. Follow me. I'll introduce you.'

When they entered the Blue Room, what Varney saw was utterly unexpected. The parlour was furnished with three blue divans appointed with leather pillows on which were attached attractive pictures of Gibson Girls. On the walls all around were hung college pennants – Yale, Harvard, Dartmouth, Princeton – giving the chamber a decidedly youthful and lively appearance. The nearest blue divan held three young women, each smartly dressed in stylish variations of mousseline blouses and voile skirts. They ceased their chatter as Aida took Varney by the hand and approached them.

'Girls,' Aida said, 'I want you to meet Mr Jack Simon, who heads one of the most famous beer companies in St Louis, Missouri. Jack, I want you to meet three of our loveliest entertainers. This is Fanny… Avis… Margo.'

Varney acknowledged their friendly greetings.

'Girls, Jack has come here to dine and have some pleasure. He tells me he's famished. He'd like a companion during dinner.' Aida faced Varney. 'They're all famished too. You may have your choice.'

Varney's eyes fastened on the first of the trio, introduced as Fanny. She was an extremely busty blonde, with a narrow waist and obviously voluptuous thighs.

Before he could speak, Aida spoke. 'I see you can't take your eyes off Fanny. Can't say that I blame you. She's one of our most popular girls. Would you like Fanny to dine with you?'

Varney could hardly find his voice. His eyes feasted on the lush creature. 'That – that would be wonderful.'

'She's all yours, then,' said Aida. Fanny jumped gaily to her feet as Aida told her, 'Dear, take Jack to the restaurant and acquaint him with what's available.' Aida shook hands with Varney once more. 'Have a good time in the Everleigh Club. I'll see you again later.'

Fanny slipped her arm through Varney's and cheerfully led him off.

Momentarily, at the entrance to the large restaurant with its silver candelabras, glistening crystal goblets, and lavish floral centrepieces, Varney was intimidated. He'd once eaten at the Palmer House with the mayor's staff, but the Everleigh restaurant was much more splendid. Fanny had him by the arm as she drew him inside. Passing several other diners, Fanny waved familiarly to one obese, elderly man and his two male companions.

Fanny settled Varney at an isolated table in a corner, and instead of taking the chair opposite, she brought her chair closer to his and sat down beside him. A coloured waiter materialized with the menu, but Fanny ignored him.

'I think it would be nice to start with a bottle of Mumm's champagne. Would that suit you?'

'Fine.'

'Now, unless you have some dish you prefer, I could make a few suggestions.'

'I'll trust you,' said Varney. 'I'll have whatever you have.'

Fanny was pleased. 'I'd suggest we start with Romano-Beluga caviar. After that, prime roast beef. How would you like yours done?'

'Rare.'

'Me too. I love rare meat. It gives one energy. Then we might have some crepes Suzette. How's that?'

'Perfect, Ma'am.'

'Jack, my name is Fanny. You needn't be formal with me. I hope we get to know each other much better.'

'I hope so too, Fanny.'

When the silver bucket appeared with the Mumm's and the bottle was uncorked and poured, Varney tried to concentrate on his mission. He was here because Mayor Harrison wanted to prove that this was still' a whorehouse. Varney's assignment was to go to bed with a whore. How did one go about it? Fanny seemed too ladylike, yet she had served up several double entendres. Varney determined to relax and play it by ear.

'I know you're a beer king,' Fanny was saying as they sipped their drinks. 'I hope you don't mind that I ordered champagne. It just seemed more appropriate for a good time.'

'It is, it is,' Varney agreed.

She had said a good time. He wondered if he dared read what he hoped to read in those words.

As the supper was served, Varney tried to answer Fanny's questions about St Louis. He had never been there, but neither had she, so he was safe. Then they talked about entertainment in Chicago.

'Do you like stage plays?' Fanny asked. 'Very much,' said Varney. 'Especially Trelawny of the Wells with Ethel Barrymore. I saw Peter Pan with Maude Adams.'

'Actually, I prefer vaudeville,' Fanny confided. 'The last stage play I saw was Uncle Tom's Cabin, with real live bloodhounds.'

'No kidding?'

'But give me vaudeville any day. Harrigan, the tramp juggler, or that magician, Herrmann the Great, or Princess Rajah, who dances with a python around her. I think the best act is "Sober Sue – You Can't Make Her Laugh". A $1,000 reward if you can. All the comedians try and fail. The rumour is that Sober Sue has paralysed facial muscles. You know what my favourite fun thing is?' 'No, what?'

'That new invention – movies,' said Fanny. 'At the Chicago Opera House I saw The Great Train Robbery, starring Bronco Billy Anderson. It was my first movie ever, but it was too short. Only fifteen minutes. Since then I've seen Cinderella, which has wonderful camera effects. There's a scene where the pumpkin changes into a carriage. The best one is The Passion Play, which is ten times longer than the average movie. You should try a movie some time.'

'I will,' promised Varney. 'I heard they were coming to St Louis.'

They had run out of entertainment topics to discuss, and silently swallowed the last of their crepes. Fanny touched her napkin to her mouth and murmured, 'Yum, that was good.'

'Very good,' Varney agreed.

'I should thank you for a marvellous meal,' she said. 'I want to thank you.'

She leaned over, across him, her full breasts pressing like twin cushions against his arms, and she planted a delicious kiss on his open lips. Her tongue darted out to find his and then teased against his tongue.

Varney could feel an immediate erection.

Fanny reached down and patted his stomach. 'How does it feel? Have you had all you want?' Before he could reply, her palm slid down his stomach, and reached his crotch and curled around his erection.

Withdrawing her hand slowly, she gave him a seductive smile. 'Or would you like more?'

'More,' he gulped, relieved that he didn't have to ask her to bed. She was plainly asking him. His confidence grew along with the size of his penis, and he added firmly, 'Much more. I want you, Fanny.'

'You have me,' she said simply, taking his hand. 'It's only a short walk.'

They went up the thickly carpeted mahogany staircase, between the potted palms and the statues of nude Grecian goddesses, to the upstairs corridor. There Fanny led Varney along a row of doors until she reached her own.

Opening the door, she turned on a lamp and beckoned Varney inside the boudoir. Its magnificence stopped him in his tracks. What caught his eye first was the Turkish-style headboard of brass, inlaid with marble. Nearby was a window covered from floor to ceiling by red velvet drapes with silk borders. On one wall stood an elaborately carved wooden mantel splashed with gold paint. There were freshly cut roses in two iron urns on the mantel.

This, thought Varney, is paradise.

Fanny was undoing the jet buttons of her blouse. As Varney moved to assist her, she said, 'It would take you too long to undress me, Jack. These buttons, then the hooks and eyes, and after that my blouse and skirt, and the petticoats, ruffles, and whalebone stays, and then my shoes to unbutton, and my stockings to roll down. It would take you half an hour, and by then you'd lose your erection.'

'I wouldn't,' he said adamantly.

'Believe me,' Fanny said. 'But I can go to the bathroom and get unpeeled in five minutes. I know how to do it. So you stay here and take your clothes off. I'll be with you in a jiffy.'

When she was gone, Varney took his clothes off slowly. When he was naked, he could feel that he was losing his erection. He glanced at the bathroom door, imagined what she'd be like, and immediately his penis began to rise.

Moments later she emerged wearing only a filmy pink dressing-gown. She considered his nakedness, nodded approval, and padded straight to the bed. She threw off her dressing-gown, and dropped to the bed on her back. The instant Varney's gaze moved from her blonde hair and beautiful face to the huge mounds of breasts, the sleek pinkish-white abdomen, the great pubic patch, as she lifted her fleshy thighs and spread them apart, Varney's penis hardened fully and stood straight out.

'Come on, young man,' Fanny beckoned. 'Let me enjoy that.'

Varney was on the bed immediately, atop her, and between her legs.

She shut her eyes, squealed with delight, put her arms around him to draw him in tighter.

He began to pump away, and as he did so, she began to undulate her bottom beneath him, until he felt he was going crazy.

Along the way, he had one fleeting thought of his real mission.

So much for the Everleigh Club as a chaste restaurant.

Soon, Mayor Harrison might be as happy with the word as Varney himself was right now with the proof.

Varney went on with her for – he didn't know – maybe ten minutes or so. She was the best, most experienced girl he'd ever coupled with. She pushed all the right buttons, until he was frenzied. When he had his orgasm, she made sounds of a prolonged orgasm too – but when his senses returned he knew it wasn't true. She was a prostitute, a sweet, loose girl, but a prosty nevertheless, and they never came for pay.

When they lay under the blanket, recovering, she was ready to listen to him and to talk herself. No rush job. The Ever-leighs had a class act going.

'You're the best I've ever had,' admitted Varney. 'Whatever you get, you should get more.'

'I think so too,' Fanny agreed ingenuously. 'You'll pay fifty dollars, and I'll get half. Usually, I accept that as fair. But now I'm going to be earning less, because – because for certain reasons – Minna and Aida are screening customers more closely and will be turning more away. I don't like that. It's the first time Minna has been unfair.'

'Why don't you leave the Everleighs?' Varney asked.

'And go where? This is the best-paying house in Chicago. If I had somewhere else to go that paid better, I'd certainly do it right now. That's how I feel.'

Varney had full command of his senses at last. His mind was on his mission. He could now testify that the Everleigh Club was a whorehouse. But Harrison had reminded him that if he could get one of the girls as a witness, their case for a shutdown would be perfect, a cinch.

There was a gamble involved in confessing his mission, Varney realized, but given this girl's mood, it might be safe.

'Maybe I can see that you're better paid,' Varney blurted.

The girl stared at him. 'How? By living with you?'

'No. It's something else. What if I told you I could pay you $3,000 cash if you did something for me?'

'For doing what?' she asked suspiciously.

'For telling the mayor what you just did with me, and then testifying to the same before the chief of police.'

Fanny blinked at him. 'They'd shut down the Club. I'd hate to be responsible. Well, at least not for $3,000.'

With her last sentence, Varney knew that he had her on the hook. He propped himself on an elbow and prepared to negotiate.

Dr Herman Holmes, gripping his black medical bag, was proceeding along the upstairs corridor of the Everleigh Club, about to conclude his first day at work, and was now running late. A pleasurable and sensuous day it had been. He had closely, intimately, and lingeringly, examined fourteen of the healthiest and most breathtaking girls he had ever seen.

It was a bonanza of a job, with the most exciting prospects on earth, and from the easy manner of the girls, there would be none to resist him.

He had one more vagina to examine this evening, the fifteenth. He glanced at his list. This one's name was Fanny. He reached her door. About to knock, he realized that she might have a partner inside and he did not want to disturb her until she was finished. Instead, he tried the doorknob. The door was unlocked, and he opened it a few inches to peek in.

'Yes, $5,000,' he heard a male voice say.

About to shut the door, Dr Holmes heard Fanny speak out. 'Actually $5,000? In cash? You mean that? Just to testify against the Everleighs? Why, even if they shut the Club down, it wouldn't matter to me. With $5,000 I could set up my own dress shop in the Loop and never hustle again. Tell me again, Jack, so I understand for sure.'

Dr Holmes did not shut the door. He left an inch open so that he could hear the rest.

'I told you,' the male voice resumed. 'I work for Mayor Harrison. He guaranteed me that if I had sex with any Everleigh girl I could offer her $5,000 if she would testify that the Club is still a brothel. You were smart enough to take me up on it.'

'What happens next?' Fanny inquired.

'We get dressed. I leave the room first and find Aida and pay up for the evening. Then I'll step outside and find a public telephone and call the mayor's office. I'll say we're coming right in. Then I'll go to the corner and wait for you. Any problem getting out?'

'Of course not,' said Fanny. 'This isn't slavery. I'm allowed to go out and get some air.'

'Let's get moving.'

Grimacing, Dr Holmes softly shut the door. His heart was beating fast. That stupid girl in there was about to double-cross the Everleighs. Holmes didn't give a damn about the Everleighs, but he did give a damn about the Club and keeping it open for ever as his fleshy playground.

Dr Holmes's first reaction was to race downstairs and inform Minna Everleigh, but he thought twice about that. Minna would not know the proper way to handle the mayor's secret spy. He could not see her killing the man or hiring someone else to kill him. She wasn't the type. She'd try to reason with him or bribe him. Holmes was afraid the man would get away, contact the mayor, and close the whole Club down. Holmes knew that for his own sake he could not risk letting the man go free or let that double-crossing Fanny out on the loose.

Dr Holmes knew what to do. He alone could do it.

He rapped sharply on the door, then pushed it open slightly.

'Fanny?' he called out. 'This is Dr Holmes, your new physician. I'm here to give you a routine examination. I'd like to come in.'

'Can't it wait?' Fanny called back. 'I still have a customer here.'

'I don't mind the customer,' said Holmes. 'I'll just give you a brief examination and leave.'

He pushed the door fully open.

They were both staring at him. The thin man had one leg in his trousers, and Fanny, entirely nude, was heading for the bathroom.

'Can't you see we're busy?' she shot out irritably.

Calmly, Holmes advanced towards her. 'It seems to me you've finished your business. Unfortunately, I haven't finished mine. I promised Minna I'd examine fifteen girls today, and I've done fourteen. You're the last, Fanny. Please be cooperative. It'll only take a few minutes.'

'What am I supposed to do?' she said, still irritable.

'What you've done with the previous doctor. It'll be a similar examination.' Dr Holmes turned to the man. 'Once you're dressed, sir, I'd suggest you wait, just in case there is something wrong which you may have contracted… All right, Fanny, let's have a look.'

Pouting, Fanny returned to the bed and lay back, legs apart.

Dr Holmes kneeled down between her legs. What he saw was truly mind-rending.

A pity to do what he had to do, he told himself, but it was a dire necessity.

Using his speculum, he tried to look inside. Then he inserted two fingers into her vagina.

'Hey,' Fanny protested, 'what are you doing? The other doctor never did that.'

'I have to because I'm afraid I see something. I've got to be sure.'

After a few moments, he removed his fingers.

'Just as I suspected,' he said. 'Give me a moment in which to wash my hands. You can sit up now.'

When Dr Holmes returned to the bedroom, Fanny was sitting up, eyes fixed on him.

'What's going on?' she said. 'You found something wrong?'

'Yes, definitely,' Dr Holmes said. 'There's an infection, sores, a febrile disturbance that would indicate secondary syphilis.'

'That can't be,' Fanny protested again. 'I'm clean, always have been, and so is everyone who works here.'

'How can you be certain?' said Dr Holmes, putting aside his speculum. He looked up at the young man seated on the chair, nervously watching. 'As for you, sir, you may have contracted Fanny's syphilis. We'll find out soon enough, and I'll do what I can to help you both.'

'You're not going to tell Minna, are you?' Fanny wailed.

'No, I won't. But I will have to ask you and your friend -I didn't get his name -'

'Jack Simon,' Varney croaked.

'I'll have to ask you and Fanny to come to my office where I can treat her – and examine you.'

'Can't it wait?' asked Varney. 'We had another appointment.'

Dr Holmes wrote out his address and handed it to Fanny. 'Meet me there in a half hour. No, Mr Simon, it can't wait. Allowing the infection to remain untreated will only endanger both of you. Once I've treated her – and possibly you – with mercury, you will be free to keep your appointment.' Dr Holmes went to the door. 'A half hour from now, at my office.'

When they were alone, Varney turned to Fanny. 'Why don't you dress? I have to pay my bill and make a phone call. I'll wait on the corner, and then we can see the doctor together.'

When Varney came down the mahogany staircase to the street floor of the Everleigh Club, he found a diminutive, thin, pretty young woman waiting for him.

'Mr Simon, I presume,' she said.

'Yes.'

'I'm Minna Everleigh,' she introduced herself. 'You met my sister. Did you enjoy yourself?'

'Immensely,' Varney said. 'The supper was superb. The girl, Fanny, my companion, was even more superb.'

'I'm glad,' said Minna. 'Then you won't mind paying the bill for the restaurant and the entertainment upstairs.' She fished into a pocket, brought out a bill, and handed it to Varney.

He noted the total, took out his wallet, extracted $150 and handed it to Minna. 'I suppose a tip is in order,' he said, and pulled out another five dollars.

'Very good, Mr Simon. I hope you will remember us the next time you're in Chicago.'

He grinned. 'My first stop will be the Everleigh Club.'

He watched Minna leave for a room that was presumably her office, and then he turned into the foyer. He spotted the telephone, and glanced about him. No one was in sight. He considered risking a call from here when suddenly the valet appeared to show him to the door.

Continuing on to the exit, Varney hesitated as Edmund opened the door.

'I'm looking for a public telephone,' said Varney. 'I have a number of business calls to make. Is there a public telephone in the neighbourhood?'

'Just a half block away,' said Edmund. 'As you leave, turn right. From the corner you'll see a small hotel across the street. There's a public telephone in the lobby.'

Once outside, Varney turned right and walked to the corner. He saw the Zion Hotel, crossed over to it and entered.

At first he could see no public telephone, and then at the far end of the narrow lobby he saw a telephone switchboard with a young lady behind it.

Varney went to her. 'Is this a public telephone?'

'Yes, it is.' She held up a telephone. 'Give me the number you want and I'll get it. That'll be ten cents.'

As he fumbled for the dime, Varney was startled by the costliness of the call. His entire lunch at noon had amounted to three cents – two cents for the hot dog sandwich and one cent for the coffee. Nevertheless, he turned over the dime and gave the young woman the phone number to the mayor's office. Waiting, he felt an undercurrent of real excitement at what he had accomplished. He knew that the mayor, or whomever was in his office awaiting this call, would be just as excited.

'Here's your party,' said the operator, handing up the telephone and receiver.

He heard a feminine voice on the line. 'Hello, hello.' He realized that it was Karen Grant who was on the line.

Aware that the public operator could overhear him, he decided to make his own tone as inaudible as possible and made his words cryptic.

'It's Gus,' he said.

Karen replied, 'The mayor asked me to stand by for your call, and to phone him at once if there is good news. He'd come over to meet with you.'

'Good news,' said Varney softly. 'Very good news.'

'Oh, that's wonderful. I'll see that the mayor is here to meet you.'

'Tell him not to rush. It would take me half an hour to get to the office, but I have to make one other stop first. I can't explain. It'll delay me another half-hour.'

'I'll tell Mayor Harrison.'

'Tell him. See you.'

'See you,' said Karen Grant.

Varney hung up, and returned the telephone to the public operator.

Quickly, he left the Zion Hotel lobby to cross over to the opposite corner and await Fanny before taking a detour to Dr Holmes's office and then going on to Mayor Harrison's office.

He felt triumphant as the hotel door closed behind him. He just hoped that he had not contracted syphilis too.

Dr Herman Holmes had no sooner pulled on his white medical jacket than the doorbell rang.

He went from his office to the entrance and opened the door.

Fanny, whatever her last name was, stood there, wearing a great feathered hat. She was with the man called Simon, whatever his real name was. Both were unable to conceal their nervousness.

Dr Holmes beckoned them inside, led them to his austere office, and ordered them to be seated.

He lowered himself into a chair behind his desk. 'It won't take long,' he said, 'but allow me to explain the procedure. I'm going to examine you once again, Fanny, in better light, just to be absolutely sure of my diagnosis. Then if necessary, I'll examine you, Mr Simon, to learn if there are any signs of your having the disease.'

'I certainly hope not,' said Varney.

'There's a fifty-fifty chance. If you show no evidence of the disease, you have not a thing to worry about. If you do show any signs of syphilis, I'll treat you just as I'll treat Fanny.'

'I've never had it before,' said Fanny. 'What are you going to do to cure me?'

'If the syphilis has been absorbed into your blood, I'll prescribe the mercury treatment,' explained Dr Holmes. 'I'll give you mercury in the form of pills, and then you'll need – your friend as well – a mercury vapour bath.'

'It won't take long, will it?' asked Varney.

'No more than the examination itself.' Dr Holmes stood up. 'Now follow me down the hall to my examining-room.'

'I thought you were going to examine us here,' said Fanny, rising.

'I prefer to undertake examinations of this sort in an isolated room,' said Dr Holmes. 'Please come along.'

He walked them both to the rear and pushed a button, sliding open the door to his airtight room.

'Come inside,' he ordered.

Dr Holmes went into the chamber, followed by a bewildered Fanny and Varney.

The physician led them to an oversized examining-table in the centre of the room, and waved his hand at the features of the room around him.

'The sheeting and covered windows are to give absolute assurance of privacy. I suggest you both undress and seat yourselves side by side on the examining table.'

'Together?' Fanny asked. 'Both of us at the same time?'

'Do it,' Holmes replied sharply.

Turning his back, he left the room. Once outside the room, he secured the heavy door.

He walked leisurely to his office.

Once at his desk, he took up a pipe, filled it, lit it and smoked, taking his time to give them the interval to undress. Their nakedness would save him a lot of time later.

After three or four minutes, he put his pipe down in a copper ashtray, and strolled over to the concealed levers.

Coolly, he flipped on the lever that would send gas into the room where Fanny and Varney awaited his reappearance. The poisonous gas would begin to pour from four jets into the airtight room. In seconds Fanny and her friend would become aware of it. In a minute, they would realize that something was amiss. In a few minutes, they would begin choking, strangling, crying for help.

But no one anywhere would hear their pleas.

Dr Holmes smiled broadly. He pulled out his watch. In five minutes they would be asphyxiated. First one, then the other, would drop to the floor.

He peered at his watch.

One more minute and they would be dead.

The Everleigh Club would be safe for Dr Herman Holmes.

The watch in his hand ticked on. A full minute had passed.

The two of them were dead. The double-crossers had been silenced for ever.

Dr Holmes turned off the gas. Then he pressed a second lever upward to open the narrow windows on top of the secret room. This clearing process usually took about ten minutes.

In fifteen minutes, the chamber would be safe for the return of Dr Holmes.

Waiting, Holmes shuffled through several medical journals, but had no patience with them. He had recently purchased two novels by E. P. Roe and George Barr McCutcheon. He picked up the Roe book and tried to begin reading, but his excitement made it too hard to continue. He brought up his watch twice, and after twelve minutes had passed he threw the novel aside, walked out of his office, and made for the lethal chamber.

Parting the sliding doors, he stepped inside. A faint aroma of gas was still in the air. Inhaling, Holmes was satisfied the chamber was clear enough. His eyes held on the two bodies crumpled on the floor in front of the examining table. Fanny was nude, but, curiously, the man named Simon had not undressed.

Holmes went to them, kneeled, and felt for a pulse.

No beat in either.

Dead. Both dead.

Pleased, Holmes took hold of Fanny underneath her armpits and dragged her to the trap door leading to the basement. Lowering her to the floor, Holmes tugged open the trap door. Unceremoniously, Holmes lifted Fanny's corpse, settled it into the chute, and let go. It slid down and away and out of sight. Then he sent her clothes down after her.

Holmes decided he'd dispose of Fanny first, before coming back to get rid of Simon. Holmes strode to the second trap door, yanked it free, and carefully descended the staircase.

Once downstairs, Holmes opened the furnace and started a fire. He turned to lift up Fanny's body, carried it to the tank of quicklime, and lowered it inside. After a short interval, he emptied the tank, and, donning long rubber gloves, picked up Fanny's corpse and carried it to his dissection table. He stretched the remains out flat, peeled off his gloves, picked up a scalpel, and resumed his work.

Slowly, with considerable precision, Holmes dismembered the body part by part, until seven parts lay before him.

Opening the furnace, he took each part and tossed it into the blazing kiln. Then he threw in her clothes.

He shut the furnace. While the remains were being cremated, Holmes carefully washed and cleaned the dissecting-table. When he was satisfied, he went to the staircase and climbed up into the secret chamber.

There was still the man to be dealt with. Holmes headed for this second corpse, prepared to cast it down the chute, when he hesitated.

Simon's complete disappearance might not deter Mayor Harrison's investigation, Holmes decided.

He thought about it some more. If Simon's body could be found, and identified, the mayor would somehow learn about it. This would shock Harrison, and remind him that his effort to infiltrate the Everleigh Club had been of no avail. This might deter Harrison from risking another agent to expose the Club.

Holmes stared down at the lifeless body. Finally, Holmes went to his knees and began to search Simon's trousers and jacket. There was only a wallet stuffed with money and a pack of richly embossed calling-cards that plainly identified the man as Jack Simon, president of Quality Beer Company in St Louis. Obviously a fake – but it had been enough to gain Simon entrance to the Everleigh Club, and it would be enough to have the corpse brought sooner or later to the mayor's attention.

Instantly, Holmes's mind was made up.

No chute, no quicklime, no dismemberment, no cremation for Jack Simon.

His corpse would be found whole, a victim of murder, but whole and identifiable.

That surely would give Harrison pause and make the mayor quit his investigation.

Dr Herman Holmes would then have the Everleigh Club to himself.

He put his mind to the problem of disposing of the body.

At three-twenty in the morning, Dr Holmes drove his new one-cylinder Packard touring car to the front door of the Castle. Even though the car was a bit conspicuous, it had the advantages of a roof, as well as separate back seats.

Leaving the automobile, Holmes stood in the street and surveyed the neighbourhood. There was not a human being in sight. It was sleep time, the silent time of the night -perfect for his purpose.

Going into the Castle, Holmes continued past his office to the sliding door of the death chamber, pushed the button, and went inside. The corpse lay sprawled on the floor. The body was thin, but it was dead weight; with an effort Holmes carried it out of the chamber and up the hallway to the front door. He propped the body half-seated against the pillar inside the front entrance, opened the door, and stepped outside.

He looked around the area.

No movement. No one anywhere.

There would be minimum risk.

With growing confidence, Holmes hoisted the body upwards, keeping it upright – if someone noticed, he could claim his companion was drunk – and pulled the body outside, to the rear of the Packard. The car had a tonneau entry from the rear, leading into the back seat. After pulling out this extra door, Holmes strained hard to lift the body higher, and with difficulty succeeded in stuffing the corpse inside the car. Quietly, Holmes closed the door.

Wiping his brow, he once more cast his eyes about the neighbourhood to observe if there had been any witnesses. He could reassure himself there had been none.

He went to the entrance to the Castle and locked the front door.

Holmes hurried back to the Packard and climbed up, set-ding in behind the wheel. He started the car and sped off to the downtown Loop area.

As he came closer to the hub of the city, he noticed a few isolated late-nighters here and there, but not enough to cause concern.

After half an hour had passed, Holmes realized he was approaching the grey building that was the City Hall and also the main police station. He remembered the thickly wooded park in front of it, large and dense with foliage and trees. This was the place he was seeking.

The wooded park, black except for a few scattered electric carbon arc lights, came into view. Holmes watched for one of the dirt paths into the park, and turned a sharp left at the first path he spotted. The candles in the car's headlights illuminated his way as he drove deeper into the woods.

At last he saw an opening, and turned right again for a short distance. Manoeuvring his car into the trees and bushes, be brought it to a halt. Stepping down from the driver's seat, Holmes hastened to the rear. He opened the auxiliary door, reached in for the body, got a firm grip on it, and started to drag it out.

There was the sound of laughter nearby. His heart hammering with surprise and fright, Holmes shoved the body back into the car. Ducking behind a tree closer to the foot-path, Holmes strained to see and finally saw a stylish young man in a suit and derby hat, arm around a young woman. They were strolling along to the edge of the park.

Holmes waited breathlessly until they were out of sight.

He heard the woman's laughter once more, but it was distant. Soon no other sound could be heard.

Quickly, Holmes went back to the rear of the Packard, unlatched the tonneau door, and, wasting no more time, he dragged the corpse on to the grass. Then, holding it under the arms, he yanked it back farther, pulling it deeper into the woods.

At last he dropped it before a clump of bushes.

This, he decided, was an excellent spot. The body would be out of sight, but sooner or later – most likely sooner -some strollers would wander off the path and stumble upon the dead man.

Hastily, Holmes made his way to the Packard, checking his jacket to make certain it had not caught on a bramble and left a shred behind.

At the Packard, he paused to catch his breath again. There were no clues whatsoever, except for the markings of his automobile tyres and footprints, which he hastily erased with the side of his shoe.

Holmes got into his Packard and backed the car out to the footpath, pleased in the knowledge that he had left an anonymous warning to the meddlesome Mayor Carter Harrison -and that the Everleigh Club and its lush inhabitants would live on to be constantly enjoyed by Dr Herman Holmes.

It had been a bad night and a mystifying morning for Carter Harrison, Mayor of Chicago.

The previous evening, as he had been readying himself for bed, the mayor had received an excited telephone call from Karen Grant at the City Hall office.

'I just heard from Gus Varney, and it is good news,' she had cried out. 'He telephoned me from somewhere to report – these were his words as I remember them – "Very good news. Tell the mayor. I'll see you." When I told him I'd notify you, he said, "Tell him not to rush." Gus said it would take him at least an hour, because he had to make another stop before coming in, and he couldn't explain.'

'Why the delay?' Harrison had wanted to know. 'What's keeping him?'

'He just wasn't able to explain,' Karen had repeated. 'But he made it clear he would be here in an hour to tell you what he found out about the Everleighs. He insisted that what he had found out was what you wanted.'

'Perfect!' the mayor had exclaimed, fully awake and with rising enthusiasm. 'I'll get dressed and be over in less than an hour.'

Harrison had joined Karen Grant in his office, and together they had waited for the appearance of Gus Varney. Half an hour had passed, then two. Eventually it was after midnight, and still no Gus Varney.

By one o'clock in the morning the mayor had become discouraged. 'I don't know what could have happened to him.'

Karen had tried to soothe the mayor. 'I'm sure it is that stop he had to make. Whatever it was, that must have delayed him. Why don't you go home and catch some sleep? I'll remain here for another hour. Don't worry, Mayor, I'm sure Gus will turn up.'

The mayor had gone home. After another hour, Karen had called it quits and also gone home.

Now it was just before noon on the following morning, and Gus Varney had not turned up with his good news.

They had waited in the executive office, Harrison and Karen, from eight-thirty until twelve. Varney had not appeared and there had been no further word from him.

At last the mayor threw up his hands in despair. 'I don't like this,' he told Karen. 'I'm worried that something happened to him, something I don't like to think about.'

'But what could happen?' Karen wondered aloud.

'We'll find out. I'm going to start checking around. Karen, call the chief of police for me.'

'You mean Francis O'Neill?'

'Himself. Get him on the telephone right now.'

Karen moved to the telephone, gave the operator the number for the main police station downstairs in City Hall, and waited. When someone answered, she stated that she was calling for Mayor Carter Harrison, who wished to speak to the chief of police immediately.

After a short wait, Karen spoke into the phone. 'Chief O'Neill?'

'Yes?'

'This is Mayor Harrison's office. I'm calling for the mayor. He wishes to speak to you on an urgent matter.'

'Put him on,' said Chief O'Neill.

'Here he is.'

Karen handed the telephone to Mayor Harrison, who was now seated behind his desk.

'Chief,' said the mayor, 'there's something troublesome I want to discuss with you.'

'I'm listening.'

'Yesterday I assigned one of my aides, Gus Varney, to go out on an investigation. When he completed that investigation around ten o'clock, he telephoned my secretary and told her that he had good news for me. He told her he was on his way to City Hall to report to me. Oh yes, he had one stop to make following his phone call, and then he was proceeding to City Hall to report to me. Well, he never showed up. I waited three hours last night. No show. Then, from early this morning I expected Varney. He never appeared.' Harrison paused. 'Chief, I don't like this.'

'Was Mr Varney generally reliable?'

'Totally so. The most punctual person on my staff.'

'Well,' said the chief, 'he could have suffered an attack of amnesia. It happens, you know.'

'Not often, Chief.' At last Harrison spoke what was on his mind. 'Chief, I suspect something worse.' He hesitated. 'Were there any suspicious or fatal incidents this morning?'

'I haven't heard of any from our other police districts. In this district we had only one this morning. There was identification, but it wasn't Varney. The corpse had a calling-card in his wallet. A man named Jack Simon, president of some beer company in St Louis.'

Harrison gasped. 'Chief, I had that card printed for Varney as a cover.'

There was a brief silence. 'Then it's your Mr Varney we have in the morgue.'

'You're sure?'

'Absolutely. You'd better come over to the County Hospital for positive identification.'

Harrison shuddered. 'I'll be right over,' he said.

They left the coroner in the morgue, and after closing the door, Mayor Harrison and Chief O'Neill stood in the hallway, their eyes meeting.

'You're certain?' the chief asked once more.

Mayor Harrison's face was ashen. 'It's Varney in there, all right. But he looks practically alive. No injuries. What was it the coroner told us? Suffocation?'

'Yes, asphyxiation. I'm sorry about your loss, terribly sorry.'

'How could that have happened?'

'Many ways. Anything from someone holding a pillow over his face to someone gassing him.'

'Incredible.'

'Mayor,' said the chief, 'if you want us to be of help, you'd better give us more facts. You sent Varney on an investigation. He completed it successfully and was about to report to you when he was interrupted and murdered. You want to tell me what that's all about?'

'It would have to be strictly between us.'

'You know you're safe with me, Mayor,' said the chief.

The mayor, lost in thought, took a few short steps down the corridor, then stopped and turned to face the chief of police.

'All right,' said Harrison, 'I can't let anyone get away with this. I'll tell you the whole thing. You know I ran for reelection on a reform ticket. I said I wanted to close down all those whorehouses in the First Ward. My prime target was the Everleigh Club, because it's the best known. But the Club's been claiming it's no longer a brothel. Only a restaurant.'

'Fat chance,' said the chief with a snort.

'Exactly. Yet I had to have proof it was still a whorehouse before I could ask you to close them down.'

'I'm afraid so,' agreed the chief.

'I did what I could. I decided to work from the inside for evidence. Varney volunteered to go into the Everleigh Club, posing as a beer company president from St Louis. He was to have supper there with one of the girls, then go to bed with her. Well, he called in to my secretary and announced he had succeeded. He was on his way with the evidence when… when he disappeared.'

The chief nodded. 'Then we have a lead. We go to the Everleighs and put pressure on them. We tell them the truth and extract a confession.'

'That they themselves murdered Varney or had someone else do so on their behalf?'

'Why not?'

'It doesn't make sense,' said Harrison. 'I'm a fairly astute student of human nature. True, I've never met the Everleighs, but I know a good deal about them. They're two young and genteel Southern ladies. There has never been an instance of violence attached to their operation.'

'Well, if you ever happened to learn that you were about to be shut down, be put out of business, you might feel a little violent. I still say that's where we start.'

'No, Chief,' said Harrison firmly. 'I don't want to alert the Everleighs to what I tried. They may not know, and any action we'd take now would put them on their guard. I don't want them on their guard. I still want to find some other means of investigating them, and I don't want them prepared for it.'

'Then we won't find out about Varney.'

'Yes, we will. I think he was waylaid on that side trip. There must be other clues.' Mayor Harrison put on his hat. 'The problem is Varney had no family. He was new to the staff. He was a loner. There's no one to notify, no one to inquire about. You'll have to think of something to tell the boys in your department. But not a word about the Everleighs – not yet.'

'If you insist.'

'I have to insist. Thank you, Chief, and good day.'

Mayor Harrison had called the meeting in his office for three o'clock sharp.

Now, at three-fifteen, the mayor had finished telling his remaining staff members and Karen Grant about Gus Varney's disappearance.

'So there you have it all,' he concluded.

'You mean the Varney case is to be considered closed?' said aide Jim Evans.

'I'm afraid so,' replied the mayor. 'At least for a time. I repeat, we're not going to accuse the Everleighs of anything. Not while there is a possibility of exposing them. And that is still what I intend to do. Get evidence against them. Apparently, Varney learned the truth. He said he had good news. That could only have meant he had found out the Everleigh Club remains what it always has been – a bordello. I mean to find the truth once more, prove it, and close them down for ever.'

'But how?' Evans wanted to know.

'I haven't the faintest idea yet. That's why I called all of you together. To find out if any of you had any suggestions.'

'You could send one of us into the Club, just the way you sent in Varney,' said Evans.

The mayor slowly shook his head. 'No, I can't risk it. Even if one of you got in and verified the truth, you might not come back alive. Look what happened to Gus Varney. No, I can't risk sending another man in.'

Karen Grant was raising a hand. 'But, Mayor Harrison, you could send in a woman. You could send me to the Ever-leigh Club.'

Mayor Harrison was openly surprised. 'You?'

'Yes, me,' repeated Karen, coming to her feet. 'I could get into the Everleigh Club posing as a girl who's down on her luck and needs a job. Maybe I'd get that job.'

'As a prostitute?' said the mayor, looking a trifle shocked. 'Never. You… you're far too refined.'

'Am I?' said Karen, fluffing her hair and adopting a sultry voice. Slowly she pirouetted between the staff and the mayor, clearly emphasizing her figure. 'Think it over.'

The mayor had never thought much about Karen since hiring her a few months before the election. He had known her mother, Naomi, long before his own marriage – known her mother very well – and enjoyed her, a reckless, wild woman, a suffragette actually, who had advocated the cause of female independence. Naomi had married an artist and Karen had been their only child. The artist had died when Karen was quite young, and last year Naomi herself had died of tuberculosis. Karen, grown up, had studied stenographic skills, and when she had heard that Mayor Harrison needed a new secretary, she had applied, invoking the name of her mother. Harrison had meant to hire a male secretary, as most executives did, although young women were beginning to enjoy a new freedom and gain a foothold in the workplace.

Harrison had hired Karen, not only because he could not resist the memory of her mother but because Karen had seemed so self-assured and competent.

No, Harrison had not thought about her much after hiring her, and he certainly had not had the time to look at her carefully.

Now he did look at her carefully as she stood before him in the centre of his office. Examining her from head to toe, he was quite astonished at what he saw. Karen Grant was tall, perhaps five feet seven. Her silken brunette hair was long, her widely spaced grey-green eyes, overly delicate nostrils, generous rosy lower lip, attractive and pouting – somehow it all added up not to a look of refinement but to something wanton. With the clothes women wore, their shapes were none too revealed – although Karen's blouse was somewhat diaphanous, hinting at full, young breasts. Her sewn-down pleated skirt clung to the contours of full hips and thighs, and draped closely around slender calves.

The mayor knitted his brow and pondered on what was before him.

An Everleigh girl. No doubt she could pass. But still -

'All right, Karen,' the mayor said, 'I take it all back. I'm sure they'd find you qualified at the Everleigh Club. You could fit in as one of their more attractive girls and get a lot of information for me. But have you any idea of what you'd be letting yourself in for?'

'Of course I do.'

'You'd not be behaving as a secretary. You'd be performing as a prostitute.'

'I'm aware of that,' said Karen. 'I'd have no problem with whatever happened. You only need one witness for proof. I think I can manage it. After I was assigned a customer, I'm sure I could get out of it with sufficient proof of what the Everleighs are up to. If I couldn't, well, e'est la guerre. I'll still feel pure when I come back to you with the evidence.'

'Evidence,' repeated the mayor, savouring the possibility. He sat up. 'I don't know. I might let you go ahead, if you think you can get a job there.'

'I'd like to try.'

'How would you get the job? Just walk in?'

'I'm more clever than that, Mayor. There's a Tribune reporter who I've become friendly with. He's covering City Hall. Thomas Ostrow.'

'Oh, yes. Good man.'

'I've heard him speak of Aida and Minna Everleigh. He seems to know them well, and he has the run of the Club. I'll ask him to help me.'

Mayor Harrison smiled. 'Mr Ostrow might be startled at what you're proposing.'

'I'll let him know that underneath I am that kind of girl. And that I want some of the big money, no matter what it costs. Let me try it, Mayor. What do you say?'

'What can I say – except go to it and good luck!'