The next morning the skies were overcast, fog and light drizzle hanging in the air, and yet there was Alan, his battered tan suitcase in hand, waiting at the curb in front of his apartment building on the west side of town as I pulled up in my old Buick Century. He beamed at me from beneath the brim of his fedora, his Brownie camera about his neck. I got out and opened the trunk for him.
“Morning, Heath,” he said with a wide grin.
“Good morning. How long have you been standing out here?”
“Only about ten minutes.”
“You could have waited inside, it’s cold and damp out here.”
“I know.”
He threw his bag into the trunk next to mine. I slammed it shut and got back behind the wheel as he climbed in beside me. “I was too excited to wait inside any longer.”
I laughed. “Good, me too. Wish we had better weather, though.”
“Let it rain,” Alan said. “Nothing can ruin my mood today. I noticed you brought your umbrella.”
“Yes, it straps right to the side of my suitcase. And good to be prepared, I’d say.”
“You always are. I like that in you.”
I smiled. “Good. No sense of ominous foreboding this Friday the thirteenth?”
“Not yet. I packed my lucky rock, though, just in case.”
“Your lucky rock? Just when you think you know someone.” I laughed.
“I never told you because I knew you’d make fun.”
“Maybe I’d kid you a bit, but I wouldn’t make fun, not of you, ever.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“So why is it your lucky rock and how long have you had it?”
He shrugged and looked a little embarrassed. “I’ve had it since I was a kid. My dad gave it to me after a trip he’d been on when I asked him what he brought me. I know he meant it as a joke, but I didn’t see it that way then. Stupid, huh?”
“Not at all. I think it’s sweet.”
He smiled. “Thanks. And ever since he died, I usually carry it with me. It just somehow seems to bring good luck.”
“I see.”
“I know, you’re a non-believer, Mr. Skeptical. But it works, at least for me. I was carrying it the day I met you, you know.”
My heart flip-flopped a bit. “All right, you just made a believer out of me. Let’s get going.” I put the car in gear and headed east toward Wisconsin Avenue and the train station. I parked my car in the lot just beside the depot and we each retrieved our bags from the trunk, I with my monogrammed suitcase and matching train case and Alan with his dad’s old case. I noticed he had added his initials at the end, A.K. A thought occurred to me that new luggage might be a good Christmas gift for him, and I smiled. It had been a long time since I had anyone special to buy Christmas gifts for.
The depot was bustling with people, heading to and from Chicago and points beyond. The train departed at five after nine, so we didn’t have a whole lot of time. I bought a newspaper from the stand near the lunch counter and a pack of chewing gum for later as I waited for Alan, who had decided to get his shoes polished and shined.
He smiled at me as he stepped down from the shoeshine stand and gave the boy a quarter. “Better. Can’t be seen in the big city with scuffed-up shoes.”
I laughed. “Honestly, I hadn’t even noticed. Let’s go, though. We’re short on time. Track two is this way.” Soon the conductor was calling out the familiar “All aboard,” and we climbed up the steps into the train. We found seats together in the third car, choosing window seats facing each other. Our bags and hats tucked in the rack overhead, we settled in for the relatively short journey. Once we rolled out of Milwaukee and the conductor collected our tickets, we felt like we were finally on our way.
As we watched the towns of Sturtevant, Racine, and Kenosha fly by out the rain-splattered glass, I looked admiringly again at Alan, so smart in his navy double-breasted suit, a white handkerchief tucked neatly in his breast pocket. “I hope my tuxedo doesn’t get too wrinkled in my case,” I said. “I probably should have gotten a garment bag for it.”
“Tuxedo? Gee, Heath, you think we’re going to need one?”
I nodded. “Well, sure, if you want to go clubbing. Chicago is the big time compared to Milwaukee. You packed yours, didn’t you?”
He frowned. “I just brought my dark suit and this double-breasted for traveling. I don’t own a tux.”
“A tux in Chicago is de rigueur, I’m afraid. Maybe we can buy you one there.”
“A tux is de what?”
“De rigueur.”
His frown became a scowl. “French again. For someone who only studied it in high school, you certainly use it a lot,” Alan said, sounding annoyed.
“It’s a beautiful language, the language of love. And besides, I had a remarkable French teacher.”
“Coulliette something or other. Yes, I know, you’ve mentioned him before.”
“Mss’r J. Coulliette, that’s right. He and the handsome math teacher, Mr. Koos, were both bachelors, and they shared a flat, as I recall the rumor.”
“People do talk, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do. Or should I say oui?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes works just fine.”
“I remember running into Monsieur Coulliette and Mr. Koos once in the summer. They were walking their dog, a black border collie named Maddie. It seemed so odd to me to see them on the street, like normal people, with a dog and all.”
“They are normal people, Heath.”
“You know what I mean. Seeing teachers outside of school. You just don’t think of them as leading normal lives. And seeing them together just reinforced in my mind the rumor that they were a couple.”
“Did anyone ever find out for sure?”
“I don’t think so, not that I ever heard, anyway. I know Mr. Koos went out with Miss Johnson, the English teacher, once or twice. But I think that was just to avert suspicion.”
“The games we all have to play.”
“Exactly.”
“So anyway, what the heck does de rigueur mean?”
“It means necessary if you want to be socially acceptable, fashionable.”
“Oh, well, I can’t afford to be socially acceptable or fashionable. Not on my salary,” Alan replied.
“I can help you. A good tuxedo is an investment, Alan, and should be about thirty or thirty-five dollars. A lot of money, I know, but I plan to do lots of clubbing with you over the next thirty years or so, so it’s only about a dollar a year.”
Alan laughed. “I see. I can’t afford not to buy one.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, we’ll see. I’ll give it some thought and we can have a look in the shops once we get to Chicago. Anything interesting in the newspaper?” he asked, changing the subject.
I opened it up and perused the front page. “An article on Babe Zaharias. It says, ‘Mrs. Zaharias Is First American to Win Women’s British Golf Title.’”
“Wow, good for her. She’s really an amazing woman.”
“She certainly is.”
“How about the horoscopes?”
“You’re kidding.”
“Hey, you believe what you want, I believe what I want. Besides, it’s Friday the thirteenth, you know.”
I sighed. “Okay, let me find them.” I flipped through the paper to the Ladies section and scanned the horoscopes. “Your birthday’s March sixteenth, right?”
“Yes, I’m a Pisces, sign of the fish.”
I laughed. “Then you must love weather like this.”
“Ha, just read, Detective.”
“All right. It says, ‘For you, magic will play a big part in your emotions in the next few days. A colleague, neighbor, or friend will give you the chance to seize some unexpected opportunity. Make the most of it.’”
“Hmmph. Well, all right then,” Alan said, leaning back.
“What?”
“Well, you’re a friend and a colleague, and you’ve given me an unexpected opportunity in this trip to Chicago, and I definitely intend to make the most of it, so I’d say it’s pretty right on the money.”
“And the magic part?”
“Hmm. Not sure about that yet, but let’s see what the weekend brings.”
I laughed. “Fair enough.”
“What about yours, Heath? You’re an Aquarius, right?”
“So they tell me.”
“The water bearer. It’s why we go so well together—fish and water.”
“I won’t argue with that, Mr. Keyes.”
“So what does it say? Your horoscope, I mean.”
I scanned the paper again. “‘Don’t be fooled by what you read in astrology columns today. Someone makes a good living writing them. A tall dark handsome friend or colleague will try to distract you. Be wary.’”
Alan folded his arms. “Very funny. You’re lucky you’re cute.”
I smiled. “Sorry, just teasing. I just don’t buy into astrology.”
“To each his own.”
“Very true,” I agreed.
I finished reading the newspaper while Alan gazed out the window and fidgeted. Finally, I put the paper aside on the seat next to me and closed my eyes. I think at some point I actually dozed, but Alan was clearly too excited. When at last we pulled into Union Station, he was almost bouncing up and down in his seat. I checked my pocket watch and found we were right on time. Whoever wrote those timetables knew what they were doing. We put our hats on and hauled our bags off and then we walked down the platform into the station. Once inside, we made a brief stop in the men’s room and made our way toward the Great Hall, its vast size and tall, barrel glass vaulted ceiling dwarfing us. Alan stopped, mouth agape, taking it all in.
“Golly, Heath, this place is huge. It makes the station back in Milwaukee look like a whistle stop.”
“It is impressive, I agree. The first time I saw it I was taken aback, too.” We stood for a while gazing about the room at the large number of people hurrying here and there, lugging cases, towing children, or standing in groups, couples, or by themselves. Uniformed porters went this way and that with large piles of luggage and trunks on their carts, and newspaper boys shouted out the latest headlines. The loudspeakers overhead frequently crackled to life, announcing the Capitol Limited to Washington, track three, and the Denver Zephyr, track eight, among other harder-to-understand bulletins about lost children, lost articles, and late departures.
Down the center of the hall, still more people were seated on benches, including a woman holding a crying newborn, and beside her not one, not two, but five other children, all of them talking at once, along with everyone else in the main hall. The great mass of voices made a buzzing sound in my ears.
“Which way?” Alan asked finally, ready to get going.
“There are some underground taxi stands, but let’s go up to the main street. I think the rain has stopped.”
“Lead the way.”
We climbed the many marble stairs up to Canal Street, jostling shoulder to shoulder with the masses. Once outside, the car horns seemed to blare incessantly and the air smelled damp and smoky. The wind blew down on us, and we pulled our hats low as we made our way toward a line of cabs waiting for passengers. We loaded our bags into the first one available and gave the Edmonton as our destination to the driver. Soon we were off, and I sat back, enjoying just watching Alan staring out the window, craning his neck this way and that, and up, up, toward the many skyscrapers.
“Quite a city, isn’t it?” I asked.
Alan turned to me, a big smile on his face. “I’ll say. Even with the fog and drizzle, I can tell it sure isn’t like Milwaukee.”
“No, no it’s not. For better or worse.”
He turned back to the window then, and I gazed out the other side of the cab, watching the buildings and cars go by as the driver weaved in and out of traffic, making his way to the Edmonton on Michigan Avenue. On the sidewalks, people scurried here and there, some carrying umbrellas or packages as they sidestepped puddles, dashed in and out of shops and buildings, and waited at the corners for lights to change, cabs to come, or perhaps their dreams to be fulfilled.
Almost too soon, the taxi came to a stop in front of the hotel, its tires scraping against the curb. A uniformed doorman with a large black umbrella opened the cab door for us. A bellboy helped with our bags, and as I paid the taxi, tipped the doorman, and set aside money for the bellboy, I realized this would be an expensive trip. I was glad I had gone to the bank the day before to get a letter of credit and withdraw some cash. The two of us followed the bellboy.
I’d never been at the Edmonton, and I was impressed by the tall ceilings, marble columns, crystal chandeliers, and rich carpeting. The lobby was two floors high, a large marble staircase to the left leading up to a mezzanine level that wrapped around it on three sides. A coffee shop was behind the staircase under the north mezzanine, and the lobby bar was to the right under the south mezzanine. Cozy chairs, sofas, and tables were scattered here and there. The bellboy led us past the staircase to the front desk, which was opposite the entrance doors, tucked under the east mezzanine.
The bellboy deposited our bags beside the front desk, which had two banks of elevators flanking it. Behind the counter stood a small, bald fellow wearing pince-nez glasses, his forehead shiny but smooth. He looked up at us and smiled.
“May I help you gentlemen?”
“Yes, Heath Barrington of Milwaukee, checking in. This is Mr. Keyes, he’ll be staying with me. I have a letter of credit from my bank and my reservation confirmation.” I handed over the documents to the little man, who examined them and handed them back.
“Everything seems to be in order, Mr. Barrington, and we have your reservation right here. A double room, checking in today, leaving Monday morning, is that correct?”
“Yes, yes, that’s right.”
“Very good, sir. Any valuables for the hotel safe?”
“No, nothing to check, thank you.”
“All right, then, if you’ll just sign our register, Carl here will see you to your room.” He nodded at the bellboy standing off to the side near a column.
I signed the register with my name, home address, and telephone exchange. “Thank you. By the way, is Mike Masterson working today?”
The desk clerk looked surprised. “Our house detective?”
I nodded. “Yes, that’s right. He’s an old friend of mine.”
“I see. I believe Mr. Masterson is working an evening shift today, sir. Would you like to leave him a message?”
“No, that’s all right. He knows I’m here, and a good house dick can always find his man.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“Thanks. Where’s a good place nearby to get a tuxedo, by the way?”
“Blount’s right here in the hotel carries tuxedos. Just past the south elevators and down the hall.”
“Blount’s, eh? Thanks for the tip.”
“There’s also Marshall Field’s department store on State Street. Perhaps our concierge could assist you.”
“We’ll check out Blount’s first, after we unpack. Sound good, Alan?”
He nodded. “Sure, that’s fine. But I really could just wear my dark suit.”
The desk clerk raised his eyebrows and adjusted his pince-nez, but didn’t say anything.
“No, Blount’s it is. A good starting point, anyway.”
“Very good, sir. Should you need dinner reservations, club recommendations, or anything else, our concierge here in the lobby will be most eager to assist.” He rang a bell, and Carl, who was still standing nearby, stepped forward. “Take Mr. Barrington and Mr. Keyes to 804,” he said, handing Carl a brass key with a tag attached.
“Yes, sir.” Carl, who appeared to be only about seventeen or eighteen years old, was dressed in a smart dark green uniform with brass buttons, matching green cap, and crisp white gloves. He put the key in his pocket, picked up our bags rather effortlessly, and with a nod to us, moved off toward the south elevators as we followed behind.
The ride up to the eighth floor was smooth and quick. “No operator?” I asked.
Carl looked up at me. “No, sir, the Edmonton automated last year. The elevators run by themselves. You just push a button and away you go.”
“Another man out of a job.”
“It’s a changing world, mister.”
“Yes, people keep telling me that.”
“It was the strike in ’45 in New York that did ’em in,” Carl continued.
“Sad,” Alan said. “I rather like the human touch.”
“Automated is the way of the future. Someday they’ll have self-driving cars, wait and see,” Carl said.
I shuddered. “Now there’s a frightening thought.”
“Not to me, mister. Self-driving cars, picture phones, space travel, I can’t wait.”
“That’ll be the day,” I said. The elevator came smoothly to a halt, and we followed Carl out, stopping right next door at 804.
“Next to the elevator, huh?” Alan remarked.
I nodded. “Probably why Mike could get us such a great rate.”
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s convenient,” Alan said.
I smiled. “You’re always finding the silver lining in things.”
“Why not?”
“I’m with your friend,” Carl said. Unlocking the door and ushering us in, he flipped on the overhead light.
The room was small but clean. Two twin beds against the right wall, separated by a nightstand with a lamp and a clock. The opposite wall held a dresser, upon which sat another lamp, an ashtray, and a radio. A small desk with a phone on it sat next to that, a metal trash can under it, and a luggage rack stood in the corner upon which the boy piled our bags. Above it was a wall-mounted fan.
Carl opened the curtains. “Not much of a view from this room, fellas.”
I walked over and gazed out at the back side of another building. “It’s all right. We’re not here for the view. What have you heard about the weather this weekend?”
“Supposed to be in the seventies today, foggy and rainy. Cooler tomorrow with more rain.” He turned back to us and gestured toward the front of the room. “The bathroom’s near the door to the hall, and there’s a closet there too. If you need anything pressed, just call the valet. Twenty-four-hour room service, also. Want me to unpack?”
I shook my head. “No thank you, we can manage.”
“Sure thing.” He moved toward the door and stopped, looking at me as I fished a fifty cent piece out of my pocket and handed it to him as he gave me the room key.
“Thanks,” he said. I wondered if that was a sufficient tip in the big city, but he pocketed it easily enough and went out the door, leaving us alone.
“At last,” Keyes said, setting his Brownie down carefully on the desk.
“Yes, indeed.” I wrapped my arms around him.
“Very smooth, Detective, but not so fast. We have to unpack.”
“That can wait,” I replied, nibbling his left ear a bit.
He pulled back, laughing. “That’s what you said in Lake Geneva, and I spent the weekend in wrinkled clothes.”
“But they have a valet here.”
“Nonetheless, I am going to unpack.”
I sighed “All right, you. Better take off that traveling suit, too. It’s looking a mite rumpled from the train.”
He looked down at his suit, which was perfectly fine, and then at himself in the mirror and laughed again. “You, Detective, are a bit sneaky, and you have a one-track mind.”
I smiled. “And you, Officer, are determined to derail me. Very well, let’s unpack.”
Together we opened our suitcases and put things away, setting aside my tux and both our dark suits for the hotel valet. I unstrapped my umbrella and placed it in the corner near the door. I called down to have the suits picked up, and they assured me they would have them pressed and back in about two hours.
In less than five minutes, a boy knocked on the door, and I gave him the suits along with another tip. I hung out the Do Not Disturb sign.
“Do Not Disturb?” Alan asked, looking at me.
“Unless you have something else to put away or unpack.” I walked over to the windows and closed the curtains.
Alan grinned. “Not on your life, Detective. Let’s try and get that train back on track.”
“Woo woo,” I replied. “All aboard.” I took off my suit coat and hung it neatly over the back of the desk chair, Alan looking at me with an odd expression. “What?”
“You have your shoulder harness and service revolver on,” he said.
“Oh, that. Well, force of habit, I guess.”
“But Chicago is way out of your jurisdiction, and we’re on holiday.”
I shrugged and removed it, setting it on the dresser next to the ashtray. “I know. I probably should have left it in Milwaukee, but I didn’t feel comfortable leaving it behind in my apartment. Do you mind?”
“No, it’s fine, Heath, it just surprised me, that’s all.”
I smiled. “I have lots of surprises in store for you, Officer.” I moved closer to him and ran my hands down his front. “Hey, I feel something hard down there.”
Alan laughed. “Oh, I forgot. My lucky rock is still in my pocket.” He reached in and pulled out a small, smooth stone, almost round, and set it on the dresser. Then with a grin, he turned off the light, allowing just the daylight filtering in through the drapes. “Now then, let’s get this train rolling, Detective.”
It had been ages since we had been alone like that, and it was over too soon. We lay together, entwined on one of the beds, listening to each other breathing.
“What time is it? “Alan asked quietly.
I glanced over at the small clock on the nightstand. “About twelve twenty. We should get dressed, I suppose.”
“What for?” he asked, snuggling his head to my chest. “I can hear your heart beat.”
“It does that. But we haven’t had lunch yet, and we need to get you a tux.”
Alan sighed contentedly. “Somehow, I think I’d rather spend the weekend right here in this room, never leaving until Monday morning. We could have our meals sent in.”
“Romantic, but not practical. Why come all the way to Chicago just to stay in?”
He nuzzled me harder. “Because it’s foggy, drizzling, and windy outside, and colder tomorrow. Why not just stay in? We could dance right here to the radio, then sleep, eat, and do it all again. Then I wouldn’t need a tux, either.”
I kissed the top of his head, smelling his hair tonic. “I thought you were the one who was so excited to see the big city.”
He looked up at me. “I’ve seen it, and I’m so comfortable, and that was so nice.”
“Me too, Mr. Keyes, but you haven’t yet begun to see Chicago, and I don’t want you to grow tired of me too quickly, so up with you. Besides, I packed my umbrella.” I gave him a nudge.
He moved ever so slightly and gazed up at me again, his eyes so deep, so beautiful.
“Grow tired of you? Could I grow tired of the air I breathe?”
“You do know how to soothe my insecurities.”
“You have nothing to be insecure about, Heath.”
“We all have our demons.”
“What are yours? I’ll fight them for you.”
I laughed. “Thanks. I was shy and chubby as a kid, awkward, clumsy, bad at athletics, and I had few friends.”
“The ugly duckling, eh?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“But you turned into a handsome swan.”
“Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I still see that ugly duckling. I wouldn’t call myself a swan, maybe just an okay-looking duck.”
“And all this time I thought you were just admiring yourself every time you looked in a mirror, which, to be perfectly honest, is fairly often,” he said, running his fingers through my chest hairs.
I laughed again. “Don’t get me wrong. I generally like what I see, but like I said, inner demons, insecurities, you know. And I hadn’t realized I looked at myself that often.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad. Just something I noticed. Well, anyway, we’ll have to work on that insecurity of yours.”
“Fair enough. And you’ve done wonders already, whether you realize it or not. Come on, let’s get dressed and get you that tux, then we’ll see the town.”
We climbed out of bed and dressed, putting our traveling suits back on. I tucked my service revolver and shoulder harness in the nightstand drawer. “I guess that will be safe there. The maid won’t be in until morning.”
“True. But then you’ll have to take it with you tomorrow.”
“Unless I check it at the front desk and have them put it in the safe.”
“If you’re comfortable wearing it under your coat, it’s fine with me.”
“I’ll leave it here for now.” As I adjusted my tie in the mirror and smoothed down my hair, I glanced over at Alan and smiled. “Just making sure I look okay.”
He laughed lightly. “You always look smashing, Duck, believe that.”
“Duck? Is that my new nickname?”
“Maybe. Though you did pack your umbrella.”
“It’s true. Water and my wool suits don’t mix too well.”
“But water and fish do.”
I grinned. “Very true. Ready?”
“If you’re waiting for me, you’re wasting your time. I’ve never shopped for a tux before.”
“I like doing new things with you, and this is only the beginning.”
“Careful, Detective, I may not look like it, but I can have expensive tastes.”
“Thanks for the warning. Come on.” I grabbed my umbrella from the corner, and Alan put his Brownie back around his neck and his rock back in his pocket.