We strolled with Wesley the few blocks to the burlesque theater. He’d offered his arm to Marie, for which I was grateful. She wasn’t a large woman, and two glasses of sherry downed quickly in succession had about done her in.
Sadie and I followed them as Wesley turned down a side road. Here the more genteel face of Falmouth’s main street turned grittier. The buildings in this neighborhood clearly either housed people hard at work for little pay, those down on their luck, or both. Garbage littered the street, while grimy urchins kicked a ball made of rags tied into a rough sphere. Two women wearing low-cut gowns stood in suggestive poses on the other side of the street, faces caked with powder, eyes lined with kohl.
“Three new ones, Mr. Stewart?” one called, setting her hand on a cocked hip. “You trying to make me jealous, honey?”
Marie shrank behind Wesley as if afraid the woman would snatch her off the street. Sadie shot me an amused glance.
Wesley’s face reddened as he cleared his throat. “Please ignore her,” he muttered to us, then pointed to a sign. “I know the street isn’t much, ladies, but it’s quite a reputable theater, for its type.”
The sign, in garish red and black letters, proclaimed Cape Cod Burlesque Theater, with “Finest in New England” etched below. Wesley tried the door but found it locked. He beat his fist on it as we waited. He grumbled under his breath, and I thought I heard a muttered expletive slip out.
Finally he shouted, “Mr. Dodge. Open the door!”
A window upstairs flew open and a coatless Currie leaned out. His face paled when he saw us. I smiled and waved at him.
“Hey, Currie baby, you got fancy lady callers,” one of the prostitutes called.
“And the big cheese, too,” the other added.
“Perhaps I won’t be taking in one of these shows, after all,” Sadie murmured to me.
“One moment, Mr. Stewart,” Currie said in a panicked voice before slamming down the window.
It wasn’t long before Currie unlocked the door and pulled it open. He’d slid into a coat, but his tie was as askew as his hair, and his feet were shod only in stockings.
“What the devil are you up to in here?” Wesley demanded. “The door is to be unlocked and the ticket office open and doing business the afternoon before a show. You were supposed to be working, Mr. Dodge.” He detached from Marie, pushed Currie aside, and strode into the theater.
This was a different side to Wesley than the genteel theater owner we’d met. He was obviously also a manager one would not wish to cross. I followed him in.
“Hello, Currie,” I said.
Sadie took Marie’s arm. Currie shut the door once we were all in the lobby. The light was dim from several weak electrical bulbs in sconces but provided enough illumination to show walls plastered with posters, a shabby carpet, and dingy woodwork. Double doors likely led to the theater proper. Wesley, Sadie, and Marie faced away from a staircase, which ended next to another door labeled Exit.
A young woman in a respectable dress crept down the stairs with eyes wide and shoes in her hands. I glanced at Currie, who clearly saw her, but jammed his hands in his pockets and looked determinedly only at his employer. The tiptoer eased opened the Exit door. If it creaked, both she and Currie were done for. I held my breath. But the hinges were silent, and she slipped away. Maybe Currie had oiled the door on purpose.
“This lady wishes to speak with you,” Wesley addressed Currie, gesturing at me. “And then I plan to have a word or a dozen with you myself.” His scowl could have scoured a dirty pan, it was that rough. “Let me show you other ladies where the performances take place.” He led Sadie and Marie through one of the double doors.
I stepped next to Currie and waited until the door shut before speaking. “Thee took quite a risk, having thy girl slip out under Wesley’s nose.”
“Don’t I know it?” He shook his head. “I really need to mend my ways. But how was I to know he’d descend on the place like he did?” He focused on me. “Why are you here anyway?”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news, Currie.” I touched his arm. “David received a telegram from thy father early this morning. It seems thy mother has fallen gravely ill.”
Currie’s mouth turned down but he didn’t speak.
“David left on the first train to Boston. He asked me to find thee. He prays thee will join Herbert and him at Clarinda’s side.”
“Knowing my mother, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s only pretending to be ill, in a pathetic attempt to lure me home.” His expression turned sour. “You don’t know her, Rose. She’s capable of such a trick.”
“I do know her a bit, actually.” He didn’t need to know Clarinda had lied to me once, trying to turn me against David. Between us we had discovered the true story, and her machinations had only brought us closer. “Will thee be going to her?”
“I can’t. I need this job. I’m in a lot of debt, you see, and . . . and that’s all I can say.” His face hardened as he began to turn away.
“Wait.” I stepped in front of him. “I must ask thee something else. Will thee promise to tell me the truth?”
“What’s the question?”
“Does thee promise?” I gazed straight into his face, so much like David’s and so different, too.
He stole a glance at the theater doors. “If I can.”
I mentally rolled my eyes, but forged ahead. “Did thee have sexual relations with Frannie Isley?” I kept my voice low and firm.
“What?” He reared back. “Me? It’s an outrage, Rose, to even suggest such a thing.”
“Did thee?” I pressed.
“I’m offended you would even consider such a scandalous idea.” He folded his arms across his chest, lifting his chin.
Both double doors opened. Wesley ushered Sadie and Marie through. I got a peek at red brocade swags and an abundance of gold paint before the door swung closed.
“We had quite the tour, Rose,” Sadie said.
“It’s lush in there,” Marie said, seeming not quite as wobbly as before.
“Have you conducted your business, Mrs. Dodge?” Wesley asked.
In a way. Except for Currie not answering my question. “Yes, and I thank thee.”
“I think we’d appreciate an escort back to our carriage, Wesley, if thee wouldn’t mind.” Sadie clasped her gloved hands.
“Of course, of course. My man Dodge here is going to get tidied up and open the ticket window without delay. Isn’t he?” Wesley stared at Currie.
“Yes, sir,” Currie said.
I looked back at him, now standing alone, before I stepped outside. I thought I saw a trace of panic remaining on his face. Was this alarm at having endangered his employment by tangling with his boss, or something worse?