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The Willard Hotel
Senator William Alden Smith
Joe Bayliss was waiting for Bill and Nana as they entered from the darkness of night into the bright electric lights burning in the lobby of the Willard Hotel. The sheriff greeted Bill with a perfunctory handshake and a brief nod to Nana.
“Thanks for coming. I’m sorry about disturbing your evening.”
Bill, who had just emerged from the bath when the phone had rung, gave Joe a rueful smile. “It’s all right, Joe. I don’t blame you for phoning me. Mrs. Trentham is a very difficult old lady. What is this all about?”
“She believes that Kate Royston has stolen a valuable item from her, and she wants me to find Kate and arrest her.”
“And what do you think?” Nana asked.
Bill looked at his wife. Her expression was as serene as ever, but her appearance was somewhat disheveled. She had dressed in a hurry and without the assistance of her maid. Her plans for what would happen when Bill emerged from a relaxing bath had not included putting up her hair and lacing herself into a corset and a stylish dress. The result of her haste was evident from the hair escaping from beneath her hat and a warm flush on her cheeks.
“I thought Mrs. Trentham had a nurse to care for her,” Nana said. “Surely she can take care of the situation.”
Joe shook his head. “I’m not worried about Mrs. Trentham,” he said. “I’m worried about Miss Kate. She’s gone from her room, and she’s left behind all the clothes that Mrs. Trentham bought for her. I’ve spoken to the Countess of Rothes, who is also staying here, and she told me that she had seen Kate this afternoon. As you know, Kate had her portmanteau stolen in New York, but it was recovered, and the countess brought it here. I’ve questioned the countess as best I can, but I think she’s holding something back. She will only say that the bag contained Kate’s clothes from the Carpathia and her travel papers.”
“And you think there was something else?” Nana asked.
Joe nodded. “I think the countess knows more than she’s saying, but I can’t press her. She’s committed no crime.” He scowled. “And I don’t believe that Kate has committed a crime. If she was going to steal, why wouldn’t she also steal the clothes that Mrs. Trentham purchased for her? There is much more going on here than the simple theft of a brooch.”
“I’ll go and talk to Mrs. Trentham,” Nana said. “Perhaps I can calm her down.”
Nana took several steps toward the elevator, but Bill caught hold of her and held her back. “Not yet, dear. I think we need to ask Joe a few more questions.”
Joe scowled impatiently. “The old lady is worth a fortune. If Kate wanted to steal something, it would be something more valuable than a little pearl brooch that’s worth no more than a couple of dollars.”
Bill looked Joe in the eye, expecting to see Joe’s normal, hard-eyed stare, but Joe’s gaze slid sideways. It was the action of a guilty man, or at least the action of a man who had something to hide.
“Joe, what is it that you’re not telling me? Why are you so worried about Kate?
“I don’t want Mrs. Trentham calling hotel security and the local police. It’s obvious that Kate has a secret. She’s running away from something and the last thing she needs is hotel detectives asking questions. If you and your wife can talk to Mrs. Trentham and calm her down, that will give me time to make my own inquiries,” Joe said. “Kate didn’t steal that brooch. Mrs. Trentham gave it to her. I want to know where Kate has gone in the middle of the night, and I don’t want to see her arrested. She’s not a thief.”
Bill stared at his old friend. From the moment that Joe had first encountered Kate Royston on board the Carpathia, he had behaved toward her with unusual kindness. Joe was not a boorish man, and he was quite capable of good manners, but he rarely made friends and never showed favoritism. He seemed to have made an exception for Kate Royston, appointing himself to carry her luggage and act as her protector.
Bill chose his next words with care. He could see that Joe’s emotions could easily boil over into anger, but he was not willing to confront Eva until he had all the facts, and Joe had not given him all the facts.
“You seem very sure about this,” Bill said. “Do you know something about this brooch? Eva says it’s valuable, but you say it’s worthless. How do you know so much about it?”
“Kate told me it was a gift,” Joe said.
Bill felt as though he were back in the Senate hearing room, questioning a reluctant witness. “And when did she tell you this?”
“This afternoon.”
“Where were you, and why were you even discussing the brooch?” Bill asked.
Joe looked away and fixed his eyes on a point above Bill’s head. “I was at Union Station, and I will not tell you why ... not yet.”
“You were at the station with Kate?”
“She ... accompanied me.”
Nana tugged at Bill’s arm. “I don’t think that the sheriff wants to discuss this here in the lobby.”
“Maybe he doesn’t,” Bill said, “but I do.”
“Forget about the station,” Joe said, returning his attention to Bill. “All you need to know is that Kate told me the brooch was a gift, and I went with her to the pawnshop and helped her get the best price I could. She said Eva Trentham never gave her any money, but she did give her that brooch.”
Bill shook his head in amazement. “I don’t understand. Why were you and Kate strolling around Union Station together, and why would you escort her into a pawnshop? Have you lost your mind, Joe? You’re a federal agent and she’s a witness, and ...” He hesitated before speaking, but it had to be said. “Joe, you’re old enough to be her father.”
Joe’s hand shot out and took hold of Bill’s coat collar. The hard gray-eyed stare returned, not cold this time but flashing with anger. Nana was suddenly at Joe’s side, her anger as hard as Joe’s.
“Sheriff Bayliss, what do you think you’re doing? Let go of him at once.”
Joe released Bill’s coat and took a step back. “You shouldn’t have said that,” he hissed. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know that your relationship with that young woman, whatever that may be, is clouding your judgment.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my judgment.”
“Oh, come on,” Bill scoffed, the anger and frustration of the past few weeks rising to the surface. “From the moment you saw her on the Carpathia, you changed. You’ve been fussing and worrying over her ever since. Now you’re telling me you went with her to pawn a stolen piece of jewelry. What do you expect me to think?”
“I expect you to think that I am concerned for her welfare.”
“Unusually concerned,” Bill said, unwilling to let the subject lapse.
Joe, taller by at least half a head, glowered down at Bill. “What are you suggesting? I’ve a good mind to put you in your place. Don’t you dare talk about her like that!”
“Why not?” Bill responded. “What do you know about her? Nothing. You know nothing.”
Joe reached out and poked Bill in the center of his chest. “I know all I need to know.”
Bill poked back, jabbing Joe in the solar plexus, and found a hard slab of muscle. “Where is she from?” He jabbed again. “Why was she on the Carpathia? Why is she running away?”
On the third jab, Joe caught hold of Bill’s finger in an iron fist and pushed him backward.
Bill felt a glorious rising of the emotions he had kept in check since the first word of the Titanic’s sinking. He was ready for this. He no longer cared that he had become embroiled in an unseemly scuffle in the lobby of the most expensive hotel in Washington. He was no longer a young man, but neither was Joe. Bill was quite sure he could land a couple of blows before Joe had him on the floor.
Nana stepped between them, laying one hand on Bill’s chest and the other on Joe’s shoulder. “Stop it,” she hissed. “You’re drawing attention to yourselves. There’s a woman sitting over there who is taking in every word.”
Bill glanced across the lobby and saw a middle-aged woman with an angular face and an unbecoming tweed suit. She was sitting alone and was staring at them with rapt, intelligent interest. A reporter. Definitely a reporter! Anger drained from him, replaced by the sudden awareness of his position. How much had she overheard? What would he read in tomorrow’s newspapers?
Nana led the way across the lobby to the elevator bank, and Joe and Bill followed in guilty silence. The attendant slid open the ornate brass gates, and they entered without saying a word to each other. Aside from Nana’s whispered instruction to the attendant that they should be taken to the fifth floor, they rode in silence. When they stepped out into the carpeted seclusion of the corridor, Nana barred the hallway, defying them to move past her.
“Get on with it,” she said firmly. “Say whatever it is you want to say, and then we’ll go and see Mrs. Trentham. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but you need to put an end to it. Now you’re both sulking like schoolboys.”
Joe looked down at the top of Nana’s head and then across to Bill. “You married a strong woman,” he said. “You’re a lucky man.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Bill. What you said just struck me the wrong way.”
“I shouldn’t have said it,” Bill agreed.
“No,” Joe argued, “you have every right. I’m acting as a federal agent, and I stepped way beyond the limits of my position and made this personal. I’m not cut out for politics. We seem to be surrounded by liars, all except for Kate. I’m worried about her. I think she’s the only honest person in this city.”
Bill’s temper flared again. “This is my city, Joe. Are you calling me a liar?”
Joe shook his head. “No, of course not.” He shrugged. “I just want to make a couple of nice, clean arrests and go home. I had no idea what I was taking on when you asked me to help.”
Bill nodded. “Neither did I, Joe.” He thrust out his hand. “Thank you for everything. I couldn’t have done this without you, and I didn’t mean to imply anything about Kate.”
Joe managed a wry smile. “I suppose I should be flattered that you think a pretty little thing like Kate would be interested in me.” He looked at Nana. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Smith, for creating a scene.”
Nana patted his arm. “Think nothing of it, Sheriff.”
Joe’s expression changed to one of concern. He looked at Bill. “You don’t think Kate misinterpreted, do you? It was a fatherly interest. You don’t think that she ...”
Bill set aside his doubts. He could not say whether or not Kate had misinterpreted or even welcomed Joe’s attention. He left those kinds of thoughts to Nana to sort out. It was certainly possible, and not even unusual, for a man of Joe’s age to marry a young bride, and he was not convinced that Joe’s attentions were strictly fatherly. Well, that was something for another day. For the moment, he needed to get Joe’s attention back on the work at hand, and the best way to do that was to avoid any confusion in his feelings for Kate.
“I’m sure there was no misunderstanding, or she would have told you she was leaving,” he said. “I think she had an interest in Mr. McSorley, but obviously, even that wasn’t a strong enough interest to make her stay around.”
“They fought,” Joe said. “She accused him of cowardice because he managed to get into a lifeboat.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” Nana said. “It’s really quite absurd. I can’t think of anyone who would voluntarily dive into the water when there was a seat in a lifeboat.”
Joe grinned. “You haven’t met Charles Lightoller. He’s a hero worthy of the monthly magazines. I expect we’ll be reading about him in American Boy one day soon. I didn’t think one man could have so many adventures.”
Bill was not so sure that he agreed with Joe’s assessment of Charles Lightoller, but he was interrupted before he could express his opinion. The door of Eva Trentham’s suite opened with a bang, and Bridie Conley stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
“So, ’tis there you are,” she said angrily, “and about time too. Herself has been giving me a devil of a time.”
Nana pushed past Bridie and bustled into the room. Bill stood back while Nana’s soothing questions were answered by Eva in angry shrieks.
Bridie leaned against the doorpost with her arms folded and a slight twitch of amusement pulling at her lips. “She’s in a devil of a temper,” she said, “but it’s not about the brooch.”
“Well,” Bill said, “if Miss Royston has stolen—”
“She hasn’t,” Bridie said. “I was there myself when the old woman gave Kate that little geegaw. She said Kate could keep it, and there would be more jewelry to come. It’s not a silly little pearl brooch that’s got her upset.”
“Then what is it?” Bill asked.
“It’s the fact that Kate’s gone. She’s left behind everything Mrs. Trentham bought for her, and she’s gone.”
“Do you know where?”
Bridie shook her head. “I don’t know where, but I know why.”
“And why is that?”
“Because Mrs. Trentham will take you prisoner if you let her. I’m going to leave as soon as I can squeeze her for the money to buy a ticket to Chicago. She made me a promise, and I intend for her to keep it, but she’s the devil for keeping people by her and not allowing them their freedom. Is that your wife that’s gone in with her, Senator?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then you’d best go and rescue her. With the mood she’s in, that old woman will chew her up and spit her out.”
Joe grinned as he stepped past Bridie. “I think Mrs. Smith can look after herself. It didn’t take her long to get me under control.”
Bill followed Joe into the parlor. Although he hated to admit it, he was finding pleasure in the prospect of a dispute that was not about the sinking of the Titanic. He was tired of being meticulous and diplomatic and producing very little in the way of results beyond revealing the horror and chaos of that night at sea.
Eva had brought this mess into his life, and he was beginning to resent the time it was taking and the danger it posed to his political career. He actually looked forward to defying Eva and telling her Joe Bayliss was not at her beck and call and he was not going to arrest Kate Royston, because Kate was not a thief. Kate was simply a young woman who had tolerated as much as she could of Eva’s venom and had decided to move on. He made a note to himself that he should ask Joe how much Kate had obtained for the brooch. Knowing the amount would give some idea of how far Kate had managed to flee, just in case he should ever need to find her again.
Eva was seated, as usual, in her wheelchair. Her hair was standing on end, and the rug that was usually placed across her lap had slipped to one side. Bill could see the plaster cast on Eva’s right leg. Her bony old foot was uncovered, and her toes were blue from poor circulation. The fact that a hairbrush lay on the floor on one side of the chair and a fluffy white woolen sock lay on the other side was an indication that Bridie had done her best to make Eva comfortable, but obviously, Eva did not wish to be made comfortable.
Nana pulled up a chair and sat quietly for a moment while Eva called down the wrath of heaven on Kate’s ungrateful head. She waited until the old woman’s raging ended in a coughing fit, and then she went to the sideboard and poured a good slug of whiskey. Bill looked at her in amazement. Nana was not a drinker. Perhaps she had poured the drink for him. He certainly would like to have a drink. He looked hopefully at his wife, but she raised her eyebrows at him and handed the glass to Eva.
“Drink this, Mrs. Trentham, and tell us what this is really about.”
“She stole from me.”
“According to Sheriff Bayliss, she did no such thing. You gave her the brooch, didn’t you? Come on now, admit it.”
Eva took a hasty gulp of whiskey and glared at Nana. “So you’re Bill’s wife.”
“Yes,” Nana said with quiet dignity. “I have that honor.”
“And he thought he could save himself by bringing you with him.”
Nana shook her head. “My husband does not need to save himself, Mrs. Trentham. You are the one who needs to be saved.”
Bill heard a sudden burst of laughter and looked around to see that Bridie Conley had returned to the room. “Saved, is it? There’ll be nothing Baptist for that one, and no mass neither.” She leaned toward Eva. “How many years is it since you’ve been to mass?”
Nana cocked her head to one side. “Are you a Catholic, Mrs. Trentham?”
“No, of course not,” Eva hissed. “Why would I be a Catholic?”
“Because you’re Irish,” Bridie said.
Eva glared at her nurse. “You watch your tongue, woman. You know nothing about me.”
“I know a Galway girl when I see one,” Bridie retorted, “and I know it’s many years since you’ve been to confession. Perhaps you should begin by confessing that Kate didn’t steal your silly little brooch. You’ve got a ring on every finger and more diamonds than you know what to do with, so why would Kate steal some cheap pearl brooch? You want the sheriff to bring her back because you miss her.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do.”
Eva pulled herself upright in her seat and patted at her wild hair. “Don’t argue with me, woman. I’ll have you out of here tonight, and there’ll be no ticket to Chicago for you.”
Bridie pursed her lips. “I’ll have a ticket from you, or I’ll be telling the newspapers what I know about you. I’ll tell them about the names you call out in your sleep and the way you slip into the Gaelic when you dream.”
“I do not.”
Bill wanted to speak, but Nana quieted him with a small gesture. “Take some more of the drink and try to calm yourself,” she said to Eva. “I know you’re afraid.”
“I am not.”
“I know you feel helpless.”
“Well, wouldn’t you feel the same way if you had a broken leg and couldn’t move, and the person who was supposed to care for you was threatening to leave, and the girl who could make you laugh goes running off, and goodness knows where she’s gone?” Eva gulped her drink and began to cough again. Tears formed in her eyes, but Bill suspected that they were not because she had coughed.
“You’re worried about her,” Nana said.
Eva dabbed at her eyes with a corner of the blanket. “The girl has no more sense than a newborn babe. She had this wild idea that she would leave the ship in Gibraltar and somehow make her way across Europe. She is virgo intacta, but she wouldn’t have stayed that way for long, would she? What does she have to sell except her body?”
“Yes, that would be a problem,” Nana agreed, “especially at a naval base like Gibraltar. Sailors can be a problem.”
Bill retreated to the side of the room, where he and Joe looked at each other in inarticulate masculine embarrassment. Bill had no idea that Nana could even carry on this kind of conversation. She was certainly saying things to Eva that she had never said to him.
“But she doesn’t have to be in Gibraltar to get herself into trouble,” Eva hiccupped. “She’s such an innocent. She’s not safe even here in Washington. Sheriff Bayliss has to find her.”
“If I find her, I won’t arrest her,” Joe said. “I’ll make sure she’s safe, but I won’t bring her back to you.”
“I can ruin you,” Eva snarled.
Joe shook his head. “You can’t do much to me that I haven’t already done to myself,” he said, “and I don’t think you’ll chase me all the way to the Soo.”
Eva’s response was cut short by a rapping at the door. Joe and Bill looked at each other, and Joe shook his head. The rapping was not the polite knocking of a well-brought-up young lady. This was a very determined knocking.
“Well, now,” Bridie muttered. “Let’s see who this is. Perhaps it’s the priest come to hear Mrs. Trentham’s confession.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eva said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If I don’t get my ticket to Chicago ...” Bridie threatened.
Bill turned his back on the women and opened the door. The woman from the lobby stood outside, with her fist raised to knock again.
“Myra Grunwald, St. Louis Post-Dispatch,” she said in a German-accented voice. “I can tell you where to find Miss Kate Royston. What can you tell me in return?”
Union Station
Washington, DC
Kate Royston
Kate ignored a fellow passenger’s suggestion that she should put her possessions in the overhead rack. She pulled the bag onto her lap and gripped the handle with both hands, vowing that she was not going to lose her possessions ever again. She could feel the comforting crackle of the dollar bills she had tucked into her bodice, next to her skin. The train fare had cost almost everything she had, but she retained just enough money to make the final leg of the journey from the train station in Pittsburgh to the ruined house—provided she did not spend anything on food or drink throughout the long journey.
The long passenger compartment of the B&O slow train was filling rapidly with men, women, and children, loaded down with bags and bundles. She wondered where they were all going. She had not been in time to take the express train, and now she faced a long night in the crowded third-class compartment of the slow train, which would stop for passengers to embark and disembark at isolated stations throughout the night. She studied the ticket she was clutching as though her life depended on it, and perhaps it did. If she changed her mind, she could step off in Hagerstown, or Cumberland, maybe Meyersdale or Connellsville, or someplace in between. If she stayed on board, she would be in Pittsburgh by the time dawn had broken across the Allegheny Mountains.
Even now, with the train windows open and the sulfurous smell of coal drifting through the carriage, she shuddered at the thought of returning to the smoke and grime of Pittsburgh, but of course, she would not stay there. Nothing in the world would persuade her to call on her great-aunt Suzanna. Even starvation could not induce her to knock at Suzanna Royston’s door to beg for a crust of bread. She would sooner die in the street than ask the old woman for anything.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts of her sour-faced aunt. Her time with Eva in New York and Washington now seemed like a dream, and the remembrances of first-class travel, satin sheets, and new clothes blew away in the face of her new reality. And what of the two men who had entered her life so precipitously? Danny with his Viking good looks and Joe with his dangerous eyes. They, too, would have to be banished from her thoughts—one a disappointment and the other an impossibility.
If she had ever intended to stop running and make a new life, this was a journey she would have to make alone. The small amount of money Joe Bayliss had obtained for the pearl brooch could have taken her back to New York, but she could not go there again and find work as a governess. As much as she hated the idea, there was only one place left for her to go, and that was the place where her father was buried in an unmarked grave. All she wanted now was for the train to start moving before she had a chance to change her mind, or before someone came to remove her and maybe even arrest her.
Once she reached Pittsburgh, she could disappear. Her small reserve of money would set her on a series of local trains and carry her up into the forested hills, where no one from Washington could find her—except maybe Myra Grunwald. By now Myra would know Kate’s story, but surely Myra would not leave the frenzied newspaper scene around the Titanic inquiry to chase after a penniless girl whose tragedy had taken place a year ago. What were five hundred deaths compared to fifteen hundred?
The train rattled and clanked and moved a couple of feet. Was it time to go? She looked out of the window. No, the train was just repositioning itself, preparing to leap forward into the night like a horse positioning its feet for a jump.
She sat back in her seat, making herself invisible from the platform and silently prayed for the train to move. She knew that she really had nothing to fear. No one would come for her. No one would even look for her. Joe Bayliss had no idea of her background and would not expect to find her on a Pittsburgh train. He was a lawman; he could find out if he really wanted to, but why would he want to? What about Eva Trentham? No, she would not even try. Kate had proved to Eva that she could not be held prisoner. She had taken the one item that she could rightfully claim and left everything else behind. Eva would have no grounds to prevent her from leaving.
She gave a momentary thought to Danny McSorley before banishing him to the corner of her mind where she hid disappointments and bad memories. He had made her heart flutter, and she’d dreamed foolish dreams of a cozy house on the edge of the Atlantic, and tall, sturdy children with blond hair and blue eyes. But he was a coward. By his own admission, he had forced his way into a lifeboat. He was to be despised along with all the other men who had put their own lives first.
The train shunted forward again. Just a few more minutes, and she would be safe from pursuit. Safe from pursuit, she told herself, but not safe from all danger. In the morning, after changing trains in Pittsburgh and taking the narrow-gage railway up into the forested hills, she would be penniless and facing her greatest danger. She imagined walking the main street, past the bank and the hotel and Klebbert’s Department Store. People would turn and stare. That’s her. That’s Philip Royston’s daughter.
She shook her head. It was a foolish fantasy. The main street could no longer exist. The bank had burned; the hotel had been washed away; the department store had crumbled. No one would recognize her. Nothing was left but the smoke-blackened mansion on the hill and the unmarked grave of her father.
The carriage moved again. Doors slammed. A whistle blew. She was safe from pursuit now. She could look out of the window and watch the lights of Washington disappear into the distance while the dark bulk of the Alleghenies swallowed up the horizon ahead. It was done. She was on her way home.