Lakefront and Mrs. Grey

by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

Chapter Three

Example

Unused to the warmer climate Kathleen had overslept, the late evenings muggy heat making wakening difficult. When she did finally wake it was to a room over pressurized by the days heat. It took all her strength to crawl out of bed and make it to the luckily empty bathroom, where a cold shower quickly woke her. Cold was a misnomer the Irish woman decided as glacier temperatures struck her bare skin. ‘They must run these pipes through blocks of ice’ she decided. It was of course simply the difference between her nearly ninety five degree room and normal cold water, but to her it was brutally shocking.

Soon, now shivering slightly from her icy shower and back in her room, Kathleen toweled off with her spare sheet. 'Towels' she thought. 'Towels, plates, soap ahh everything.' She shook her head, it had been a long time since she'd had to start over. Tommy had swept her off her feet almost before she stepped off the boat. Her memory flashed back to that confusing day. A young gangly fifteen year old in a press of hundreds of her countrymen. Then a huge man in blue standing beside her telling her that her Uncle was waiting for her. Frightened, confused she'd nodded, to find herself nearly dragged out of Ellis Islands dank sweaty chambers by a man who towered over her.

Once they had entered his apartment he had laid down the law she would live under for years to follow. "Get this right spud. I picked you outta tha crowd cause you were alone. You mess up, you gonna be alone again." Tommy had never been one for kindness but something about him, her situation, the newness of everything... "Fell in love like an idiot" she told herself, picking up her underwear. Three days, same clothing. It had been years since she’d had to do that. She took the underclothing back into the bathroom. She'd do without them tonight, three days was two to long for her tastes. As she scrubbed under the taps thin cold stream she remembered Tommy. Remembered the look on his face when she'd swung the borrowed bat at his head.

A classic case of the student outdoing her teacher.

Hanging the lightly dripping clothing in her room Kathleen returned to her thoughts. It'd been months since she'd gone without food, without a hot bath. When was it? Oh yes, the MacGueir hit. Messy fat man had been pushing into Angels territory. Angel hadn't liked that so she'd been hired to 'explain things.' Fat amorous drunks bled like pigs. Quietly she finished dressing, feeling the cotton of her dress slide roughly against her now bare skin. Definitely not as nice as silk, she really missed silk. Strapping her custom designed holster high on her right leg she picked up her purse and opened her door. It was time to do some exploring.

MacGregors had called to her. Wither it was the chair, the chance of employment or something else she wasn’t certain. Though the building was closed for the night, one room still showed lights. She studied the street around her carefully, blatantly. There were the normal walkers, a bored cop and hidden in an alley a street rat. 'Someones watching the place too' she noted, walking slowly along the buildings outer brick wall. When she reached the lighted windows she stopped. It was obvious what was going on from the sounds and tubby little Mrs. Beekman hadn't had that light a voice in years. Or that much energy. The windows were frosted, fancy. Probably Beekman’s private office. That meant Mr. Beekman was a slimbucket after all and she hadn't even met him yet. It also meant that Mrs. Beekman just might just be interested in ending this partnership. 'But how do I meet her? Have to find someone who knows her, has information.' In her mind MacGregors already had too much potential for her to ignore, and needed too much for her to go it alone. Having firmly decided upon that future action she continued on, aware that the street rat would have noticed her interest. She looked his way, smiled and waved. The kid vanished like smoke. 'Thought so.' Now to find a meal and something to drink. Tomorrow would be a long day. First food, then a drink. Maybe. She picked up a light meal at a corner stand. Something Italian. She hated Italian. It was always too greasy. Still it was a meal. Chinatown might have to wait a day or two after all. Finishing her meal she began walking again, drifting along the edges of Irishtown for tonight.

"How much sweets" a heavy voice asked. Kathleen stopped, turning to face the voice. She had been walking apparently without much thought as to her destination, learning the neighborhood. A mistake to just drift, but not a deadly one. Yet. This mans English was heavily accented. New Hampshire probably, so there would be money in that voice. He was slumming tonight she knew, or what he considered slumming. Then she was in the slums herself, though the Irish didn’t think of their part of town like that. Unconsciously she had been having fun with some boys trying to ambush her. She'd been walking nearly four hours now, learning her section of the city and its nightlife. It was true a few people had mistaken her for a trollop, after all even one police officer had stopped her, wanting his cut. That was until she'd spoken to him and explained that she was lost, then asking the way back to Walnut and Market. It was the only place she knew right now, though that would change fast.

Too educated to be a trollop he'd decided, telling her how to get there and to be careful. He left her to her 'window shopping,' a little disappointed at losing expected pocket money. But upsetting the Irish was always a mistake. But this man... She looked closer, seeing a man in uniform. Probably an officer from one of the ships. He was drunk, but not that drunk. Not quite yet. It was certain he hadn't mistaken her for a street walker. Not in her clothing. Still she was Irish, or could be Scots or Welsh. She could be Queen by God Mary herself and he wouldn’t care. Not being white she was trash, something to wipe his hands with. She was alone too, so he’d decided she was what he wanted, wither she wanted that or not.

"You couldn't afford me Chief" she answered, guessing at a rank.

"Second Officer" he corrected with a chuckle. "And I can afford a lot. How about a kiss?"

Kathleen backed up a step, looking around. Alleys would be full of street rats, the two legged kind and none on her side. But there was an apartment building across the street, the Harrison Arms she noted absently. Its condition and style told her everything she needed to know. Now all she had to hope was that New York and Lakefront shared the same general social decay. "How about on the roof?" she suggested, nodding her head towards the open front door.

"Sounds good. You lead?"

She forced a willing smile, walking across the street with a slight sway to her hips. As she'd suspected the low class building didn't even have a night clerk, or more likely he was asleep in the back. She listened to her target as he followed her up five flights, the floor plan almost exactly the same as her own building. Just like her building a metal door, this one the lock long broken, lead to the roof. As she stepped out a fresh breeze struck her.

"Nice view" her companion noted. "That's my ship over there, the three master. One of the last sail ships on these lakes."

Kathleen looked out the direction he pointed, where a single sail ship lay in the moonlight, its empty masts reaching up like narrow fingers into the sky. It looked trim, fit to her eye. Then she knew almost nothing about sailing ships. Setting her purse on an abandoned wooden box she walked to the roofs edge, getting a better look at the ship. "Nice" she admitted, beginning to open her blouse. The breeze was cool against her bare flesh, almost she wished she could stay this way for a while. "There's sixty in my purse and a brand new twenty-two revolver" she continued as she heard her purse drag on the box. "If that's what you really want, take it and leave."

A thump answered her as he dropped it. "No, just checking. Now about that kiss."

She turned, pulling open her blouse completely. As she expected the sudden view of so much uncovered flesh was enough to silence her new 'friend.' Walking slowly she sat on another box. "Why bother with a kiss?" she asked, lifting her right leg. Acting as if she were reaching for the skirts catch she retrieved her automatic, flipping off its safety as she turned it towards the undressing man.

Its voice was loud over the cities roofs, yet muted down below. More than likely people below barely heard the weapons discharge. Those that did falsely assumed it'd been fired far away. Since there was only one shot most ignored it. Those that didn't, mainly the police, had no real direction to start looking.

Kathleen safed her weapon, slipping the still smoking automatic back into its holster. Remaining seated she closed her blouse, carefully buttoning it. Only then did she stand, not bothering to tuck her clothing back in yet while she walked to the mans cooling body. A single hole was evident in his forehead, just above the left eye. Where the bullet had exited was a hole almost large enough to shove her hand in. "Need to practice more" Kathleen sighed, reaching down to toss the dead man. She had been aiming between his eyes. His papers she kept. Passport, Second Mate papers. Someone might need those. Someone willing to pay or owe a favor. His watch she left laying on the roof, street rat pay. They'd take the unblooded clothing then get maybe ten for his gold watch. No problem there. In his wallet she found a wad of cash, too much to count now and she wasn't stupid enough to put it in her purse. It vanished under her skirt, along with an unopened letter in a woman’s hand. Both tucked uncomfortably tight into her holsters strap. A few gold coins, some silver, a wicked looking blade and a photo. Taking the photo she ignored the knife. Not her style. Those coins and the blade she left with the watch. They too would vanish quickly.

"Pretty" she remarked, looking at the gentle face on the photo. Slipping it into her blouse she stood, retrieved her purse then finished dressing before she vanished from the roof. Before Kathleen reached the ground floor street rats were already stripping her victim. In minutes his naked body would be feast for the real alley rats. He'd be lucky if he was recognizable by the time the police found him tomorrow. First her room to hide the extra cash. Then an Irish eatery. A good one.