Authors note: What follows is a work of fiction based on real life events. None of the characters depicted are real and any similarity to real people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Obviously enough this is Part 2 of my story A life unknown. Part 1 did not get as many reads as I would have liked partly I suspect because it was originally published under letters and transcripts. As always any editing errors are mine.
A Life Unknown (Part 2)
At the Cunard office in Boston I confirmed that a suite had been prepared for me at the Buckminster Hotel in the name of Lady Victoria Cameron and asked for my trunk to be sent on to the hotel in due course. I arrived at the hotel midmorning, deposited my valuables in the hotel safe, and after a bath and a soak I had a light lunch and then went for a walk.
I wanted to clear my head and I walked with no clear destination in mind but was happy to feel firm ground under my feet again. Eventually, after I had walked for about half an hour, I chanced across a huge, towered building. This was the Cathedral of The Holy Cross.
I entered on impulse and stood in the knave between the tall Gothic arches lining the interior. It was cool and peaceful inside and seemed so far away and unrelated to the events of the last years of my life.
Then I knelt and prayed for the souls of the dead. The souls of those that I knew. My Brothers, David and James; and Edward, the only man I had every loved. The souls of strangers, those who died on the Lusitania, and all those killed in the meatgrinder of war.
And for second time that day I cried.
When I left the church I was more resolved than ever over what needed to be done next and asked for directions to South Union Station which I was informed was just five minutes’ walk away. There I booked a ticket on a train to New York leaving early the following morning.
That evening I arranged for a hairdresser to cut my hair in a Castle Bob hairstyle and dye it black and when she had finished I looked like a different person. This was precisely what I wanted.
Just a little after noon the following day, and after a five hour journey, the train pulled into Grand Central Station. I disembarked and made my way to the offices of the New York Times.
***
Once I reached the newspaper office I found the archives and asked if I could see old copies of the newspaper dated between the beginning of May to the beginning of June 1914. For a nominal fee, the custodian was happy to oblige, and a stack of back copies were fetched for me, and I sat at a desk and started to read.
After half an hour of reading I found what I what I was looking for. I had both expected and dreaded it. It was a story buried on page three of the 14th of May edition.
“BANKER SLAIN IN BRUTAL DOCKLAND KILLING.
The body of a thirty year old banker was found at New York Chelsea docks early yesterday morning. He has been identified as William Cosford. He was last seen alive the evening before when he attended a performance of Bizet’s Carmen at The Metropolitan Opera House with a group of friends. He failed to return to his seat after the interval and was wearing his evening suit when he was found.
Mr Cosford had been badly beaten before he was shot and po[ice believe this may have been a revenge killing or a warning to persons or persons unknown. He had no gangland affiliation and no motive for this crime has been established.”
My suspicions that George had had William killed had been growing since I had received the telegram threatening me with the same fate. The newspaper article simply confirmed what I had already come to accept as true. I knew that if George was ever to find me he would likely kill me. If he was willing to kill William because he slept with me he would not hesitate to do the same to me after I had stolen from him.
I was not willing to spend my life looking over my shoulder waiting for George or his agents to strike. That was why I had come back to America. I had two big advantages over George. He didn’t know I had returned but I knew exactly where to find him and around my neck hanging on a gold chain was a key.
I had decided. I was going to kill George. My grounds were self-defence and justice although if I was caught I doubted the law would see it that way and I had no intention of going to the electric chair. I needed a plan, and a good one at that.
As I have said before, the simplest plans are often the best, and I planned to do it myself. I could enter the house at night with my key, and at night when he was sleeping, and shoot him. His butler and housekeeper who lived in their own cottage would be very unlikely to hear the shot. Then I would rob his safe
J continued to scan the newspapers dated the week following the 14th of May and then I found a follow up article dated a week later.
“NO LEADS IN DOCKLAND SLAYING.
One week after the unexplained killing of Mr William Cosford at New York Docks police are no longer close to finding the murderer(s). Captain Hans Baumgartner of the 44 th Precinct in the Bronx has described this as an apparently motiveless crime…. ”
I stopped reading. I realised that I knew the name Hans Baumgartner and I tried to remember where I had seen it. Then it came to me. A lieutenant of that name had been listed in the ledger I had seen in George’s safe. I would never have remembered it if it hadn’t been such an unusual name.
Hans Baumgartner was a dishonest cop and in the pay of George.
***
I was booked into the Waldorf Astoria and returned there in the mid afternoon and spent the rest of the day formulating my plans before retiring to bed early.
The following day was Wednesday and if George was behaving as he normally did he would be at home overnight. In the morning I visited a pawn shop and bought a derringer pistol and then bought a large leather carrying bag.
In the afternoon in order to appear “normal” and to distract myself from what I planned I visited Liberty Island and the Statue of Liberty. I was able to visit the halo but the stairs to the torch held in her right hand were shut following the damage done to the statue by the Black Tom explosion that had occurred the previous July.
On my return to the hotel I had an early supper and then slept until about eleven o’clock at night. I dressed put on my hat and gloves before slipping out of the hotel. It was a forty minute walk to George’s House.
I passed the occasional person, but they took no notice of me and once a policeman walked by on the other side of the road. When I reached the house it was in darkness. Once I was sure that nobody was watching me I tried my key in the lock… and the door opened.
Once inside I stood still and listened. I could hear absolutely nothing. The house had electric lighting, but I did not want to wake George before I intended so I lit a candle I had brought with me and slowly and soundlessly ascended the stairs. I passed the door to my old bedroom and came to the door to George’s bedroom.
The door was ajar, and I quickly snuffed the candle out and then stood and listened. I heard nothing and the house remained deathly still. By then I was convinced I had wasted my time. George was prone to snore when he had been drinking yet I could hear no sounds of breathing.
Nonetheless I had to be sure, so I took a deep breath opened the door, gun in hand, and switched on the light. On the far side of the room George lay motionless on his back in bed. I approached him cautiously and as I got closer I realised that he was not breathing because he was dead! In the middle of his forehead was a neat round bullet hole. Somebody had got to him before me.
My initial reaction was to turn and flee but then I regained my self-control. I removed a glove briefly and felt his skin. He was stone cold and must have been dead sometime and the killer long gone. I put my glove back, put my hand to his neck, and to my surprise discovered that his keys remained untouched.
I tore the keys from his neck, switched off the light, and by the light of a candle made my way to his study. Once there I opened the safe and retrieved the contents. This time I did not inspect what I was taking but quickly placed everything else into my carrying bag.
I left the safe and desk draw open, placed the keys on the desk, and left the house. It took me another forty minutes to walk back to the hotel and by one o’clock in the morning I was back in my bed.
***
The tension of the previous night must have exhausted me because I didn’t wake until after nine o’clock. For a few moments I lay looking at the ceiling and wondered if it had all been a dream but then I looked across the room and my eyes focused on my bag. I had imagined none of it.
I was now in a quandary. My first instinct was to check out of the hotel straightaway and return to Boston on the next available train. I was almost certain that nobody had seen me enter or leave the house and my exit and return to the hotel had gone unnoticed. I had left nothing linked to me in the house. I had not killed George and technically what was in the safe belonged to me. I had been his wife after all. By now James or his wife would have discovered George’s body and the open safe, and the police would have been called. They might be on the lookout at the station, and I had several items in my possession which would prompt questions to be asked if they were discovered, the house key and the contents of the bag.
Whoever had killed George either had a key to the house or George had let them in. I made up my mind to get rid of the key as soon as possible. I placed my bag in the cupboard and a little later left my room leaving a do not disturb sign on the door.
It was a twenty minute walk to the Central Park Reservoir, and then when I was alone I threw the key, wiped clean of fingerprints, into the water. If it was found they would assume whoever killed George, had robbed the safe and thrown the key into the water.
When I returned to my room I Inspected the contents of the bag. As expected there was a ledger full of names, a wad of cash, several leather bags containing loose jewels, and an assortment of rings, bracelets, necklaces, and pendants. I put the ledger to one side and counted the money. Altogether there were seven hundred benjamins or seventy thousand dollars in total.
Leaving the ledger in my suitcase in my room I left the hotel once more. I took a cab to the Bank of New York at Wall and Williams where I took a safety deposit box into which I placed the jewels and cash although I retained five hundred dollars for immediate use.
I spent the rest of the day shopping. I needed a number of new outfits and shoes and had them delivered to the hotel later in the day.
The following morning I returned to Boston. As the train pulled out of the station I started to read my copy of the New York Times which I had purchased earlier. The article I was interested in was at the bottom of the first page.
“MANHATTAN MURDER HUNT
Police are seeking the killer of Mr George Jamieson a well-known Jewel merchant. He was shot and killed in his own home by a single shot to his head early Wednesday evening. He was last seen alive earlier in the day. There was no sign of forced entry to his home, and it is understood that his safe was robbed. It is postulated that this may have been gangland related and that he knew his killer. No arrest has been made and enquiries continue.
Mr Jamieson was married to the English heiress Lady Victoria White who disappeared from their home in May 1915 and has not been seen since. These events are not believed to be related.”
***
Back in Boston and in hotel my suite I ordered myself a lobster salad and toasted my success with champagne. All I needed to make my evening complete was a good fucking and I momentarily contemplated seducing the bell boy before I remembered I should not draw attention to myself or set tongues wagging.
I had made an excellent start to my new life in America. George was dead and I hadn’t had to dirty my hands. I had a great deal of money in cash and jewels but just as importantly I had George’s leather bound book with a list of all of the crooked cops and city officials he had paid off.
I knew that the value of this list was inestimable.
I also knew that it was time to become a member of Boston’s polite society.
The following morning I visited a realtor in nearby Newton and was lucky enough to be able to rent a house which was part of the estate of a middle aged lady who had recently died. The house was large and modernly furnished and had an extensive garden. Better still, the housekeeper, butler, and gardener had not yet moved out and I was able to arrange from them to stay on in my employ.
And so Lady Victoria Cameron, recently widowed following the death of her husband Edward, became a member of the Boston elite.
Soon after my arrival in Newton I was invited to dinner at the home of my neighbours who were thrilled to have a member of the English aristocracy living in their community. Soon I had a flourishing social life but there was something missing and I rapidly found myself becoming increasingly bored.
At first I thought my dissatisfaction was a product of my celibacy. I had been forced to play the part of a recently bereaved lady and had not had sex for many months. I had become tired of my fingers and needed to feel a man inside of me. And soon!! But I also knew this was only part of my problem.
In the years before my marriage when my life had been rather similar to that which I was now living it had been an existence characterised by parties and socialising but with the sole purpose of finding a suitable husband. I had been just turned eighteen years old when I had returned from Geneva, and it was over four long years later that I married George in 1912 when I was twenty two years old.
Now I wondered how I could have tolerated such a vacuous life for so long. But Lady Victoria Cameron of Newton, Massachusetts was a completely different person to Miss Victoria White of Ripley, Surrey.
Five years ago when I married George I was a naïve virgin living a carefree life in a country at peace. Now I was a widow pretending to be something that I was not and using an assumed name in a place far from home. I had survived an abusive marriage with a criminal who had taken the horse whip to me. I had survived being torpedoed on a ship where over a thousand others had lost their lives. I had stolen a fortune twice and lost much of it the first time around. Nearly everybody I cared for was dead. My two brothers had died in an ongoing and pointless war and my mother was dead of grief. I had married once and had two lovers, and they were all dead. My first lover had been murdered by my husband who was in turn murdered by someone else. Edward, the true love of my life, was dead having been killed somewhere in France.
One evening I sat and took stock of my life. I was alone in the world. My only close relative was over the sea in England. I had plenty of money for now and was an accepted member of Boston society. Of one thing I was certain. Never again did I want to rely on a man to keep me. I would learn to make my own way in the world.
I have always been of the opinion that it is easier to make money dishonestly than honestly. As Georges widow I thought I was entitled to the contents of his safe and although I had left the scene of a crime which I hadn’t reported, I believed I had not yet technically committed any serious crime. Soon that would change. Behind my veil of respectability I started to make my plans.
First I decided to finish my self-enforced celibacy. Only once my immediate physical need was satisfied would I be able to proceed clearly and deliberately with my long term plan.
***
Arthur was the twenty two year old son of a local banker and his wife. He was a Navy ensign having graduated from Annapolis Naval Academy the previous year and early in February 1917 he was home on leave. I had met him on several occasions previously when I had been invited to his parents’ house for dinner and once he had attended a party at my home. I knew that he was attracted to me having felt his eyes on me on a number of occasions but whenever I tried to catch him looking he quickly looked away. He was tall and dark haired with brown eyes and an easy smile, and I liked him.
Arthur had offered to take me riding on a number of occasions but for one reason or another the opportunity had never presented itself. On this occasion his mother had suggested it and I was happy to accept the invitation. Early one morning I presented myself at the stables. I arrived in riding breeches and jacket. Although some women still wore dresses and rode side saddle I did not wish to.
Both William and Edward had told me that a had a beautiful bum and I wanted to show this off to Arthur by wearing breeches which did more than hint at what lay beneath them. I knew that I would not shock his parents who were away in Boston for the next few days. I wanted him good and ready for what I planned for us. As we cantered down the track and I gripped the horse’s muscular flanks between my thighs, my juices had already started to flow.
The poor boy didn’t stand a chance and soon I would have him eating out of the palm of my hand, and then, a more intimate part of my anatomy.
We rode for a few miles in silence before I galloped ahead giving him what I hoped was a fine view of my nates. When I reached the brow of a nearby hill I pulled up and waited for him to join me.
Did you like what you saw, I enquired. You’ve been undressing me with your eyes ever since we met.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he blushed. “You’re so beautiful. Please don’t tell my mother.”
I’m not angry I said gently. I’m flattered.
I looked directly into his eyes and feigned hesitancy. “Would you like to see me naked?”
His eyes widened. He flushed further and then croaked, “Oh yes. But where?”
And just like that he was hooked.
***
Several hours later I was alone with Arthur in my bedroom. I had given my staff the afternoon off and there was no one else in the house. The fire was burning in the grate and the room was warm.
We had stabled the horses and I had returned home leaving Arthur at his parents’ house. I instructed him to have the servants serve him lunch and to come to me in the late afternoon. I would leave the backdoor open and asked him to lock it when he entered.
“And don’t be seen!”
Around 3 o’clock I showered and washed my hair and applied my cosmetics and lipstick and got into bed naked to wait for him to arrive. I didn’t expect to have to wait long for his arrival and I was right.
I heard him first as he came up the stairs which creaked under his tread. I had left my bedroom door open and called out to him.
“Through here Arthur.”
He poked his head around the door and saw me sitting in up in bed with my sheet covering me up to my neck. Hesitantly he entered the room, and I knew for certain what I had suspected. I was going to take his virginity.
As he stood looking down at me I pulled back the sheet and swung my long legs out of the bed and stood with my arms by my side. Back then my tummy was flat my waist narrow, and my bum and boobs were large and round and perfectly formed. Pale white unblemished skin, dark hair and blue eyes completed my look.
He took a breath. “You’re so beautiful Lady Cameron.”
I crossed to him and put a finger to his lips.
“Under the circumstances Arthur, I think you should call me Victoria or Vicki when we are alone.”
“Now take off your Jacket.”
He did as I asked and placed it on a chair and then I unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. I reached down and unfastened his breeches, and he stepped out of them.
“And sit on the edge of the bed.”
As he sat facing me I knelt in front of him and removed his socks. Then I took the waistband of his underwear and pulled them slowly down below his knees and his erect uncircumcised penis swung free.
And then, very slowly I fellated him. I ran my tongue up and down his rock hard shaft and then as I cupped his balls I took his mushroom head between my lips and worked my tongue around the underside of his glans. As I pleasured him he held my head between his hands and watched me as I knelt and started his education.
At first he was silent but soon he was moaning, softly at first, and then louder. I kept him on the edge by stopping and squeezing until he could stand no more, and then I took his length into my mouth, held him tight between my lips, and bobbing my head rapidly, brought him to orgasm.
I felt his penis start to swell, and then as his shaft pulsed rhythmically he ejaculated.
And as he cried out “Ohhhh Fuuccckkk!” I tasted his salty cum flood my mouth and then leak from my lips.
***
It was no coincidence that I started by giving him a blow job.
I loved giving them.
I loved the feeling of a hard dick pulsing in my pretty mouth. I loved the taste of sperm. Salty like caviar but cheaper and always a harbinger of exquisite physical pleasure to come.
I loved the idea of them. Sometimes when I was sitting in a public space with Edward whilst dressed primly and properly and talking quietly to a fashionable lady I would smile to myself and wonder what she might say if I told her that in a short while I was planning to shamelessly take Edwards penis between my lips, and mouth fuck him until he emptied himself into me.
I loved the feeling of control and empowerment. When a woman has a man’s dick in her mouth he is at her mercy. A skilled fellatrix can bend a man to her will.
I loved knowing that soon it would be my turn to writhe and groan in ecstasy.
And I loved knowing that the same lips tongue and mouth that I was obscenely using on his member would soon be screaming obscenities as he fingered, licked, and fucked me.
That evening I wanted him to come at least once before he fucked me. George had told me I was barren and maybe I was, but I wasn’t about to let Albert come inside of me and needed to know he would have enough control to withdraw in time.
And I wanted him to last good and long and fuck my brains out.
***
We lay side by side and naked on my bed. He was a perfect physical specimen of manhood with broad shoulders, a flat stomach with a narrow waist and taut buttocks. His skin was smooth, and he smelt of carbolic soap.
I kissed him deep and he kissed back and as our tongues danced I took his hand in mine, reached down, placed his fingers against my clitoris, and showed him how to rub me in slow small circles. And then with one hand holding a bum cheek and the other gently exploring my sex Alfred slowly took me to my first orgasm. As my climax approached I stretched my legs straight and my moans turned to pleading.
“Don’t stop! Don’t you dare stop!”
“Oh like that! Like that!”
“I’m going to come! I’m going to come!”
And finally as I watched him looking back at me I opened my mouth wide and sighed in ecstasy,
!Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Before I finally lay still.
!Again please,!” I said.
And soon I was trembling and moaning in ecstasy once more, and once again as my eyes grew wide and my mouth formed an O Alfred watched intently with a look of rapt concentration.
“You are even more beautiful when you are coming,” he said smiling gently.
I sat up and gently put my hand on his chest to indicate he should remain lying on his back and them I straddled him offered him my sex to his tongue and leaning forward took his prick in my mouth. He didn’t need any instruction or encouragement and soon I felt his tongue against my clitoris. As he lapped me his penis hardened in my mouth. I took my orgasm siting astride him holding his bone hard penis tight in my fist. As my juices flowed and my thighs and buttocks tightened I mewed with pleasure once more and collapsed forward over his chest.
I turned my head and spoke urgently. “Put your finger into my bum and do me again.”
Then as he moved a well lubricated finger in and out of my anus and licked my moist clitoris I took his penis into my mouth and slowly blew him. My pleasure was immeasurable…totally indescribable. As he worked on my arsehole and clitoris my pleasure grew until finally I lay across him holding his erect penis against my cheek and screamed in ecstasy once more.
This was the foreplay. Shortly afterwards I lay on my back and guided Arthur inside of me. He moved in and out; slowly at first and then faster and faster. With my thighs clamped around his I reached down and started to finger myself until I experienced my last toe curling orgasm of the afternoon. As my vagina and perineum rhythmically clenched, and my thighs and buttocks tightened, he withdrew his penis and I continued to frantically frig myself. Then as I screamed in rapture he groaned loudly, jerked his penis, and ejaculated his white milky cum onto my belly.
***
So started my relationship with Arthur. Following his leave he was newly stationed at the Boston Naval Shipyard and was living at home with his parents. This was a very happy period in my life. Although war was threatening América was still not at war, and I was able to see Arthur every weekend. Our relationship was open for all to see. In public Arthur wooed Lady Victoria like the gentleman he was, whilst In private he fucked me at every possible opportunity.
In April 1917 my world changed again when the United States declared war on Germany and then in May 1917 Arthur was posted to the destroyer USS Jacob Jones and sent overseas to Southern Ireland. I had grown very fond of him and missed him. I was also desperately concerned for his safety and worried that history would repeat itself and I became very melancholic and low in mood. My friends and neighbours did their best to reassure me, but I started to become increasingly withdrawn and for a time my plans for my future no longer seemed important to me.
In mid-December, the hammer blow fell when Arthur’s mother called on me one morning and tearfully told me that Arthur was dead. Earlier that month his ship had been sunk by a German U boat somewhere off the coat of Britain.
As I write this letter almost half a century later the strength of my emotional response has dimmed but I can still recollect the complex feelings I had. The first was grief that one more life had been prematurely cut short and one more that I loved was dead. The second was guilt that I had taken four lovers and had two brothers and they had all died early violent deaths. The third was anger. Anger at the fates who had allowed me to survive a U boat attack and then kill Arthur in another.
I started to believe I was a Jinx that brought death to any man I loved.
But paradoxically Albert’s death was the event that forced me to move on with my life. At first I briefly contemplated suicide but realised that nobody would miss me, and I would waste my only chance to live a life. I resolved I would live my life to the full. It seemed such a shame to waste something that has been so cruelly taken by war from millions of others.
But I also took a vow that I would never love a man again.
Within weeks my mood lifted, and I was ready to move on.
***
Early in the New year I travelled to New York on the overnight train and the following morning I took a leisurely breakfast in my hotel before visiting the 44th Precinct on Sedgwick Avenue where I asked to speak to Captain Baumgartner.
“I have information regarding the death of Mr William Cosford.”
“Please take a seat.”
Ten minutes later a tall fair haired officer in NYPD uniform approached me.
“I understand you have information,” he said. He didn’t offer his hand.
“I do. But can we talk in private?”
Wordlessly he took me to his office and sat at his desk and I sat opposite him.
“I know who was responsible for the death of William Cosford,” I said. “But then so do you. And I know why he was killed. I’m Mrs Victoria Jamieson although I now go by the name of Mrs Amelia Dawson.”
I wasn’t about to tell him the name under which I was travelling.
I saw him stiffen involuntarily and knew he was rattled. Nonetheless he tried to bluff.
“I remember the case, but it was unsolved. Am I supposed to know you?”
“We’ve never met but you knew my husband Mr George Jamieson. I happen to know you were on his payroll before he died. I’ve seen his books and your name was on page one. Please don’t insult my intelligence further by useless denials. I’ve not come here to rat you out. I have business proposal for you. It will be in both our interests if you listen to what I have to say.”
He sat silently. I had to admit he was a cool custom.
“OK Lady. That’s fine. I’ll listen but not here. There’s a diner 2 blocks down. I’ll meet you there in 20 minutes.”
I nodded. “I’ll be there. But no tricks. I’m not stupid enough to come in here without having left written dispositions regarding yours’s and a lot of other people’s financial dealings. Please don’t consider doing anything rash.”
I left the precinct and walked down the street to the diner which I had passed earlier. At that hour it was quiet, and I ordered a coffee and took a seat at the back watching the door. Fifteen minutes passed and the captain appeared. He pulled out the chair next to me and leant forward over the table.
“I’m listening sister.”
I waited until the waiter brought him a coffee and started to talk.
“William Cosford was my lover and was murdered on the orders of my husband who threatened to do the same to me.”
He opened his mouth to speak, and I held my hand up.
“Please hear me out Captain. I have no intention of informing on you whatever your response to my proposal is. You need have no fear of that. I am many things, but I am not a blackmailer, and neither am I stupid.”
Then I explained to him how I had found George dead and then robbed the safe and found the ledger and jewels. I did not mention the cash. He had no need to know. He didn’t believe me and thought I must have been the killer, but I didn’t care. The more ruthless he believed me to be the better.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
“Because I need to sell the jewels anonymously and I wouldn’t know where to start. I’ll split whatever you can sell them for fifty-fifty. I know all about you and you know a little about me. We’ll be perfect partners in crime. I can’t betray you and you can’t betray me. And before you ask… the book is in a safe place that only I know. It must be obvious to you that if I was to inform on the individuals listed inside it, I would incriminate myself in its theft.”
For the first time he smiled.
“I’ll say this lady. You have moxy.”
“And you Captain have the contacts. It has the potential to make us both rich. So what do you think?”
“Do you have the jewels?”
“Of course not. But I know where they are. At the risk of my repeating myself I am not stupid but am prepared to do whatever I need to. Please don’t underestimate me or try to cheat me. The first time you do I will walk away, and you will never see or hear from me again. And when I vanish so will your opportunity to become rich. Now do we have a deal?”
He nodded, reached across the table, and offered his hand. “We do indeed Mrs Dawson.”
“Excellent, “I replied. “Where can we meet for me to give you the jewels?”
“Do you know Keen’s Steakhouse at Herald Square. It’s not far from here?”
“No but I’ll find it. Say 1 pm tomorrow lunchtime.”
He nodded, quickly finished off his coffee, stood, and walked out of the diner into the street.
***
The following morning I visited the bank and retrieved several diamond rings and a solid gold bracelet encrusted in diamonds and sapphires and made my way to Keen’s.
When I arrived the Captain was already sitting at a table. He stood as I approached.
“Good afternoon Captain.”
“Good afternoon Mrs Dawson. You can call me Hans.”
“That’s fine Hans but I’d prefer to keep our relationship professional for now. I prefer Mrs Dawson.”
He nodded.” Very well. But do you want to eat first. The mutton is excellent.”
As we ate I told him what I wanted. I would give him the jewels in instalments. This was the first of many. I knew that this would keep both him and the fence “honest.” The fence would be more likely to pay a good price if he thought there was more to come, and Hans would be less likely to keep the cash and dare me to do my worst.
The reality was I couldn’t tell what I knew about him without incriminating myself or giving up the book anonymously and I wasn’t prepared to do that.
What he didn’t know was that I did not initially expect the sale of the jewels to bring me a significant amount. My motive in approaching him was not immediate profit but recruitment for a completely different task. First I wanted to find out whether he was useful and “trustworthy.”
“You won’t know how to contact me. We’ll meet in New York in two weeks. Different location each time. I’ll bring fresh merchandise. You bring the cash you get from the sale of these.”
***
Two weeks later we met at the restaurant of a well-known hotel.
When I arrived Hans was already waiting but this time he did not stand as I went to the table. This time his demeanour was different to any that I had seen before and for the first time he looked worried. After the initial greetings I waited for him to speak but he sat silent.
“Well. You have something for me?”
“There’s a problem. The Chief called me into his office a few days after we met and told me that a number of police officers including myself are being investigated for corruption. I stand to lose my job, pension, and even go to jail. I have been suspended from duty on full pay pending… Under the circumstances I didn’t feel I could fence the jewels safely. I’m sorry.” And then he looked at me quizzically.
I looked at him sitting dejectedly in front of me and for a moment wondered whether I should take my jewels and cut my losses, but on the spur of the moment I decided to help. My decision was not made out of any sympathy for his plight but rather that he would be indebted to me and more malleable in the future.
“Now then Hans.. if you are wondering if I had anything to do with this you need to ask yourself what would I have to gain from it. Pure bad timing I’m afraid.”
I paused and smiled wryly.
“Leave this to me I said. I think I can make your problem disappear. I don’t want to make another wasted trip to New York. You will go to the fence one week today with the jewels I gave you, and then again a week after that with what I will give you now. Make sure you go twice and promise him more jewels next time. He’ll give you a better deal. I’ll meet you again three weeks from today at the same time but somewhere different. You choose. Now then I’m hungry so let’s order.”
***
The following morning I took out the ledger and found a name. The owner of that name worked high in the mayor’s office in New York City. I contemplated using the telephone but discarded the thought almost immediately. My voice would give me away as a woman. So I took out my typewriter and typed out a brief note.
I have George Jamieson’s payments ledger. He has been paying you 25 dollars monthly for three years. Captain Hans Baumgartner at the 44 th precinct is under investigation. Make his problem go away and yours will too. Otherwise….
I stamped and addressed an envelope and then took the tramline from Newton Corner into Boston where I posted it.
Just under three weeks later I sat with Hans at a third Manhattan Restaurant. He was much brighter than last time.
“How are things, I enquired.”
“Much better than they were. The Monday after we last met the chief called me into his office. He said he’d had a call from City Hall to say it had all been a big mistake and I was no longer under suspicion. You have powerful friends Mrs Dawson or maybe somebody is afraid of what you know. Either way thank you. You didn’t have to help me.”
“Call it professional courtesy.” I replied.
Then we got down to business. He had visited the fence twice and reckoned he had got maybe thirty percent of their value and had agreed on a total of two thousand dollars for what He had been given to sell. I didn’t show it but was pleased when he passed me an envelope containing one thousand dollars in cash.
You have made four months wages I would imagine, I said. “Don’t splash it about and draw attendance to yourself. From now on you are squeaky clean. I have plans. Today I am going to give you a far more valuable piece. I estimate its true value to be maybe twelve thousand dollars. Tell him you want at least eight thousand and don’t settle for less. You can tell him there’s more to come and he’ll agree.
Now I know what I plan to do with my money. Prohibition is coming and when it does whisky will be in demand. I want you to find a secure warehouse and buy forty barrels of good quality Kentucky whisky. The price is two dollars twenty five cents a gallon at present. That’s four thousand five hundred dollars. I would suggest you do the same. It will be worth at least double a year after prohibition. Find one good man to help you. Might I suggest one of your colleagues who was on Georges payroll who is not under suspicion. Pay him well but keep him honest by telling him what will happen if he betrays us. Here’s the thousand dollars back. We’ll settle later. And remember Captain I made your little problem go away. Play straight with me and we both get rich. Try to sucker me…”
And so began my life of crime. It was noteworthy that other than a little blackmail I hadn’t yet done anything truly criminal, but I was in the process of planning to.
***
On my return to Boston I felt invigorated, and life started to have meaning once more. Along with alcohol I planned a number of other enterprises but for this I would need to recruit people I could trust to front my enterprises. I planned to operate faceless and nameless from the shadows.
Around that time I started to have the feeling I was being watched. It was most disquieting and on one occasion I thought that somebody was following me in the street but when I turned around there was nobody to see. On another occasion I thought there was somebody standing across the street in the shadows. I told myself I was being silly and that these feelings were a product of a guilty conscience. Then I started to worry that I had been associated with the death of George and the police were watching me, but this seemed very unlikely since Hans would certainly have known and would have warned me.
And then the feeling stopped and for a week I held my breath hoping it would not return until late one evening the doorbell rang. I frowned since I was not expecting callers, and shortly afterwards my butler entered the room where I was sitting.
“There is a gentleman to see you ma’am. He says it is important.”
I sighed gently.” At this time of night. Very well show him in.”
Shortly he returned with my visitor and as I looked across the room at my tall male guest my mouth opened wide in astonishment and then overwhelming disbelief.
It was Edward. Older, worldly-wise, and weary looking but still my Edward. And he was very much alive.
***
To be continued…
Endnote
Black Tom island was a man-made island constructed from landfill and situated close to Liberty Island in New York City. On the 30th of July 1916 nine hundred tons of small arms and ammunition was stored there prior to export to the Allies and was sabotaged by German agents. One of the ensuing explosions was the largest man-made non-nuclear explosions on record and damaged the statue of liberty situated about 600 yards away. Four people were killed and several hundred were injured. Following the explosion the stairway in the arm leading to the torch was closed and has never been reopened.