“It’s a new world, Malloy. Women don’t just stay home anymore.”
Of course she’d say that, a woman who had a trade and made her own living, just like a man. Kathleen had just stayed home, and if she was still alive, she’d be home still, taking care of their son.
At the gate, an obnoxious young man took Frank’s money so fast he didn’t even feel it leave his fingers, and the fellow never even missed a word in his ongoing spiel. “Step right up, ladies and gents, see the Seven Wonders of the World, see Little Egypt dance the dance of the seven veils, see the two-headed calf and the bearded lady, sights you’ll never see again. Come one, come all, only ten cents for a day in Paradise. Step right up!”
As if these people needed encouragement. They’d already ridden an hour on the trolley to get there. They were hardly likely to decide to turn right around and go back, now, were they?
“You didn’t have to treat me, Malloy,” Mrs. Brandt said. “I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression of my motives.”
She was laughing at him, but Frank could get in the last word. “Just don’t expect me to buy you a hat, Mrs. Brandt.”
That sobered her instantly.
They stepped through the gates and into another world. The noise was overwhelming. People talking and screaming in terror on the rides, barkers trying to lure the unsuspecting in to see the freak shows or play the games of chance, the clank of machinery, the shots from the shooting gallery, the din of the calliope, and the brass of an oompah band somewhere.
“People come here to get away from the noise of the city?” Frank shouted into her ear.
She merely shrugged.
They strolled along the avenues running through the park, looking at the various attractions and studying the people. Everywhere they saw groups of young men and women, obviously enjoying themselves, or at least pretending to. There was food and drink and entertainment everywhere, and nickel postcards, with photographs of the beach and bathing beauties in skimpy costumes that showed practically all of their legs, were available to send back to friends and family who hadn’t made the trip.
“This way for the Streets of Cairo!” a barker shouted as they passed a booth where several buxom girls dressed in shimmering veils and little else were gyrating suggestively. “One hundred and fifty Oriental beauties! The warmest spectacle on earth! See her dance the Hootchy-Kootchy! Anywhere else but in the ocean breezes of Coney Island she would be consumed by her own fire! Don’t rush! Don’t crowd! Plenty of seats for all!”
“I’ll wait if you want to go inside and see the show,” Mrs. Brandt offered with a sly grin.
“Oh, it’s perfectly respectable,” a man standing behind them said. “Don’t have to worry about taking the missus inside.”
Frank looked at him in amazement. In Frank’s experience, total strangers didn’t offer their opinions on such matters. In fact, total strangers didn’t speak to one another at all except perhaps to say excuse me.
He was a short, round man in a suit that had been bought when he weighed twenty pounds less. With him was a woman of equal girth, and both of them were smiling at Frank and his companion as if they were old friends.
“Sam’s right,” the woman offered. “You won’t be offended at all. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was how those girls could be so limber!”
Frank knew Mrs. Brandt must be offended at being addressed so familiarly by people she didn’t know, so he took her arm and steered her away. “He must be drunk.” he said by way of explanation when they were out of earshot.
She nodded, still looking as puzzled as Frank felt.
In the crowd, they came face-to-face with another couple, a tall lanky young man with a scraggly mustache and a girl with buckteeth who was holding a stuffed bear. “Hey, old man, you should try your hand over there. Ring the bell and win a prize for your wife. Big fellow like you shouldn’t have any trouble at all!”
Frank nodded as politely as he could and guided Mrs. Brandt around them. They passed an attraction at which a man was using a large hammer to strike the base of a tall tower in an attempt to drive a ball up and ring the bell on the top. The sign called it the HI-STRIKER MACHINE.
“People here are certainly friendly,” Mrs. Brandt observed.
“Or rude,” Frank offered.
Frank lived in two very different worlds in his life, and the rules for each of those worlds were strictly prescribed. Prostitutes spoke to strangers and strangers spoke to them-and did a lot more besides-without the formality of an introduction, but a respectable man didn’t so much as tip his hat at a respectable female unless they were acquainted.
Here, however, those rules seemed to have been forgotten. Since no one could possibly mistake Mrs. Brandt for a prostitute, there could be no other explanation. As Frank looked around, he quickly realized that everywhere strangers were meeting and conversing like old friends, then going on their way, never to meet again.
“I can see why young people like this place so much,” Mrs. Brandt observed. “No one seems to observe any of the rules of propriety. Strangers become friends in a moment, and there’s no chaperon looking over your shoulder to disapprove.”
“Why would you want to take up with a stranger?”
“To have some fun. The young men here are different and interesting, and they have money to spend. The girls’ lives would be horribly dull without a diversion like this.”
Frank was still of the opinion that the girls would be far better off with dull lives than with exciting deaths, but he didn’t bother to mention that to Mrs. Brandt. She probably agreed anyway.
“Oh, look, the carousel. Let’s ride it!” she said.
Frank would have protested, but she looked so excited, he didn’t have the heart to refuse her. Feeling like a consummate fool, he helped her up onto the platform and lifted her onto one of the gaily painted horses. She was a well-made woman, soft and round in all the right places, and Frank found himself oddly breathless after he’d settled her on her horse. Probably from the exertion, he told himself. She wasn’t exactly skinny.
“Oh, Malloy, at least try to have fun, won’t you?” she chided him.
He climbed up onto the horse beside her before anyone else could claim it and tried not to look unhappy. It was the best he could do.
The music was too loud, and Frank wasn’t fond of going around and around in a circle, but at least Mrs. Brandt didn’t encourage him to exert himself to catch the brass ring. That honor went to a young man in a derby hat whose accomplishment earned him the adoration of his female companion, a girl with a grating laugh who found everything hilarious.
When the ride stopped, Mrs. Brandt slid down from her horse herself without waiting for help, which suited Frank just fine. He had already decided he shouldn’t touch her again. He’d been alone for far too long, and he obviously couldn’t be trusted.
“Did riding the carousel help you figure out who killed Gerda Reinhard?” he couldn’t resist asking as they walked away.
“I didn’t expect to find the killer today,” she told him, not the least bit repentant. “But we need to understand what Gerda’s life was like those last days. That will help us figure out who might have killed her. Once we can narrow down the list of suspects, we’ll have a better chance of finding the killer.”
That was so reasonable, he almost said so. Fortunately, good sense prevailed. He couldn’t start complimenting Sarah Brandt. She was already way too confident as it was. Instead he said, “What do you mean by ‘we’? Has your friend Teddy appointed you to the police force?”
She didn’t like being reminded that Police Commissioner Theodore Roosevelt was a family friend. Or maybe she just didn’t like being reminded that women couldn’t be police officers. “No,” she admitted, “but maybe I could ask him to order Detective Sergeant Broughan to continue the investigation into Gerda’s death.”