*
Maryland Avenue was a rundown street - home to the poor, prostitutes, and terminally drunk. The road was littered with trash and the smell of rotting waste hung oppressively in the afternoon air. Among the alleyways, several unused fire pits could be seen. This afternoon, only a few grubby children were playing in the mud-caked street. They paused from their games to watch the horses as the detectives rode by.
Jack looked over the dirty street and children with surprise. “She lives here, on this street?” he asked Ezra. “It doesn’t seem like a fitting place for a person of her background.”
“This is the right place,” Ezra replied. “It’s just a bit further up here. Things must be a little rough for her if she’s living in the neighborhood. Don't forget that her husband left her penniless after he found out about her indiscretions.”
They stopped in front of a dilapidated old house. The rotted porch leaned precariously and was cluttered with garbage. The paint had peeled long ago, leaving the gray boards exposed to the sun. The front door was open, perhaps to let the faint breeze inside.
Jack looked at the house with some distaste. “Why don’t you wait here, Ezra?” he said. “There is no point in having both our horses stolen.”
His friend nodded and took the reins as Jack dismounted. “Remember, she was once a lady,” he said. “Don’t forget that when you question her.”
“Don’t you worry, Ezra, I’ll keep that in mind.” Jack waved at his friend and walked up the short stairs to the porch. He entered through the front door, the rough boards squeaking loudly underneath his heavy boots. He read the placard of tenants on the hallway entrance, and found her apartment number on the ground floor. The detective entered the dark hall, listening to the sounds of life through the closed doors. A child could be heard crying, the sound muffled. In another room, he heard the sound of a couple arguing with a drunken slur to their raised voices. He stopped at the door at the end of the hallway and checked the number on the door. He then knocked loudly and listened intently with his ear at the door. He didn’t hear anything at first so he knocked again even harder. “Miss Mulholland?” Jack called out.
The sound of footsteps could be barely heard and then the door creaked as a body leaned against it. “What do you want?” a woman’s hoarse whisper answered. “I don’t have any money, so go on and leave me alone.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not a bill collector - I’m just looking for Elizabeth Mulholland.”
“Why?”
“It’s important that I talk to her about Lawrence Hanson.”
“Lawrence?” The door opened a foot and she cautiously poked her head out to look at him. “How do you know Lawrence?”
Her brown hair was dirty, and her still-beautiful face had begun to soften from drink. Her breath smelled of whiskey and faint wrinkles of age were forming around her once full mouth. When she saw Jack, she brushed her hair back from her face, trying to look as presentable as she could.
“You are Elizabeth Mulholland?” he asked, barely able to hide the incredulous tone of his voice. This was not the woman he was expecting to see. Although still pretty, her eyes had a dark, haunted look. She had obviously led a hard life the past year and had the air of disappointment of someone living a different life than expected.
“I am,” she replied sullenly. “Or maybe I should say I was. Things have changed a lot since anyone called me by my proper name.”
“It’s important that I talk to you about Lawrence,” Jack said, not wanting to hear about her past. “He’s gone missing and can’t be found.”
“Why do you care where Lawrence is? Why should I care as well?”
“I was given a job to find him,” he replied. “His family is sick with worry and they want to know where he could be.”
“Sick with worry? Ha! More like afraid of getting their precious name dragged through the mud.”
“That may be, but I still have to find him.”
“Is there a reward?” she asked hopefully.
“No reward,” Jack replied with a scowl.
She jerked her head back into the room and tried to shut the door. His boot slid in the crack of the doorway before the door could be closed. She continued to try to pull the door shut against his foot, but Jack pulled it open with a jerk and forced her back into the room.
“No reward,” he said again. “But I can personally pay you for any information, ma’am. Provided it’s good, that is.”
He looked her over, and she returned his watch unabashedly. She was wearing a dress that had seen better days - it had been pulled loosely over her shoulders, and appeared to be unbuttoned in the back. Her shoes were worn and several light stains could be seen on her sleeves. The room was no better, a collection of piled up clothing, dishes, and broken down furniture. Jack looked sadly around at her room. “Why do you live in a place like this?” he asked her.
She laughed sourly and slumped down in a chair near her sagging bed. “I don’t have much of a choice these days,” she replied nastily. “When my husband found out his wife was a cheap whore, he threw me out. And of course, my very prim and proper father wouldn’t take me back. They would rather have me disappear in this slum than risk the scandal of being associated with an adulteress.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “I can’t make things any better for you, but I can give a few dollars if you answer my questions.”
“Ask away,” Mulholland said. “But first, you don’t have a drink on you? I’m fresh out.”
Pulling out a pint of whiskey from his jacket, he handed it over to her. “I never travel without a bottle.”
“Good, I don’t trust a man who won’t take a drink.” She opened the bottle and took a greedy pull from it. “That’s a fine bit of whiskey you’ve got there.” She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and leaned further back on the chair to take a deeper drink. “It’s much better than the swill I can afford.”
Jack grabbed the bottle back, took a small swig for himself, and then returned it. “How did you meet Lawrence?” he asked her.
“I met him through some acquaintances,” she said. “It was back when I was married. There was a big gathering I went to with my husband. It was a large party for some of the social elite of Washington.”
“Whose party was it?” Jack asked as he kept a careful watch on the bottle.
“Faith Hanson threw it. In the course of the evening I was introduced to Lawrence. I had a fair amount of drink and found him most interesting.” She took another gulp of whiskey and sighed. “Oh, that feels better already.” Her face began to flush from the alcohol and she studied him with a coy manner. “We spent some time alone in the garden, talking about everything under the sun.”
“Why did you continue to see him?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation on track. He could tell that the drink was causing her to drift away already.
“Give me the money first,” she replied bluntly, taking yet another pull from the pint. She rested the bottle on her lap, her dress pulled high against her well-formed legs. It was easy to tell she wasn’t wearing a slip underneath.
Jack glanced and saw a fine pair of thighs. He then averted his eyes and pulled out a handful of silver dollars and threw a few into her lap. She pulled them from between her legs and squinted hard at the coins in her hand. She then grinned at him and hid them away in her front dress pocket.
“Davis was the man, damn him. I’ll never forget that it was Davis who brought me to ruin. Ethan Davis destroyed my life.” Her voice began to slur as the now near-empty bottle dangled in her hand. She glared at Jack, who then took the bottle away.
Jack was surprised by her answer. “Davis? Are you sure?” he asked.
“Of course it was Davis,” Her voice was sharper now, but her eyelids drooped, and she watched the bottle in his hand.
He wondered why would that dandy would be involved with Mulholland. She must be
mistaken in her drunkenness. “Never mind Davis, do you know a man named Abbott?”
“Abbott, I’ve never heard of him,” she replied. She looked at the detective, fluttering her eyelashes. “Is he as nice as you are?”
“Not that much nicer,” Jack said.
“Well, you should have brought him along, and then we all could have had a real party,” she said with a laugh. Her eyes looked around her room listlessly, but her attention kept returning to the bottle in his hand.
“Back to Davis, why would he want you to see Lawrence?” Jack asked her.
“I don’t know. He made me do it and never gave me a reason why. You see, I was not being faithful to my husband at all. I had been seeing Ethan Davis for a time, and he threatened to tell my own husband of my indiscretions if I did not do what he asked. If I agreed to make Lawrence fall in love with me, Davis promised to keep our little secret.”
“Did he end up falling for you?”
“What else was he supposed to do? I never saw such a foolish young man. He believed what he wanted to believe and only heard what I let him hear. I am not ashamed to admit that Lawrence was pleasant enough company, even though he was too young and inexperienced.” Her hands fumbled towards the bottle in Jack’s hand. “Now give me another drink and let’s have some fun.”
He held the bottle up high, away from her. She looked at him and scowled in a wobbly fashion. “Just a few more questions,” Jack said. “What did Davis ask you to do while you were seeing Lawrence?”
“You mean other than sleep with him?” she chuckled humorlessly. “He would write me long letters filled with poetry and his declarations of undying love. Davis wanted me to give him every letter I received, and I had no reason to do otherwise.”
“Why did you stop seeing him?”
“My husband found out about my affair. I wasn’t careful enough so he was bound to find out sooner or later. My husband then threatened Lawrence with being arrested for adultery. The poor child was cowardly enough to go running back to that old father of his and ask for help. He left me, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“Has he ever tried to contact you since then?”
“No, he was too scared of losing his father’s money. My husband threw me out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back. I’ve had to find my own way in the world ever since. Lawrence never helped me or even came to see me.”
Jack gave her back the bottle with some disgust. She looked away from his expression and drank greedily from the remnants of the bottle. She finished it off, and let it slide to the floor. Her eyes, now glazed red with drink, lost focus as she stood up and stumbled towards him.
“What about Davis? What did he do afterwards?”
“Enough talk about him - why don’t you stay for a while?” her voice slurred. “We can get to know each other even better.” Her hands rested on his waist, attempting to draw him closer.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have the time, missy. I have someone waiting for me right now, but maybe some other time,” he replied.
“Now that’s too bad. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you?” she asked.
Jack shook his head and made ready to leave.
She slid the dress off of her shoulders and stood in front of him with nothing on. Her body was still slender and her breasts high and firm. “I’m willing to do anything for the man who can get back at that snake Davis for me.”
“That bastard will pay his dues, don’t you worry.”
“I’m not worried, now come here to me.”
He smiled, shook his head, and took a step back towards the door. “I’m flattered, but I have my partner waiting for me. Maybe I’ll collect on your promise later.”
“Damn your partner. Come over here.”
“Now look Elizabeth, you are a beautiful woman, but you are more than a little drunk right now. I like my women clean and sober, not falling over. I’ll be back if I need anything else from you.” He then tipped his hat and walked out the door. She ran and slammed it hard behind him. Jack could hear her begin to sob as he walked down the hallway.