Fair Play Page 15

  But she wasn’t a wife and mother. And, Joey aside, she didn’t want to be one. Her mother had spent every last minute cooking for Papa, cleaning for Papa, looking nice for Papa, entertaining for Papa, producing babies for Papa. The measuring stick she used to judge herself was based on how pleased or displeased Papa was with her, their home, and her ability to raise their children properly.

  The very thought of being measured by that same stick horrified Billy. She couldn’t think of anything worse. As far as she was concerned, domesticity was nothing more than a glorified jail sentence.

  She sighed. “Speaking of jails, little one, I have to go.” Giving him a kiss, she returned him to his crib. “You be good, though, and I’ll see you day after tomorrow. Maybe I’ll take you out for a walk. How about that?”

  But she wasn’t able to coax another smile. In fact, his face scrunched up and he started to whimper. He was probably tired of being in that crib.

  She bit her lip. “Shhhhh. All right. Maybe I can get up early and come see you tomorrow before work. Would you like that?”

  A teardrop fell from the corner of his eye and onto the sheet. Dabbing it with her handkerchief, she gave him one last kiss, then hurried out before she abandoned her decision to go and rescue Derry’s brother.

  CHAPTER

  25

  No expense had been spared for the new criminal court building on Hubbard Street. The lofty seven-story stone building that housed the state attorney’s office and criminal courts boasted tall glass windows, heavily waxed floors, and high ceilings. Billy quickly discovered, however, the jail was not part of the new complex. Not so much as a dime of the taxpayers’ four-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars had been allotted to it.

  Exiting the rear of the grandiose building, she followed a long corridor to Chicago’s city jail. Opening its front door, she was greeted by a dingy vestibule and vacant table desk. The slight swaying of the revolving chair indicated the owner of the desk had recently left the room.

  A small scale, an inkstand, and a smattering of papers littered the table’s surface. Behind it, cobwebs and filth accumulated on WANTED posters pinned to the wall along with a framed piece of parchment listing the jailhouse’s regulations. Clearly the dust brush had not been used in quite some time.

  Moving closer, she perused the rules. Prisoners are forbidden from using loud, boisterous, or profane language. A kangaroo court is absolutely prohibited. Suitable meals—

  A police officer in a uniform not unlike Hunter’s entered from the back. He had a large brown mustache that carpeted the entire expanse of skin beneath his nose, then curved down in an oversized, upside-down U.

  “What can I do for you, miss?”

  She stepped away from the desk. “I’m here to see Nefan Molinari, please.”

  “You a relation?”

  “I’m his doctor.”

  The officer’s brows shot up. “Doctor?”

  “Yes, I’m Dr. Billy Jack Tate.”

  “You’re a doctor?”

  “That’s right.”

  “A midwife, you mean?”

  She looked him square on. “No. A doctor. The kind who cuts people open and saws off limbs.”

  Chuckling, he plopped into his chair and swiveled around to the front. “Now I’ve heard it all. Have a seat in that chair along the wall, miss.”

  She eyed the dusty, unraveling cane-bottom chair he’d offered. “I’ll stand, thank you.”

  “It’s going to be a while.” He dipped a pen into the inkwell.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I don’t feel like going down there and figuring out who this Nefan character is and which cell he’s in.”

  She tapped her finger against her skirt. “Perhaps this will help. He’s eight years old.”

  The man placed an index finger on one piece of paper, then copied the figures onto a tablet in front of him. “We have lots of kids down there.”

  Her lips parted. “Surely not of such a tender age.”

  He harrumphed. “You keep watch over that bunch and you’ll not be using the word ‘tender’ to describe them.”

  “I see. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name, Mr. . . .?”

  “Irwin.”

  “Mr. Ir—”

  “Officer Irwin.”

  She took a breath. “Officer Irwin, I’d like to speak to my patient, please. If you don’t want to go get him, just point me in the right direction and I’ll find him myself.”

  Looking up, he narrowed his eyes and again indicated the cane-seat with his pen. “I’m pointing you in a direction, and it’s right in that chair. Now sit down and be quiet or leave.”

  Discretion being the better part of valor, she brushed off the chair with a handkerchief, then sat along the edge. The scratching of his pen kept time with the ticking of a wall clock. She wondered where the prisoners were. Certainly not anywhere close or she’d have heard them.

  He opened a tin of tobacco and stuffed a wad behind his lower lip. A few minutes later, he spit into a cuspidor, brown juice dribbling along his lip.

  After thirty minutes she couldn’t stand it anymore and rose. “I’m ready to see my patient. I can wait in the infirmary, if you’d prefer.”

  “We don’t have an infirmary.”

  “A pharmacy room, then?”

  “I’m not letting you in there. I don’t even know who you are or why you’re here.”

  She drew in a calming breath. “I’m Dr. Billy Jack Tate. I’m here to see—”

  “Oh, I know who you claim to be. I just don’t believe you.”

  “I assure you, officer, I’m—”

  “Where’s your doctor’s bag?”

  She hesitated. She’d come straight from Hull House. She hadn’t even thought to claim Nefan as a patient until she was standing in this vestibule. “I don’t have it with me.”

  “I don’t know too many doctors who do examinations without bringing their bag along.”

  “I was at Hull House when I found out about Nefan. I didn’t have time to go get my bag.”

  “Uh-hum.” Looking her up and down, he leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers across his rounded belly. “Maybe you could give me an examination first. Show me what you know. We have a nice private room in the back. If you’re good at what you do, then I just might be inclined to let you see your boy.”

  The clock continued its steady click while his offer and all its implications hung in the air.

  Finally, she drew a breath. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you an examination because I’m not a doctor for the insane.”

  After a slight widening of his eyes, he chuckled, then scooted back up to his desk. “Suit yourself.”

  She returned to her seat. At some point, he’d have to leave that desk. All she had to do was outwait him. It took about an hour and a half. Finally, he stepped into the back portion of the jailhouse and turned right.

  She waited a couple of minutes, tiptoed toward the opening, then peeked around the corner. A long empty corridor led to rooms on the right. No sign of the officer. To the left, a set of stairs. The prisoners had to be in the basement.

  Dashing to the stairwell, she hurried down. A young guard sat at the bottom, his chair leaned against the wall, his eyes closed. He was of a muscular build, and from the looks of it, fairly tall. Probably a prerequisite for prison guards. Still, he was young. That should work in her favor.

  “Open up,” she snapped.

  He startled awake, his chair slamming back onto four legs.

  “Officer Irwin sent me.” She looked at her watch pin. “I’m a midwife and have an eight-year-old patient by the name of Nefan Molinari. I’m here to check on him and I don’t have much time.”

  Standing, the young man eyed her dubiously. “What’s a midwife need with a little boy?”

  “Midwives deliver babies. And we help mothers and their children. Nefan is a child. Now, I have other calls I’m to make, so if you please?” She whirled her hand toward the do
or.

  He glanced up the stairs. “I don’t know.”

  She raised a brow. “You’re twice as tall as I am and twice as strong. Do I look like I pose a threat to you?”

  “Well, no.”

  “That’s because I don’t.” She softened her tone. “And I really am in a hurry.”

  Hesitating, he took a step toward the door. “Have you ever been here before?”

  “Not this particular jail, no.”

  “It’s not much of a place for ladies.”

  “I’m not a lady. I’m a midwife.”

  He stood in indecision. She held her breath, convincing herself her untruths were justified. Nefan was eight years old. She’d do whatever it took to get him out. Well, almost.

  Finally, he inserted a key and opened the door.

  Only years of schooling her features and checking her reflexes kept her from gagging. Two long rows of dark, cave-like cells stood on the east and west sides of the basement. A small trough ran the length of each row, serving as the prisoners’ outhouse and flushed by running water. Whatever entered the trough in one cell passed through all the cells downstream.

  The cages had been meant for two, three men at the most. Yet close to ten were stuffed into each, leaving no room to sit or lie down. Did they stand all day and all night?

  No effort had been made to separate the different classes of prisoners. The children were thrown in with the men. Respectable-looking inmates—most likely witnesses being held for their testimony—were shoulder to shoulder with hardened criminals. The women, though not in the same cell as the men, were adjacent to them and had no barrier for privacy or protection from verbal barbs. She knew many were not convicted criminals, but were waiting to be tried and were therefore presumed innocent. Vermin and rats played chase between their feet.

  “Nefan?” she called. “Nefan Molinari?”

  An inmate looked at her with a vacant, dull expression. Others shook the cage doors, whistled, and made kissing noises.

  The guard rapped his club against the bars. “None of that.”

  “Nefan?” she called again.

  A shuffling in a cell farther down captured her attention.

  “Mamma?”

  She hurried to the cage. A boy in filthy short pants and a collarless, ruined shirt squeezed past bodies and grabbed the bars. His face was drawn and pale, his eye sockets hollow.

  “Are you Nefan Molinari?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Do you know my mamma?”

  “I’m Dr. Tate. I know your brother, Derry, and your sister, Alcee. What happened? Why are you here?”

  “I took some coal off a freight car.” His voice held a note pleading for understanding. “But it was just sittin’ on a siding. Nobody was usin’ it.”

  “But why? Why did you take it in the first place?”

  “The boys at the saloon dared me. Said their grandmother was cold and needed some coal.” Tears began to fill his eyes. “I didn’t take it all. Only a little bit. There’s lots more on the train still.”

  A fit of coughing seized him.

  She swept him with her gaze. His pallor was gray. His cough made a faint gurgling noise. “How long have you had that cough?”

  He ignored the question. “Are you takin’ me home?”

  Straightening, she turned to the young guard, who’d followed her in. “Release him at once.”

  “I can’t do that, miss.”

  “You can and you will.”

  “I’ll lose my job.”

  “Then give me the keys and I’ll do it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her ire began to rise along with her voice. “He’s eight years old. This boy is in poor health and needs medical care. I’m a doctor. It is within your power to release him to me for medical supervision.”

  “I thought you were a midwife.”

  “I’ve delivered plenty of babies, but I’m also a surgeon with a medical degree from the University of Michigan. Now open this cell.”

  “I’d have to ask my superior.”

  “Then go ask him.”

  He shifted his weight. “I can’t leave you here. Not unless I lock you up with the others.”

  Turning to Nefan, she stooped down so she’d be level with him. “Let me talk to the officer in charge. I’ll be back.”

  Tears poured down his face. “Don’t go.”

  “I’ll be back.”

  “Please. I gave the coal to the copper. I won’t do it again.”

  She drilled the guard with her gaze. “Have you no heart?”

  “Not with this job. Not anymore.”

  Straightening, she swept past him and toward the exit. “Take me to your superior.”

  Instead, the young man took her no farther than his post, refusing to leave it.

  Furious, she stormed up the stairs and into the vestibule.

  Officer Irwin vaulted to his feet. “What are you doing back there? I thought you left.”

  “I went to see my patient. I told you that’s what I was here for and that’s what I did.” She pointed toward the dungeon. “That is the most vile excuse for a prison I’ve ever seen. It’s unspeakably filthy. There’s no light or air. The seepage is revolting. And my patient is being exposed to the most loathsome diseases. His cough and pallor indicate he’s suffering from pneumonia, at the very least, and he’s caged in like an animal. I demand he be released into my care this instant.”

  Irwin narrowed his eyes. “Lady, I went to see what we had on your little Italian and found that urchin went before the judge on a burglary charge. But he was bawling so hard we couldn’t understand a word he was saying. So the judge decided to continue with the hearing after the boy got used to things and could talk normally.”

  She gaped at him. “So you took him down to that dark den with its foul odors and filthy vermin to soothe his fears?” Anger heightening, she took a step toward him. “You think locking an infant behind iron bars, charging him with burglary, and throwing him into a cell with hardened criminals will train him in the way he should go?”

  “You’d better get ahold of yourself, missy, or you’ll be right down there with him.”

  “Me get a hold of myself? You, sir, you are the one who’d best get ahold of the situation here.” She shook her finger at him. “For when the officials of our city put eight-year-olds in jail, they become the ones guilty of the most heinous of crimes. They are the ones contributing to the downfall of our future citizens.” She curled her lip. “You sicken me.”

  “That’s it.” He reached for her.

  She jumped back. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  He whipped out his handcuffs. “You’re under arrest, lady.”

  Without another thought, she whirled around, flung the door open, and raced out. The fact that no one would know she was down there in that filth was enough to make her all but fly down the corridor and out the first exit she reached.

  With trembling hands she released her horse and had it on the move before she’d fully secured her knee around the sidesaddle’s horn.

  VIEW OF MIDWAY PLAISANCE FROM FERRIS WHEEL21

  “Straight ahead, crowds poured into and out of the mile-long strip that made up the Midway Plaisance.”

  CHAPTER

  26

  Chills of alarm raced through Hunter as he caught sight of Billy hurrying toward the Woman’s Building. Her pace was so quick, she stepped on her skirts, stumbled, then caught herself and started all over again.

  Galloping down the steps, he left his post and jogged toward her. Her hair looked like one of last year’s bird’s nests. Her shirtwaist was twisted about her waist. Her eyes were swollen and red.

  Sweet Mackinaw, had she been crying?

  His heart jumped to his throat. Had something happened to Joey? His jog turned into giant lopes, then he was there.

  She grabbed his upper sleeves, her eyes filling with moisture. “Those awful police put Nefan in a cage with so many men he can’t even sit down, much less lie
down. And if he did lie down, he’d be covered in sewage because when the trough overflows, it floods the floor. And rats are everywhere. The men are diseased. The officer in charge propositioned me, then threatened to arrest me and I had to race out—”

  “What?” He freed himself from her grip, only to grasp her shoulders. She was babbling so fast, he had no idea what she was even talking about. “Who propositioned you?”

  “The officer in charge. Officer Irwin. But that’s not what I’m upset about. I’m upset because—”

  “Officer Irwin?” Of a sudden her words began to make sense. “Did you go to the city jail?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes. What do you think I’ve been talking about? I went to get Nefan out—”

  Fury rushed to the surface, but he suppressed it, refusing to let his imagination take hold of him. Irwin wouldn’t have let her down in that cesspool. He simply wouldn’t have.

  Hunter had met him when he’d visited the jail to talk to the children about where they lived. He’d wanted to see how many of the delinquents were from the slums.

  The conditions of Chicago’s lockup were the foulest of any he’d ever seen. There were laws on the books that punished those who overcrowded their cattle in cowsheds, but there was nothing—other than common decency—to prevent humans from being herded into a cage ten times too small for them.

  One of the boys he’d spoken with shared a cell with a man whose mouth and tongue were half eaten away by syphilis. Yet the inmates had to share the same tub, the same towel, and the same drinking cup with him and everybody else.

  Not only that, but the women had no privacy. Not in their cells or in their baths. The tub at each end of the long corridor had an open steel grating with no curtain or protection.

  “—and I promised him I’d go back and get him out,” she continued. “But Officer Irwin threatened to arrest me and I—”

  Her words began to register again. “You talked to Derry’s brother?”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “Haven’t you been listening?”

  “I missed the part where you told me just exactly where you were when you spoke with, what was his name? Nefan?”