Read Online The Girls of Murder City by Douglas Perry - Free Book Online
Authors: Douglas Perry
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thighs and buttocks glowed, radiating from the inside out like a clay pot right out of the fire—a beautiful soreness that would leave her short of breath all evening, desperate to go out on the town. William, exhausted from a full day in the lab and the boardroom, rarely wanted to join her, and so she’d set off into the night on her own or with a young man who came to the door. Belva always invited William along, but he would demur. He had to get up early. “You go, dear,” he’d say. “Enjoy yourself.”
“You are one husband in a million,” an escort supposedly told him one night as the man and Belva headed for the door.
William didn’t believe the man. Surely a larger percentage of husbands were getting the shaft, not that confirmation of this hypothesis would have appeased him. There was no way he could ever understand Belva’s generation. The rules he grew up with had all been rubbed away. Even the good girls now danced close, oblivious to chaperones. Young women—proper, well-raised young women—encouraged party diversions like Sardines, a hide-and-seek game in which the whole point wasn’t actually to hide or seek but for everyone to end up mashed tantalizingly close together in a tight space. On top of such frivolities, girls now revealed flesh in public—bare ankles and arms and, worse, the unfettered outlines of much more through thin summer clothing. In his deepest heart, William probably never truly expected fidelity from Belva. She was more than twenty years his junior and came from the lower classes. She had a temperament wilder than any stallion he’d ever had. She had to run. He surely did expect something, however. Some discretion, for one thing. And frankly, some taste in lovers. Men of means, like him. Men of talent and accomplishment. Men with ambition beyond bagging a society lady. More important, he hoped that, in time, Belva would settle down and settle in, become a companion.
When it didn’t happen, he had no idea how to handle it. He would reprove Belva when she came in at three A.M. smelling of alcohol, pointing out that he had to be up early every morning and didn’t appreciate being woken. He’d lecture her when she would collapse in bed, half paralyzed before her head touched the pillow. “Thanks for the advice,” she’d answer groggily. She’d then come home later the next night and playfully pinch and slap her husband as he tried to sleep. She was no longer just a social drinker—or, at the very least, she was doing entirely too much socializing. Time and again she came home drunk. William became so frustrated that he’d try to simply blot her out. “It wasn’t unusual for him to get angry at me and refuse to speak for weeks at a time,” she later complained.
Being a scientific-minded man, William Gaertner chose scientific methods to solve the problem. He hired celebrated detective W. C. Dannenberg, the city’s former Morals Squad director, to track and chart her progress through the days. Almost immediately, this approach showed results, for Belva didn’t have to go far to find fun. The neighborhoods to the west of Hyde Park had filled up with rail-yard workers and clerks and shoe salesmen, and with them came a burgeoning entertainment district that was beginning to suck the life out of the Loop’s nights. In Plaisance Park, the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Midway Gardens originally featured elegant music and dancing for the South Side’s finest, but now it catered to the masses. It held more than a thousand dancers at a time and was often packed. Outside there were three raised dance floors, each separated by tables that allowed men on their own to sit and survey the night’s female offerings. Inside, built along Japanese architectural lines, a maze of nooks allowed philandering men and women to hide themselves away just blocks from home. Next door to the Midway Gardens was the Sans Souci Amusement Park, with its always-crowded beer garden rolling out from a
“You are one husband in a million,” an escort supposedly told him one night as the man and Belva headed for the door.
William didn’t believe the man. Surely a larger percentage of husbands were getting the shaft, not that confirmation of this hypothesis would have appeased him. There was no way he could ever understand Belva’s generation. The rules he grew up with had all been rubbed away. Even the good girls now danced close, oblivious to chaperones. Young women—proper, well-raised young women—encouraged party diversions like Sardines, a hide-and-seek game in which the whole point wasn’t actually to hide or seek but for everyone to end up mashed tantalizingly close together in a tight space. On top of such frivolities, girls now revealed flesh in public—bare ankles and arms and, worse, the unfettered outlines of much more through thin summer clothing. In his deepest heart, William probably never truly expected fidelity from Belva. She was more than twenty years his junior and came from the lower classes. She had a temperament wilder than any stallion he’d ever had. She had to run. He surely did expect something, however. Some discretion, for one thing. And frankly, some taste in lovers. Men of means, like him. Men of talent and accomplishment. Men with ambition beyond bagging a society lady. More important, he hoped that, in time, Belva would settle down and settle in, become a companion.
When it didn’t happen, he had no idea how to handle it. He would reprove Belva when she came in at three A.M. smelling of alcohol, pointing out that he had to be up early every morning and didn’t appreciate being woken. He’d lecture her when she would collapse in bed, half paralyzed before her head touched the pillow. “Thanks for the advice,” she’d answer groggily. She’d then come home later the next night and playfully pinch and slap her husband as he tried to sleep. She was no longer just a social drinker—or, at the very least, she was doing entirely too much socializing. Time and again she came home drunk. William became so frustrated that he’d try to simply blot her out. “It wasn’t unusual for him to get angry at me and refuse to speak for weeks at a time,” she later complained.
Being a scientific-minded man, William Gaertner chose scientific methods to solve the problem. He hired celebrated detective W. C. Dannenberg, the city’s former Morals Squad director, to track and chart her progress through the days. Almost immediately, this approach showed results, for Belva didn’t have to go far to find fun. The neighborhoods to the west of Hyde Park had filled up with rail-yard workers and clerks and shoe salesmen, and with them came a burgeoning entertainment district that was beginning to suck the life out of the Loop’s nights. In Plaisance Park, the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Midway Gardens originally featured elegant music and dancing for the South Side’s finest, but now it catered to the masses. It held more than a thousand dancers at a time and was often packed. Outside there were three raised dance floors, each separated by tables that allowed men on their own to sit and survey the night’s female offerings. Inside, built along Japanese architectural lines, a maze of nooks allowed philandering men and women to hide themselves away just blocks from home. Next door to the Midway Gardens was the Sans Souci Amusement Park, with its always-crowded beer garden rolling out from a
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