Fatherland had dared laugh at him, he’d have cut them down with impunity. He leans against the wall of a grand house to catch his breath. Visible through the window he sees fringed red and gold lanterns hanging from the ceiling, laughter and music drifting into the street.
A slice of light spills into the alleyway and a willowy young courtesan passes through a beaded curtain. She’s a painted doll with glittering ornaments in her hair. She smiles sweetly and in a tongue that needs no translation, invites him inside. Dietrich, still burning with shame and humiliation lets out a guttural bellow. He punches the girl in the face as hard as he’d hit a man and runs wailing into the night.
* * * *
In the hour before dawn, the phone rings at Frances Dietrich’s bedside.
“What?” she says, snapping on the bedside lamp.
“It’s Darrell Singleton, ma’am, from the Pinkerton Agency. You asked me to call as soon as I had something to report.”
“Yes, yes, go on.”
“Tonight I followed Mr. Dietrich into Chinatown. I hung back as he entered the courtyard of the Sing-Song girls. When he left, half an hour later, he was being fired upon.”
Frances pulls herself up on her pillows and grabs her cigarettes.
“As in gun fire?”
“Yes. It appears he’s worn out his welcome in the hutongs.”
“Will I have the pleasure of wearing widow’s weeds?” she asks, coughing a light mist of blood onto the bedspread.
“Not this time, but I’m afraid his carnal indiscretions are only the tip of the iceberg.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“When you met him on your grand tour, you said he was a German guest lecturer at the university.”
“Yes, he was quite cosmopolitan, educated at Oxford, spoke the Queen’s English like a native Londoner.”
“Which makes him all the more dangerous, Mrs. Dietrich. According to our research he was dispatched to England to spread anti-Semitic propaganda.”
“How can you know that?”
“The documents in my report have been checked and rechecked. There’s talk in Europe that the Nazi’s are gearing up for another war.”
“Oh, good grief! I thought we’d already had the War to End All Wars.”
“There’s one more thing you need to know. The man you married was born Ludwig Gerhard von Buchholz. Usually people who change their names have something to hide.”
“Now you’re stretching my credibility.”
“I deal only with the facts. His father Heinz holds a high position in the SS.”
“Oh, come now, you can’t mean he’s one of those Nazi clowns who struts around with a riding crop and a Doberman Pincher at his heels.”
“The Schutzstaffel. They’re men of enormous influence. Let me remind you, an apple doesn’t falling far from the tree.”
“That’s all very intriguing. I’d be crushed if I hadn’t ceased loving Leland ages ago. I wonder why he was so eager to come to America?”
“Your money may have been a motivating factor.”
“Daddy told me when I was just a girl that any man I married would be proposing to my money. I wasn’t much of a looker and I can’t say I much cared. I bet Red’s up there laughing his butt off.”
“Now that his infidelities are well-documented, shall I send you a closing bill?”
“No. Keep digging. This is getting interesting.”
“By the way Mrs. Dietrich, he’s just now pulling onto your street. I’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER 7
SAGUARO CORRECTIONAL
EARLY MAY 1936
Penelope Hanover makes sure the lights are out in Hedy’s cabin. In the distance, the Alamillo Escarpment is dark and foreboding, coyotes yipping from the summit of the pinnacles. She fingers the cameo broach at the throat of her blouse. For a girl who follows the rules, she’s made a decision that could get her in big trouble. On the other hand, if she unravels the mystery of the missing girls, she’ll be a hero. She slips quietly outside, carrying her flashlight and key ring, locking the door behind her. She picks her way over the
A slice of light spills into the alleyway and a willowy young courtesan passes through a beaded curtain. She’s a painted doll with glittering ornaments in her hair. She smiles sweetly and in a tongue that needs no translation, invites him inside. Dietrich, still burning with shame and humiliation lets out a guttural bellow. He punches the girl in the face as hard as he’d hit a man and runs wailing into the night.
* * * *
In the hour before dawn, the phone rings at Frances Dietrich’s bedside.
“What?” she says, snapping on the bedside lamp.
“It’s Darrell Singleton, ma’am, from the Pinkerton Agency. You asked me to call as soon as I had something to report.”
“Yes, yes, go on.”
“Tonight I followed Mr. Dietrich into Chinatown. I hung back as he entered the courtyard of the Sing-Song girls. When he left, half an hour later, he was being fired upon.”
Frances pulls herself up on her pillows and grabs her cigarettes.
“As in gun fire?”
“Yes. It appears he’s worn out his welcome in the hutongs.”
“Will I have the pleasure of wearing widow’s weeds?” she asks, coughing a light mist of blood onto the bedspread.
“Not this time, but I’m afraid his carnal indiscretions are only the tip of the iceberg.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“When you met him on your grand tour, you said he was a German guest lecturer at the university.”
“Yes, he was quite cosmopolitan, educated at Oxford, spoke the Queen’s English like a native Londoner.”
“Which makes him all the more dangerous, Mrs. Dietrich. According to our research he was dispatched to England to spread anti-Semitic propaganda.”
“How can you know that?”
“The documents in my report have been checked and rechecked. There’s talk in Europe that the Nazi’s are gearing up for another war.”
“Oh, good grief! I thought we’d already had the War to End All Wars.”
“There’s one more thing you need to know. The man you married was born Ludwig Gerhard von Buchholz. Usually people who change their names have something to hide.”
“Now you’re stretching my credibility.”
“I deal only with the facts. His father Heinz holds a high position in the SS.”
“Oh, come now, you can’t mean he’s one of those Nazi clowns who struts around with a riding crop and a Doberman Pincher at his heels.”
“The Schutzstaffel. They’re men of enormous influence. Let me remind you, an apple doesn’t falling far from the tree.”
“That’s all very intriguing. I’d be crushed if I hadn’t ceased loving Leland ages ago. I wonder why he was so eager to come to America?”
“Your money may have been a motivating factor.”
“Daddy told me when I was just a girl that any man I married would be proposing to my money. I wasn’t much of a looker and I can’t say I much cared. I bet Red’s up there laughing his butt off.”
“Now that his infidelities are well-documented, shall I send you a closing bill?”
“No. Keep digging. This is getting interesting.”
“By the way Mrs. Dietrich, he’s just now pulling onto your street. I’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER 7
SAGUARO CORRECTIONAL
EARLY MAY 1936
Penelope Hanover makes sure the lights are out in Hedy’s cabin. In the distance, the Alamillo Escarpment is dark and foreboding, coyotes yipping from the summit of the pinnacles. She fingers the cameo broach at the throat of her blouse. For a girl who follows the rules, she’s made a decision that could get her in big trouble. On the other hand, if she unravels the mystery of the missing girls, she’ll be a hero. She slips quietly outside, carrying her flashlight and key ring, locking the door behind her. She picks her way over the
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