A Fatal First Night by Kathleen Marple Kalb

Author:Kathleen Marple Kalb [Marple Kalb, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2021-01-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Women on a Wheel

When we are cursed with a chilly autumn in the City, that rare sunny and warm day draws everyone out to enjoy what might be their last chance at pretty weather until spring. And so it was that Saturday, when the sun and the temperatures rose early and swiftly. I made a quick call to Hetty, and though her night had been no less late than mine, she was delighted to bring out her velocipede for one more run though Washington Square Park.

By ten, we had scrambled into our sports costumes, suits with ankle-length split skirts for safety and modesty, hers gray, mine navy blue, both topped with sweet little straw boaters, and started steaming down the paths. Everyone we saw was in the same joyful mood we were, soaking in the warmth and light for that last happy time before the snows descended.

Even poor Mrs. Early seemed to be a little less sad, offering a tiny smile when I gave her the coins as she sat in the sunniest spot on the bench. I tried not to think about how much cold she might suffer before spring came again. Many other ladies and a few gentlemen were also out on their wheels, and for this one gorgeous day, there was a distinct decline in disapproving glances. Even though velocipedes are hardly the sign of an adventuress these days, cyclists do still draw the disgust and disdain of those who believe nice women should sit quietly in the house, waiting for something to happen. Or, more likely, for the next demand of their menfolk.

Today, though, even the older couple from MacDougal Street who make a point of glaring at Hetty and me most days managed to simply nod and walk on. An elderly lady I recognized from Sunday mornings at Holy Innocents gave us a friendly wave, and a knot of young men, college students from their dandyish clothes and carefree air, actually cheered us.

“Don’t you have studying to do?” Hetty called back at them with a laugh.

“We like studying you!” replied the tallest one, a dark-haired fellow who wasn’t half bad looking, if you prefer boys to men, which I do not.

Hetty, however, appreciates male attractiveness in all its forms and favored him with a flirtatious smile before moving on.

“Looking for a pet?” I teased.

“He’d probably be more fun than our old cat.”

“Yes, but Lord Tennyson is house-trained.”

“And you can at least count on him to keep the mice away.”

We laughed together.

“It’s so good to be out this morning. It’s been pretty tough sledding in the news office since the trial. Winter fashions, holiday needlework, and yet more hats.”

“No good follow-up stories?”

She sighed. “No one will say it on the record, but the sense I get from the prosecutor is that he’s quite sure she did it, and equally sure that no jury will convict her.”

“No justice for anyone.”

“No. And she just flounces away.”

As I watched Hetty’s face tighten in irritation, I wondered again what was so awful about the woman.

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