Chicago Capers Book One Zeppelin Murders

By D.K. Collins

Murder, mystery and magic in Jazz Age Prohibition Chicago. Part Indiana Jones, part Agatha Christie, Zeppelin Murders starts with a battered body on the promenade along the Chicago River and all the clues lead to the maiden voyage of the dirigible, The Chicago, bound for New York, London and Berlin. Stolen occult artifacts, gangsters, agents of foreign powers & a missing motion pictures vamp all complicate the lives of our detectives- a psychic mystery novelist and an intrepid female reporter. Untangling this web will take all their powers of deduction and a lot of help from their friends – a magician, an archeologist and a police detective

Excerpt – Dianna Manderley Reporter has climbed out on a ledge to listen in on a gangster’s conversation.
“That Manderley dame was here, boss, and den she was gone. I dunno where she got to, honest, but I swears I never took my eyes off her for one moment.”
“Get the boys and search the place,” Valentine said.
The door to the office slammed. Dianna waited until she was sure all three men had left. She then inched back to the office window and climbed in.
Papers had been scattered all over the desk. Dianna didn’t stop to read any of them, she merely glanced at each page knowing she could call each up in her mind and “read” it later. Voices in the corridor approached the door. Dianna headed for the window led onto the fire escape. She reached the bottom and shoved her skirt back down. She hugged the alley wall until she came to the window to the ladies’ lounge and smiled when she saw it slightly open. She smiled again when she found the room empty. She pushed the window up enough to squeeze through, adjusted her gown, and stepped out into the club just in time to see Anthony Romanno coming down the stairs.
“Miss Manderley, I am understanding you gave my Mr. Bugs the, how do you say, slip?”
“He must just not have heard me when I told him I had to powder my nose, Anthony”
Anthony sniffed the air. Dianna stepped back. Anthony moved closer.
“When snooping, you should not wear such distinctive perfume I think, Dianna.” Anthony smiled.
“Why, whatever are you talking about, Anthony?” Dianna tried to take another step back and instead found herself against the wall. Anthony smiled. Dianna smiled back. Then she screamed very loudly and charged Romanno. Anthony, startled, stepped back to allow Dianna just enough room to slip by and head up the stairs to his office. She reached the office just as Romanno, Handley and Valentine reached the top of the stairs. Dianna waved and slammed the door. She locked it and raced for the window.
As she climbed out the window, she noted Anthony’s third goon, Vic Mareno, in the alley below. She pulled off and tossed one of her shoes as far down the alley as she could. The shoe landed and Mareno started in that direction.
Dianna took off her other shoe. The office door burst in. Mareno turned and yelled. She ran for the fire escape on the other side of the building. She could hear Anthony, Valentine and Bugs right behind her.
I’ll never make it, she thought as just a few steps from the edge she turned and brandished her shoe at Anthony.
“Let us be reasonable about this, Dianna. You know I would not like to hurt you”
The three men started advancing. Dianna, still swinging, stepped back. She stumbled and began to fall. Arms wrapped around her from behind. Two shots rang out. Dianna watched Romanno drop face down onto the roof. Bugs cursed and dropped. Valentine threw himself forward. Two more shots rang out. Dianna screamed

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.K. Collins
• Release date: Jun 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458080776

D.K. Collins

I live in Columbia, MO with my Partner, many dogs and cats, and lots of books. I have been a Gamer since 1983 and have run games at GenCon. I have written five plays for children based on classic fairy tales and many interactive murder mysteries. Chicago Capers Book One Zeppelin Murders is the first in a series of at least ten books.

Book preview

BOOK ONE

ZEPPELIN

MURDERS

A Novel by

D.K. Collins

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 David K. Collins

Dedicated to my partner David, our daughter Katie

and the Downers Grove Writers’ Group.

PROLOGUE

Chapter One-Part One- Assassins in the Streets

June 28, 1914 - Half-Past Ten O’clock a.m.

Sarajevo, Bosnia

She could smell, sense death and not just one or two deaths. She could feel thousands and thousands. For almost twenty-one years, almost since her birth, she had dreamed of the deaths this day could bring.

So much rested on the next two hours, she thought. She pushed back a strand of long dark hair. She looked out of place wearing the latest Paris fashion as she pushed her way through the throng of onlookers wearing homespun and wool garb. The elder gentleman in morning coat and top hat trying to keep up with her down the Appel Quay also over dressed in the almost rustic crowd of Bosnians. He reached out and caught her elbow.

It’s over, my dear. He stopped her in the midst of women covering their heads with shawls and capped men waiting beside the street. The bomb was deflected. The man caught. We are finished here. He gently began to lead her away.

No, Father. I didn’t see my man. He hasn’t struck yet.

It’s over; let us return to the hotel. Have a cool drink…

No, Father. It is not over yet. She removed his hand from her arm and pushed her way through the crowd. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the faces, searching for her man, the assassin. She could almost see his face, as she often had in her dreams.

The crowd cheered. Open cars, three or more, moved down the street towards her. She pushed her way onto the curb in time to see the third car roll past and start a turn. The car carrying several military men and one plump fashionably coiffed very well dressed woman stopped.

She finally spotted him. He was standing very near the halted car. He seemed stunned, uncertain. The girl broke into a run. The man extended his arm. He looked away from his intended victim and pulled the trigger of the gun. The girl grappled with him as the gun belched smoke and noise. A woman screamed.

The girl fell, taking the would-be assassin with her to the ground. As she dropped she looked over her shoulder to see the heavily mustached face of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary turn from her to the interior of the open car. Something hit the back of her head, and blackness overwhelmed her.

***

She woke cradled in soft darkness, feather pillows and a light comforter. Her head ached. She reached for the bedside table and groaned with pain.

Bright light filled the room as a door opened. She gazed up at her father rushing to the bed.

What do you need, my dear?

Water? She whispered, feeling very sad suddenly. She felt that she had forgotten something important, but she couldn’t remember what the something was.

Of course. Victor Trevalyanne poured a glass from the pitcher on the nightstand and handed the glass to his daughter. She took a sip of the cold liquid.

I had the dream again, the one where the Austrian Archduke and his wife are assassinated. But this was even more real than before. She took a longer sip of cold water.

It was real, Vivianne. You were there to prevent it.

I did? But the gun fired! I remember that now. Where were the Pinkerton agents we brought with to prevent…? Vivianne groaned again and let her head fall back into the pillows. Her father grabbed the glass before it spilled.

Just close your eyes. You hit your head very hard on the cobblestones when you landed. I’ll tell you what happened. He sat gently on the edge of the bed.

"Just as you have been telling us for years, the Archduke’s procession moved through town. One assassin tried to throw a bomb and one of my agents managed to deflect it. One of the Archduke’s aides was injured by the blast and taken to the infirmary. The Archduke made his speech and was planning to visit his injured aide. The driver hadn’t been told. The car made a wrong turn, stopped to correct it and the young man, just as you described him, stepped up to the car. You rammed into him like a charging rhinoceros, my dear, just as he fired the first shot.

My agents were hindered by three men with British accents and a fourth with a heavy German accent. When they saw what was happening at the Archduke’s car, my agent's assailants seemed as upset as my men were. All six arrived in time to prevent the assassin from getting up to fire again, since you had already passed out and couldn’t. The German and the British men disappeared shortly after the assassin was subdued. My agents are trying to find out who they were.

The Archduke lives? Vivianne closed her eyes and waited a moment for the horrors that she had seen for most of her life. No visions appeared of men in raw gashes cut into the black earth being blown up or gassed. No troops charging hillsides were cut to pieces by Gattling guns. She sighed. Yes, he lives and the war that was to enflame the world will not happen now. The visions are gone.

He lives and he thanks you, Vivianne. He knows that you did all you could...

But I heard a woman scream! I remember a woman screamed. His wife?

She died, almost instantly. The Archduke knows you did all you could…

Suddenly weary, Vivianne felt all her energy disappear. She had made a difference, but not enough of one. She had failed after all. When can we go home, father?

The arrangements are already made. We’ll be safely home in Chicago in a few weeks. Sleep easy now, my dear. No more bad dreams.

Chapter One – Part Two - Dianna Manderley on the Town

October 17, 1926 – Half-past Two O’clock in the afternoon

Chicago, Illinois

Dianna Manderley sensed eyes watching her as she tucked a wayward golden curl up under her cloche hat and drew a deep breath. Catching sight of herself in the shop window, she nodded in approval of her almost severe burgundy Chanel coat and dress ensemble. The burgundy had a strong red tinge that Dianna preferred and the matching hat set off the shape of her face to good advantage. The large petal cut of the hems softened the suit-look of the outfit, but only a little. She felt that she looked businesslike, yet totally feminine. She smiled at her reflection in the dirty window, and then casually checked out the passersby. One man stopped longer than Dianna felt comfortable with, and she walked into the door of the shop under the three golden balls indicating a pawnshop.

The usually bright October daylight didn’t penetrate to the interior of the pawnshop. A miasma of dust filled the air and the shelves of items past redemption were crammed with a wide variety of things also collecting dust. At the far end of the shop, a low glass case full of jewelry and other expensive things sat.

Dianna didn’t see the proprietor at first. She did have the feeling of again being watched. As she approached the case, he stepped out of the deep shadows and stepped up on something so that he could be seen over the counter.

Miss Manderley, how are you today? His voice, although very soft and pitched very low, carried clearly in the dusty dark. I have nothing new for you today.

Oh, please, Mr. Sampson, I know better than that. Several crates vanished from the Santa Fe De Luxe when it reached Chicago this morning. You know everything illegal that goes on in this town.

Please do not flatter me, Miss Manderley. I am only a poor pawnbroker, who has had no business at all today.

Dianna noted the look of fear in the little man’s eyes. His hand, resting on the counter, trembled a bit. Dianna tried to nonchalantly look into the shadows of the shop behind him, but saw nothing.

I can tell you that there are some new mobsters in town. From the West Coast. Came in this morning. They appear to be here to look for someone, but they have not asked permission from any of the gangs here. I suggest you keep an eye on the usual hot spots. Trouble is bound to erupt from this. I know that both the Chicago Tong and the Romanno gang dislike the McCray mob intensely. And I am sure that neither had anything to do with the three crates disappearing from the train.

Dianna thought she saw a shadow move in the back as the pawnbroker flinched. He realized at the same time Dianna did, that he had slipped. Dianna hadn’t mentioned the number of crates stolen. She smiled broadly, as if she hadn’t noticed.

Well, if you do hear anything, Mr. Sampson, let me know. I’ll be around. Dianna stared into the case as her attention focused on a pair of golden earrings. The gold bobbles hung quite low on exquisite tiny gold chains. Are those for sale? She pointed.

Indeed, the lady who pawned them asked not to have a receipt. She said she would not be back to collect them.

Then I’ll take them. They shall look simply smashing with my new dress for the Police Commissioner’s ball this evening.

Why then, of course you must have them. He climbed off his crate and rummaged in a drawer for the key to the case.

Dianna noted that he looked over his shoulder briefly as he moved off his perch. He also glanced back as he climbed back up and handed Dianna the jewelry.

Exquisite. How much?

Four hundred dollars and a real steal at that price.

I’m sure, Mr. Sampson, but I am wearing these to the Police Commissioner’s Party tonight. They won’t be recognized will they?

No, I assure you that they are not stolen, Miss Manderley. I am not such a fool as to sell you hot goods.

Yes, well and good, and no bushwa! Dianna pulled five one hundred dollar bills out of her clutch and handed them over. In a very low voice she continued. And anything you should hear about the robbery…

Thank you very much, Miss Manderley, Sampson said in a loud voice as he tucked the money away, I shall indeed give you a call if anything else comes to my humble shop of this quality.

Dianna slipped the earrings into her clutch and, smiling broadly, left the shop. As she stepped out into the sunlight, she again saw the man who had been watching her earlier. Now she caught a good look at him and she smiled. As he moved away into a crowd of shoppers, Dianna headed in the opposite direction. Her reporter’s instincts told her that he again tailed her. She walked briskly for two blocks and then ducked into an alley. She stepped into a doorway and waited.

Moments later, her tail stepped into the alley. Peering around the corner, Dianna watched him look about and scratch his chin. She pounced like a cat and he yelped and pulled his gat.

Anthony Romanno should know better than to send a goon like you on a tail, Albert. Dianna held up both hands and smiled. Albert groaned.

Miss Manderley, I would appreciate it muchly if youse would call me by my proper name, ‘Slick’, in future occurrences of our acquaintanceship.

Does your mother call you ‘Slick’, Albert?

No, she does not, but…

Why are you following me, Albert? What did I do to Tony now?

Mr. Anthony Romanno is just concerned for your well being, Miss Manderley. Youse should knows that by now.

Not the answer I wanted to hear, Albert. I shall have to tell your mother what a big fibber you are.

Miss, please do not divulge to my mother anything about my current employment with Mr. Romanno. Dear Mother believes that I am gainfully employed in a totally different line of work…

Then come clean, Albert Muggins. Why were you set to follow me?

Youse sees there are…

A shot rang out and Muggins threw himself behind a trash bin. Dianna hurled herself in the opposite direction and landed in a muddy puddle before crawling behind an empty packing crate. A second shot rang out as Muggins fired back.

Dianna judged the shooter was on the roof from the sounds of the shots. Muggins blissfully fired at the mouth of the alley and Dianna heard screams and pounding feet as the thug continued to fire out into the street. A car crashed into something as Muggins’ fourth shot rang out. A third shot sounded from the roof and Dianna heard the thud of a falling body behind the trash bin.

Albert?

Don’t youse worry, Miss Manderley. Just a flesh wound. Muggins said through clenched teeth.

He’s on the roof, Albert! Dianna waited for a response. Nothing but silence came from behind the bin. Albert!

The wail of a police car careening down the street and pulling up to the alley broke the silence. The officers leaped out.

The Shooter went up on the roof. She called as she cautiously poked her head out. She saw the two blue uniformed men heading for the nearest fire escape and then, when no more shots rang out; she rushed over behind the trash bin.

Albert lay in what would have been a very uncomfortable position had he been conscious. Dianna knelt down and touched his neck. His pulse beat against her fingertips, and then he groaned and opened his eyes.

An angel!

No, Albert, just me, Manderley. Can you walk?

Yup, I t’ink so.

Then let us make tracks. I sent the bulls up on the roof to follow the man who shot into the street.

But that was…

Yes, but they don’t know that, so let us grab a cab, eh? I’ll drop you at the Club and have just enough time to grab a bath and some dinner before the Commissioner’s soiree. But on the way to the club…

I was just supposed to protect you, Miss M.

So why is it I ended up protecting ‘youse’, Albert.

Albert looked sheepishly at her. She helped him from behind the trash bin and down the alley to the street.

Dunno, Miss M. Just lucky I guess?

Chapter One– Part Three – Professor Montague Bentley Underground

October 17, 1926 – Half-past Four O’clock in the afternoon

Chicago, Illinois

A dark-haired, slender man moved through a dark passage led by his electric torch. Water dripped through the mold covering the walls. As he ducked under a beam, he could hear, somewhere to the right, the sound of Lake Michigan lapping at the shore and deeper in the tunnels the chattering of rats. He stepped carefully as a rat skittered in the light of the torch.

A second rat leaped down from a small alcove high in the tunnel wall. Startled, Professor Montague Bentley dropped the keys he had been holding in his left hand. They landed with a splash and Montague grimaced. He swung the torch back and forth until he spotted the keys glitter in the slimy water at his feet. Then with another grimace, he knelt down and his long slender fingers sifted water and mud to retrieve the keys.

He moved on. He could feel something stirring the foul air ahead as he came to a corridor branching off the main tunnel. With a shiver, he moved into the corridor until he came to a wooden door. He slipped one of the keys into the lock and it screamed until he turned it. The door creaked open with a gentle push and Montague retrieved the key.

Cold air washed over Montague as he moved into the chamber behind the door, which he shut behind him. He heard the door lock as it closed.

He cradled the electric torch in the crook of his arm and fumbled in his pocket. All the while he could feel eyes watching him from the darkness. He just wished that the eyes belonged to something as simple as rats. His hands trembled as he fumbled open the box of matches from his pocket, and then he struck a flame and set it to one of the conventional torches in a wall sconce at his left shoulder. The flame set the torch blazing and twelve other torches also burst into flame around the corridor. Montague looked around.

The chamber with proper lighting would look larger, as large in fact as the Egyptian Rooms at the Field Museum of Natural History where Montague worked, but the torchlight barely illuminated the space and the darkness pushed in on the lighted areas. Montague turned off his electric torch and set it on a small table next to a small funeral urn. As he turned to face the chamber, he saw movement on the floor.

So, you are awake again! Montague stepped back to brace himself against the door as something the size of a large cat bounded across the floor, leaped up on the table and aimed itself at Montague’s throat. Montague threw up his hands and caught the creature by the neck halting its claws just out of reach. The creature screamed and Montague could see four similar creatures moving out of the darkness, readying themselves to attack.

Montague threw the captured creature across the room and pulled a vial out of his breast pocket. He watched the creature land and rise to its feet. All five of the miniature gargoyles gathered together crooning and chirping, and then charged. Montague tossed the vial, which shattered just in front of the creatures. A mist of shattered glass and purple smoke bathed the creatures as they rushed through and stopped. Slowly each of the five gargoyles sank onto their haunches and froze.

Montague breathed a sigh and walked over to the creatures. He ran his hand down the spine of the first in line. Its flesh had again become stone and Montague smiled.

Now to try and find out what brought you to life this time. Montague picked up the stone creature and began looking hard around the room. At first nothing seemed out of place. Shelves full of daggers, bowls, necklaces and tribal masks filled the walls. Other freestanding shelves stood in various parts of the room as did glass display cases. All contained dusty items, some so covered as to be unrecognizable. Montague moved around the cases and shelves. Then he did a second sweep.

A-ha! He stared down at a ring of gold set with a single badly cut carbuncle, which gleamed near the door. If it had traveled a few inches to the right it could have slipped into a new crack in the floor. Instead it had missed the clear area and wedged under a shelf. Montague pulled out his pocket-handkerchief and placed it over the new crack. He then set the gargoyle on one corner and fetched three more of the gargoyles to hold the other three corners in place. He freed the ring from where it had wedged itself and watched it roll directly toward the handkerchief over the crack.

The gargoyles suddenly came to life and watched eagerly as the ring landed in the center of the white cloth. As one being, they pulled up the corners and trapped the ring in the material and tied the corners together. The Gargoyle that had attacked Montague took the handkerchief in its mouth and ran off to climb up a shelf against the wall while the other four creatures began spitting into the crack. The phlegm turned to stone as it hit the breach and in moments they had the crack sealed. With a contented sigh, the four creatures scattered to climb up to positions on the highest shelves around the room. The first had reached the spot where the ring had been store before it went wandering and opened the handkerchief. The ring twitched and the gargoyle patted it with a clawed hand. The ring froze and the Gargoyle turned back to stone. The handkerchief dropped to the floor. When Montague looked around the other gargoyles also returned to their stone states. He retrieved his handkerchief from the floor and mopped his forehead. He stared at the ring. His hand reached up to touch it, and then he pulled back. The Gargoyle standing guard over it seemed to smile.

Dare I hope that I will ever find out whether the malevolent ring was just trying to escape on its own or if someone was calling for it? Off hand I can’t even remember the ring from the inventory. I shall have to ask Gunther about it. Montague checked his watch. Yes, just enough time to stop by Gunther’s office before rushing home to change for wherever Vivianne is dragging me tonight.

He picked up the electric torch from the table, used the urn to extinguish the flaming torch by the door, which put out all the other torches in the room as well. He then unlocked the door from the inside and opened it. He shone his light around the room one last time and for a moment he thought the gargoyle sitting near the wayward ring winked at him.

Montague worried about the winking gargoyle all the way through the tunnels that led to the basement of the Field Museum of Natural History. He slipped through the secret door into the storage rooms below the museum and sealed it closed behind him by pressing a small clay tablet into the area where a lock would be. The opening vanished completely. He moved surely through the dusty stacks of shipping crates using his electric torch until he reached the back stairs that lead up to the Museum proper. Lights almost too bright after the feeble glow of the torch, almost blinded him for a moment, then his eyes adjusted. He ran up the stairs to the first floor, then up past the main floor, the third floor and slowed as he reached the offices and workrooms on the fourth level. He sauntered down the corridor to a door labeled Dr. Gunther Syderman. He knocked softly.

Come in, Montague. Is open, a gruff voice called. Montague entered.

A ring of gold set with a single carbuncle tried to slip out of the Vault into a crack to God knows where, Gunther. The guardian gargoyles were so frantic they tried to attack me.

Sounds like one of the Borgia rings. They all have a mind of their own. Gunther frowned. Montague dropped the keys to the Vault on Gunther’s desk.

Well, the gargoyles did their job once they had a target, but…

I shall go down tomorrow and put a lock on the rings, Gunther took the keys and locked them in a drawer. Thank you for going, my knees…

Glad to do it, sir. But…

I talked to Rebecca last night, Montague. Something powerful is coming or has come to Chicago. That is probably why the Vault is unsettled. Rebecca is never wrong.

Although she has been dead for twenty years, Montague thought. I guess that gives a person a different perspective.

I will look into things tomorrow, now you bustle off, my boy. Don’t keep that charming Miss Trevalyanne waiting. I hear the affair for the Police Commissioner is to be very swanky and the food will be very good.

Dr. Syderman, perhaps I should…

Go and enjoy, my boy. You work hard enough. Gunther rose slowly from his chair and gently led Montague out of the office. And I should get home to Rebecca. She gets nervous when I am too late, even if she always knows where I am.

Chapter One- Part Four – Vivianne at Home

October 17, 1926 – Half-past Six O’clock in the evening

Chicago, Illinois

Vivianne’s fingers tapped on the keys of her Underwood typewriting machine with a steady beat. Word followed word, formed paragraphs and filled the pages as they slid around the roller. Then Vivianne stopped typewriting and looked around the study. An October Chicago dusk had filled the room with dark shadows. Vivianne turned on the light on her desk.

As the light chased out the shadows, Vivianne sighed and realized that she had lost the thread of her story with the break in mood. The study’s mahogany desk glowed with the light, the paper in and piled at the side of the typewriting machine shone brightly white and the dark supernatural atmosphere of the latest Vivianne Trevalyanne mystery novel had been thoroughly banished. She started reading over the last page, still in the machine.

Sebastian ran screaming down the tree-lined driveway as a horrible creature of flames crashed through the front door of the mansion. Then he remembered that his mother was walking in the garden and he veered to the right. He crashed through the shrubbery nearly knocking his mother over in his haste.

Lady Parkenhurst stared in disbelief as her son ran past her. Her disbelief changed to horror as she felt the fiery grasp of the creature’s hands around her throat. She screamed appropriately as her head burst into flames and died.

Sebastian paused for a moment when he heard his mother scream, and then he ran even faster away from the cursed house. He had never been all that fond of his mother anyway, at least not since he had been very young and didn’t know that you didn’t have to love your mother just because she was your mother. He started thinking of all the reasons he should love his mother when he felt blazing heat burning at his back. As his head slowly turned to look over his shoulder he heard the creature scream in rage. Then Sebastian tripped and started to fall face down on the gravel. Heat washed over him and he lost consciousness.

So, Vivianne muttered to herself, Do I have Miss Corley DuPuckette rescue the bounder, or should I let the Fire Daemon have him now and end the book six or seven chapters early?

A noise caused Vivianne to turn. Agnes O’Dooley, Vivianne’s all in one maid/cook/housekeeper had been trying to quietly maneuver a tray of tea things into the study without great success. The older woman smiled sheepishly at Vivianne.

Meself thinks that the rascal should die now for his sins, especially not loving his poor mother and betraying the poor Miss Sempleton, who jumped off the bridge and…

Agnes, I know your feelings about Sebastian already. You have told me that he is the worst human villain in any of my books so far, but how did you know about Miss Sempleton’s suicide, since I haven’t given you those chapters yet?

Meself has psychic flashes, at times, Miss Vivianne.

Particularly when I have left you alone in the study to clean, Agnes?

Especially then, Miss Vivianne. Most particularly then is the best time for myself to have insights. Agnes laughed. Herself’s bath is ready and meself has laid out your burgundy crepe for the evening. The Professor should be here about half past seven, so if herself wants a long leisurely soak, Herself better get a wiggle on.

Yes, Agnes. Vivianne stretched and started to rise from her chair as Agnes slipped out of the room. Vivianne stood and turned, started to move toward the door, and found herself staring out of an open window with nothing but sky beyond. White clouds floated away to the south to be replaced by dark threatening thunder caps. The room jostled around her and she heard a woman’s voice from behind her. Vivianne turned to see a shadowy feminine form.

Sorry, but I can’t let you have it, darling. Much too dangerous, The shadow said to someone on the floor. Then the woman hurled herself out the window into the storm.

The vision, as real as it had seemed, burst like a bubble at the top of a champagne glass. Vivianne staggered for a moment then regained her equilibrium. Shaking her head, she continued out of the study and down the hall to the bathroom.

Whatever events leading up to me seeing that woman throwing herself out that window will start tonight, she told herself as she slipped out of her afternoon frock and undergarments. A chill shivered down her back just as she slipped into the steaming tub, and not even the hot water could stop her from shaking for a good five minutes.

PART

ONE

ON THE

ROCKS

Chapter Two- The Party Crasher

October 17, 1926 – Half-Past Ten O’clock In The Evening

Chicago, Illinois

Smoke and conversation filled the high ceiling room. The guests of the party in honor of the Commissioner of Police had no fear of a raid and so drank freely of the vintage hooch imported from Canada, England and France. Divine little waitresses with divine little silver trays covered with divine little hors d’oeuvres circulated among the guests, the crème de la crème of Chicago society.

Dianna Manderley swept into the room, knowing that she had chosen just the right dress. She felt every man in the room stare as she moved past. She had thought the high neckline of the gold gown in front looked almost too puritan, but flattered her figure by clinging in all the right places. The back draped so daringly low that Dianna’s maid had refused to help her don it. The silk whispered around her feet with a satisfying sound as she moved. The gaze of the men gave her an inner glow of deeper satisfaction, knowing that not one of them could imagine how dangerous she could be.

Dianna made a full sweep of the large room. With a smile on her lips, she headed directly toward Mayor Andrew Cermack talking with Edgar Powers, the mercantile