The Truth About Love

By Julie Anne Wack

For as long as she could remember, Gertrude Kueshner had never wanted anything but to create beautiful hats that would one day be worn by the high society ladies of New York City. She endured the teasing of her four brothers and the lectures of her disapproving father, an immigrant who published a small socialist newspaper and thought little of the rich and fashionable society people of the big, bustling city. That was until she had the misfortune to meet a handsome, cynical detective. Alexander Marshall was the most exasperating man she had ever met, and Gertrude wanted nothing more to do with him despite the strange fluttering sensations she felt when he was near. But then two murders occur near Gertrude's father's print shop, and she finds herself once again in the company of the determined detective. When the happiness of Gertrude's large, loving family is threatened, Gertrude makes up her mind to find whoever was responsible for the murders, even if it means risking her own life, as well as her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524563806

Julie Anne Wack

Julie Wack has worked as a sculptor and a painter, and has an MFA in Visual Art. She also has a long-standing love of the theater, which led her to study playwriting and to direct a number of plays over the years. One of the tasks of a director is to assist the actors in exploring the characters they are portraying onstage. When she decided to begin writing, she found that creating characters in her books and taking them through the twists and turns of the story was the most fulfilling act of creativity she had ever engaged in, and it led her to concentrate solely on writing.

Book preview

New York City – April 1886

I don’t think this pigeon likes my hat. He’s staring at it.

We’re probably standing on the ledge where he rests when he isn’t flying. Can we go in now, Tru? I’m starting to get cold and my fingers are getting numb. Besides, I’m afraid we’ll be late returning to work and get into trouble.

Don’t worry, Clarice, it’s safe to climb back in through the window now. I peeked between the curtains, and the room is empty. We have to hurry, though, in case Mr. Jarvis returns. I’ll go first. You take the hatbox and hold it until I climb in—and don’t drop it. I don’t want to lose it after all this. Clarice took the precious hatbox from her friend and watched as the slender young woman hoisted herself over the windowsill and back into the room from which they’d fled what seemed like an eternity ago.

I’m in. Hurry, Clarice, hand me the hatbox then climb through the window. That stupid bird can have his ledge. I still say he didn’t like my hat.

The hat is a bit strange.

Gertrude Kueshner gasped at the sound of a deep male voice behind her. She swung around to find herself staring up into eyes the color of shiny gold coins. For one moment, she could have sworn those eyes were laughing at her, but a second glance revealed a face that looked anything but amused.

The tall, handsome man staring down at Tru was indeed trying not to laugh out loud, so he straightened his shoulders in an attempt to look more imposing. But the corners of his mouth had begun to twitch, and despite his best efforts to control himself, he burst out laughing.

Gertrude Kueshner was having a bad afternoon. When she saw where the stranger’s gaze was fixed, she realized that the hat perched atop her head was the source of the stranger’s laughter. Tru had had all she could take for one day, so she straightened her spine and jutted out her jaw. How dare you! I’ll have you know this hat is as good as any of the latest ones worn by the most fashionable ladies in Paris. Just ask Clarice. You obviously have no taste in fashion.

Well, I do apologize for my failure to recognize the quality of your bonnet. The cherries on the brim probably looked appetizing to the poor pigeon, and that’s why he stared. You’re lucky he didn’t attack it. Now speaking of your friend, perhaps we should assist her off the ledge.

Tru turned toward the window where her companion was still perched precariously on the ledge. Clarice, I’m so sorry. I’ll help you back in. But before Tru could move, the tall stranger had reached the window and, putting his hands around Clarice’s waist, lifted her over the windowsill and back inside.

Once her friend was back within the confines of four walls, Tru turned to face the man, who now stood quietly studying the two young women. At that moment Tru decided it was better to go on the offensive. Who, may I ask, are you? And what are you doing in the Jarvis’s suite?

I’m Alexander Marshall of the New York City Police. And who might you two ladies be?

Police! You can’t be a policeman! You don’t have a moustache, your hair is all wild and curly, and you’re not wearing a uniform!

Well, the lack of a uniform can be easily explained, since I’m a detective. The man was again fighting the impulse to laugh. And though, I grant you, many of New York’s Finest do favor facial hair, it isn’t a requirement. I prefer the feel of a clean face. As for the hair, you would have to blame my dear departed mother for this unruly mop.

Tru stared at her feet for a moment as she tried to determine how much trouble she had gotten herself into this time. The man was definitely large enough to be a policeman, and he looked imposing enough to frighten criminals. Besides being tall, he had broad shoulders and strong-looking arms. But when he had laughed, he had looked less intimidating. After Tru finished surveying the stranger, her eyes returned to his face. The man’s mouth was now set in a forbidding frown, making Tru wonder if she had only imagined his earlier laughter.

Alexander Marshall returned the young woman’s scrutiny with a practiced gaze. He had been surprised when he entered the room to find two such pretty young women instead of the more-hardened types that he usually dealt with in his line of work. A quick search through his memory produced no images of these two women from among the criminal types in the rogue’s gallery the police department kept. But he could not rule out that they were newly recruited to a life of crime after a short time in the city. The burglary ring he was currently after was known to use young and pretty women to obtain wax impressions of keys from unsuspecting household servants.

Alex found himself focusing on the obvious leader of the pair. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, startling him at first glance as they peered out from a face that managed to be both elegant and impish. The outrageous concoction that had been the object of his amusement sat atop a shiny pile of light-brown curls. She wore a dress of bright yellow, and the image of a canary poised to take flight entered his mind unbidden.

Did you capture them, Detective?

Alex turned to see an anxious face peering around the corner of the entrance to the suite. It was the day manager who had summoned the police. I’m questioning them now. I’ll get to the bottom of this situation, I assure you.

The Everett is a fine establishment. The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he wrung his hands. We don’t want any trouble for our tenants.

Just relax and let me proceed. Alex fixed the nervous clerk with his best authoritative stare. I told you everything is fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d liked to finish questioning the young ladies.

Ladies indeed! With those parting words, the man withdrew from the room, closing the door with a disapproving click.

Now, where were we? Ah, yes. You were about to explain what you were doing in this hotel suite that required you to climb out the window and spend time visiting a pigeon.

Now see here—what was your name again? Tru met the detective’s gaze straight on.

Detective Marshall.

See here, Mr. Marshall, am I to understand that odious man sent for the police because he thought we were criminals? How dare he!

Once more, the image of a canary flashed through Alex’s mind as he fought back another burst of laughter. Right now, the young woman’s feathers were definitely ruffled. Either she was a very good actress or a truly outraged innocent.

Detective, we are here on completely legitimate business, I assure you. Tru glanced back at Clarice, hoping her friend would have sense enough to remain quiet and let her do the explaining. We came here to see Mrs. Jarvis. We work at Hearns, and we’re on our lunch hour. Tru prayed that would be enough of an explanation for the detective.

Well, that’s possible, I suppose. Except Mrs. Jarvis seems to be nowhere in sight. Or were you looking for her out on the ledge and just became engrossed in your conversation with the pigeon?

Oh, you don’t have to be sarcastic! Tru resisted stomping her foot in frustration. I’m telling you the truth.

I want to believe you, but you’ll have to tell the whole story, not just part of it. Continue.

I told you we work at Hearns—you know, the store across from Macy’s.

You’re salesgirls. So why were you here to see Mrs. Jarvis?

We prefer salesladies, if you don’t mind. And we were here to show her a hat.

That silly thing on top of your head?

No, this hat in this box! Tru thrusts the hatbox she clutched tightly in her hands toward the skeptical detective. I made it. Mrs. Jarvis was in the store earlier today looking for something for a special event. She didn’t find anything to her liking, and I thought she might like my hat. I had brought it to the store to show Clarice. I want to open my own millinery shop some day. Tru thought of all the hopes and dreams that had gone into the bonnet so lovingly packed in the bright-yellow hatbox.

I’d better have a look, miss. The detective reached out to gently pry the hatbox loose from the young woman’s hands. A hatbox can hold things other than a hat.

Oh, and I suppose I have burglary tools hidden inside. Feels a bit light for that, don’t you think?

Alex did feel a little foolish as he prepared to lift the lid and peer into a box that barely weighed anything. But it was his job to be sure, and the criminals he had dealt with in the past had taught him to trust no one. Not even a pretty young woman with guileless blue eyes. When he parted the tissue and pulled out the delicate object nestled inside, he was dismayed to hear a chuckle escape his lips.

The hat was immediately snatched away from the detective. And just what are you laughing at? An indignant Tru checked to make sure the detective’s large hands hadn’t damaged her creation.

Was I laughing? I don’t think so. I’m sure it’s the height of fashion to have a dove perched on top of your head. You should show this one to the pigeon. I’m betting he’d really appreciate it. So this hat is the reason you’re here. But that doesn’t tell me why you were on the ledge.

This time, Tru did stomp her foot. Oh, you! Very well, if you must have all the embarrassing details before you let us go, so be it. We knocked on the door, but nobody answered. Then the door opened, and the maid emerged dressed to go out. She was a very disagreeable woman. She said Mrs. Jarvis was not in, so we should go away. I tried to leave the hat with her, but she said she was just about to run some important errands and didn’t have time for such nonsense. Then she left.

Why didn’t you leave the box outside the door?

Tru stared at Alex, horrified at the very thought. And risk someone stealing my hat! Do you know how much work goes into one of these hats? Not to mention the cost of the materials.

Forgive my ignorance. Now, you were saying… ? The maid left . . . ?

We were about to go when I noticed, in her haste, the maid hadn’t finished latching the door. I—well, I didn’t want to waste the trip on our lunch hour, so—

Which is almost over, and we’ll be in even bigger trouble if we’re not back soon. For the first time, the young woman cowering behind the skirts of her friend spoke up, drawing Alex’s attention. A skinny redhead with big green eyes and freckles splashed across her face, the poor girl looked as if she had expended her entire supply of courage with that one timid outburst.

Oh, Clarice, I promise it will be all right—that is, if this insufferable man lets us go soon.

As soon as you finish your story, miss.

Well, as I told you, I couldn’t bear the thought of wasting our lunch hour. So I wiggled the door handle a little, and the door opened. I know I should have just closed it and gone away, but it seemed like a sign. I thought if I left the hat on the table with a note for Mrs. Jarvis and she saw the hat, she would love it.

Did you think Mrs. Jarvis would be happy to have you enter her home without permission?

Tru blushed at the thought of her rudeness. I didn’t think of that at the time. Besides,—Tru straightened her shoulders—you’re a man. You can’t possibly understand how crucial it is to wear just the right hat to an occasion. That was part of the problem. Just as we were writing the note, we heard a man’s voice coming down the hall toward the suite. We knew if a man came in and saw us, he wouldn’t understand the importance of the hat, so we decided to hide out on the ledge.

You were the one who decided that all by yourself. Clarice’s small voice piped up emphatically.

Tru frowned in her friend’s direction. All right! I decided.

Then what happened? Alex hid a smile at the first sign of a crack in the friends’ united front.

What do you think happened? We climbed out through the window. Tru frowned at the memory. It was a little more difficult than I imagined. Anyway, I peeked back through the curtains and saw a man and a woman enter the suite. The man was Mr. Jarvis. Unfortunately, the woman was not Mrs. Jarvis, nor did she appear to be a lady of refinement. I had no idea who she was. Well, at that point, I was certain Mr. Jarvis would not be happy to have us enter the suite by way of the window and introduce ourselves. He’s a rather disagreeable man anyway. I’ve seen him at Hearns with Mrs. Jarvis once or twice. He always complains about how much she spends, and he has horrible taste. Well, I was afraid if he caught us, he would inform the manager or, worse, forbid Mrs. Jarvis from shopping at Hearns. She spends a lot of money in the store, and Clarice and I would surely lose our jobs over it.

Alex’s sympathies were aroused by the woman’s story. But, more importantly, his detective’s instincts were inclined to believe this was a case of bad judgment rather than criminal intent. Most criminals he knew would be ashamed to make up such a silly story. So what happened next?

Well, Mr. Jarvis and the woman disappeared into another room. I was afraid we’d be out on that ledge all day. But it was only a few minutes, and they were back where I could see them.

Alex almost choked as he tried to keep from laughing at the puzzled look on the naïve young woman’s face. And they left right after that?

Tru nodded. Yes. Mr. Jarvis gave the woman some money, and they left.

Alex suppressed a smile. Well, miss, let’s see that note you say you were writing. Tru hurriedly searched her reticule until she found the crumpled piece of paper and handed it to the detective. Looks like an unfinished note to Mrs. Jarvis just as you said. All right, I believe you. I’m going to let you go this time, but I’d advise you from now on not to hide on the side of a building if you don’t want to attract any notice. I’ll need your names before you go. I’ll have to check out your story about working at Hearns. If you’re lying to me, believe me, I’ll find you. I’m very good at what I do.

By all means, check out our story. Tru never doubted for a minute that the tall policeman was quite capable of finding them no matter where they might be in this vast city. I work in accessories, and Clarice works in piece goods. Clarice’s last name is Lennox and mine is Kueshner. But please don’t tell anyone at Hearns what happened.

If your story checks out, I won’t. I can be very discreet. Now, Miss Kueshner, I believe you have a first name.

The young woman with the fiery red hair stepped out from behind her friend and seemed to regain some of her poise with escape close at hand. In a breathless voice, she offered Alex the last piece of information he needed to end the interview. Her name is Gertrude—Gertrude Kueshner. But no one calls her that. Everyone calls her Tru. The redhead was immediately rewarded with a withering look from her companion.

Tru? That’s a strange name. Alex thought to himself that a strange name suited such a strange creature, even one as appealing as the young woman now lovingly repacking her precious hat. You ladies are free to go. I will talk to the day manager and persuade him this was all a misunderstanding. But I advise you not to make any more unauthorized entrances into other people’s homes.

Certainly not! Tru gave the cynical policeman what she hoped was a look of cool disdain and hustled her friend in the direction of the door. She was anxious to go before the detective changed his mind. The whole trip had been for naught, and she would have to wait for another opportunity to impress one of Hearns’ wealthy customers with one of her creations. Tru stifled a sigh of disappointment.

Oh, Miss Kueshner.

Tru turned back. This time, there was no mistaking the broad grin that split the detective’s handsome face. Tru’s heart made a strange lurching movement in her chest as she froze with her hand on the doorknob.

It really is a lovely hat. Someone will want it someday.

Tru choked back an unexpected lump in her throat as she turned without a word to follow Clarice out the door and down the hall.

***********************************************************

I really should dismiss you both. Not just dock your pay. You were five minutes late returning to your departments from lunch.

Mr. Hartley, we were really only trying to be good Hearns employees.

Oh, really, Miss Kueshner, and how do you do that by breaking the rules?

Well, Mrs. Jarvis was very disappointed when she failed to find just the right hat this morning. She said she would have to try Macy’s this afternoon. We wouldn’t want that. So after she left, I remembered a new shipment had just arrived from Paris, and I went looking in it. When I found a hat I thought she would like, I decided to take it to her myself on my lunch hour. Tru pushed down the faint stirrings of guilt she felt rising in the pit of her stomach. After all, her hat was as beautiful as any she had seen in that shipment from Paris. So, you see, Mr. Hartley, Clarice and I were really only making a special delivery. Something the store does all the time for its good customers.

Well, I suppose if you made a sale, it somewhat lessens the offense. We wouldn’t want Mrs. Jarvis to get her hat from Macy’s.

Tru could have sworn the manager’s lips made a smacking noise at the thought of a sale snatched from under the nose of their giant rival across the street. Well, as it turned out, she wasn’t home. No one was, not even her maid. So we couldn’t leave the hat. But I will show it to her the next chance I get.

Humph! All this nonsense and you didn’t even make a sale. If you weren’t such a good salesgirl, I’d have let you go a long time ago. Why the customers like you is beyond me! But Mrs. Vanderhollen was overheard to remark only today that she wouldn’t have spent nearly as much if you had not helped her decide on several items. At Hearns, we always give the customers what they want. As to Miss Lennox, I know she would not have participated in such an escapade without your urging. Her behavior is usually properly restrained. Speaking of restraint, Miss Kueshner, perhaps tomorrow you could wear a color that is a little less, shall we say, eye-catching. Brown is always a good choice. You can both leave now, but I will tolerate no more tardiness. And don’t think I won’t dock your pay.

The two young women watched the slight man glide away to take final stock of his kingdom as the great store prepared to go to sleep for the night. Honestly, Tru, if his moustache gets any longer, it will pull his chin down to his chest.

That’s if he had a chest. Tru laughed for the first time since their adventure had gone wrong earlier in the day. Let’s go home. My feet are killing me.

The chatter of female voices filled the air as a horde of salesladies, released from the requirement to restrain their conversations, shared tales of their day’s encounters with demanding department managers and unreasonable customers. Tru and Clarice joined the throng moving in the directions of the employees’ cloakroom, the last stop before the women all scattered for their homes in the far corners of the big city.

You know, Clarice, no matter how tired I am, I never get over how magnificent the store looks. It’s hard to believe there are so many beautiful things for people to buy all in one place. Tru’s eyes surveyed the endless counters of merchandise.

The new store does look nice. I love the new electric lights. But I never forget how tired my feet are at the end of the day, especially on sales days, which seems to be every other day since the store moved here.

The store had only recently moved to Fourteenth Street across from its giant rival—Macy’s. But already the competition for customers between Hearns and Macy’s had begun to intensify. The elevated railroad station at the corner of Sixth Avenue and Fourteenth Street discharged a steady stream of customers making their way to the doors of the giant stores.

Well, I’m just happy to work here. This way I can keep up with all the latest fashions, though Lord & Taylor is more elegant. The most fashionable younger women shop there. Tru often strolled along the section of Broadway between Fourteenth Street and Twenty-Third Street known as the ladies mile. It was the place for the wealthy socialites of New York to be seen and where someone like Tru could observe all that was sophisticated and up to the minute in the great city. At those times, Tru’s mind was full of dreams about someday making beautiful hats that would be worn by New York’s grand ladies of society.

You know, Tru, there was only one way Mr. Hartley could have known about Mrs. Vanderhollen’s remarks. Clarice’s voice dragged Tru back from her daydreaming. It must have been Mr. Kenton. He overhears everything as floorwalker. Betsy certainly wouldn’t have told him. She’d never do anything to make you look good in Mr. Hartley’s eyes.

You’re right about that. At that moment, Tru spotted the woman who was her immediate superior and who was intent on making Tru’s life as miserable as possible at every opportunity. The manager for Tru’s department was a well-endowed young woman who always looked slightly frumpy no matter how hard she tried to appear well turned out. Look at her over there trying to impress Mr. Hartley. I’ll never understand how she got to be manager. She’s completely lacking in taste or style.

I’m sure she’s jealous of you and that’s why she’s so mean. Clarice’s mind couldn’t grasp why anyone would dislike her pretty and vivacious friend. Oh, look, Tru, there is Mr. Kenton now.

Tru spotted the elegant floorwalker amid a cluster of chattering women and headed in his direction. Mr. Kenton, may I have a word with you?

Of course, Miss Kueshner, what might I do for you?

The slender man bent slightly at the waist in just a hint of a bow. A relatively recent immigrant to America, the dapper man’s voice was pleasantly accented, and his courtly manners thrilled the female shoppers whom he assisted all day as part of his job. His elegant air had smoothed many a ruffled feather for Hearns wealthier customers.

Mr. Hartley said someone told him of overhearing Mrs. Vanderhollen speak well of me today. I wanted to offer my thanks if it was you. Tru smiled at the man as he inclined his head to acknowledge Tru’s gratitude.

It was simply fair to pass along such remarks. It benefits the store if the customers are pleased with the service they receive.

Well, thank you again. Tru didn’t mention that the fortuitous timing of the floorwalker’s remarks might have saved her job.

If you’ll both excuse me now, I have some errands I must run before I return to my home. Miss Kueshner, Miss Lennox, enjoy your evening. With another slight bow, the floorwalker moved off in the direction of the large front doors.

I swear, Tru, you almost expect him to click his heels when he bows like that. Do you know where he’s from? I’ve never heard anyone say. The bubbly redhead grabbed the cape she had worn this morning to ward off the spring chill and waited impatiently for Tru to retrieve her own hat and dolman from the coat room.

No, I’ve never heard anything but gossip. Tru and her friend emerged from the store onto Fourteenth Street and headed in the direction of home. I don’t think Mr. Hartley cares where he came from, only that he’s an excellent floorwalker. All the female customers seem to enjoy his courtly manners. He has just the right mix of diffidence and charm.

Speaking of charm, Tru, how are those two charming brothers of yours?

Oh, Carl and John are just fine.

Clarice’s small pointed elbow darted out to poke Tru sharply in the ribs. You know who I mean.

Oh, you’re referring to Walter and Ernest. Tru couldn’t resist teasing her friend. She had known full well that Clarice meant her younger twin brothers. A strapping pair of boys who nobody but their family could tell apart, they had been the object of Clarice’s adoration since she had first met them. The problem was Clarice had never been able to decide which twin she preferred. So she simply pursued both with equal fervor.

They’re fine, Clarice, but I don’t know if they’ll be coming home from Rutgers this weekend. They wrote that some of the other football players want to spend the next couple of weekends in spring practice.

Tru chuckled at the crestfallen look on her friend’s face. But before she could cheer Clarice up by telling her the boys might still come home for a brief visit, Tru heard her name being called. She turned around and saw a beautiful young woman running to catch up with Tru and her friend.

Tru, could you give John a message for me?

Tru nodded at the new arrival as the trio paused on the sidewalk. Sophy Klienst was a fellow employee at Hearns. Sophy had begun seeing Tru’s older brother after they had met when John came one day to the store to visit his sister. Tru was not at all certain she approved of the growing closeness between her brother and the exotic beauty. Sophy was a moody person who sometimes struck Tru as being deeply unhappy. There was no doubt, however, that the woman’s striking looks had an impact on men, even her serious older brother. Many men dragged to the store by their wives would slyly watch Sophy out of the corners of their eyes, their attention drawn by the woman’s lustrous black hair, violet eyes, and voluptuous figure.

What do you want me to tell him? Tru pasted a smile on her face and hoped it looked real.

I can’t see him tonight as we planned. My mother wants me to help with some extra baking.

Tru remembered that Sophy’s mother was a widow who baked pastries to earn money on which to live. Sophy and her brother had come to this country when they were adolescents, and they had worked ever since to help their mother survive. Sophy’s husky voice still carried a slight accent unlike Tru, who had been born after her parents’ arrival in America.

I’ll tell him when I see him, but I don’t know when he’ll be home from the paper. He might go to your house straight from the shop.

The beautiful woman cast a puzzled look at the sister of the man she loved. Isn’t it Tuesday? Aren’t you going to the paper now?

Oh my goodness, I totally forgot—so much happened today. Papa will be angry if I’m late. Why didn’t you remind me, Clarice?

Tru’s friend shrugged. I guess I forgot what day it was because of all the excitement, just as you did.

Tru didn’t hear her friend’s apology because she was racing along Fourteenth Street in the direction of her father’s print shop as fast as her legs would carry her.

***********************************************************

Papa, I’m sorry I’m late. I forgot what day it was. Tru leaned against her father’s battered old desk, trying to catch her breath.