Will my new husband expect such a performance every time we lie together? If so, he will be sadly disappointed. I have felt neither need nor desire for his physical company in the days since the storm.
Frederick bears an expression of anticipation. I have caught him looking at me when he thought I was occupied, and the furrow in his brow is as readable as any book. He is unsure; he may even hope and secretly pray for inclement weather. I am unsure as well.
Chapter 6
“They look like everybody else,” Easter said. “Except worse.”
“And they don’t even speak English,” Frederick added with a smile. Easter looked up at him, saw he was gently reprimanding her.
“Well, I had expected they would look different somehow. They’re French. It was understandable that everyone looks like us in England, but this is a different continent entirely.”
Frederick couldn’t tell if she was being serious. Her sense of humor routinely eluded him. Easter often said things he had difficulty interpreting.
La Savoie had berthed in its designated slip in the center of Le Havre’s harbor. It was an overcast, chilly morning, and they stood with other passengers at the rail of the lowest deck watching the activity below them. It would be at least three hours before they could disembark, and stewards had set out tables of coffee, tea, cakes and wines on the deck. On the pier below, hundreds of workers manned cranes, unloaded the passengers’ baggage from the holds and transported it by horse-drawn cart to a cavernous warehouse where customs officers waited.
On the next pier, workers blew whistles and shouted commands. Frederick saw that three cranes almost twice as high as the ones servicing La Savoie were working in concert to lift what looked like a railroad car. He nudged Easter, pointed. “Look at that!”
At first, only the roof of the wagon was visible. It looked to be some 80 feet long and shone whitely, and very slowly rose from the steamer’s hold. Even the stewards stopped working to look. One, a young man with a pencil-thin mustache said, “That’s Mr. West’s car. You’ve seen him, I’m sure. Very tall man, dressed like someone from the Buffalo Bill traveling show? He suffered an unfortunate accident during the storm.”
Frederick remembered seeing a big man being pushed about the sundeck in a wheelchair, clad in an overlarge Stetson hat, chaps and boots with pointed toes. “One of the wealthiest men in the world,” the steward continued. “He has his own ship, but I heard his cook vanished at the last minute and so he decided to travel with us.”
The wagon, now free of the ship and held aloft by the three cranes, hung in the air. “Unbelievable,” said Frederick. “That’s a giant flag of Texas!”
And it was. Though the wagon’s roof was white, its sides showed the star and colors of the 28th state. “That man must own a railroad,” Frederick exclaimed. The steward corrected him. “No sir. Mr. West made his fortune prospecting gold.”
The wagon was slowly lowered to the quay, and a hundred dockworkers pushed and pulled so that its 64 iron wheels fit perfectly on a spur line of rails that ran along the warehouses. They disengaged the cranes’ iron cables and Frederick noticed men buffing the sides of the car with their shirt sleeves. With the wagon safely on the rails, the men stepped back and enjoyed the momentary silence that follows great labor.
“My God,” said Easter. “We are an ostentatious lot, aren’t we?”
The wagon they rode on the train from Le Havre to Paris was far less opulent. Frederick had reserved a private compartment for the four-hour ride and pursed his lips at the unkempt state of their cubicle and its odor: it was a mélange of stale tobacco, sweat and coal fumes. The floor was littered with cigarette butts. A used newspaper was haphazardly folded and wedged under their seat. He pulled it out gingerly. Easter took it from his hands, scanned the page. “This is almost a month old…”
A giant headline read “Un Monstre Est Arrêté!”
It says, ‘A Monster Has Been Stopped.’ Some sort of criminal, I presume.” She read on, frowned. “Heavens! It’s a man accused of murdering women and then burning them in his oven! My God! It says he lured them with advertisements in the newspapers, promised marriage, took their money and killed them!”
Frederick gave his bride a surprised look. “You can read all that?”
She nodded. “I’ve been studying French since we decided to come here. Oh, but this is horrid! They were mostly widows! How in the world could anyone be so depraved?”
Frederick was piqued. “You never told me you spoke the language.”
Easter didn’t look up. “‘Speak’ is hardly the word, dear. The seamstress taught me a few words during the fittings. I thought it would be appropriate. I didn’t want us to be like those dreadful American couples who are incapable of uttering the simplest phrase in another language. What if I have to go to the bathroom? I’ll have to ask someone. Look at him! Doesn’t he look like the devil himself?”
The grainy photo showed a man of middling stature being escorted by two burly policemen. He was balding, wore a sharply barbered beard that grew to a point and a waxed mustache. He was glaring straight into the camera. “Look at those eyes,” Easter said. “Murderous!”
Frederick frowned. He found the bathroom comment inappropriate. Easter continued to read aloud.
“His name is Henri Désiré Landru, and he is denying everything, but the police say they have proof. They found the remains of burned human bones in his villa! Those poor women! And it says he is married, with children!”
Frederick sighed. “I’m not sure this is the best way to begin our travels, talking about such things. Look at this scenery!” He tried to divert her attention.
She glanced out the window. “Farmland. Very exciting. It says here police found the names of 358 women with whom he corresponded. He apparently preyed on older ladies. They think he may have hypnotized them!”
She lowered the paper, folded it and reached for his hand. “Yes, we are in France and it’s lovely. I’m sorry Frederick. You’re absolutely right.” She smiled, kissed him on the cheek. “There are certainly more edifying things to talk about than a deranged murderer.” She shook her head, frowned. “But think of it, 358 women!”
The train was chugging through a wide field dotted here and there with leafless trees. In the distance, Frederick saw the steeple of a church, a barn, a farmhouse. The train flashed by a youth in knickers holding a stick and driving a trio of thin cows. The boy waved at the train.
“We’re in France,” Frederick said.
Easter lowered the paper and folded it. “Yes, we are.” She smiled. “This is a wonderful trip! I’m sorry I was so ill on the ship, and I promise things will be better from this moment on.”
An hour from Paris, the train ground to a halt. Frederick looked out the window and saw a military convoy passing by. “I think those are American boys!” They were. Throughout the train, compartment doors opened and men and women leaned out, cheered and applauded. Frederick struggled with the window but couldn’t free it. Easter said, “I think they took the leather pull-straps to make belts for the soldiers…”
The line of men trudged past the train and disappeared around a curve in the road. Easter thought they looked very young,