Chapter 8
OTHELLA
Robert S. Abbott’s Mansion, Chicago
The Lincoln turns onto Grand Boulevard, just a block from Robert S. Abbott’s mansion. I tap the driver on the shoulder—he’s one of Tony’s boys. I tell him to stop and let me out. “I’ll walk from here.”
“You sure, doll?”
“I’m sure,” I reply quickly. What would people think if I stepped out of a Lincoln that looks more like a hearse than an automobile, with one of Schaefer’s goons as my chauffeur?
I go to slam the door shut but hold back because my brain is working. After I steal the pocket watch, I’ll need a ride back to the Savoy. I tap on the driver’s window. “Pick me up on this corner in an hour.”
“That’s all the time you need?”
“That’ll be plenty.”
As I stroll toward the Abbott residence, it sinks in that I’m about to hobnob with some of the wealthiest Negroes in Chicago—shoot, in the world.
I’ve conned plenty of fat cats, primarily men, both colored and white, but the thought of testing my skills in this grand old house thrills and rattles me at once. It’s a big night.
A line of well-dressed people exits their Bentleys and Cadillac limousines, accompanied by properly uniformed chauffeurs.
They parade up a wide walkway and vanish into the house.
I blend in with a group toward the end of the line, and within minutes, I find myself in a spacious ballroom filled with people.
I can smell the money and the jewels—necklaces, brooches, diamond rings, and silver lapel pins.
They sparkle in the candlelight, gleaming as brightly as the chandeliers.
My fingertips tingle with excitement. Perry and I could make a fortune at this party.
But he’s not here, and I need to stay focused, keep my fingers nimble, and find my mark quickly. Tonight, I’m a Single O.
An army of waiters glides gracefully through the room, carrying large silver trays filled with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. I hate champagne—just give me a gin and tonic or a Coca-Cola. Those tiny hors d’oeuvre sandwiches seem pointless. I prefer a hearty Italian beef, Chicago style.
I stop a waiter to grab a glass of champagne. Moving from group to group, I pretend to recognize this person or that. People at these parties rarely question an it’s-been-so-long greeting from someone they don’t know. That would be impolite.
After a few moments, I spot my mark, and he looks just like Tony described. He’s in his sixties, with a mustache, a goatee, and salt-and-pepper hair, and is sporting those peculiar nose glasses.
I approach him as a young man in a tuxedo blocks my way.
“May I assist you, miss?”
“Excuse me?” I reply, slightly too forcefully, temporarily forgetting my facade as a delicate young socialite.
“I apologize for being so forward, miss, but you’re quite lovely, and I’ve admired you since you arrived.
You seem to know everyone, and I know just about everyone, so I thought I’d introduce myself.
I’m Robbie Barnes,” he states in what I imagine is his usual long-winded manner, accompanied by a deeply dimpled smile.
“I’m a student at the University of Chicago, majoring in botany, specifically plant ecology and tropical botany.”
What the hell is he talking about, and how can I get him to leave? I can’t lose sight of Major Thomas. I mustn’t miss my chance.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” I say hastily. “I’m Othella Montgomery.”
His expression brightens, as if I’ve just given him a piece of the sky by sharing my name. “Oh my, Miss Montgomery, it’s such an honor to meet you. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance—please call me Robbie.”
Why does he speak like that? Like some smarty-pants college student.
Am I supposed to be impressed? “The pleasure is mine, Robbie,” I mimic his tone.
If he can talk that way, so can I. He then starts quizzing me about my favorite flowers and plants.
My blank expression doesn’t deter him, either.
He continues chatting while I keep glancing over his shoulder to keep tabs on Major Thomas.
It dawns on me that he’s not gonna leave me be.
I need to think. There has to be a way to escape without causing a scene.
I take a long look at him. He’s not unattractive.
He has decent height and a strong jawline.
Despite his tendency to ramble, what else is there about him?
He claims to know everyone and that everyone knows him.
“Robbie.” I put a lilt in my voice. “Could you do me a favor?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve been talking too much.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Good,” he replies softly. “What do you need?”
“That gentleman over there, next to the stone statue. He’s the center of attention in his group. I’d really love an introduction.”
“That statue is the work of Augusta Savage,” Robbie says, as if I need to know that before he gets to the important part of my request.
“Augusta Savage, right. Got it. Now, how about that introduction?” I almost point but manage to lower my hand just in time. It would be too bold a gesture and wouldn’t suit the girl I’m supposed to be. I touch his elbow. “You mentioned you knew everyone.”
“Oh, oh, yes. I do.”
“You did say that, didn’t you?” I bat my eyelashes and glance up at him.
“Of course I know him.” Robbie puffs out his chest. “That’s Major Leonard Thomas. He heads the scholarship program that’s putting me through college.”
“I already know his name,” I let slip, but I might as well keep going.
“He owns the Bronzeville Federal Savings and Loan, the only colored-owned financial institution in Chicago since Mr. Binga’s bank went belly up after the stock market crashed.
” I recite every word Tony said about him from memory. “But I’ve never met him.”
“Then, of course, I’ll introduce you.”
Robbie holds my hand, keeping me close as he pushes through the group of men. He stops in the center of the circle.
“Major Thomas, it’s a pleasure to see you here,” he says.
My mark doesn’t flinch at the interruption. Instead, he welcomes Robbie with open arms. “Mr. Barnes, how are you?” They shake hands vigorously. “And who’s this young lady?”
“Sir, this is a young woman I’d like to introduce you to.” Robbie grins. “Frankly, she insisted that I introduce you.”
Major Thomas frowns. “Insisted? And why is it so critical for her to meet me?” His direct, slightly gruff manner might rattle some, but not me.
“Doesn’t everyone want to meet you, sir?” His circle of associates, admirers, and friends—or whatever these men are to him—burst into laughter.
“She already knows who I am, Robbie,” the major replies. “So why don’t you pick up where you left off and tell me this young lady’s name?”
“Yes, sir. This is Othella Montgomery, a friend who hopes to join me at the university.” Robbie, the geek, has skillfully told a lie. I could almost hug him for catching me by surprise.
“Major Thomas, I’m thrilled to meet you.”
He looks at me with skepticism. “Why did you want to meet me?” His bluntness is unexpected, but I can handle it.
“I’m very interested in the scholarship program your Building and Loan offers.”
As he ponders a response, the major adjusts his suit jacket, tucking his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets.
That’s when I notice the diamond-encrusted pocket watch I’m supposed to steal is missing.
Instead, he’s wearing a Rolex Oyster wristwatch.
Although likely a decade old and worth taking, it’s not why I’m here.
Where is the damn pocket watch?
My chest feels tight, my stomach is in knots, and my head aches as if it’s being crushed between two doors. Did I really make this trip for biscuits?
While I suffer, Major Thomas talks about botany and asks me silly questions about my “area of study.” I stammer out some of the nonsense Robbie mentioned about tropical plants and ecology. But nothing can soothe my growing panic.
I need that pocket watch.
A striking young woman steps into the group and approaches Major Thomas.
Tall and slender, she resembles a reed, with cheekbones so sharp they could be carved with a scalpel.
There is something else about her that leaves me slack-jawed.
When I figure it out, I feel as if I’ve been trampled by a motorcar.
It’s her eyes: dark brown, deep-set, slightly sad, and eager to be elsewhere. They remind me of Perry.
I also love her dress, a stunning mint-green chiffon gown with a cloth rose corsage. I can’t help but imagine how incredible I would look in that dress. Perry once said that when I wore that shade of green, I brought springtime into his life.
The woman apologizes for the interruption and leans in to whisper in Major Thomas’s ear.
“I’m sorry, but my daughter, Vivian Jean, needs my help.
” Major Thomas and his daughter walk off side by side, and I thank God.
Her interruption is a blessing. The watch I need to steal is dangling from Miss Vivian Jean’s neck on a gold chain.
I know the style and am familiar with the clasp.
I also have a keen sense of the watch’s weight.
Stealing it will require skill—lifting a pocket watch hanging from a gold chain around a woman’s neck is slightly trickier than taking it from a man’s vest pocket—but doesn’t Tony call me the queen of the fingersmiths?
Tonight, I’ll just have to prove him right.
Using an excuse about needing to visit the powder room, I ditch Robbie Barnes, telling him to wait for me by the gazebo in the garden.
I have no idea if there is a garden or a gazebo, but he is as happy as a clam at the prospect of a rendezvous with me.
As he rushes off in one direction, I head toward the direction taken by Major Thomas and his daughter.