A Life Unknown Pt. 02

Authors note: What follows is a work of fiction based on real life events. None of the characters depicted are real and any similarity to real people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Obviously enough this is Part 2 of my story A life unknown. Part 1 did not get as many reads as I would have liked partly I suspect because it was originally published under letters and transcripts. As always any editing errors are mine.

A Life Unknown (Part 2)

At the Cunard office in Boston I confirmed that a suite had been prepared for me at the Buckminster Hotel in the name of Lady Victoria Cameron and asked for my trunk to be sent on to the hotel in due course. I arrived at the hotel midmorning, deposited my valuables in the hotel safe, and after a bath and a soak I had a light lunch and then went for a walk.

I wanted to clear my head and I walked with no clear destination in mind but was happy to feel firm ground under my feet again. Eventually, after I had walked for about half an hour, I chanced across a huge, towered building. This was the Cathedral of The Holy Cross.

I entered on impulse and stood in the knave between the tall Gothic arches lining the interior. It was cool and peaceful inside and seemed so far away and unrelated to the events of the last years of my life.

Then I knelt and prayed for the souls of the dead. The souls of those that I knew. My Brothers, David and James; and Edward, the only man I had every loved. The souls of strangers, those who died on the Lusitania, and all those killed in the meatgrinder of war.

And for second time that day I cried.

When I left the church I was more resolved than ever over what needed to be done next and asked for directions to South Union Station which I was informed was just five minutes' walk away. There I booked a ticket on a train to New York leaving early the following morning.

That evening I arranged for a hairdresser to cut my hair in a Castle Bob hairstyle and dye it black and when she had finished I looked like a different person. This was precisely what I wanted.

Just a little after noon the following day, and after a five hour journey, the train pulled into Grand Central Station. I disembarked and made my way to the offices of the New York Times.

***

Once I reached the newspaper office I found the archives and asked if I could see old copies of the newspaper dated between the beginning of May to the beginning of June 1914. For a nominal fee, the custodian was happy to oblige, and a stack of back copies were fetched for me, and I sat at a desk and started to read.

After half an hour of reading I found what I what I was looking for. I had both expected and dreaded it. It was a story buried on page three of the 14^th of May edition.

"BANKER SLAIN IN BRUTAL DOCKLAND KILLING.

The body of a thirty year old banker was found at New York Chelsea docks early yesterday morning. He has been identified as William Cosford. He was last seen alive the evening before when he attended a performance of Bizet's Carmen at The Metropolitan Opera House with a group of friends. He failed to return to his seat after the interval and was wearing his evening suit when he was found.

Mr Cosford had been badly beaten before he was shot and po[ice believe this may have been a revenge killing or a warning to persons or persons unknown. He had no gangland affiliation and no motive for this crime has been established."

My suspicions that George had had William killed had been growing since I had received the telegram threatening me with the same fate. The newspaper article simply confirmed what I had already come to accept as true. I knew that if George was ever to find me he would likely kill me. If he was willing to kill William because he slept with me he would not hesitate to do the same to me after I had stolen from him.

I was not willing to spend my life looking over my shoulder waiting for George or his agents to strike. That was why I had come back to America. I had two big advantages over George. He didn't know I had returned but I knew exactly where to find him and around my neck hanging on a gold chain was a key.

I had decided. I was going to kill George. My grounds were self-defence and justice although if I was caught I doubted the law would see it that way and I had no intention of going to the electric chair. I needed a plan, and a good one at that.

As I have said before, the simplest plans are often the best, and I planned to do it myself. I could enter the house at night with my key, and at night when he was sleeping, and shoot him. His butler and housekeeper who lived in their own cottage would be very unlikely to hear the shot. Then I would rob his safe

J continued to scan the newspapers dated the week following the 14^th of May and then I found a follow up article dated a week later.

"NO LEADS IN DOCKLAND SLAYING.

One week after the unexplained killing of Mr William Cosford at New York Docks police are no longer close to finding the murderer(s). Captain Hans Baumgartner of the 44 ^th Precinct in the Bronx has described this as an apparently motiveless crime.... "

I stopped reading. I realised that I knew the name Hans Baumgartner and I tried to remember where I had seen it. Then it came to me. A lieutenant of that name had been listed in the ledger I had seen in George's safe. I would never have remembered it if it hadn't been such an unusual name.

Hans Baumgartner was a dishonest cop and in the pay of George.

***

I was booked into the Waldorf Astoria and returned there in the mid afternoon and spent the rest of the day formulating my plans before retiring to bed early.

The following day was Wednesday and if George was behaving as he normally did he would be at home overnight. In the morning I visited a pawn shop and bought a derringer pistol and then bought a large leather carrying bag.

In the afternoon in order to appear "normal" and to distract myself from what I planned I visited Liberty Island and the Statue of Liberty. I was able to visit the halo but the stairs to the torch held in her right hand were shut following the damage done to the statue by the Black Tom explosion that had occurred the previous July.

On my return to the hotel I had an early supper and then slept until about eleven o'clock at night. I dressed put on my hat and gloves before slipping out of the hotel. It was a forty minute walk to George's House.

I passed the occasional person, but they took no notice of me and once a policeman walked by on the other side of the road. When I reached the house it was in darkness. Once I was sure that nobody was watching me I tried my key in the lock... and the door opened.

Once inside I stood still and listened. I could hear absolutely nothing. The house had electric lighting, but I did not want to wake George before I intended so I lit a candle I had brought with me and slowly and soundlessly ascended the stairs. I passed the door to my old bedroom and came to the door to George's bedroom.

The door was ajar, and I quickly snuffed the candle out and then stood and listened. I heard nothing and the house remained deathly still. By then I was convinced I had wasted my time. George was prone to snore when he had been drinking yet I could hear no sounds of breathing.

Nonetheless I had to be sure, so I took a deep breath opened the door, gun in hand, and switched on the light. On the far side of the room George lay motionless on his back in bed. I approached him cautiously and as I got closer I realised that he was not breathing because he was dead! In the middle of his forehead was a neat round bullet hole. Somebody had got to him before me.

My initial reaction was to turn and flee but then I regained my self-control. I removed a glove briefly and felt his skin. He was stone cold and must have been dead sometime and the killer long gone. I put my glove back, put my hand to his neck, and to my surprise discovered that his keys remained untouched.

I tore the keys from his neck, switched off the light, and by the light of a candle made my way to his study. Once there I opened the safe and retrieved the contents. This time I did not inspect what I was taking but quickly placed everything else into my carrying bag.

I left the safe and desk draw open, placed the keys on the desk, and left the house. It took me another forty minutes to walk back to the hotel and by one o'clock in the morning I was back in my bed.

***

The tension of the previous night must have exhausted me because I didn't wake until after nine o'clock. For a few moments I lay looking at the ceiling and wondered if it had all been a dream but then I looked across the room and my eyes focused on my bag. I had imagined none of it.

I was now in a quandary. My first instinct was to check out of the hotel straightaway and return to Boston on the next available train. I was almost certain that nobody had seen me enter or leave the house and my exit and return to the hotel had gone unnoticed. I had left nothing linked to me in the house. I had not killed George and technically what was in the safe belonged to me. I had been his wife after all. By now James or his wife would have discovered George's body and the open safe, and the police would have been called. They might be on the lookout at the station, and I had several items in my possession which would prompt questions to be asked if they were discovered, the house key and the contents of the bag.

Whoever had killed George either had a key to the house or George had let them in. I made up my mind to get rid of the key as soon as possible. I placed my bag in the cupboard and a little later left my room leaving a do not disturb sign on the door.

It was a twenty minute walk to the Central Park Reservoir, and then when I was alone I threw the key, wiped clean of fingerprints, into the water. If it was found they would assume whoever killed George, had robbed the safe and thrown the key into the water.

When I returned to my room I Inspected the contents of the bag. As expected there was a ledger full of names, a wad of cash, several leather bags containing loose jewels, and an assortment of rings, bracelets, necklaces, and pendants. I put the ledger to one side and counted the money. Altogether there were seven hundred benjamins or seventy thousand dollars in total.

Leaving the ledger in my suitcase in my room I left the hotel once more. I took a cab to the Bank of New York at Wall and Williams where I took a safety deposit box into which I placed the jewels and cash although I retained five hundred dollars for immediate use.

I spent the rest of the day shopping. I needed a number of new outfits and shoes and had them delivered to the hotel later in the day.

The following morning I returned to Boston. As the train pulled out of the station I started to read my copy of the New York Times which I had purchased earlier. The article I was interested in was at the bottom of the first page.

"MANHATTAN MURDER HUNT

Police are seeking the killer of Mr George Jamieson a well-known Jewel merchant. He was shot and killed in his own home by a single shot to his head early Wednesday evening. He was last seen alive earlier in the day. There was no sign of forced entry to his home, and it is understood that his safe was robbed. It is postulated that this may have been gangland related and that he knew his killer. No arrest has been made and enquiries continue.

Mr Jamieson was married to the English heiress Lady Victoria White who disappeared from their home in May 1915 and has not been seen since. These events are not believed to be related."

***

Back in Boston and in hotel my suite I ordered myself a lobster salad and toasted my success with champagne. All I needed to make my evening complete was a good fucking and I momentarily contemplated seducing the bell boy before I remembered I should not draw attention to myself or set tongues wagging.

I had made an excellent start to my new life in America. George was dead and I hadn't had to dirty my hands. I had a great deal of money in cash and jewels but just as importantly I had George's leather bound book with a list of all of the crooked cops and city officials he had paid off.

I knew that the value of this list was inestimable.

I also knew that it was time to become a member of Boston's polite society.

The following morning I visited a realtor in nearby Newton and was lucky enough to be able to rent a house which was part of the estate of a middle aged lady who had recently died. The house was large and modernly furnished and had an extensive garden. Better still, the housekeeper, butler, and gardener had not yet moved out and I was able to arrange from them to stay on in my employ.

And so Lady Victoria Cameron, recently widowed following the death of her husband Edward, became a member of the Boston elite.

Soon after my arrival in Newton I was invited to dinner at the home of my neighbours who were thrilled to have a member of the English aristocracy living in their community. Soon I had a flourishing social life but there was something missing and I rapidly found myself becoming increasingly bored.

At first I thought my dissatisfaction was a product of my celibacy. I had been forced to play the part of a recently bereaved lady and had not had sex for many months. I had become tired of my fingers and needed to feel a man inside of me. And soon!! But I also knew this was only part of my problem.

In the years before my marriage when my life had been rather similar to that which I was now living it had been an existence characterised by parties and socialising but with the sole purpose of finding a suitable husband. I had been just turned eighteen years old when I had returned from Geneva, and it was over four long years later that I married George in 1912 when I was twenty two years old.

Now I wondered how I could have tolerated such a vacuous life for so long. But Lady Victoria Cameron of Newton, Massachusetts was a completely different person to Miss Victoria White of Ripley, Surrey.

Five years ago when I married George I was a naïve virgin living a carefree life in a country at peace. Now I was a widow pretending to be something that I was not and using an assumed name in a place far from home. I had survived an abusive marriage with a criminal who had taken the horse whip to me. I had survived being torpedoed on a ship where over a thousand others had lost their lives. I had stolen a fortune twice and lost much of it the first time around. Nearly everybody I cared for was dead. My two brothers had died in an ongoing and pointless war and my mother was dead of grief. I had married once and had two lovers, and they were all dead. My first lover had been murdered by my husband who was in turn murdered by someone else. Edward, the true love of my life, was dead having been killed somewhere in France.

One evening I sat and took stock of my life. I was alone in the world. My only close relative was over the sea in England. I had plenty of money for now and was an accepted member of Boston society. Of one thing I was certain. Never again did I want to rely on a man to keep me. I would learn to make my own way in the world.

I have always been of the opinion that it is easier to make money dishonestly than honestly. As Georges widow I thought I was entitled to the contents of his safe and although I had left the scene of a crime which I hadn't reported, I believed I had not yet technically committed any serious crime. Soon that would change. Behind my veil of respectability I started to make my plans.

First I decided to finish my self-enforced celibacy. Only once my immediate physical need was satisfied would I be able to proceed clearly and deliberately with my long term plan.

***

Arthur was the twenty two year old son of a local banker and his wife. He was a Navy ensign having graduated from Annapolis Naval Academy the previous year and early in February 1917 he was home on leave. I had met him on several occasions previously when I had been invited to his parents' house for dinner and once he had attended a party at my home. I knew that he was attracted to me having felt his eyes on me on a number of occasions but whenever I tried to catch him looking he quickly looked away. He was tall and dark haired with brown eyes and an easy smile, and I liked him.

Arthur had offered to take me riding on a number of occasions but for one reason or another the opportunity had never presented itself. On this occasion his mother had suggested it and I was happy to accept the invitation. Early one morning I presented myself at the stables. I arrived in riding breeches and jacket. Although some women still wore dresses and rode side saddle I did not wish to.

Both William and Edward had told me that a had a beautiful bum and I wanted to show this off to Arthur by wearing breeches which did more than hint at what lay beneath them. I knew that I would not shock his parents who were away in Boston for the next few days. I wanted him good and ready for what I planned for us. As we cantered down the track and I gripped the horse's muscular flanks between my thighs, my juices had already started to flow.

The poor boy didn't stand a chance and soon I would have him eating out of the palm of my hand, and then, a more intimate part of my anatomy.

We rode for a few miles in silence before I galloped ahead giving him what I hoped was a fine view of my nates. When I reached the brow of a nearby hill I pulled up and waited for him to join me.

Did you like what you saw, I enquired. You've been undressing me with your eyes ever since we met.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he blushed. "You're so beautiful. Please don't tell my mother."

I'm not angry I said gently. I'm flattered.

I looked directly into his eyes and feigned hesitancy. "Would you like to see me naked?"

His eyes widened. He flushed further and then croaked, "Oh yes. But where?"

And just like that he was hooked.

***

Several hours later I was alone with Arthur in my bedroom. I had given my staff the afternoon off and there was no one else in the house. The fire was burning in the grate and the room was warm.

We had stabled the horses and I had returned home leaving Arthur at his parents' house. I instructed him to have the servants serve him lunch and to come to me in the late afternoon. I would leave the backdoor open and asked him to lock it when he entered.

"And don't be seen!"

Around 3 o'clock I showered and washed my hair and applied my cosmetics and lipstick and got into bed naked to wait for him to arrive. I didn't expect to have to wait long for his arrival and I was right.

I heard him first as he came up the stairs which creaked under his tread. I had left my bedroom door open and called out to him.

"Through here Arthur."

He poked his head around the door and saw me sitting in up in bed with my sheet covering me up to my neck. Hesitantly he entered the room, and I knew for certain what I had suspected. I was going to take his virginity.

As he stood looking down at me I pulled back the sheet and swung my long legs out of the bed and stood with my arms by my side. Back then my tummy was flat my waist narrow, and my bum and boobs were large and round and perfectly formed. Pale white unblemished skin, dark hair and blue eyes completed my look.

He took a breath. "You're so beautiful Lady Cameron."

I crossed to him and put a finger to his lips.

"Under the circumstances Arthur, I think you should call me Victoria or Vicki when we are alone."