“Young man, there were murders nightly,” Miss Lillian said. “You’d need to be more specific.”
“I don’t have a name, unfortunately. It’s a woman I’ve seen in my dreams,” he said, looking hopefully to Miss Adelaide, who stared into her cup. “She wears an old-fashioned dress and a veil.” Henry was losing steam and hope. “She might’ve had a little music box that plays an old tune. ‘Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me…’” he sang.
“Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee.…” Miss Addie sang in a whispery rasp. Her head snapped up. “The one who cries. I’ve heard her in my dreams, too.”
“Now, Addie, you mustn’t become agitated. You remember what the doctor said, don’t you?” Miss Lillian scolded. “Mr. DuBois, my sister has a weak heart. You mustn’t upset her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Henry said. He didn’t want to exhaust Miss Adelaide, but he needed more information. “I only wondered if the woman in my dreams has a name?”
“The music box! That’s it. Yes. Yes, I remember. She came to us at the mission. Only for a few days. Don’t you recall, Lillian?”
“No. And I don’t wish to. Now, Addie—” Miss Lillian started, but Adelaide would not be stopped.
“I’d been trying to remember. It was there, but I couldn’t quite…” Miss Addie made a motion as if she were trying to grab something and bring it close. “She didn’t speak much English.”
“We had a lot of immigrants—they were easily preyed upon,” Miss Lillian said.
“She loved music so. Singing as if she were on the stage. Such a sweet voice,” Miss Addie said. “Yes, music. And that was how that terrible man reeled her back in.”
“What man?” Henry pressed, hoping Miss Lillian wouldn’t throw him out for it.
“That Irishman who ran the brothel,” Miss Lillian snapped. “I remember it now. He came for her one morning, talking sweetly. He gave her a little music box as a gift. He promised her a husband if she’d agree to go back.” Miss Lillian sighed. “That was that. She went away with him. I saw her only once after that. She was sick with opium and riddled with pox all along her pretty face. Syphilis,” Miss Lillian hissed. “It had rotted her nose right off, so she wore the veil to hide it. She still had the music box.”