Crimson Snow (31 page)

“Ah, for the love of Mike! Of all the stubborn, willful, pigheaded females I've ever met, you are the worst! Patrick's welcome to you!”

Hilda ignored that. Men seemed to feel obliged to try to tell her what to do. It never worked. “Will you pick me up, if the streets are safe for horses?”

“Mrs. Malloy will have my hide if I do.”

“I will be waiting. Early.”

She handed the phone to Colonel George, smiled her thanks, and left the room while he was talking to Mr. Malloy—about her, no doubt.

The waiting until tomorrow morning seemed long. She had little to do and could talk to no one. Elsa was busy, Norah and Patrick and her other sisters might as well have been in Peru. It would be nice, she thought, if everyone had telephones, even poor working people, so she could speak to her family and friends any time she wanted to. What a dream!

Morning eventually came, as it does even for the most anxious. Hilda had slept only fitfully and was glad to climb out of bed with Elsa at five-thirty. She dressed quickly and helped Elsa with her morning chores, then went in to breakfast with her.

“Well, look at you, dressed up like a fashion plate,” said Maggie unpleasantly. “Think yourself too good for the rest of us, do you? Where's your uniform?”

“Drying in the laundry. I had to go out in it yesterday, and it got very wet. But I will not need it anymore.”

That got everyone's attention.

“I want to tell you all. I have given Mrs. George my notice. I am giving up my place to Elsa, and in April, just after Easter, I am going to be married to Mr. Cavanaugh.”

The reaction was so loud and hearty and congratulatory that it nearly drowned out the bell. Mrs. Sullivan looked at the indicator. “Glory be, who's at the front door at this hour?”

“I think it will be for me, Mrs. Sullivan. I must go out. I will be back later.” She stopped to collect her outdoor things and the key, and ran to the front door.

Mr. Malloy stood outside. “Early, you said,” he growled. “The police are on their way. This is a damn-fool idea, girl.”

She closed the door behind her and put her arm through his. “Thank you, Uncle Dan.”

Snow had fallen thickly all night. The world would be very beautiful when the sun came up, for the snow had stuck to every branch, every twig, every fence post or railing. It was a world of white lace, just visible by the light of a setting moon.

A large sleigh waited outside the door, its two horses blowing and snorting. Mr. Malloy helped Hilda inside, and she was delighted to find Patrick there.

“Sent for him,” said Mr. Malloy gruffly. “Need someone to keep an eye on you.”

“Thank you, Uncle Dan,” she said again, with a meekness that deceived no one. “Do you think we could go and get my brother Sven as well?”

“Oh, and why not? Make a party of it! The more the merrier! We're off to catch a murderer, hooray!”

“He lives on Prairie Avenue at Tutt Street,” she said serenely, and Mr. Malloy gave the order to the coachman.

The world was very still. Few people were abroad so early, and those few went with silent footfalls in the deep snow. Hilda sat huddled under the carriage robe close to Patrick. She didn't talk to him. She had things to tell him, but in private, and she chose not to talk about their errand. Not yet. She would wait until Sven was with them and then spring on all of them what she planned.

For his part, Patrick didn't grumble. He had no objections at all to a nice sleigh ride with his beloved close by his side. He wasn't sure what she was up to, but between them he and Uncle Dan ought to be able to restrain one woman, no matter how determined.

Sven was just getting ready to leave for work when the sleigh pulled up to his house. Hilda's sisters, due at their jobs somewhat later than he, had not yet risen, so Hilda could use her persuasive powers on Sven without Gudrun's interference.

“For you see,” she said, “I must be able to tell Erik that I have seen the man arrested, and that he is safely behind bars. And though I believe there is no danger, I feel better with the two bravest men I know, you and Patrick.”

Put that way, Sven made no objections. “Except I must not be very late for work. We did not work at all yesterday, and there is much to be done. We will watch, only, and then leave,
ja
?”

Hilda didn't reply. She preferred not to lie to her brother unless it was absolutely necessary.

Once they were all back in the sleigh and on their way, Hilda began to explain. “You see, I would like to talk to him. Only when the police are there and it is very safe. I believe that his aunt is also concerned in the matter, and I think he will tell me, if I ask him the right way.”

“Why not just get the police to talk to him?” said Patrick.

“Do you believe the police are skillful in getting people to talk?”

After that no one objected. They would be there, after all, with several policemen. There could be no possible danger.

They approached almost silently. Mr. Malloy had left the bells off the horses' harness, and the hoofbeats were mere dull thuds in the snow.

The police, three of them in a small buggy, had waited for their arrival. Now they jumped out and beat on the door. It was some time before a yawning, angry woman answered it. “And what do you think you're doing, waking up an honest woman at this hour?”

“We want to talk to Fred Hartz.”

“Well, you'd better go to California, then, hadn't you?”

“California!” said the oldest of the policemen.

“If it's Fred Hartz you want, that's where you'll find him. Decided he hated this climate and moved there, lock, stock, and barrel. Got on the train two weeks ago—what's today?”

“Friday,” said the policeman. “The twenty-ninth.”

“Yep, two weeks ago today. The fifteenth. I know because it's my birthday, and he never even wished me a happy one, as good as I've been to him these three years!”

“The fifteenth. You're sure?”

“I just told you, didn't I? And since he's not here, you've no more business here!” The woman slammed the door in his face.

He and the other two policemen turned to look at Hilda. “The fifteenth,” said the older man. “He left town on the fifteenth. Miss Jacobs was killed on the nineteenth. That was some fine theory of yours, miss. Getting us out in the snow at the crack of dawn, and the man's got a perfect alibi!”

Grumbling, they drove off, the buggy's wheels floundering through the sticky snow.

“But I am right! I know I am! She would not have gone with someone she did not know. It had to have been Mrs. Schmidt— oh!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “She is large and I think strong. But the torn underclothing—that could have been to pretend it was a man—but surely another woman would not—”

Mr. Malloy and Sven looked at Hilda in total confusion, but Patrick, who understood something of the way her mind worked, said gently, “What is it you're tryin' to think out, darlin'?”

“I cannot believe it—it is too terrible—but it must be.” She thought furiously for another moment, and then said, “Uncle Dan, will you take me to Mrs. Schmidt's house?”

He looked at Sven, and then said carefully, “It is not a place I would like you to go, Hilda, my dear.”

Sven looked confused. “Who is Mrs. Schmidt?”

Before either of the other men could speak, Hilda said, “It is the place where Miss Jacobs roomed. I wish to speak to her landlady.” She looked sternly at Patrick and Mr. Malloy, daring them to speak. “Only for a moment. I think she can tell me something important, and then we can go home.”

Patrick and Mr. Malloy looked at each other and then shrugged, in a motion so similar that they looked more like father and son than uncle and nephew. Sven looked dubious, but he certainly intended to accompany Hilda anywhere she went with two Irishmen.

The Schmidt house was beginning to stir when they arrived. Lamps were lit, smoke rose from the chimney. “Wait here,” said Hilda as the sleigh pulled up at the front door. “I will not be long.”

She went around to the side door and tapped gently. In a few minutes the door was opened, as Hilda had hoped, by young Eileen O'Hara.

“Miss? What're you doin' here so early in the mornin'?”

“May I come in, Eileen? I am cold.”

The little maid let her in. “But miss—Hilda, I mean—nobody has time to talk to you now, if you was wantin' to ask about Miss Jacobs. They're all workin' girls, and they're gettin' ready to leave.”

“It was Mrs. Schmidt I wanted to talk to. She would be finished with her breakfast chores now, would she not?”

“Yes, miss—Hilda. She's in her office. But nobody ever comes to call before ten.”

“I know. I will not be long. The office is next to the parlor, is it not? I will find my way. You might be scolded for wasting time.”

And indeed the cook's voice was raised in wrath. Eileen shrugged and pointed to the door that separated the backstairs region from the rest of the house, and Hilda opened it and went through.

Several girls, pretty girls all, were trudging up the stairs to make their final preparations for a day at their regular jobs. They looked curiously at Hilda and then passed out of sight. She found the office and knocked on the open door.

Mrs. Schmidt was not pleased to see her. “So it's you. I told you everything I knew last time you were here. And if you think this is a decent Christian time to come calling, you must have been brought up in a barn.”

“I must talk with you, Mrs. Schmidt. Let us go out on the porch.”

“Anything I have to say to you I can say right here, and it's go away. I'm busy.”

“It is business that I want to talk about this time. I have an idea you might like to discuss. I am not rich, and—but I think you will not want others to hear or interrupt.”

Mrs. Schmidt looked her over. “So it's that way, is it? Well, you're skinny, but we can talk. Outside, if you're shy about it. Just for a minute, though. It's cold out there.”

She shrugged into a coat and opened the front door. The air was very still. The fir trees in front of the house, heavy with snow, stirred not at all.

“So you're wanting to come to work for me, are you?” said Mrs. Schmidt, smiling unpleasantly. “Well, there are worse jobs, no matter what you might think. Our gentlemen are very generous, and I don't take a big cut. When were you wanting to start?”

“That is not what I wanted to discuss, Mrs. Schmidt. I have another sort of business arrangement in mind.” Hilda moved closer to the front steps. “You see, I saw you that night. I know what you did to Miss Jacobs. I think you would be wise to pay me not to tell what I saw.”

She had planned to run to the sleigh, but Mrs. Schmidt was too fast for her. One powerful arm came around her throat, the other hand across her mouth. Hilda used the only weapon she possessed. Her teeth had always been excellent. It was Mrs. Schmidt who screamed first, and then both of them tumbled down the steps. It took all three of Hilda's knights-errant to separate them.

There was a rumor this morning that a man prominent
in…social circles had confessed to knowing much
about the murder…

—South Bend
Tribune
   
February 3, 1904

 

 

 

32

I
KNEW IT HAD TO BE Mrs. Schmidt. There was no one else. But there was no proof, so I had to make her attack me.” “If you'd only told us!” said Patrick. It was the next day, Saturday. They sat in the Malloy parlor over a lavish tea, with Mr. and Mrs. Malloy and Sven and Colonel George and Mr. Barrett. And Erik. He had insisted on being present, and since he, in a way, had started the whole thing, his family gave in.

“If I had told you,” said Hilda, “you would not have allowed me to do it. It was better my way.”

“You could have been killed!” Sven said. It came out very much like a growl.

“Not with three strong men looking after me.”

?But?I don?t understand why she had to kill Miss Jacobs,? said Erik.

The adults looked at each other, and then at Hilda. He was her brother. Let her explain.

“She is a criminal, Erik. She stole from the girls who lived in her house.” And that was true enough, in a way. Stole their virtue, stole their reputations, stole a large portion of their money. Erik would grow up and understand, all too soon. “But Miss Jacobs was going to tell the authorities, so Mrs. Schmidt killed her.”

“And what about that other girl who went missing?” asked Sven. “The one from the hotel—Nellie something.”

“That was a mistake. She had gone to visit a cousin.” Also true. Hilda didn't specify whose cousin. “She will come home tomorrow.”

“What I don't quite understand is the Barnes angle,” put in Colonel George.

“He was spying for Mrs. Schmidt,” Hilda replied. “The police found your documents, sir, the ones he stole, in her desk. She had heard you were looking into vice in South Bend, and she wanted to learn what you knew. He broke into your safe, stole the papers, and went to give them to her, but when she found out he had been stupid enough to be seen, she thought he had become a risk to her, so she killed him, too. She is a deadly, ruthless woman and I am very glad she is in jail. I am glad, too, that you have been cleared of all suspicion, Mr. Barrett.”

The old man looked sad. “Nevertheless, child, I bear some of the guilt for what happened.”

They looked at him in disbelief.

“I saw them, you see. One of my upstairs windows overlooks that alley. I saw Mrs. Schmidt come out from a doorway and speak to Miss Jacobs, and then take her by the arm. I thought nothing of it—one woman walking with another—but I could have stopped it. I was tired. I did nothing. And then when the news of her murder came out, I said nothing. For that I blame myself most severely.”