Murder on St. Mark's Place (16 page)

She was sputtering a little, but he ignored that. He let go of her arm, and by then they were at the comer. He could see the couple walking up ahead, heading downtown. The girl was still clinging to his arm. Was she looking back? Damn her, she’d tip him off that they were being followed!

No, wait, she was just talking to him. He was leaning down to hear her better. She was pointing, and he reacted in some surprise, but he followed her lead. They disappeared into an alley.

“Smart girl,” Frank said in approval to Mrs. Brandt, who was struggling to keep up with him.

“I think I’m starting to understand why there are no female police officers,” she said breathlessly. “It’s too hard to keep up the chase in skirts.”

He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help it. They were almost to the alley into which the other couple had disappeared. He pulled up short and caught her arm again.

“Stay here,” he warned. “When the girl comes out, take her away. I don’t care where you go, just get away from here.”

“Will Lisle be in danger after this?” she asked, new fears widening her eyes and flushing her cheeks. Or maybe it was just the chase that had flushed her cheeks.

“Not if he isn’t the killer, and if he is the killer, then I’ll arrest him, so no, don’t worry about her. She’ll be safe. I just don’t want either of you around when I question him. Do you understand?”

She didn’t like it, but she nodded. And she stayed put when he went into the alley. Thank God for that.

The evening shadows were long now, and no sunlight entered here even at midday. Frank needed a moment to accustom himself to the darkness. He didn’t need his eyes to find them, though. He could hear the sounds of their kissing from here. Either the girl was really enthusiastic or she was making sure Frank found them. Considering she thought this fellow might’ve killed her friend, Frank thought it was probably the latter.

George muttered something Frank couldn’t understand. He carefully picked his way through the piles of trash, trying not to alert George before he was in a position to overpower him. By the time he was close enough, however, he realized George probably wouldn’t have noticed a brass band marching by.

“Hello there, George,” Frank said amiably, startling the fellow as he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back.

“What the he—” he cried, ending on a gasp of pain as Frank nearly wrenched his shoulder from its socket.

The girl cried out, but whether it was from fear or in protest, he didn’t particularly care. “Get out of here,” he told her. “Go on now, run.”

She hesitated a moment, looking at George’s grimace of pain, but she apparently decided to obey him. She darted away. Frank figured Mrs. Brandt would catch her up and take care of her. At any rate, she was no longer his concern.

“Are you her father?” George said, his voice high with terror. “Stepfather, I mean. Look, it’s not what you think!”

“How do you know what I think?” Frank inquired genially as he smashed George’s face into the brick wall.

“Owww!” he cried, but he didn’t struggle. He had more sense than that. “She was willing!” he tried. “I didn’t force her. It was even her idea!”

“That’s not exactly what a father wants to hear, George,” Frank said. “Maybe you should try a different story.” He gave George’s arm a little pull.

“Owww! I didn’t mean no harm!”

“What did you mean, then, bringing a girl into an alley like that?” Frank asked, his voice still friendly, even if his actions were not. “Maybe you had something in mind. Like maybe you were going to start hitting her.”

“Hitting her?” he gasped in surprise. “Why would I do that?”

“Oh, maybe because you hate her. You hate all women, don’t you, George? You think they all deserve to die.”

“Die?
What’re you talking about? Who are you?” he was starting to sound frantic now.

“I’m Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy of the New York City police, and I’m investigating the deaths of several young women in the city.”

“What do you want with me, then?” he asked, his words distorted because Frank was pressing his face a little harder into the bricks. And because he was terrified.

“Because you knew them. You knew all of them,” Frank said, exaggerating a bit for effect. “And we know you bought at least one of them a gift right before she died. Also very interesting, she was killed right after you got angry because she danced with someone else one night.”

“Who ... ? Gerda? Is that who you mean?” He sounded almost relieved. “You think I killed her?”

“The thought did cross my mind, especially after I heard you got into a fight with her over her seeing another man.”

“If that’s all you want, you can let me go.” He sounded relieved. “You don’t have to hurt me anymore. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Why don’t you get started, then, and when I’ve heard something I like, I’ll think about letting you go.” He gave George’s arm a little twist that made him shudder with pain.

“I did give her a hat,” he said quickly, his voice high again and much faster. He was in a hurry to get this over. “She and I ... Well, she earned it, is all I can say. She liked pretty things and was willing to do whatever it took to get them.”

“It’s not very gentlemanly to talk about a lady like that, George,” he chastised him.

“Gerda was no lady,” he said. “You can ask anybody.”

“Maybe I will. So you bought her this hat, and then she found somebody with more brass and gave you the gate.”

“Made me mad!” George admitted. “One day she was my girl, and the next day she wouldn’t even dance with me. Said she found somebody could give her even nicer things. Showed me these red shoes he’d give her. They wasn’t even good quality! I know quality. That’s one thing I know. But she didn’t care. They was flashy. That’s all she cared about. She never cared a fig for me.”

“Did you care a fig for her?” Frank asked.

George didn’t want to answer that one until Frank gave him a little encouragement. “I liked her all right,” he admitted on a gasp of pain. “She was a lot of fun when she felt like it.”

“And when she didn’t feel like it anymore, you took her into an alley and beat her to death.”

“No!
I never touched her! I never even saw her after that! She went off with some fellow, and I never saw her again. Nobody did. That’s the night she got killed.”

“Who was the fellow?”

“I don’t know. She never said his name.”

“What did he look like?”

“I never saw him!”

“And I suppose you can account for your whereabouts for the rest of that night.”

“I ... I don’t ... I stayed at the dance hall until it closed, I think. Then I went home.”

“Alone?”

“I think so. I can’t remember! I was mad at Gerda, and I drank too much.”

“So much you might not remember beating her to death?”

“No! I never touched her! I swear it!”

Frank released him with a disgusted shove. He fell against the wall, caught himself, and straightened slowly, rubbing his face and hugging his injured arm to him.

“I didn’t kill her. I swear it!” he tried.

“What about Eva Bower? I guess you didn’t kill her either.”

“Who?”

“Eva Bower. Her friends said you’d been paying her particular attention right before she turned up dead.”

“I don’t ... Eva, you say?” He honestly didn’t remember.

“Her friends said you bought her a hat. I assume she earned it the same way Gerda did.”

“Eva?” he repeated, still trying to recall. “Oh, yeah, peacock feathers! She wanted one with peacock feathers! Now I remember. She was ... Did you say she was
dead
?
”
He was incredulous.

“Yes, I did. She died the same way Gerda did. Last winter. Not too long after you bought her the hat with the peacock feathers.”

“I hadn’t seen her around, but I didn’t know anything had happened to her. Girls come and go, you see. They come to the dance halls for a while, until they get a steady fellow. Then they don’t need to go anymore. I thought she ... I never heard about her being dead!” He sounded aggrieved.

“Well, she is. Just like Luisa Isenberg and Fredrika Lutz.”

“I don’t ... no, wait, I remember Luisa. Big girl with yellow curls?”

Frank thought it a rather unflattering description, but he said, “That’s right.”

“She didn’t get a hat. Just some glass beads. She wouldn’t ... Well, you know.”

Frank knew, but he didn’t say so. He was too disgusted.

“Did you say Luisa is dead, too?” George asked.

“Yeah, just like Fredrika. And what about Fredrika? What did she earn?”

George was still rubbing his face, and he paused, thinking. “I don’t remember her. Are you sure I knew her? What did she look like?”

“Maybe I could find out what kind of hat you bought her. Would that help?” Frank asked sarcastically.

His sarcasm was wasted. “I don’t think so. I don’t think I knew anybody named Fredrika. I would’ve remembered. My father’s name is Fredrick, you see, and it would’ve made an impression.”

Frank had to resist the urge to punch him just on general principles. He wouldn’t be of any use if he was unconscious. “How many girls have gotten hats from you, George?”

“I don’t keep a count,” he said, a little insulted.

“Maybe you should, since so many of them have turned up dead.”

“I never knew that Fredrika, so you can’t say I ... Do you think I killed them
all
?” He was horrified. “Good God, what kind of a man do you think I am?”

“The kind who goes around seducing and abandoning as many young girls as he can find.”

“I don’t seduce them!” Now he was outraged. “Most of the time, they suggest it first! They know I’ll give them something nice. The hats are expensive. I get them at cost, but they don’t know that. It’s the only way they can get pretty things.”

“So they trade their virtue for a present.”

“It’s not like that! They ... I never took a girl who was a virgin. They ain’t innocent, if that’s what you’re thinking. They ain’t looking for romance. It’s a business with them.”

“Just like it is with you,” Frank pointed out. “I guess you brag to your friends that you never have to pay for it, too.”

He was insulted again. “Nobody forces them to do it.”

Frank had his own opinions about that, but he kept them to himself. He wasn’t getting anywhere discussing the reasons these girls did what they did. He wanted to know why someone had killed them.

“So you don’t have an alibi for the night Gerda was killed.”

“I told you, I stayed at the dance hall. Lots of people saw me there.”

“Lots of people who won’t remember one night from the other. And what about the nights the other girls were murdered?”

“I don’t even know what nights you mean! I didn’t even know they was dead!” He was whining now, like a whipped dog. Frank wanted to stuff him into one of the ash cans and leave him here with the rest of the trash. If he did, no one would even care. No one except Sarah Brandt, who wouldn’t want to see an innocent man punished, no matter how despicable he might be.

Frank sighed, defeated. “Maybe you ought to be careful for a while, George,” he said. “Seems like the girls you play dip the wick with have a nasty habit of turning up dead.”

“Not all of them,” he protested. “There’s been dozens that’re still alive and kicking. Ask that girl I was with tonight, Lisle. She’ll tell you!”

That was all Frank could stand. Even Sarah Brandt would forgive him for this. He drove his fist into George’s soft stomach, hitting him neatly in the spot just beneath his ribs that would leave him gasping helplessly for breath and certain he was going to die, but do no actual harm.

As he doubled over and slumped to the filthy ground, Frank said, “You should learn a little respect for young ladies, George. It would serve you well.”

 

NIGHT HAD FALLEN completely by the time Frank got to Sarah Brandt’s house. He didn’t ask himself why he had gone directly there after finishing with George. He didn’t really want to know the reason. He just knew he wanted to tell her what he’d learned. She’d be anxious to know.

He wasn’t even sure if she’d be there. She might have taken Lisle home first. She might not have gotten back yet. She might even have been summoned to deliver a baby somewhere. But when he turned onto Bank Street, he saw a light in her front window. For a moment he wondered if he should go inside. What would her neighbors think? The old biddy next door would certainly see him, even if no one else did.

On the other hand, strange men probably came to her door at all hours of the day and night to summon her to birthings. His presence could hardly shock anyone.

She looked pleased to see him, but she put her finger to her lips, indicating he should be quiet. “I brought Lisle home with me,” she whispered. “She didn’t get any sleep last night for worrying about meeting George tonight. She was so exhausted, she almost fell asleep in the chair, so I made her lie down in my bed. I think if we go out in the backyard, we won’t bother her, though.”

He followed her through the shadowy house, enjoying the odd sense of intimacy their silence created. He was beginning to feel too comfortable in her home. He’d have to make sure this case didn’t drag on much longer. He’d have to stop seeing her very soon if he hoped to be able to resume his old life again without regrets.

Her backyard was cooler than the house, if only a little. The flowers masked the stench of the summer city, and only when Frank settled into one of the wicker chairs with a sigh did he realize how weary he was.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and disappeared into the house. When she returned, she carried a bottle and a glass. She poured him a shot of whiskey. “You sounded like you needed it,” she said by way of explanation.