Murder on St. Mark's Place (7 page)

The dancing was merely a ruse to get people into the hall to drink. The band would play one number and then take a break for about ten minutes while everyone went to the bar for a libation. Much more time was spent drinking than dancing, and as the girls became drunk, the men began to take advantage. Or maybe the girls simply began allowing them to.

The most obvious result of this loss of inhibition was the way the style of dancing grew wilder. Several couples were engaged in the kind of dance Sarah overheard someone call “spieling.” The girl would stand stiff as a poker, her left arm out straight, and the man would sidle up to her, positioning himself so that his chin was on her shoulder, regardless of the difference in their heights. She’d put her chin on his shoulder, too, and they’d start pivoting or spinning around in the tightest possible circle, their bodies locked together, in a frenzy of sexual excitement. As if inflamed by the sight of this, other couples stole away to the dark recesses of the hall to engage in the kind of kissing and groping Sarah had never seen in public.

She’d lost sight of Hetty and Bertha, and she feared they had succumbed to the temptations offered by their partners. Lisle was still on the dance floor, but she was offering only token resistance to the man who was using his hands in ways never taught at the dance academy Sarah had attended as a child. Lisle’s gaze met hers across the room, and Sarah suddenly realized the girl was checking to see if Sarah was watching her. She had the uncomfortable feeling that if she wasn’t here, Lisle wouldn’t even be offering token resistance.

This whole evening had been a waste of her time, and an unpleasant waste, too. Seeing the things she’d seen here, she was overwhelmed with dismay and pity at the desperation that would drive young girls to a place like this and compel them to submit to indignities and worse in exchange for the dubious pleasures of male attention.

She should leave. Her presence was an embarrassment to her companions, and she certainly wasn’t going to find Gerda’s killer here. What had ever made her think it would be that easy? She’d have to be careful that Malloy never found out about this foolishness, or she’d never hear the end of it.

As Sarah debated the propriety—and the wisdom—of simply leaving without telling her companions, the last, crashing notes of “Ta-Ra-Ra Boom-De-Ay” rang out, and Lisle came straight back over to the table for the first time in over an hour. Her partner was at her heels, half-angry and half-pleading, trying to convince her to go to the bar with him for a drink.

“I don’t have to put up with your sass, Billy,” Lisle told him, the color in her cheeks real this time. She’d sweated off her rouge long ago. “I’m leaving.”

“Since when did you get so particular?” Billy demanded. “I know how you got that hat. George don’t give them away for free!”

“Shut your mouth!” Lisle snapped, refusing even to look at him. She’d reached the table, and she said to Sarah, “Do you mind if we leave now?”

Sarah was on her feet in an instant, only too happy for an excuse to escape this bedlam. “Should we find Bertha and Hetty?” she asked, gathering her things.

“They know their way home,” Lisle said, heading toward the door. Sarah had to hurry to catch up to her, but she was no match for Billy, who was still pleading his case.

“Don’t be this way, Lisle. I told you, I get paid on Friday. I’ll get you something nicer than a hat! How about some jewelry
^?
”

Lisle pretended not to hear him, but when she looked back to see if Sarah was coming, her face was scarlet in the smoky light of the hall. “I don’t want nothing from you, Billy. Find yourself another girl.”

Billy said something obscene that made Sarah gasp, and she realized her heart was pounding. This is exactly the scenario she’d imagined had led to Gerda’s death. A young man furious at being spurned follows her and waits for an opportunity to ...

But Billy wasn’t following anymore. He’d turned on his heel and returned to the hall, most likely seeking easier pickings. Indeed, the hall was full of young women who would be more than willing to accept his attentions. Why should he subject himself to further rejection when within minutes he could most likely be enjoying success with someone else?

Lisle didn’t stop to wait for Sarah when she reached the street. She plunged through the group of drunks still lingering at the foot of the stairs and was halfway down the block when Sarah caught up with her.

“Wait, Lisle, there’s no need to run!” Sarah cried, finally stopping her. Lisle’s slender body fairly radiated fury as she stood on the sidewalk, waiting. Tapping her foot impatiently, she wouldn’t look at Sarah, either.

Sarah couldn’t resist looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was following them, but no one seemed to care that they were leaving the dance. “Come on, I’ll walk you home,” Sarah said, taking Lisle’s arm gently.

Lisle signed, the anger draining out of her and leaving her looking very young and extremely vulnerable. Sarah had to resist an urge to hug her.

“That Billy,” she said, her disgust sounding sad.

They started walking, and Sarah waited awhile, letting Lisle calm down a bit. Finally, she said, “You were right about that being a waste of time. I don’t know what made me think we’d find Gerda’s killer that way.”

Lisle glanced over, her expression wary. “You didn’t look like you was having much fun.”

“I didn’t go to have fun,” Sarah reminded her. “You didn’t have much fun there at the end. Don’t you like Billy?”

“He was being ... fresh,” she admitted.

Sarah didn’t point out that every man in the room was being fresh with someone or that Sarah had concluded taking or allow such liberties was the entire purpose of coming to these dances. They walked another block down Fourteenth Street before Sarah said, “Who’s George?”

Lisle’s head snapped up, her expression frightened now. “Nobody. He’s just ... He’s a fellow I know.”

“Did he give you a hat?”

Her mouth tightened. “Don’t pay no attention to what Billy says. He don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Sarah waited a few seconds before saying, “Someone gave Gerda a hat right before she died. Was it George?”

“Could’ve been anybody,” Lisle said defensively.

“But if it
was
George, maybe the police should talk to him. Find out where he was the night Gerda died. Who is this George?”

At first she thought Lisle wouldn’t answer. Then Sarah realized she was weighing her words very carefully. “He ... he’s a salesman. Sells ladies things.”

“And he gives girls presents?”

Lisle seemed to flinch. “He’s real generous,” she allowed, although the admission seemed to pain her.

“You mean he’s generous to girls who are generous to him,” Sarah corrected.

“It ain’t what you think!” Lisle insisted.

“How do you know what I think?” Sarah asked.

“We ain’t whores!” Lisle said. “We don’t take no money!”

“Lisle, I didn’t—Sarah tried, but Lisle ignored her.

“It ain’t whoring if you don’t take money!”

“Lisle, I’m not going to judge you,” Sarah assured her. “I’m just trying to find out who could have killed Gerda before he kills someone else, and the more I know about her, the easier that will be.”

Lisle didn’t say anything for another block. They were getting close to St. Mark’s Place. Sarah didn’t have much time left before Lisle would be home. She gambled. “Lisle, you know this is a dangerous way to live. You could become pregnant. You could get a disease.”

“You think I don’t know that? But how else can we get nice things? Do you know how much I earn at Faircloths? Six dollars a week, that’s how much! And my family’d take it all if I’d let them! As it is, they only let me keep a dollar or two for myself. I’ve got to make do on that, and I have to skip lunch or walk instead of taking the trolley so I can afford to go to a dance.”

Sarah was calculating in her head. The last suit she’d bought for herself cost seven dollars and fifty cents. How many lunches and trolley rides would girls like Lisle and Gerda have to skip and how long would they have to save before they could afford a new outfit? Even a few dollars for a hat or a shirtwaist would require great sacrifice.

Now Sarah understood another truth about the dance she’d just attended. The men were obviously there for sexual favors, and Sarah had assumed the girls gave them for attention. She’d never dreamed there was more at stake.

Both Gerda and Lisle had probably exchanged sex for a hat from the man named George. “What kind of a man is he? This George, I mean.”

Lisle shrugged one shoulder. “He’s all right, I guess. Likes to have fun. Never minds dropping a few dollars to show a girl a good time.”

“Does he have a temper?”

Lisle looked at her with disdain. “All men got a temper if a woman says no. Don’t you know nothing at all?”

Sarah decided not to mention that her husband, Tom, had been at least one exception to that rule. Lisle probably wouldn’t believe her anyway.

“But do you think this George would be violent? Is he the kind of man who—?”

“Who would’ve killed Gerda?” Lisle asked grimly. “I don’t have no idea. Who knows what a man’ll do if a woman pushes him far enough?”

“Would Gerda have pushed him?”

“Gerda liked to make them mad,” Lisle admitted after a moment. “She liked to make them beg her. Lot of men, they don’t like that.”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” Sarah asked, instantly realizing how foolish the question was. Of course it was dangerous. Gerda was dead. “I mean, is that what you do? Is that why Billy was angry?”

Lisle didn’t like talking about this. “I ain’t like Gerda. I don’t like a fuss. I ... I just like pretty things.”

They had reached St. Mark’s Place, and they turned toward Tompkins Park. The streets weren’t as deserted as they should have been this time of night. Many people were sleeping on the fire escapes and stoops because of the heat. Others were leaning out of windows or sitting wherever they could find a spot, trying to catch whatever breeze might be stirring.

Lisle lived down a few blocks, in one of the tenements. Sarah remembered how little she knew about the girl.

“Do you live with your family, Lisle?”

“My mother and stepfather.”

“You don’t like him very much,” Sarah guessed from the tone of her voice.

“I hate him,” Lisle said with surprisingly little rancor. It was just another fact of her life.

“I don’t suppose he approves of you going to dances.”

“He don’t have nothing to say about it. I told him if he made any trouble, I’d leave. I’ve got some friends I could stay with. Then he wouldn’t get my money anymore. He didn’t say anything after that.”

“Could you really do that? Live on your own, I mean?”

Lisle made a disgusted sound. “Not likely. Not on six dollars a week, even with three of us to a room. He don’t know it, though, so he leaves me alone.”

The bleakness of Lisle’s existence weighed on Sarah, especially when she thought of Gerda and the other dead girls. Their lives had been equally as bleak and hopeless. “What are your plans, Lisle? What are you going to do with your life?”

Lisle looked up in surprise, as if no one had ever asked her such a question before. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “I’ll get me a steady fellow, I guess, and we’ll get married.”

Then the babies would come, too many, too quickly, and fragile Lisle would be old before her time. Maybe she wouldn’t even survive. Life was hard for girls like this, and they had few options. Survival was all they could hope for. Happiness wasn’t even something they dreamed about.

Sarah knew she couldn’t change Lisle’s destiny, but she felt compelled to warn her anyway. “Be careful, Lisle. There are good men out there. Don’t settle for less.”

Lisle gave her an unfathomable look, and Sarah didn’t know how much she’d appreciated the advice. Probably not at all, but at least Sarah had tried.

Lisle’s step slowed, indicating they had reached her building. Some children were sleeping on a blanket on the sidewalk out front, and an old woman crouched on the stoop, staring vacantly out into the darkness. Lisle looked up, apparently checking her family’s apartment windows.

“Looks like it’s safe to go in. No lights. They must be asleep.” Her smile was wan in the glow of the gaslight.

“Thank you for taking me with you tonight,” Sarah said. “I hope I didn’t ruin your evening.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” she said philosophically.

“Gerda thought that, too,” Sarah reminded her gently. “Don’t take any foolish chances.”

Lisle smiled slightly and shook her head, as if unable believe Sarah was real. “Good night, Mrs. Brandt.”

Sarah waited until she had disappeared into the building. She glanced at the old woman, but she hadn’t moved, and Sarah realized she was asleep. Sitting straight up but fast asleep. Probably she was guarding the children.

Leaving them to their rest, Sarah made her way back down St. Mark’s and back toward her own home in Greenwich Village.

 

SARAH DIDN’T KNOW exactly what she could say to Agnes Otto. The new mother was still in bed, just as Sarah had recommended, and Sarah suspected she was suffering just as much from grief as she was from the exertions of childbirth. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying, when Sarah arrived the next day.

“Mrs. Brandt, do you know anything about my Gerda? Did the police tell you anything?” she asked eagerly.

“I spoke with my friend, but he hasn’t told me anything yet. The police are probably still investigating,” she added, knowing it was most likely a lie, but not wanting to hurt Agnes any more than was necessary. “How are you feeling?”

Agnes’s head rolled on the pillow, and she closed her eyes against fresh tears. “I cry all the time. I cannot stop,” she said.

The baby was sleeping beside her on the bed, swaddled in spite of the heat, and Sarah carefully unwrapped her. The baby’s arms and legs were still spindly, and when she pinched the baby’s skin, it didn’t spring back the way it should have.