Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (19 page)

TWENTY-FIVE

I had to admit that it was a thrill to be seen driving up Fifth Avenue in a dashing motor car, with a handsome man beside me. The elegant neighborhood of the East Seventies soon faded, however, and the city became a collection of humble row houses mixed with ramshackle huts as we reached the northern tip of Manhattan Island. We crossed the icy bridge over the Harlem River with great caution and then had to proceed at a snail’s pace because the main road wasn’t as well maintained as Daniel had hoped. We passed signs of habitation, but it seemed that the towns were to the north of us. And we soon found ourselves in snowy countryside.

“Do you know where we are going?” I asked.

“We’re going to a police station,” Daniel said. “Just off the road here. It was apparently the first local station to respond to the accident,” he said. “I’m hoping they can show us the accident scene and maybe answer some questions.”

We found the police station in a little main street next to H. Bingler, dry goods, and R. Murray, greengrocer. It was lucky that Daniel was known to the sergeant on duty. He sent a constable with us who was only too eager to come for a ride in the rumble seat of our automobile and show us the accident site himself.

“It gave Ernie and me an awful scare, I can tell you,” he said, leaning between us from the back seat of the auto. “There was this horse less carriage, crashed into a tree, oil spilled out onto the snow, and not a soul in sight.

“ ‘Where can they have gone?’ Ernie says. ‘Someone must have been hurt, the way this thing’s smashed up.’ ”

“When was this?”

“It was the Wednesday morning. Later we found out that the vehicle must have collided with the tree the night before. But you’ll see how it ran off the road at a bend, so it wasn’t noticed until a farmer came by at daybreak.”

We rejoined the main road and soon the constable told us to stop in a wooded area where the road took a sudden swing to the right. “It was smashed into that oak there,” he said, climbing out of the seat. “See where it hit the tree?”

I could see a big gash in the trunk. I could also pick out dark patches in the snow. More snow had fallen the night before so it was hard to know if they were oil or blood.

“So the auto itself was pretty badly damaged?” Daniel asked.

“It sure was, sir. The whole front was smashed in. The steering-wheel column had been pushed clear out. I tell you, whoever was in there couldn’t have walked away, that’s my opinion.”

“And yet they did,” I said. “Were there any trails leading off through the snow?”

The constable looked sheepish. “Well, to start with we had no idea that this automobile was connected with a crime, so we looked all around to see if any wounded travelers had staggered away from the wreck and then collapsed. So a fair number of the tracks would be ours. But we saw no clear set of tracks leading away, I can tell you that. One strange thing. It did look as if a second vehicle had pulled up beside it at some time, then driven away again. It must have been another automobile because there were no signs of horses’ hooves. I think that must have been a good Samaritan just checking to see if anyone was hurt. He found nobody and drove off.”

He looked at us for affirmation.

“Where is the wrecked automobile now?” Daniel asked.

“We had it towed to the yard behind the police station. We thought that whoever owned it might want to salvage any parts that he could. But nobody showed up, and then we found out that it matched the description of the automobile that drove away from the Silverton place. When we gave it a thorough search, the sarge came up with the silver pot. ‘It’s part of the loot, boy,’ he said to me, and it was.”

“So was the auto ever checked for evidence?” Daniel asked.

“Evidence?” the constable looked confused.

“You know—scraps of clothing, hairs, that sort of thing.”

“I don’t think it ever was, sir. It was in pretty bad shape. Ernie says to me that it’s nothing but a heap of junk and we should help ourselves to the wheels, ’cos they were still good.”

“You didn’t, I hope?”

“Oh no, sir. By then word had come in that this particular automobile was wanted in a robbery.”

“Then I’d like to take a look at it,” Daniel said. “You can learn a lot with a magnifying glass and close observation, you know.”

“Really?” The young man looked impressed. “I know that Mr. Sherlock Holmes was supposed to be able to pick up a cigarette end and tell you what kind of person smoked it, but I didn’t think that kind of thing was done in real life.”

“They are using fingerprints these days,” Daniel said. “Did you know that every fingerprint is different and they can be identified on most smooth surfaces?”

“No kidding, sir. Well, I guess I’d have to ask sarge if it’s okay for you to take a look. I’d sure like you see you find them fingerprints.”

“I don’t have a kit to do it with me,” Daniel said. “But I could come back with one. But it’s possible that clothing got torn in such a bad crash or even bits of skin and tissue were left behind.”

“Golly, sir,” the constable looked pale. “You surely wouldn’t want the young lady to see that?”

“The young lady has seen worse,” Daniel said. “She’s a bona fide detective, my boy.”

“No kiddin’, sir?”

He looked at me as if I were an exhibit in Mr. Barnum’s circus.

I felt that I should warrant the label so I left the motor car and walked around to examine the accident scene for myself. The ground was truly trampled, and to make things worse, a horse and cart had been used to tow away the wreck. A light coating of new snow had fallen, blurring the outlines of footprints, so that it would now be impossible for anyone to pick up a trail in the pristine woodland beyond.

My eye was caught by a scar on a nearby tree. A horizontal line cut neatly along the bark, about chest level. I followed the line and saw some kind of blemish on a tree beyond. I held my skirts free of the snow and waded across to see.

“Daniel, come here,” I called, my excitement mounting. I pointed at the trunk. “There is something stuck in the wood.”

Daniel produced a penknife and extracted it. “Good eyes, Molly. It’s a bullet.”

“And there is the path that it took grazing the outside of that tree trunk,” I said.

Daniel frowned as he looked. “Someone was shooting into the direction we have just come. A falling out among thieves, maybe. One of them tried to run off?”

“He obviously succeeded, since no body was found,” I said. “And remember what the constable said about the tracks of a second vehicle. Did another motor car catch up with this one and stop to offer help? Then why shoot?”

Daniel shook his head. “Interesting question. Was it just coincidence that a second vehicle showed up? Had it come to help them? Or come to take the loot from them?”

“You’re saying them, but we only believe that John Jacob Halsted was in the car, don’t we?”

“He could have been working with a partner.”

“Who then tried to double-cross him and run off with the loot, knowing he was injured.”

“And Halsted shot at him to stop him from getting away,” Daniel finished with satisfaction.

“In which case, where is Halsted?”

“It could be that the partner was the one doing the shooting and that he managed to kill Halsted and bury the body somewhere close by.”

“Don’t, it’s too horrible.” I shuddered. I looked up at the constable who was watching us with interest. “Were any dogs used in the search?”

“Wasn’t no need. You’d have seen the tracks, plain as day, if they’d gone off through the woods.”

“We were just speculating that there could have been a falling out among thieves here. We’ve just found a bullet imbedded in that tree. So it’s not beyond possibility that a body could be buried nearby.”

“I don’t think so, sir. It had snowed, remember. The snow would be all disturbed, wouldn’t it?”

“No harm in searching again, though,” Daniel said. “Does anyone nearby keep hounds?”

“Yes, sir. Farmer over Hatcher’s Corner way keeps a pair of coon hounds.”

“Did you ask at all the farms around this site, to see if the victims of the crash came to seek shelter anywhere?”

“Oh yes, miss. We asked, all right. And then when we knew it was a wanted man, we checked out barns and hen houses and everything. Didn’t find nothing though.”

“My money would be on the second automobile,” Daniel said. “It could even have been an arranged meeting, although I’m sure the crash wasn’t intentional.”

“So you are suggesting that someone met Halsted and whisked him and the loot away?”

“Exactly.”

“Then who was doing the shooting?”

“Ah. That we don’t know.”

It was cold and bleak standing there. I shivered. “I think we’ve seen enough. I’m freezing,” I said.

Daniel helped me in and the constable climbed into the backseat again. “Where to now, sir?”

“I think I’d like to examine the wreck,” he said, “and then, if your sergeant wouldn’t mind, I’d like to come back with an item of the missing man’s clothing and go over the area thoroughly with dogs.”

“You won’t find him, sir. He’s long gone,” the constable said. “We’d have heard by now if he was still hiding out around here.”

“Aren’t there marshes nearby?”

“Well, yes, there is marshland along the side of the sound, about half a mile from here, it would be. But those marshes are awful bleak and exposed. Not easy for a man to find a place to hide in the wintertime. Not much fun in the summer, either.”

Daniel started the motor and reversed carefully. The road was icy and we had no wish to repeat the disaster. Soon, with the sergeant’s blessing, the constable was opening up a yard in an alleyway and we saw the motor car for ourselves. It was a sorry sight, half hidden under a new dusting of snow. I felt sick and turned away. From the blackened state of the twisted metal, it looked like there had been a fire at some point. The red upholstery in the front seat was scorched and ripped. The backseat was intact, however, and Daniel examined it closely.

“Here’s a small prize,” he said. And he held up a long blonde hair. “Maybe Halsted wasn’t alone that night.”

“We know he was hoping to meet a young lady,” I agreed, “but why would her hair have been in the backseat?”

Daniel looked at me, went to say something, then thought better of it. “Of course we have no reason to suppose that the hair was from that night. I’m sure that he frequently transported young women, given what we know of his way of life, but it might be worth checking whether a young blonde woman has disappeared from New Haven or the surrounding area.”

“It’s too bad my speechless girl has chestnut hair,” I said.

Daniel shook his head. “I think we should rejoice that she is dark, because otherwise it would mean that the great trauma that robbed her of her senses was suffered at the hands of Halsted, and I would hate to have to break that news to his aunt.”

Nothing else was forthcoming from the automobile. We spoke with the sergeant, then drove to farms in the area, but none of the farm folk had any information for us. If John Jacob Halsted had managed to walk away from the damaged automobile, he had not sought sanctuary anywhere nearby. At least, he had not come knocking on any door and no trace of him had been found in barns or outbuildings. I now truly began to believe that he was a scoundrel after all, and that he had managed to get away safely with the loot.

“The next step should be to approach this from the items that were stolen,” Daniel said on the way home. “We’ll get a good description of them and they’ll have to show up somewhere. I’ll make some inquiries. I have some connections with fences in the area. They’ll let me know if any of the objects have shown up.”

“Poor Miss Van Woekem,” I said. “I rather think that we’ll have no good news for her, however hard we try.”

“You can’t pass judgment until you know all the facts,” Daniel said.

“Now who is being the optimist?” I asked.

TWENTY-SIX

On Tuesday morning I woke up with a knot in my stomach, as if something big was about to happen. Then I remembered—opening night at the theater. Although I had an almost invisible part in the play, tonight I’d be doing it before several hundred people. And tonight the ghost would have a full house to perform to. I had to admit that I felt angry and frustrated with myself. I’d been there, onstage, observing for two nights and had discovered nothing. If somebody was playing a cruel prank against Miss Lovejoy, then I had no idea who. I had reason to suspect Desmond Haynes, but he was certainly nowhere near that jumping jug, and I hadn’t seen him anywhere near the wind machine, either. And Blanche had threatened not to open as planned. Why would Desmond want his show to fail? Why would anyone in that theater want the show to close? And yet there was only one way into the theater and that was past Henry.

I had a distinct feeling that Miss Lovejoy would be dispensing with my services very rapidly if I didn’t make some progress. I just prayed that nothing would happen to mar tonight’s opening.

In the meantime I had plenty to keep me occupied. I fixed breakfast for Annie, then stayed with her while Dr. Birnbaum saw her. Although I didn’t think we made any progress in the latest session the doctor seemed pleased. “I sense a breakthrough may be coming soon,” he said. “She is beginning to trust us, and complete trust is needed for hypnotism to work favorably.”

“I hope so,” I said. “I’m disappointed that none of the letters we’ve received so far could be from her family. But maybe now that you’ve included the mention of the name Annie, it may trigger a response.”

As I showed the doctor to the front door, I found myself considering the alternatives I had so blithely put aside until now. If no family appeared, if sanity and speech and memory were not restored, what then? I knew I could never turn her out into the streets. But how could I saddle myself with the care of an invalid forever? Then my normal cheerful optimism took over and I decided I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. At this moment I had more urgent things to worry about, like walking across a stage in front of an audience without falling on my face.

I’d heard about stage fright before, but I never thought it would apply to me. In fact my mother was always scolding me for being too much of a show-off, ever since I got out of the pew in church and danced to the organ music (it was one of the live-lier hymns). I was only three at the time but you’d have thought I’d brought the devil himself into the holy place, the spanking I got!

Since coming to America I’d been called upon to act various roles in undercover situations and managed to pull them all off successfully. So why should this latest role be any different? Why should I feel as if my insides were tying themselves into knots? I suppose it had to be because the potential for making a fool of myself was so great.

I was getting ready to leave for the theater when there was a tap on my front door. I hoped it was Daniel. I needed reassurance at this moment, and a good old touch of reality. Instead it was Sid and Gus who stood there.

“Well, here she is. The amazing disappearing woman,” Sid exclaimed as they came into the house.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“My dear Molly, we’ve seen neither hide nor hair of you for several days now. We tried your door yesterday and on Sunday and each time it was opened by such a fierce harridan that we were forced to retreat.”

“She’s the nursemaid I’ve hired to look after the girl while I’m away.”

“That’s what we gathered. So your sleeping beauty still has not awoken from her enchanted slumber?”

“She’s awake some of the time, although the doctor has administered sedatives to her. But she has neither spoken nor recognized that she understands us up to now.”

“And nobody has stepped forward to claim her?”

“Nobody, as yet.”

“Molly, what on earth will you do if she doesn’t get better soon?” Sid asked, but Gus cut in gently, “I expect it will sort itself out. It usually does with Molly. She lives a charmed life.”

“We came to offer you a treat and a respite,” Sid said. “We have obtained tickets to tonight’s opening of Blanche Lovejoy’s new play—it’s called
Ooh La La.
It’s supposed to be very French and very naughty. What’s more, there is a good chance that the theater ghost may put in an appearance. Do you want to come with us?”

I tried to stop myself from smiling. “I’m sorry,” I said, “but I have another commitment tonight. I’ve heard all about it, of course. And the theater ghost.”

“You’re not spending the evening with Dreary Daniel, are you?” Sid said. “That man has become excessively boring these days. Not a glimmer of a sense of humor at all.”

“I guarantee that I am not spending the evening with Daniel,” I said. “Although I don’t think you’d be too merry and gay if you had been wrongly dismissed from your job.”

“True enough,” Sid admitted. “So you’re sure we can’t tempt you to join us at the theater?”

“I have an assignment for a case I’m working on,” I said.

“Not going out dressed as a street urchin again, please,” Sid said. “Even Nelly Bly gave up on that as being too uncomfortable even for her.”

“No, this time I’m disguised as a schoolgirl,” I said with a smile.

“A schoolgirl—do tell!”

“I’d love to, but I can’t. Later all will be revealed, I promise.”

“I suppose that will have to do then,” Gus said with a sigh. “You are working too hard these days, Molly Murphy. You never seem to have time for fun.”

“I have to eat and pay the bills, Gus. I’ve no convenient aunts dying and leaving me a small fortune like you.”

“That’s true enough,” Gus said. “A steady income certainly does make life sweeter.”

“We must be off then, my sweet,” Sid said. “Gus is determined to find a new feather for her headpiece. Scarlet, no less. I told her she’ll look like a fallen woman but she insists.”

She gave me a knowing smile and took Gus’s arm to lead her out. I couldn’t help smiling as I closed the door behind them. Won’t they be surprised tonight!

When I arrived at the theater there was already a crowd milling around on the street and the back alley was positively seething with newspaper reporters. “Are you one of the actresses?” they asked me. “Have you seen the ghost personally? Do you think it’s going to put in an appearance tonight?”

I shoved my way through and signed in with Henry.

“It’s a mad house out there,” I said. “All those reporters grabbing at me.”

“You wait until afterward.” Henry nodded knowingly. “You won’t be able to push your way through the crush. Reporters and stage-door Johnnies and God knows what. If you want a word of advice, see if you can slip out through front of house. Unless you want to be whisked away to dine at Delmonico’s, that is.”

He gave me a wicked little wink.

“There’s a big crowd out front as well,” I said.

“They’d be fighting to get the last tickets,” Henry said. “Let’s hope Miss Lovejoy doesn’t lose her nerve at the last minute and refuse to go on. There would be a riot.”

“Do you think she might?”

“She was as jittery as a kitten when she arrived a few minutes ago,” Henry said. “I know it’s first night and everyone suffers from first night nerves but not Blanche. She’s usually the trooper, steady as a rock.”

“I’d better go and get ready,” I said.

I went on down the passage, but instead of going up the stairs to the dressing room I decided to check out the stage area for myself. That way at least I could see that no obvious traps had been set. I worked my way around the various flats and pieces of scenery. I opened drawers and trunks to make sure they contained nothing suspicious. I was just sticking my head down the mock well when I was grabbed from behind. I was so startled I almost toppled in headfirst, but strong arms yanked me out.

“And what do you think you’re doing, young lady?” It was Wally, the stage manager, and he didn’t look happy. Before I could answer he started to drag me away. “Just wait until Miss Lovejoy hears about this! Ghost, my foot. I’ve never believed in a ghost.”

“I assure you I’m not the ghost,” I said. “In fact I’m—” I hesitated, wondering how much I was allowed to tell him. He didn’t give me a chance to speak but went on, “I’ve had my eye on you ever since you showed up out of the blue like that. You’re a plant, aren’t you? You’ve been sent to make sure that Miss Lovejoy’s show is a failure.”

“That’s rubbish,” I said.

“Then why did I catch you snooping around where you had no place to be?”

“If you want to know, I was doing a bit of snooping because I also don’t believe in the ghost and I wanted to check that there were no hidden wires or booby traps that were going to spoil tonight’s show.”

He looked at me as if he were deciding whether to believe me or not. “And why should you be so interested?”

Again, I hesitated to say that Miss Lovejoy had hired me just for that purpose. After all, Wally could be the ghost himself. He had full access to the backstage area and the knowledge to rig up spectacular effects.

“Why wouldn’t I be interested?” I said. “It’s my first big break on Broadway and I don’t want the show to close before it opens. And my father was a detective, you know, so I’ve picked up a few skills.”

“And what have you found then?”

“Nothing. Everything seems completely above board. I examined the jug and the table the other night, after the lemonade spilled all over Miss Lovejoy, and I found nothing then. If someone is doing this, they are darned clever.”

“I know I’d like to get my hands on them,” Wally said with a growl. “Miss Lovejoy is a lovely lady. Generous to her friends. She don’t deserve to be shook up like this.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” I said. “I can keep my eye on the actors, and you can keep your eye on your stagehands. If we see any of them acting suspiciously, then we’ll follow them.”

“Right,” he said, still deciding whether I was trustworthy or not. “You’d better get up there and into costume or there will be trouble,” he added.

I nodded and hurried up the stairs. I found the dressing room already a hive of activity.

“Well, look who has deigned to show up,” Lily said sarcastically. “Think we’re the big star already, do we? Practicing the grand entrance?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I got tied up trying to get through the crowds down there.”

“I hope you didn’t talk to the press,” one of the other girls said. “Miss Lovejoy would kill you if you blabbed.”

“It’s seems that somebody already did,” I said. “The papers are full of every detail.”

I thought the room went suddenly quiet. Lily went back to putting moleskin between her toes, others turned to the mirror and started applying makeup. I made my way down to Elise at the far end. She was tying her ballet slipper.

“I hope this holds out,” she said. “These shoes have seen better days and I’ve sewn this ribbon on so many times that the satin is starting to fray. And look at the toes. It’s darning on top of darning. I think I’m going to have to spend most of my first paycheck on a new pair.”

“The company doesn’t pay for your shoes?”

“Oh no. Costumes, yes, but shoes are a personal item, like makeup. We have to get them custom made for us. If you have a ballet shoe that doesn’t fit properly, then your feet will wind up maimed for life.”

She went back to tucking in the ribbon ends. I started undressing, but a strange thought was forming in my head. I pictured my silent girl’s feet. What if those blistered and raw toes were not a result of frostbite? What if she was a dancer and they were dancer’s feet, made more irritated by her walk through the snow? She certainly had the lithe body for it and the delicate face and hands. Tomorrow I could borrow Sid and Gus’s phonograph and play some popular dance tunes for her, to see if they produced a reaction.

I finished my makeup just in time before the call boy came around with the first warning. My heart was thudding as I followed the rest of the girls down to the stage to wait in the wings. Beyond the lowered curtain I could hear the murmur of a large crowd and the sounds of the orchestra tuning up. I could feel the excitement and tension in the air as stagehands glided past us, making last-minute adjustments to potted plants and spotlights. “Break a leg,” the girls whispered to each other. I thought it was a rather odd thing to say, but I whispered it back to them.

Then there was a burst of applause.

“Conductor has come out,” Elise mouthed to me.

Then the orchestra struck up the lively first notes of the overture and we were instructed to go onstage. I found my hands were so cold and shaky that I could hardly hold the book. I took up my place on my mark and waited, giving a silent prayer of thanks that I didn’t have to say a word. I knew that if I opened my mouth no sound would come out. The overture came to an end and the curtain started to rise. A great roar of applause came from the audience as they saw the girls in their tennis outfits. I could see the front rows, full of faces, and among them I picked out a scarlet feather and below it Gus’s startled face. I studied my book and tried not to smile.

The girls launched into the opening number. The young men arrived in their automobile, getting another huge round of applause, and then Miss Lovejoy made her entrance. I had seen her onstage enough times now to know that she had a powerful voice and a great presence. But tonight I could see why she was a star. There was something about her that would not let me take my eyes off her. When she spoke her voice was more powerful than ever. Her first funny line got a huge laugh and I sensed the girls around me relaxing. For the first time I fully realized that it was Blanche’s show. The rest of us were only window dressing.