Murder in the Bowery

by Victoria Thompson

  “Tufts. Norman, I think.”

  “Any idea where they live?” Frank asked.

  “Not hardly. It’s not like they invite me in for tea or anything.”

  “Where do you meet them?”

  “At the boardinghouse where I live. People can leave messages for me, if they want a tour. I have a regular schedule.”

  “And Robinson owns all those buildings around the Den,” Gino said. “He’s got them set up for the tours.”

  “Yeah, the locals get a kick out of playacting for the swells.”

  “I guess you wouldn’t want one of your customers to end up dead because you took them to the wrong place,” Frank said.

  “That’s right,” Arburn agreed uncertainly.

  Even Gino frowned.

  “So the boy’s really dead?” Arburn asked after an awkward silence.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Who killed him?”

  “I thought you did,” Frank said.

  “I didn’t, I swear.”

  “You already swore you didn’t. I still don’t believe you.”

  “Why would I kill him? Jack wanted to know what he saw, what happened to the girl.”

  “To Estelle.”

  “That’s right. He just wants to find her.”

  “I think I know where she is.”

  Arburn gaped at him. “How could you? You didn’t know anything about her a few minutes ago.”

  “I’m a detective.”

  Arburn snorted his derision. Even Gino gave him a funny look.

  “You go back to Robinson and tell him the boy is dead and that I’m going to find the girl for him.”

  “I . . . I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because . . .” Arburn was squirming again. “He doesn’t know I hired you. I was supposed to find the boy myself.”

  Gino gave a bark of laughter, and Frank shook his head in dismay. “You better tell him then, because he’s going to be real interested in my report.”

  “But—”

  “You can go now,” Frank said.

  “I can?”

  Frank nodded to Gino, who opened the office door and stood back. “Yes. Get out.”

  Arburn jumped to his feet and hurried out, not even looking back.

  “You think that’s the girl Freddie was talking about?” Gino asked.

  “I’m pretty sure, and there’s a good chance she’s dead, too.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “There’s a girl’s body in the morgue with Freddie. They found her in a trunk in the Bowery, and she fits the description of Estelle Longacre. Not many pretty young girls in fine clothes get killed in the Bowery.”

  Gino gave a low whistle. “Are you going to ask Black Jack to identify her?”

  “Not on your life. I’m going to see if I can find her family first. If she’s been missing since Saturday night, they must be going crazy.”

  “Why haven’t they checked the morgue then?”

  “They probably didn’t expect her to get herself murdered in the Bowery.”

  “True. Do you think Mrs. Malloy or her parents will know the family?”

  Sarah’s family were members of New York society, and Sarah’s mother knew everyone who mattered in that world. “I don’t know, but they’re probably in the City Directory, at least.”

  “Do you think Longacre Square was named after them?” Located above 42nd Street on Broadway, Longacre Square was home to Oscar Hammerstein’s Olympia Music Hall, but otherwise, the neighborhood was known as Thieves Lair.

  “Let’s hope not.”

  “Are you going to tell them their daughter is dead?”

  Frank sighed. “If I have to.”

  * * *

  Gino had come for dinner that night, and as always, the children were delighted to see him. Sarah was proud of the way Catherine showed off her growing knowledge of American Sign Language to keep her new brother, Brian, informed of what others were saying and to tell everyone else what Brian said in return.

  When Catherine’s skills fell short, Malloy’s mother would help. Mrs. Malloy accompanied Brian to the school he attended, New York Institution for the Deaf and Dumb. The students there came from all over the country, and most of them lived in, but Mother Malloy escorted Brian and stayed with him all day, learning to sign along with him while she helped as a volunteer.

  Catherine had just turned six, so she’d be attending school in the fall, too. Sarah remembered what Malloy had said the other day about Catherine being adopted. Sarah had tried to adopt her when she’d first taken in the abandoned child, but unmarried females were not permitted to adopt. She’d called herself Catherine’s guardian, although she had no legal papers to prove it. Now she was no longer unmarried, though, and they knew Catherine’s parents were dead, so they should really begin the process. She’d have to remind Malloy when they were alone.

  “Time to get ready for bed,” Mrs. Malloy told the children as they left the dining room, signing the words for Brian.

  Both children protested. They didn’t want to be separated from Gino.

  “I’ll carry you upstairs,” Gino offered, lifting a squealing Brian onto his shoulders and then hoisting Catherine onto his hip. “Let’s go.”

  Maeve followed, unable to conceal her grin. Gino was a good man, and he’d make a good husband when the time came. Of course he was Italian and Catholic and Maeve wasn’t, so his family would have something to say about it, but Malloy was Catholic and Sarah wasn’t and they’d managed.

  Mrs. Malloy told Sarah, “I’ll go up and put the children to bed so the young people can come back down.”

  She didn’t wait for Sarah’s response, because of course, she didn’t need Sarah’s approval and she didn’t want to give the impression that she did. Sarah bit back a smile. “Thank you, Mother Malloy,” Sarah called after her.

  Mother Malloy waved away her thanks, not even glancing back.

  Frank was chuckling as they went into the parlor.

  “What’s so funny?” Sarah asked.

  “The way she still pretends she’s doing us a favor by being here.”

  “She is doing us a favor by being here. If she lived somewhere else where she couldn’t see Brian every day, she’d drive us crazy.”

  “She’d drive me crazy, you mean.”

  “And she’d be very unhappy, which is why she’d make us unhappy, too, but this way, she’s very helpful and gets to see her grandson grow up.”

  “And she got a granddaughter into the bargain.”

  “Which reminds me, we need to get started on adopting her.”

  “I know. As soon as this case is over, I’ll see about it.” He pushed open the front windows to let in whatever breeze might be lingering on Bank Street. “We should have gone to Newport or something this summer.”

  “Dear heaven, I never thought I’d hear you say something like that,” Sarah said.

  “And I never thought I’d say it, but New York is unbearable in the summer. Why don’t your parents leave?”

  “My father likes to keep an eye on his business, and my mother likes to keep an eye on the children, I think.”

  “That makes sense, but if we went somewhere, we could take your mother with us.”

  “And yours.”

  Malloy gave her a look before slipping off his suit coat and draping it over a chair. “I’m sure I’m breaking several rules of etiquette by taking off my jacket, but it’s too hot to keep it on.”

  “I’ll never tell,” Sarah assured him. She continued to chatter about the children’s activities so he wouldn’t suddenly remember the dead boy, at least not until they absolutely needed to discuss him. Frank had tried to cover the depth of his grief, but she’d seen it in his eyes when he told her the boy in th
e morgue was definitely Freddie.

  When they returned to the parlor, Gino looked very pleased and Maeve looked very coy, and Sarah noticed they chose to sit next to each other on the sofa.

  “Now,” Maeve said, “tell us what happened with your case.”

  Malloy and Gino took turns describing their day. Malloy stoically described identifying Freddie and discovering the dead girl in the morgue. Gino took up the tale with an account of their meeting with Will “Bert” Arburn and his unwitting identification of the girl.

  “How horrible,” Maeve said. “I know she was asking for trouble when she went on those tours and then took up with a gangster, but still . . .” She gave a delicate shudder. “I can’t stand the thought of her lying in that morgue all alone.”

  “What I don’t understand is why a girl like that would do the things she did,” Gino said.

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking just because someone has money that they’re happy,” Sarah said. “You should have learned by now that even rich people can be miserable and cruel and their children can be desperately unhappy.”

  “So she did it because she wasn’t happy?” Gino said doubtfully.

  “Or because her life was incredibly dull or really horrible,” Maeve said, “and she wanted to do something that made her feel alive.”

  “Or no one cared what she did, so she decided to shock them into paying attention,” Sarah added.

  “Oh,” Gino said weakly, more than overwhelmed by their reasoning.

  “So you’re going to visit the girl’s family?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes, if I can figure out which Longacre family is hers,” Malloy said. “Do you know them by chance?”

  Sarah shook her head. “Although my mother might. She pays much more attention to knowing people than I do.”

  “Do you think Longacre Square is named for the family?” Gino asked.

  Sarah smiled. “Longacre Square is named for a square in London, I think. Some foreign city, I know. So, no, this Longacre family is not that important.”

  “Thank heaven for that,” Malloy said. “And before we go any further, I want to make sure the girl isn’t safely at home. If she is, then we’ll know she doesn’t have anything to do with why Freddie was killed,” Malloy said.

  “But you don’t think you’ll find her safely at home,” Sarah said.

  Malloy sighed. “No, I don’t. That body in the morgue is too much of a coincidence.”

  “But if she’s been gone . . . how many days is it?” Maeve asked.

  “Five days now,” Gino said. “Since Saturday night.”

  “If she’s been gone for five days with no word, why hasn’t her family gone to the police? They would’ve found her body in the morgue within an hour.”

  “I can think of at least one reason they wouldn’t go to the police,” Sarah said.

  “The scandal,” Malloy guessed.

  “Yes. They might think she just ran off with someone and wanted to keep it quiet. She might even have left a note or something.”

  “But wouldn’t they at least look for her?” Maeve insisted.

  “If they knew what she’d been doing and who she’d been doing it with, they might be relieved that she left,” Sarah said.

  “But what if she really did run off?” Gino said. “She might’ve met somebody she liked better than Black Jack.”

  “That’s possible, I guess,” Malloy said. “And if she did, her family will find out when they go to identify the body that it isn’t her. There’s very little chance of that, though, which is why I’m not looking forward to visiting her family.”

  “You need to take Mrs. Frank with you,” Maeve said.

  Sarah looked up in surprise. Not from the title. Their maid and cook called her Mrs. Frank to distinguish her from Mother Malloy, so Maeve had adopted it as well. She was only surprised to hear Maeve echoing her own thoughts.

  Malloy was already protesting, but Sarah interrupted him. “She’s right. Even if the family was happy to see the last of this Estelle, they’ll be shocked to find out she’s dead.”

  “You think she’s got an invalid mother who’ll faint or something?” Malloy scoffed.

  “I think if Estelle felt such a strong need to rebel in such a scandalous way, her family has definitely failed her, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be someone who feels her loss very deeply.”

  “And it’s still possible she’s not missing at all,” Maeve said.

  Gino stared at her in amazement. “I thought that was the one thing we were sure of.”

  “Why? Because that lying Arburn fellow told you the gangster checked to make sure she wasn’t at home? Maybe he did, but how? He couldn’t go knock on their front door and ask to see her.”

  “I see what you mean,” Malloy said. “He’d have to rely on spying or gossip.”

  “And he wouldn’t have any friends in that neighborhood to help,” Gino said, taking up the theory.

  “So maybe her family sent someone after her to bring her home,” Sarah concluded. “And they’re keeping her locked up or something.”

  “And if that’s the case,” Maeve said, “they aren’t likely to admit it to Mr. Malloy.”

  “Do you think they’ll admit it to me?” Sarah asked in surprise.

  “I think they’re much more likely to confide in you than in Mr. Malloy.”

  Sarah glanced at Malloy, who shrugged. “As much as I hate involving you in this, I think Maeve is right. I wouldn’t let you go alone, of course, but if we go together, you’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “Yes,” Gino agreed with a grin. “It’s not like he’s taking you to the Bowery to interview a gangster or anything.”

  “Which reminds me,” Sarah said. “Do you think this gangster—what’s his name?”

  “Black Jack Robinson,” Gino offered.

  “This Black Jack, do you think he’s the one who killed the girl?”

  “He seems like the most likely suspect,” Malloy said.

  “And it would explain why he wanted to find Freddie, who was a witness,” Gino said.

  “Why would he kill her, though?” Sarah asked.

  “Maybe he got tired of her,” Maeve said.

  “He wouldn’t have to kill her to get rid of her,” Frank said. “More likely he was jealous. Maybe she had another lover.”

  “You said she brought a man along on the tours,” Sarah said.

  “Arburn didn’t think she cared about him, but maybe he was wrong,” Gino said.

  “Or maybe Robinson got the wrong impression,” Maeve said.

  “What if Arburn killed her?” Gino said. “Maybe he was jealous of Robinson and killed her out of spite, and he was looking for the boy himself, so he could get him before he told Robinson.”

  Malloy nodded his approval of their theories. “So which one of you is going to ask Black Jack if he killed the girl?”

  “I think Mrs. Malloy should do it,” Gino said, earning a swat from Maeve and a laugh from Sarah.

  “Don’t even joke about that,” Malloy said. “It’s bad enough she’s going with me to see the family.”

  “Do you want me to ask my mother if she knows any Longacres?” Sarah asked.

  “I don’t suppose it would hurt, although we’re not taking your mother along.”

  Sarah almost laughed at the prospect. “Of course not, although she’d be thrilled to help.”

  “She’d be thrilled to be working on another case,” Gino clarified, “but after what happened last year, Mr. Decker made us swear we wouldn’t let her do that again.”

  “I’m fairly certain he didn’t get Mother to swear she wouldn’t do it again,” Sarah said, “so don’t be surprised if she does. But I’ll make the case sound very dull when I ask her. We should probably go over there first thing in the morning. I’ll telephone
to let her know, so she’s dressed.”

  “Can’t you just ask her about the family on the telephone?” Malloy asked.

  “With operators listening?” Sarah scoffed. “If Estelle’s family hopes to avoid scandal, that’s the last thing they’ll want. Besides, Mother would just say she’d have to think about it and use that as an excuse to come over here to deliver her report.”

  Gino pretended to cough to cover his laugh, and Malloy glared at him, but only halfheartedly.

  “All right,” Malloy said. “Sarah and I will go to see her mother tomorrow morning, then try to figure out which Longacre family in the City Directory is the right one and go see them.”

  “And if it turns out the body in the morgue is Estelle Longacre?” Gino asked.

  Malloy’s expression hardened. “Then we find out who killed her and why, because then we’ll know who killed poor little Freddie.”

  5

  Frank figured he’d never cease to be amazed when Elizabeth Decker greeted him with delight and a kiss on the cheek. She certainly had no reason to be delighted that her only living daughter had married an Irish Catholic (former) policeman, and yet she always seemed to be.

  “Sarah said you needed help with a case,” Mrs. Decker said when she’d seated them in the back parlor and served them coffee. This was the room the family used most, and it was filled with comfortable, overstuffed furniture and no valuable knickknacks that could get knocked over.

  Frank pretended not to notice how excited Mrs. Decker was at the prospect of helping them with a case.

  “We just need to know if you are acquainted with a family named Longacre,” Sarah quickly explained. “The name came up in one of Malloy’s investigations, and he needs to locate a young woman named Estelle Longacre. She may have witnessed a crime.”

  “Longacre? Like the Square?”

  “We assume so, yes,” Sarah said.

  “And is the family in society?”

  “We aren’t certain,” Sarah said. “All we know is that the young lady came from a respectable family and wore expensive clothes.”

  “That seems like an odd thing to know about someone, if that’s the only thing you know.” Which was Mrs. Decker’s way of asking why they didn’t know more, and if they did, why they weren’t telling her.