Murder in the Bowery

by Victoria Thompson

  “But who else would she have spent time with?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to go back and talk to her father again. He might know something, too. Of course, he might not tell me. He seems like the kind of man who enjoys being disagreeable.”

  “That does sound like fun,” Gino said with a grin. “What can I do?”

  “I think we need to talk to Raven Saggio again. Find out if he and Freddie were the ones who found Estelle’s body in the trunk, and also if Freddie told him anything about seeing Estelle that night or someone hauling the trunk out of Robinson’s flat.”

  “It would be nice if Freddie had recognized him and told Raven who it was, too.”

  “I’m not asking for miracles, although it’s possible that he did recognize the person.”

  “You think it would’ve taken two people to get the trunk down the stairs and haul it away, though, so that doubles the chance that Freddie recognized one of them.”

  “Unless he was the second person. I didn’t say anything to Robinson, but another possibility I was thinking about is that Freddie would’ve helped Arburn if Arburn told him Robinson had asked him to take some things out of the flat.”

  “Wouldn’t he wonder what was in the trunk that was so heavy?”

  “Probably. That might be what happened. Freddie kept asking and when Arburn or whoever it was refused to answer, he got scared and ran. That would explain why the killer had to leave the trunk. He wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of hauling her body away unless he didn’t want her found.”

  “And if he didn’t want her found, he’d never just leave her where he left her, knowing she’d be found almost immediately.”

  “So I’m thinking your chances of finding Raven this early in the day are pretty good. He’s probably still sleeping, since the newsies are still on strike.”

  “How long can this strike go on?”

  “I don’t know, but I read in one of the other papers I picked up that newsboys in all the surrounding states are all refusing to sell the Journal and the World, too. Somebody has to give in soon.”

  “I’m thinking it’ll be the boys. They’ve got to be feeling the pinch after almost two weeks with no income.”

  They’d left the office door open to catch what breeze there was in the hallway, and a ragged young boy they’d never seen before stuck his head in and looked around, wide-eyed.

  “Can we help you, young man?” Frank asked.

  “Is one of you Mr. Malloy?”

  “I am.”

  “Kid Blink sent me. He said to tell you Two Toes’s funeral is this afternoon at two o’clock.”

  “Where?”

  The boy told him the name of the church and the street.

  “Thanks.” Frank flipped him a dime, and the boy stole away, grinning.

  “I’ll meet you there,” Gino said.

  “You want to go?” Frank asked in surprise.

  “Of course. There but for the grace of God.”

  And Gino was right, about both of them. They’d been lucky to grow up in families who were able to keep them. With just the slightest bad luck, they could have ended up living on the streets like Freddie.

  “All right. I’ll see you there.”

  * * *

  Sarah stared back at Penelope Longacre. “I haven’t done anything with Estelle, Miss Longacre. What are you talking about?”

  “Her body is missing.”

  Sarah glanced around the hallway, expecting a neighbor’s door to open so they could better hear this amazing conversation. “Wouldn’t you prefer to have this discussion inside?”

  Miss Longacre made a disgusted noise and stood aside so Sarah could enter. The entrance was a long hallway that led past two closed doors, most likely bedrooms, before opening into the parlor. The room looked out on the street below and was furnished with tired-looking pieces that might have been castoffs from Horace Longacre’s house. They probably were.

  When they reached the parlor, Miss Longacre turned to face Sarah again. “Someone has taken Estelle’s body from the undertaker.”

  “How could that happen?”

  “I have no idea. Horace is furious, of course. He hired someone to fetch her from that awful morgue and prepare her for burial. We weren’t going to have a funeral since the circumstances of her death were so sordid, just a private memorial service. But when I sent Norman down to the undertaker’s office to make the arrangements, he was told that someone else had claimed her body and taken it away.”

  “Didn’t they tell you who it was?” Sarah asked, although she had an excellent idea who it was.

  “They wouldn’t tell Norman a thing. It was all very mysterious. They insisted whoever took her claimed he was a family member and that we had changed our minds and wanted another undertaker to handle the burial.”

  “And you think I knew about this?”

  “Who else could it be? No one else even knew she was dead. We haven’t put an obituary in the newspapers, and thank heaven, the newspapers haven’t reported her murder either.”

  “I assure you we had nothing to do with it. My husband and I would never dream of interfering in such a matter. Besides, what would we want with Miss Longacre’s body?”

  Penelope had no reply to that, and Sarah could see that her anger was rapidly mellowing into confusion. “I . . . I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “It might be a mistake of some kind. Perhaps you should go yourself or send Mr. Longacre to straighten it out, if he’s able to go.” Of course she didn’t believe for a minute that it was a mistake. Obviously, Jack Robinson had made good on his threat to claim Estelle’s body, but if so, Sarah didn’t think it was her place to get in the middle. She’d ask Malloy to speak to Robinson and see if he wouldn’t make some sort of compromise.

  “Oh dear, you’re probably right. It must be some kind of mistake. I’ll speak to Horace and let him handle it. She’s his daughter, after all. There’s no reason for Norman and me to be involved anyway. We were only trying to help.”

  “I’m sure this is all very distressing to you. You could never have imagined Estelle would be murdered,” Sarah said. Sympathy was a good way to win a person’s confidence, and she needed Penelope’s confidences.

  “Absolutely not! Not in my wildest imaginings. Estelle was always a bit of a trial, and she had certainly behaved badly in recent days, but I’m sure she never did anything to deserve such a fate.”

  “No one does,” Sarah agreed. “Uh, perhaps we could sit down for a moment.”

  “Oh yes, I’m sorry. I’m quite distressed, but that’s no excuse for bad manners, is it? Please, sit down. May I offer you something? Tea or coffee?”

  “It’s much too warm for that, I’m afraid. Could I trouble you for some water, though?”

  “Of course.” Miss Longacre scurried off through the adjoining dining room to what must have been the kitchen and returned shortly with two glasses of water.

  “I’m feeling very guilty now, Miss Longacre,” Sarah said when she’d taken a long drink. “I came today to ask you for some information that might help us find out who killed her.”

  “You can’t believe I’d know anything about that! She was found in the Bowery, I understand, so you’d be better off asking her lover why she was there, but I know nothing about it and neither does Norman.”

  “Are you sure?” Sarah asked with as much puzzled innocence as she could muster. “Because Norman was the one who first took her to the Bowery.”

  Penelope looked genuinely shocked. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’ve learned that Estelle started going to the Bowery on tours. It seems people pay money to have a guide take them to dangerous neighborhoods in the city. It’s called slumming.”

  “That’s impossible,” Penelope said weakly. “Norman would never do anything like that.”
>
  “You told me yourself that Norman escorted Estelle when she went out. Apparently, one of the places he escorted her to was these tours.”

  “But surely they don’t take young ladies to places like that.”

  “I’m told that Estelle dressed as a man for the tours.”

  Penelope stared back at Sarah in horror. “That’s impossible.”

  “More than one person has told us this, and Norman himself confirmed it.”

  Penelope frowned. “I can’t believe Norman would do this voluntarily. He must have been coerced somehow.”

  Sarah thought this unlikely, but she simply sat there, staring back at Miss Longacre. After a long, uncomfortable moment, Sarah said, “Norman is very fortunate that you were willing to take him in. It must have been difficult for you as an unmarried woman.”

  Several emotions flickered across Penelope’s face too quickly for Sarah to identify them. “I was happy to do it.”

  “This seems like a very comfortable place to live. Does Norman live here with you?”

  “Yes. He looks after me,” she said with pride.

  “How nice for you. What is his profession?”

  It was an impertinent question, but Sarah gave no indication that she was aware of it. She merely smiled and waited. “Uh, he . . . Norman doesn’t need to work. Horace has provided for us.”

  “Oh, of course. I should have realized that. He’s very generous to allow you a place of your own. Most families keep their unmarried female relations at home and expect some sort of service in exchange for their keep.”

  Penelope shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Yes, well, after Father died, I wanted to be on my own. Horace and I never got along, so he agreed to give me an allowance.”

  “So you took Norman in after your father died?”

  “Yes, he . . . my father, that is, he would never have permitted me to take on such a responsibility.”

  “Did you know that Estelle was with child when she was killed?”

  Apparently, she had not. “Who told you such a thing?”

  “The coroner discovered it when he examined the body.”

  Miss Longacre needed a moment to absorb this information. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, the way she carried on.”

  “You mean with the gangster she met in the Bowery.”

  “Yes, her lover. So it’s no wonder she’d gotten herself into trouble.”

  “The way you did?” Sarah asked gently.

  This time the emotion on Penelope’s face was clearly alarm. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it’s obvious. You’d been forced to give Norman up, but when your father died, you convinced Horace to support you so you could claim your son again.”

  Penelope shook her head, but her terror gave her away. “No, you’re wrong. I don’t know where you’d get an idea like that.”

  “Don’t worry, I have no intention of telling anyone. In fact, I think it’s admirable that you found a way to keep him and raise him yourself. You must have loved him very much.”

  “I do love him. He’s the most important thing in the world to me.”

  “Of course he is. I understand you wanted him to marry Estelle.”

  Penelope made a visible effort to regain her composure. “Yes, I did.”

  “That seems odd, since they were really first cousins, even though no one knew it.”

  “You’re right, no one knew it but Horace and me, and it was the only way Norman could get his rightful legacy.”

  “And did your brother agree? About the marriage, I mean?”

  Anger flared in her eyes, but she drew a calming breath and tamped it down, as she had doubtless been trained to do. As all well-bred young ladies had been trained to do. “My brother takes great delight in thwarting me whenever he has the opportunity. And of course, it doesn’t matter now. With Estelle dead, she can’t marry anyone.”

  “No, she can’t, but the fact remains that she was with child, and whoever fathered that child might be the man who killed her.”

  “Then you should be looking in the Bowery, since that’s where she found her lover.”

  “Actually, she had two lovers in the Bowery, but neither of them fathered her child. She was already pregnant when she met them.”

  Penelope had no answer for this. She simply stared back at Sarah, lips pressed together in a bloodless line.

  “We were hoping you might have some idea of who else she might have been involved with.”

  “Me? How would I know such a thing?”

  “I thought perhaps she might have confided in you.”

  “Confided that she had taken a lover? Hardly! The fact is, I barely saw Estelle these past few years. She’d never confide in me.”

  “Perhaps she confided in Norman, then. Or . . . Do you think he might have . . . ?”

  “Absolutely not! I raised Norman to respect females, not take advantage of them!”

  “But if he wanted to marry her and her father wasn’t likely to consent . . .”

  “Nonsense! Norman is not a seducer.”

  Malloy, at least, agreed with that. Sarah had no opinion, having not yet met Norman. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, but I’m sure you’re as eager as we are to find Estelle’s killer.”

  “You won’t find him here, as I said before. In fact . . .” Penelope’s eyes narrowed in calculation. “If you want to know who fathered her child, ask Horace.”

  “Horace? Her father?”

  “Yes, her father. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you. Now I must ask you to leave, Mrs. Malloy. Your visit has been most upsetting, and I feel I must lie down.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll see if my husband can find out who took Estelle’s body, too.”

  “I’m sure Horace will appreciate that, and you needn’t bother informing me if you find out. Let Horace worry about the girl for once. Heaven knows, it will be his last chance.”

  * * *

  Gino thought nothing was sadder than the Bowery in the morning. All the detritus of the previous night’s revelries littered the streets, along with the bodies of those who had been too drunk to make it home in the wee hours of the morning. Alleys were the worst, since they collected the same litter but no one ever carried it away. Summer heat only increased the misery, as garbage and sewage festered, filling the air with noxious fumes.

  The alley where Raven Saggio had his nest was a perfect example. Trash had collected in piles, driven by the wind. Rats and stray dogs investigated the piles, not even looking up when Gino passed. He wondered if living here meant growing used to the smells and the filth. He couldn’t imagine it, but it must be true, or people couldn’t live here.

  The lean-to made of scraps of wood and metal held together by rusted nails, twine, and hope was exactly as Gino remembered it from their visit a few days ago, except Freddie Two Toes wasn’t waiting for him. Ordinarily when he was calling on a witness, Gino would pound on the door, hoping to waken his subject and catch him unawares, but Raven’s abode had no door, and Gino was afraid pounding on any part of it would bring the whole thing crashing down. He settled for calling out a greeting.

  “Raven! Are you in there?”

  Something started scrabbling around. It might’ve been a rat or a dog or a boy. Gino was ready for anything to come barreling out the curtained doorway, but he was going to try to catch it only if it was a boy. But Raven wasn’t barreling. He was pouting.

  “What do you want?” he asked, rubbing one eye with a grubby fist. He was fully clothed in a dirty shirt and trousers that hung raggedly short of his ankles, although his feet were bare. He probably saw no need of shoes in the summer in any case.

  “I wanted to ask you a few questions, Raven. There’s a dollar in it for you.”

  “Last time you gave me a fiv
er,” the boy reminded him.

  “Yes, but last time you found Two Toes for me. This is much easier.”

  “Yeah, but you woke me up.”

  “I’m sorry about that, but I wanted to catch you in.”

  “A dollar, you say?” he asked doubtfully.

  Gino remembered the five dollars they had paid him was probably his only income in the almost two weeks since the strike had started. It was also probably more than he would’ve earned selling papers during that time, but he’d also most likely squandered it by now. “Two dollars, if I like your answers.”

  “I can’t help if you like them or not.”

  “Well, then, if you answer all the questions. Do we have a deal?”

  “Two dollars for answering all your questions. All right.” He raised a foot and scratched the back of his other calf with his big toe.

  “Were you and Two Toes the ones who found the trunk with the dead woman inside?”

  Raven’s whole body stiffened, and he would’ve darted away except Gino was expecting him to run, so he caught him around the waist and lifted him off his feet. He started howling and fighting and kicking with his bare feet, but Gino pinned the boy tightly to him and said, “I’m not going to get you in trouble. Three dollars!”

  Raven instantly went limp.

  “So were you the ones who found her?” Gino asked again.

  “Yeah.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean how did you happen to find the trunk?”

  Raven thought about it for a long moment, and Gino wished he could’ve watched his face, which was hanging down and facing the ground, but he didn’t dare let go of him. Finally, he said, “Two Toes found it. He came and got me. He said he couldn’t carry it alone. I knew there was something wrong. He was acting real strange.”

  “What do you mean, strange?”

  “Nervous-like. Jittery. Couldn’t stand still. And when I saw the trunk, it was too nice for somebody to just leave it in an alley, so that wasn’t right. Then I saw the hair.”

  “What hair?”

  “There was some hair sticking out of one end of the trunk, where it got caught in the lid. Not a lot. Just a few strands, but it was long and curly. Anybody could see it was a lady’s hair. I was gonna run, but Two Toes, he opens the lid. It was a lady’s hair, all right, and the rest of her was inside the trunk.”