Murder in the Bowery

by Victoria Thompson

  “And what did Jack say when you told him how you helped him?”

  “Are you crazy? I never told him a thing. On Sunday night he ordered me to find Freddie because Estelle was missing and nobody’d seen her or Two Toes and maybe the boy knew something. I knew Two Toes would never come out of hiding if he heard I was looking for him, but I also knew Malloy was a private detective, because Jack had asked me to find out about the woman who wanted to buy a house in the neighborhood and turn it into a hospital. So I decided to hire you to find the boy.”

  “Didn’t you think it was strange that Robinson wanted to find Freddie? If he’d killed Estelle, I mean.”

  “No, I figured he was afraid the boy knew he’d done it and wanted to get rid of him, too. In fact, if you think about it, you only have Jack’s word that he didn’t kill her and the boy.”

  * * *

  Sarah watched from the cab as Malloy went into the Western Union office. He showed the clerk the telegram from Estelle’s room and the page in Malloy’s notebook where he’d copied down the information from Robinson’s telegram. After just a few minutes of conversation, Malloy reached into his pocket and rewarded the clerk with enough money to make him smile.

  This time Malloy gave the cab driver the address of his office.

  “I gather the clerk was helpful,” she said when they were on their way.

  “More than helpful. I was right, the telegrams have a code on them that tells which office they were sent from. The one Robinson got was sent from this office, which is the closest one to the Longacre house. It was sent at around four o’clock, which explains why she changed the time of the meeting. She probably wouldn’t have been able to get to the Bowery by five if she had to primp first.”

  “Just changing her clothes would’ve taken an hour, as you well know, Malloy.”

  “It goes much faster when I help,” he said with a grin.

  “Yes, but you never help me put them back on again.”

  He sighed, not wanting to concede her point. “Anyway, the telegram Estelle got was sent from an office that was nowhere near Jack’s house or the Bowery or even the Lower East Side.”

  “Which isn’t surprising, since he didn’t seem to know anything about it. Which office was it sent from?”

  Malloy gave her the address on Fifth Avenue.

  “You’ll never guess who lives near there,” she said.

  “I think I will. Is it Penelope Longacre?”

  * * *

  “Where could Gino have got to?” Malloy asked as he unlocked the office door. “I told him to stay here until he heard from me.”

  “He wouldn’t have left if it wasn’t important,” Sarah said.

  They stepped inside to find the windows still open to catch whatever air might be circulating outside, but no sign of Gino.

  “Oh good, he left a note.” Malloy picked it up off the desk and read it.

  “What does he say?”

  “He went to see Will Arburn. It seems a newsie came by to tell him Arburn was looking for Freddie the night he was killed.”

  “Is that important?”

  “I don’t know, but Gino thought it was.”

  “But we already knew Arburn wanted to find Freddie. That’s why he hired you in the first place.”

  “Yes, but let me think, when did we tell Arburn that we’d found the boy? I think it was the very day he was murdered.”

  “Did you tell Arburn anything that would’ve made him go after Freddie himself?”

  “Not that I know of, but now I’m wondering if we told him something that made it easier for him to find Freddie. We were careful not to mention Raven or give him any indication of where Freddie was hiding.”

  “But if you found him, Arburn probably could, too.”

  They heard the clatter of footsteps hurrying down the hallway, and Gino appeared in the doorway. He was flushed from the exertion or maybe from excitement. “You got my note?”

  “Yes. Did you find out anything interesting from Arburn?”

  “I found out something very interesting. In fact, he answered a lot of our questions.”

  “Why don’t we pull up some chairs and you can tell us all about it?” Sarah suggested.

  They gathered in Malloy’s office, where the chairs were a bit more comfortable. Malloy sat behind his desk and Gino and Sarah in front of it.

  Gino told them what Arburn had confessed about finding Estelle’s body and trying to dispose of it. “So that explains why somebody put Estelle in the trunk and tried to carry her body away. It also means her father could’ve followed her there and killed her, because we know he went out that night.”

  “Except he didn’t,” Sarah said. “We found out some interesting things, too.”

  Gino’s face fell, but he leaned forward anxiously. “What?”

  “We were right about Longacre abusing Estelle,” Malloy said gruffly.

  “Apparently, he’d stopped several years ago, but when he found out he was dying, he went crazy and attacked her,” Sarah said.

  “Dear heaven,” Gino murmured.

  “Yes,” Sarah continued. “This means Longacre must be the father of Estelle’s baby.”

  The horrible truth settled over them like a suffocating fog.

  “Let’s hope she never realized that, at least,” Malloy said, and Gino muttered his agreement.

  “But she did know her father had raped her,” Sarah said, “and that must have been why she suddenly decided to abandon all pretense of respectability and convinced Norman Tufts to take her to the Bowery.”

  “Longacre knew what she was doing, and that she’d taken a lover, but he couldn’t control her anymore,” Malloy said.

  “But didn’t the servants say he followed her that last night?” Gino asked.

  “No,” Sarah said. “They only said he went out. He actually tried to go to his club, but he fainted and had to be brought home again.”

  “So he couldn’t have killed her,” Malloy said.

  “Drat, I was sure he’d done it,” Gino said. “So who does that leave?”

  “I’m very glad you asked,” Malloy said. “Sarah and I have been arguing about it all the way back from the Longacres’ house.”

  “You see, we’ve discovered why Estelle went out to meet Robinson that night,” Sarah said.

  “She got a telegram,” Malloy said.

  Gino frowned, obviously confused. “I thought she sent Robinson a telegram.”

  “She did, but only after she got one she thought was from him telling her to meet him that night,” Sarah said.

  “Her message to Robinson was only to change the time of the meeting she thought he’d set up.”

  Gino was still frowning. “And you’re sure Robinson didn’t send it?”

  “He never said a word about it,” Malloy said. “Which made us think he didn’t know about it, and when we checked, we also discovered it was sent from a Western Union office that is suspiciously close to someone else’s home.”

  “Whose?” Gino asked with renewed interest.

  “Penelope Longacre.”

  “And Norman Tufts,” Sarah added.

  “You think her aunt sent her a telegram to send her down to the Bowery?” Gino asked, confused again.

  “Or Norman did,” Sarah said. “Or both of them together. We won’t know until we ask them, of course.”

  “And if they tell the truth,” Malloy added.

  Gino rubbed his forehead. “Let me get this straight. You think the aunt and the cousin sent Estelle down to the Bowery so they could kill her?”

  Sarah exchanged a glance with Malloy. “That’s where we disagree. I can’t imagine why they’d want to kill Estelle. Penelope wanted her to marry Norman, because she wanted Norman to get all of Longacre’s money when Estelle inherited it.”

&n
bsp; “But why would they need to trick her into going down to the Bowery unless they wanted to do her harm? I think Penelope wanted Estelle out of the way so she could inherit Longacre’s money,” Malloy said.

  “But there’s no telling what Longacre has put in his will,” Sarah said. “Maybe it all goes to charity if Estelle dies before he does.”

  “I should’ve asked him that when I was there today,” Malloy said.

  “So what are you going to do now?” Gino asked.

  “Visit Penelope and Norman,” Sarah said.

  “Which is something else we’re arguing about,” Malloy said. “I think it’s too dangerous to take Sarah. I came back here to get you and send her home.”

  “But it’s only dangerous if they’re killers, and even if they are, why would they kill us?” Sarah said. “They’re certainly not going to inherit any money from us.”

  “She’s right,” Gino said. “And they aren’t likely to murder you in their own apartment, in any case.”

  “Gino is right,” Sarah said triumphantly. “What would they do with our bodies?”

  “Do you realize how crazy that sounds?” Malloy asked with a disgruntled frown.

  “Of course I do. I’m only sorry my mother isn’t here to hear it.”

  That made Gino laugh, which drew another disgruntled frown from Malloy, which silenced Gino instantly.

  “And there’s still the question of Freddie’s murder,” Malloy said. “Why would Norman and Penelope have killed the boy?”

  Gino cleared his throat. “Arburn had a theory about that.”

  “That’s impressive,” Malloy said without admiration.

  “It was interesting, at least. He pointed out that we only have Robinson’s word that he was out of town that day. He could’ve killed Estelle, even by accident, and run away in panic, leaving Arburn to find her body and dispose of it. When Robinson came back later to deal with it, he saw somebody else had taken Estelle away, so he just pretended that was the first time he’d been to the flat that night.”

  “And I suppose Arburn also thinks Robinson killed the boy,” Malloy said.

  “Or had him killed. Freddie obviously saw something or he wouldn’t have been hiding, and Robinson couldn’t take a chance on what he’d seen. Robinson didn’t know the real reason Freddie ran away because Arburn wasn’t going to admit what he’d done.”

  “So do you think we should go back to Mr. Robinson and ask him if he’s been lying to us all along?” Sarah asked innocently.

  Both men glared at her, but she only smiled back.

  “Ah, so you both agree that we should see Penelope and Norman next,” she continued. “And I should go along because Penelope is far more likely to confide in a female.”

  “Unless she’s a killer,” Malloy said. “In which case, she’s not going to confide in anyone.”

  “Do you really think someone like Penelope Longacre would take herself down to the Bowery in order to strangle her niece to death?” Sarah scoffed.

  “I thought we agreed the killer might not have intended to kill her,” Gino said.

  “Which means that Penelope Longacre would have tricked her niece into going to the Bowery just so she could meet her there to . . . what? Chat?”

  “All right, so Penelope probably didn’t do it or at least didn’t do it alone,” Malloy said. “But she might’ve put Norman up to it or goaded him into it.”

  “Assuming she really wanted Estelle to die, because why else would she have gone to all that trouble?” Sarah said. “I’m quite interested in hearing her feelings on the subject.”

  “Which you will be able to do when we call on her,” Malloy said in surrender.

  “What about me?” Gino asked.

  “Stay here so we know where to find you,” Malloy said.

  “Unless the killer shows up,” Sarah said. “In which case, run.”

  * * *

  “Gino has been talking about getting an apartment like this,” Malloy said as they entered the building where Miss Longacre and Norman lived. They’d stopped on the way to have a quick lunch, so it was now the appropriate time for a social call.

  “Wouldn’t his mother have something to say about that?” Sarah asked.

  “I’m sure she would, and it would be expensive for him, too.”

  “You pay him pretty well.”

  “Yes, but he should be saving his money.”

  “Why do you think he’s interested in having his own place?”

  Malloy raised his eyebrows at her.

  “Maeve is too young to get married,” Sarah said.

  “How old is she?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I don’t think she does either, but she’s still too young.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention that to Gino.”

  “May I help you?” the man behind the desk asked. “Mrs. Malloy, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and this is my husband. We’d like to see Miss Longacre if she’s at home.”

  “And Mr. Tufts, too,” Malloy added.

  “Mr. Tufts is out, I’m afraid,” the clerk said. “Please have a seat.”

  “See, nothing to worry about,” Sarah said when they’d taken a seat in the lounge area. “If Miss Longacre attacks, I’m sure between the two of us we can fend her off.”

  “It’s not funny. You’ve put yourself in danger before. You can’t blame me for being careful.”

  Sarah patted his hand. “I know, and I love you for it. I’m sorry to be such a tease.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Malloy?” the clerk called. “Miss Longacre would be happy to receive you. You may go right up.”

  They made the trip up in the elevator, and the operator let them out on the proper floor. Malloy looked around approvingly. “We should have brought Gino so he could see the place.”

  “And Maeve so she could approve it,” Sarah added with a grin.

  Miss Longacre opened the door at their knock. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said, not entirely sincere but looking more welcoming than she had the first time Sarah had visited. Maybe bringing Malloy along had been a wise decision.

  “We’re sorry to bother you again, but we have a few more questions for you,” Sarah said.

  “Of course,” Miss Longacre said, leading them down the hall to the parlor. “I’m anxious to hear what progress you’ve made in solving Estelle’s murder.”

  Sarah didn’t dare glance at Malloy for fear her expression might give them away.

  Miss Longacre invited them to have a seat. “I asked the restaurant downstairs to send up some lemonade. You must be parched.”

  “It is warm outside,” Sarah agreed.

  “This is a very pleasant apartment, Miss Longacre,” Malloy said. “Do you like living here?”

  “I find it economical, Mr. Malloy, but it’s not at all what I’m used to. I always had a lady’s maid when I lived in my father’s house, and servants at my beck and call. Here, a girl comes in to clean twice a week, and they send our meals up to us. For the rest, we fend for ourselves, I’m afraid.”

  Sarah didn’t mention that many maiden aunts would consider themselves blessed to have such comfortable accommodations. Miss Longacre probably wouldn’t appreciate it. “We were hoping to see Mr. Tufts as well. I was looking forward to meeting him.”

  “Norman had some business to attend to. You said you had some questions.” Was she uneasy or simply ill at ease? Sarah couldn’t tell, but she was definitely tense. “And if you’ve been talking to Horace, I expect you do have questions.”

  14

  “As a matter of fact,” Frank said, watching Miss Longacre’s face closely, “your brother asked me to deliver a message to you.”

  She stiffened, as if bracing herself. “How odd.”

  “I thought so, and I didn’t understand it, but he said you would. He said t
o tell you that you are too late if you wanted to ruin him.”

  She laughed mirthlessly. “Of course he would think only of himself until the very end. His reputation was the only thing he ever really cared about.”

  “Do you have the power to ruin him, Miss Longacre?” Sarah asked. She sounded so sincere and sympathetic, Frank could believe she actually cared.

  Miss Longacre drew her lips back in the parody of a smile. “Every family has secrets, Mrs. Malloy. Ours are probably no worse than anyone else’s.”

  “You mean Norman’s birth, I guess,” Sarah said. “But how would your child ruin your brother’s reputation?”

  “You said you had some questions for me about Estelle’s death,” Miss Longacre said firmly. She obviously knew how to change a subject she didn’t want to discuss. Did all well-bred ladies study this technique? Frank wondered.

  “Yes, we do,” Sarah said, answering both his and Miss Longacre’s questions at once. “Although this is a bit sensitive, I’ll admit. You see, we have learned that you knew Estelle was with child. Marie told you long before Estelle died.”

  “Not long before,” she said, obviously annoyed. “Only days before. Perhaps a week at most.”

  They could check that, of course, Frank thought.

  “But you gave me the impression you hadn’t known at all,” Sarah said.

  “What does it matter? The poor girl is dead.”

  “And you also insisted you had no idea who the father might be, which makes me wonder if you were less than truthful about that as well,” Sarah continued relentlessly.

  “I do not appreciate being called a liar, Mrs. Malloy,” Miss Longacre said in outrage.

  “And yet you did lie to me.”

  Sarah was such a joy to watch. Her polite interrogation was more effective than the third degree would ever be.

  Miss Longacre drew a calming breath. “I merely saw no need to air our family’s dirty linen to a stranger.”

  “So you do know that Horace Longacre fathered Estelle’s child.”

  The blood drained from Miss Longacre’s face. “How dare you!”

  “I apologize, Miss Longacre. I know this must be painful for you, but we’re only trying to find out who killed Estelle.”