Murder on Washington Square

by Victoria Thompson

  “That’s exactly what I thought, too. And the Walcotts must have known. They may even have encouraged it. But that doesn’t make any sense. The Walcotts claimed they take in boarders because they need the money, but according to Irene, Anna didn’t even pay any rent.”

  “She didn’t have to. Nelson and Giddings paid it for her,” Malloy reminded her.

  “Oh, yes, I’d forgotten! That’s why she could live there for free, because someone else paid her way.”

  “And if she was an actress, that explains why she was so good at tricking men into doing what she wanted,” Malloy pointed out.

  “I remember when I met Anna, I had the feeling something wasn’t right. Nelson was trying to reassure her, but she kept insisting on misinterpreting everything he said. It was like she was trying to make the situation worse than it really was.”

  “More melodramatic?” Malloy offered.

  “Yes, that’s it exactly!” Sarah exclaimed. “She was acting in her own private play.”

  “I guess the last act didn’t end the way she’d planned, though.”

  Sarah remembered Anna the way she’d looked that evening Nelson had introduced them. The woman had pretended to be fragile and helpless, but even then Sarah had sensed a confidence and strength behind the facade. Anna Blake was a woman who knew what she wanted and was willing to do whatever she had to in order to get it. Only one thing still bothered her.

  “I just don’t understand why she went out that night. No woman who valued her safety would go into the Square alone at that hour of the night.”

  “Harold Giddings must have arranged to meet her later,” Malloy suggested. “Maybe he threatened her in some way or maybe she thought she could charm him into something if she got him alone. I’ll find out everything when I question him.”

  Sarah frowned. “You’re going to give him the third degree, aren’t you?”

  Malloy’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “I do what I have to do, Mrs. Brandt, but only what I have to do.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant. Beating people doesn’t give me any pleasure.”

  “I didn’t think it did,” Sarah tried, sorry she had offended him. She was never sure exactly what would do it, either, which made it difficult for her to avoid.

  “Besides,” he said with what might have been a small grin, “it’s hard work. Fortunately, Harold Giddings doesn’t look like he’ll need much convincing to tell everything he knows.”

  “For his sake, I hope he doesn’t.”

  Malloy drained his cup and set it back on the table decisively. “Now we’ve got to go next door and tell Nelson about the missing money.”

  A sick feeling of dread settled into her stomach. “Can’t it wait until morning?” she tried.

  “I want to go to the bank first thing in the morning and catch this Mr. Dennis before he has a chance to change his mind about pressing charges against Nelson.”

  “What are you going to say to him?”

  Malloy gave her a disapproving look. “Stop trying to change the subject, Mrs. Brandt. Get your jacket. We’re going next door.”

  Frank stuck his hands in his pockets, grumbling about the cold, as he made his way through the brisk morning air to the bank where Nelson Ellsworth had worked. Summer was well and truly over.

  He supposed he should have humored Sarah Brandt last night and delayed their visit to the Ellsworths. Neither of them had taken the news of the missing money well, and Frank would have been happy to have waited until morning to witness that scene.

  Nelson had been stunned, just the way you’d expect an innocent man to act. Then he’d started ranting about procedures at the bank not being followed when he wasn’t there to watch over things. Frank hadn’t understood half of it, but he had no trouble at all understanding that Nelson hadn’t been involved in the missing money. He was too outraged to be guilty.

  Mrs. Ellsworth had been horrified and terribly frightened by the news. While she hadn’t for a moment believed her son had taken anything from the bank, she also knew how bad things would look for him. He would make an easy scapegoat, and he had no way to defend himself. A man under suspicion of murder would have difficulty claiming the high moral ground when it came to mere embezzlement.

  Frank was glad he’d insisted Sarah Brandt go along with him. He’d been thinking more of her needing to do some penance for her interference, but when Mrs. Ellsworth started weeping, he’d been pathetically grateful to have her step in to offer comfort. Nothing unnerved him more than a woman’s tears.

  One good thing had come out of the debacle, however. He would now have no trouble at all keeping Sarah Brandt out of the investigation. She’d learned her lesson. From now on she’d be content to look after Webster Prescott and trying to save his miserable life while Frank closed out the case and cleared Nelson’s name.

  This trip to the bank was just one more aspect of the quest. He only hoped it wouldn’t take too much time. He still had to track down Harold Giddings, and he also had to at least pretend he was working on his own cases now and then.

  The bank was like so many others in the city. Gleaming pillars supported the granite facade outside. Inside, the gilded ceiling rose up like a cathedral over marble counters topped by teller cages, mediocre statuary, and more pillars. People moved quietly, speaking in hushed tones, as if this were really a house of worship. Maybe it was, Frank, reflected, considering how some people felt about money.

  The guard approached Frank almost the instant he entered. “May I help you?” he asked in a voice that was less than friendly. Apparently, he didn’t think Frank met the standards of their usual clientele. Or else he recognized him as a policeman and wanted to get him out as quickly as possible.

  “I want to see Mr. Dennis,” he informed the guard. “I’m from the police.”

  The guard’s eyes narrowed. He was taking his job very seriously. “Is this about Ellsworth?” he asked in a whisper.

  Frank gave him a glare that told him he had no intention of discussing his business with anyone less than the boss. The guard’s attitude changed instantly.

  “I’ll . . . Wait here just a minute,” he advised and hurried off to whisper something urgent to one of the men sitting behind desks at the rear of the lobby.

  This fellow came forward, and a few more minutes of negotiation were required to convince him he’d be well advised to announce Frank to Mr. Dennis without further delay if he wanted to avoid trouble. In a few short moments, he was ushered into a lavish office and presented to Richard Dennis.

  Dennis was exactly what Frank had imagined. A man in his prime, Dennis wore his tailored clothes with ease and confidence. Generations of wealth and privilege had produced in him the polish those with newly earned fortunes tried in vain to emulate. Just as it had in Sarah Brandt. Dennis was, in short, everything Frank could never hope to be: the perfect match for her. He didn’t bother to analyze the emotions this knowledge stirred in him. He didn’t even have a right to experience them.

  Dennis’s expression told Frank he didn’t appreciate being interrupted but that he would tolerate it because he chose to. For his part, Frank would do well to show his respect and appreciation for the favor. All this communication, and Dennis had yet to utter a word.

  Frank broke the silence between them as soon as the door was closed behind him. “I need to talk to you about Nelson Ellsworth.”

  Dennis sighed with long-suffering. “As I explained to the other detective who called, the bank isn’t responsible for Mr. Ellsworth’s conduct outside of the bank, and we have no knowledge of his acquaintance with this murdered woman. We have forbidden him to return to work until the matter is settled. I’m not sure what else you can expect me to contribute.”

  He hadn’t asked Frank to sit down, but he did anyway, settling into one of the comfortable chairs in front of Dennis’s desk. Dennis favored him with a disapproving frown, which Frank ignored. “I expect you to tell me why you haven’t
filed charges of embezzlement against Ellsworth,” he said.

  Dennis’s haughty manner faltered a bit, but he regained his composure quickly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do. Ellsworth learned last night that he is under suspicion of having embezzled ten thousand dollars from the bank. He claims that he’s innocent, and he believes he is only being accused of this crime because the dead woman was attempting to blackmail him.”

  “No one has accused him of anything,” Dennis hastily assured Frank. “Where on earth did he . . . ? Oh, Sarah,” he said, answering his own question.

  The casual use of her given name sent a surge of anger through Frank, but he said, “Who’s Sarah?” with credible calmness.

  Dennis was nothing if not a gentleman. “She’s a lady of my acquaintance,” he said, belatedly discreet. “She also happens to be a friend of Ellsworth’s. I suppose I should have asked her not to inform Ellsworth until . . . Well, it doesn’t matter. I have no intention of exposing the bank’s private business to public scrutiny, which means I have nothing further to say to you. So if you’ll excuse me . . .” He began shuffling some papers on his desk, silently dismissing Frank.

  But Frank wasn’t ready to be dismissed. “Let me understand this, Mr. Dennis,” he said, managing to sound somewhat respectful. “You told this lady that Ellsworth stole ten thousand dollars from the bank, but you aren’t going to take any legal action against him? How are you going to explain the missing money if you don’t?”

  Dennis didn’t like being questioned, especially when he didn’t have a ready answer. “That’s really none of your business,” he tried.

  “You’re wrong there,” Frank said. “If Ellsworth stole money to pay off Anna Blake, then that gives him a good reason to kill her, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea,” Dennis said, his patience growing strained.

  “But on the other hand,” Frank said, as if he were just considering possibilities, “if he’d paid her off with that much money, he really wouldn’t have to kill her, would he?”

  “I’m glad to say I know very little about blackmail and murder.” Dennis was angry now and not bothering to hide it.

  “Well, I do, and I’ll tell you something, Mr. Dennis. If Ellsworth stole your money, then he’s probably not a killer, because Anna Blake would’ve been very happy with ten thousand dollars. And if he didn’t steal the money, he might’ve killed Anna Blake because he couldn’t pay her blackmail. Either way, I need to investigate your problems here at the bank so I can be sure. Maybe I should talk to this Sarah, too.”

  “No!” Dennis was horrified at the thought of someone like Frank speaking to Sarah Brandt. “She knows nothing about what happened here at the bank. I refuse to involve her in this.”

  “I guess Ellsworth will know how to get in touch with her,” Frank said, issuing the one threat he knew would win Dennis’s cooperation. He made as if to rise from his chair.

  “Wait!” Dennis cried, his dignity forgotten. He’d do whatever he must to keep Frank from bothering Mrs. Brandt. “The private business of the bank is confidential, but I’ll try to answer your questions if I can. No one else needs to be involved. Please, sit down.”

  Frank settled back into his chair again, managing not to look smug. “I have to find out if Ellsworth killed that woman, Mr. Dennis. If he did, I can arrest him and move on to a new case. If he didn’t, though, I need to figure out who did. The question I have is, why aren’t you trying to find out if he stole that money?”

  “Because I’m certain that Ellsworth did,” Dennis insisted.

  “Then why not try to get it back? Anna Blake is dead. If he gave it to her, she’s not going to put up much of a fight about keeping it, is she?”

  “I . . . I hadn’t thought of that,” Dennis claimed. His face was mottled from the stress of trying to stay one step ahead of Frank.

  “And if Ellsworth didn’t steal it, that means the thief still works for you. Are you going to give him a chance to do it again?”

  Dennis rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a headache. Frank knew he should feel guilty for causing the man so many problems, but he didn’t. He told himself he was just trying to save Nelson Ellsworth’s reputation and position, but he knew that was only a small part of it. The larger part of it was proving to himself that Dennis wasn’t worthy of Sarah Brandt. He didn’t ask himself why that was necessary. Or how he would convey that information to Mrs. Brandt if he did manage to prove it. He only knew he was compelled to do it and that he enjoyed doing so.

  Finally, Dennis looked up, his expression determinedly reasonable. “See here, Mr. . . . I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  That’s because he hadn’t been interested in learning it, but Frank simply said, “Malloy.”

  “Mr. Malloy, no one wants to put their money in a bank if they know funds have been embezzled. While ten thousand dollars is a lot of money, it is nothing compared to what we will lose if our depositors choose to withdraw all their funds.”

  Frank nodded sagely, encouraging Dennis to continue.

  “I have independent means. I will cover the losses myself and make certain this doesn’t happen again.”

  “By making sure Ellsworth never works here again?” Frank guessed. “Even if he’s not the thief?”

  Dennis gave him a pitying look. “After the scandal he’s caused, I could never take him back in any case.”

  Frank felt another surge of anger and almost reminded Dennis that he’d promised Sarah Brandt to give Nelson his job back if he wasn’t arrested for the murder. He caught himself just in time. “So you’ll blame him for the embezzlement, even if he’s innocent of it?”

  “What difference could it make?” Dennis asked, growing more confident. “He’ll probably be executed for murder in any case.”

  “And what if I told you that isn’t going to happen?”

  Dennis stared at him in confusion. “But he’s guilty. The newspapers all agree.”

  “He hasn’t even been arrested yet,” Frank reminded him. “If there was any reason to think he’s guilty, he’d be in The Tombs by now,” he added, referring to the city jail.

  Dennis started at him for a long moment while he considered the situation. Frank could almost see him examining and discarding each of his options, one by one. Finally, left with no good choices, he managed a thin smile. “We each of us have a job to do, Mr. Malloy. I know I can count on your discretion, now that you know how important it is to me that the bank not suffer any more from Mr. Ellsworth’s indiscretions. I will be extremely grateful if you will keep the information about the missing funds confidential. If you are able to do that, I assure you I will express my gratitude in tangible form. In very tangible form.”

  Frank felt a shock of surprise. He hadn’t seen this coming, but he should have. His opinion of Dennis had been very low even before setting eyes on him. Why he should be shocked that the man had offered him a bribe, he had no idea. “And when can I feel free to return and collect your . . . gratitude?” Frank asked.

  “When the matter of Mr. Ellsworth’s guilt or innocence of murder has been determined,” he replied, his confidence restored now that he’d obtained Frank’s complicity. Or thought he had.

  “Then I suppose I’ll be seeing you again, Mr. Dennis,” Frank said, rising to his feet. He didn’t have to feign a feeling of satisfaction. He was truly pleased with the results of this interview.

  “Indeed,” Dennis replied. “I shall look forward to it.”

  Frank saw himself out, and he was smiling grimly as he walked through the front door of the bank into the morning sunlight. He wouldn’t have to say very much at all about Dennis to Sarah Brandt except that he’d offered Frank a bribe to keep quiet about the missing money and not interfere with him dismissing Nelson. He might make time to stop by her house this morning just to mention it. He’d only gone a few steps, however, when he heard someone calling his name. He turned
to see Nelson Ellsworth hurrying across the street to intercept him.

  “Mr. Malloy, I’m so glad I caught you!” he exclaimed breathlessly. He looked much better than he had last night, or any night since Anna Blake had died, in fact. He’d shaved and dressed, as if for work, and his eyes were alive in a way they hadn’t been in over a week.

  “What are you doing out here?” Frank exclaimed, looking around in case some enterprising reporter was hanging around. “I told you not to leave the house.”

  “There weren’t any reporters, so no one saw me,” he said. “I had to see you, and I knew you’d be at the bank this morning. I thought of something last night, after you left.”

  “Then let’s find a less public place to discuss it,” Frank suggested, still looking around to make sure they hadn’t been seen. He didn’t want anyone from the bank to spot them, either, and report to Dennis that Ellsworth had been waiting for Frank outside. He’d think they’d set the whole thing up just to extort a bribe out of him.

  Frank led him away, and they walked two blocks until he saw a hansom cab and flagged it down. When the two men had stuffed themselves inside, Frank gave the driver the Ellsworths’ address. As the cab started off with a lurch, he finally turned to Nelson.

  “All right, what is it?” he asked.

  “Last night, after you left, I couldn’t sleep,” Nelson said. “At first I was just upset. I never stole a penny from the bank. You must believe me!”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Frank reminded him. “But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you took the money.”

  This seemed to be a relief to Nelson, and he sighed audibly. “Well,” he said somewhat hoarsely, “that means a great deal to me, Mr. Malloy.”

  “No, it doesn’t mean anything at all unless I can find out who really killed Anna Blake, so if you’ve got any information—”

  “That’s just it, I remembered something important last night.”