“Yeah, that’s right,” Frank agreed, wishing he would be that lucky. Unfortunately, he was afraid Sarah Brandt’s intense interest in him would continue as long as he was investigating Alicia VanDamm’s murder. And as for Mrs. Brandt and her theories, he would have bet a year’s salary that she’d have one, and an equal amount that it wouldn’t do him any good. So far, this case had been one blind alley after another, all thanks to Sarah Brandt and her useless information.
He was still debating the advisability of meeting with Mrs. Brandt again—could he be civil to her if he did? And would it be a complete waste of his time?—when one of the officers from downstairs came into the room. Frank hardly noticed until he realized the man was coming right up to him.
“Malloy?”
Frank nodded curtly.
“Got a message.” The fellow looked sort of smug, knowing the effect this message would have. “Superintendent Conlin wants to see you in his office right away.”
Once again a murmur went through the room as the other detectives reacted to the summons. This couldn’t be good news. Conlin didn’t interfere with individual detectives. In fact, he didn’t concern himself with their work at all, letting Chief of Detectives Steers have a free hand with them, so this wasn’t any kind of routine consultation. This was something serious and probably dangerous, too. Dangerous for Frank, that is. If he did or said the wrong thing, he could forget about making Captain. He could even forget about working for the police department anymore.
And why was he so sure that Sarah Brandt’s interference was somehow to blame for this summons?
Chief Conlin’s office was on the second floor, with all the other important offices. Roosevelt himself kept one here, complete with his girl secretary, the only female ever to work in such a capacity in the history of the New York City Police. Frank hoped Sarah Brandt didn’t find out about the girl secretary. Next thing he knew, she’d be Roosevelt’s right-hand man. Or woman.
Conlin kept a male secretary, as was proper, and the fellow showed him into the inner sanctum immediately. Frank wasn’t sure if he should be apprehensive or not, so he settled for wary. The office was comfortably furnished, but nothing like Sylvester Mattingly’s. Conlin sat behind his desk in a large chair. He was a man of middle years, of medium height and slight build with light blue eyes and a sallow complexion. He might have been considered nondescript, except for the power he wielded in his new position.
“Sit down... Mallory, is it?”
“Malloy,” Frank corrected him. He took the offered chair. It wasn’t as comfortable as the one in Mattingly’s office, either.
“I understand you’re working on the murder of Miss Alicia VanDamm,” Conlin said, leaning back and stroking his mustache thoughtfully.
“That’s right.” Frank waited, not a bit surprised. This was the only case he had that might have caused anyone concern.
“An ugly business. A young girl like that, cut down in her prime.” He shook his head sadly, his face expressing his profound distress as such an event.
Frank was impressed. He’d heard that the new superintendent had been trained in public speaking by his brother who was an actor, and Conlin certainly exhibited the grace and style of a professional actor. Those skills would stand him in good stead in his current position, but Frank wasn’t fooled by this phony concern for Alicia VanDamm. Conlin would only be concerned with how the investigation of her case affected one person: himself.
Frank nodded once, to let him know he agreed so far. Every instinct was rebelling, however, warning him something bad was going to happen. Something really bad. Wariness gave way to dread.
“Do you know the VanDamm family?”
“I’ve met them. During the investigation.”
The chief frowned, looking down at the polished surface of his desktop as if weighing his words carefully. Just the way an actor would play a man of power. “Then perhaps you can understand their concerns, which are different from what many people would consider standard in this situation.”
“I’d guess their main concern would be finding out who killed their daughter,” Frank tried.
“Most people would,” the chief agreed, folding his hands on his desk and leaning forward to give Frank the impression he was confiding in him. “Most people want revenge, Malloy. They call it justice, but revenge is what they really want. It won’t bring their loved one back, but it gives them some measure of comfort.”
Frank knew this was true, but he also knew the superintendent hadn’t yet made his point, although he was becoming more certain by the moment he knew what that point would be. He continued to wait, anger forming an acidic ball in his stomach.
“The VanDamms aren’t like most people, however. They are much more intelligent than most people, and they understand that revenge won’t bring their daughter back. They also know that bringing her killer to justice might compound the damage that has already been done by blackening their daughter’s good name and reputation.”
Not to mention their own, Frank thought, but of course he didn’t say it aloud. He’d never make Captain by talking back to the superintendent. In fact, he’d be back to pounding a beat, if he wasn’t careful.
“Because the VanDamms might well have to endure even more distress if you continue your investigation, Malloy, I’m taking you off this case. I think your chances of actually finding the killer are very slim, and since even doing so wouldn’t accomplish anything constructive, there’s no point in proceeding.”
“It would get a killer off the streets,” Frank couldn’t resist pointing out. The hot ball of anger had become molten fury, and he had to close his hands into fists to keep from slapping them down on the superintendent’s shiny desk in frustration.
“Hundreds of killers walk our streets every day, Malloy. We can’t catch them all. And we won’t be trying to catch this one.” Steer’s voice was hard, leaving no room for negotiation. “Do you understand?”
Frank understood completely. Someone important didn’t want the case solved, and because of Sarah Brandt’s note, he understood even more than the superintendent. “I already have some feelers out. What if I accidentally find the killer?”
The chief’s gaze was razor sharp when it met Frank’s. “You won’t.”
IT WAS THE hottest day of the year so far, and Frank’s mood was just as hot as he made his way through Greenwich Village. He didn’t even think of knocking when he reached the front door of the office. He simply pushed it open and marched in. Still furious, he needed a second to realize that Mrs. Brandt was not alone. Another woman was sitting with her, an elderly lady.
Was she a patient? No, the two of them appeared to be only talking, thank God, and they both looked up in surprise.
“Well, now, looks like somebody put his hat on backward this morning,” the old woman said with some amusement.
“Mr. Malloy,” Mrs. Brandt said in that cultured voice of hers, as if he hadn’t just made a complete fool of himself. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
The old woman was looking him over as if judging his suitability for being there. “You look like you’ve been rushing, sir,” she observed wryly. “A man your size should be more careful in this heat. You could bring on apoplexy.”
If he hadn’t been so furious, he might have simply fled. Ordinarily, he didn’t relish being a source of amusement for elderly females, but he needed to speak to Sarah Brandt, and at this point, he was even willing to apologize, if that was what it took.
“I didn’t know you had company,” he managed to say in a fairly civil tone. “I’ll wait outside.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” the old woman said, rising from her chair. “You must have something very important to talk to Sarah about. I’ll just be on my way, Mr....” She let her voice trail off expectantly.
“Mrs. Elsworth, this is Detective Sergeant Malloy of the New York City Police,” Mrs. Brandt said, rising to her feet as well. “Mr. Malloy, this is my neighbor, Mrs. Elsworth.”
&n
bsp; The old lady was still looking him over very carefully, obviously feeling he needed to pass inspection before she’d leave him alone with Sarah Brandt.
“I dropped a knife this morning,” she said, as if that should mean something. When no one responded, she continued, “That’s how I knew I’d be getting a visitor soon. Although I guess you’re really Sarah’s visitor, aren’t you? So perhaps I’d best be on my way. So nice to have made your acquaintance, Detective Sergeant.”
Frank didn’t return the compliment, although he did hold the door open for her, if only to hurry her on her way. No one spoke until the old woman was gone.
“Mr. Malloy,” Mrs. Brandt said again, but this time she wasn’t surprised. This time she was eager, if only to learn why Frank had come barging into her office. “What is it? Have you found out something?”
“You could say that, but I doubt it’s what you think.”
Now she was intrigued. “Please, sit down,” she said, offering him the chair in which the old woman had been sitting a moment ago.
Frank didn’t much like the idea of sitting in a chair reserved for her patients, and he didn’t feel much like sitting anyway. He wouldn’t be here that long anyway.
“They’ve taken me off the case,” he announced baldly.
“What? Who did it? The VanDamms? Surely, they don’t have the authority—”
“It was probably them behind it, but the order came from the Superintendent. Directly. I’m not to do any more investigation. The VanDamms don’t care who killed their daughter, and they don’t want her memory tarnished by me finding him.”
“That’s preposterous!”
Her outrage made him realize that he’d sought her out as much to share his own fury as to inform her of the circumstances that had caused it. “I thought so, but my opinion didn’t count for much.” Frank wanted to pace, but space in the small office was at a premium. He could only manage a few steps in any direction before encountering something too substantial to push out of the way.
“But surely... I mean... Oh, dear...” she stammered, bringing Frank up short. For the first time he really looked at her. She seemed stricken.
“What is it?”
“I... I learned something about Alicia and... and Sylvester Mattingly. Did you get my note?”
“Yeah, I got it. In fact, I’m pretty sure Mattingly is why I was taken off the case. I went to see him yesterday, at his office.”
“Yesterday? That was even before I knew about him and Alicia. Why did you... ? Oh, to ask him about Hamilton Fisher,” she recalled. “Why, he might have hired Fisher to find Alicia for himself and not for the family at all! What did he say when you questioned him?”
“Nothing. He’s a lawyer. They don’t tell the police anything, as a general rule, and especially not if it would hurt them. Who told you about this marriage business? Any chance it isn’t true?”
“I told you, it was a rumor, but my ... my mother told me about it. She didn’t really believe it, but everyone had heard it. Everyone in her social circle, that is,” she clarified when he frowned at her.
Things were starting to fall into place. “All right, this is what happened: The girl found out her father was going to marry her off to an old geezer—somebody she hated, according to Harvey the groom, who knew her pretty well—so she runs away and hides, hoping her father will change his mind. No wonder Mattingly didn’t tell me anything. Not many men would want a story like that going around.”
“Maybe it’s even worse than that,” she said, surprising him.
“What could be worse?”
“Have you forgotten Alicia was with child? Who was the father of that child?”
Frank hadn’t forgotten. Well, maybe just for a second. “Probably the groom, Harvey. It has to be. Nobody else ever got near her.”
“What about her fiancé?”
“Mattingly?” Frank was incredulous. “Why would he...?”
“To force her to marry him,” she said. “It wouldn’t be the first time a reluctant woman has been persuaded to marry a man she wouldn’t otherwise choose. He ruins her and makes her believe no other man will ever have her. And if she conceives a child, she has no choice but to accept him.”
“But she did conceive a child,” Malloy said, forgetting in the heat of the moment to be embarrassed by the subject. “And her family knew it. If that’s what happened, why didn’t she marry Mattingly?”
“Perhaps she kept it a secret until it was too late. By the time she ran away, she was too far along to pretend the child was conceived in wedlock, so her family had sent her to the country until after it was born. They could dispose of the child and still marry her to Mattingly. She’d be even more compliant, knowing the price she’d already paid.”
“That’s crazy,” Frank protested. “Why would they be that eager for her to marry that old son of a...” He caught himself just in time, although he doubted Sarah Brandt would be too shocked to hear him swear.
“I suspect it’s some kind of a debt. A debt of honor, perhaps, that would be even more binding than a financial debt. Or it might even be some type of blackmail. If Mattingly handles Mr. VanDamm’s business affairs, he would know things that might better be kept secret. Powerful men have been using their daughters to settle business arrangements for centuries, Mr. Malloy.”
Frank pushed his hat back on his head and took a few more paces, wishing he had some room to really walk. He needed to walk to figure this out. None of it was making any sense, at least to him.
“But it’s useless to think about it now,” she said after a moment.
He looked up in surprise, pausing in mid-stride. “Why?”
She looked just as surprised. “Because you’ve been taken off the case. I guess this means that no one else will be investigating it, either.”
“No one in the department,” he said, watching her closely to see if she would get the implication.
Another woman would have looked away, but Sarah Brandt met his gaze steadily, her blue-gray eyes dark with questions. She did not disappoint him. “Who else would be investigating it, then?”
“Maybe somebody who has a personal interest in finding Alicia VanDamm’s killer. Somebody who wants to see justice done and who maybe wants a little revenge, too. Somebody who knew her when she was a kid.”
Her eyes grew wide with surprise. “I’m not a detective!”
Frank couldn’t hide his disgust. “You’ve been working as hard on this case as I have,” he reminded her. “Finding out a lot of information, too.” He was amazed to realize that admitting this caused him no discomfort at all.
And she wasn’t as difficult to convince as he had thought. In fact, she seemed pleased. “Do you really think... ? I mean, what could I do?”
That was the question, of course. Frank scratched his head, then settled his hat more firmly. “You could keep asking questions, just like you have been. You could go back to the VanDamms and find out what they’re saying. Tell them how distressed you are that the police aren’t looking for Alicia’s killer anymore. You could even go to some of the abortionists and see if they’ll tell you anything they wouldn’t tell me.”
She was staring at him now. Not merely listening intently to what he was saying but openly staring, as if she’d suddenly noticed something about him she’d never seen before. Somehow resisting the urge to make sure he was all buttoned up properly, he glared at her. “What’s the matter?”
She smiled like a cat with its head in the cream pitcher, setting Frank’s teeth on edge. “I just realized that you must want to see Alicia’s murder solved as much as I do.”
“Is that so hard to believe?” Frank hated the tone of defensiveness he heard in his own voice.
“I already told you, I know how the police work, Mr. Malloy. They aren’t interested in solving crimes unless there’s something in it for them. I’m not accusing you of anything,” she said quickly, when he would have protested. “I’m just stating a fact. I even understand it. Police
officers aren’t paid very handsomely, so naturally, ambitious men will always be eager to improve their lot. Didn’t you say something about making Captain?”
What did she know about it? Frank wished he could afford the luxury of simple ambition. His motivations for gaining advancement were far more ordinary. She didn’t need to know that, though.
“That’s right,” he said. “I want to be a captain, and I’m improving my chances by not investigating this case anymore.”
“Yet you still want to see it solved. May I ask you why?”
Frank didn’t have to tell her a thing, he knew, but if he didn’t, she might not want to do what he was asking. And he very much wanted her to, although he didn’t allow himself to consider his real motives too closely. “Probably for the same reason you do, Mrs. Brandt. As far as I can tell, Alicia VanDamm was a nice girl who deserved a chance in life. She never got that chance, and I want to find out why. I’d also like to see the person who killed her get punished, especially if it’s any of the people I’ve met so far.”
His answer seemed to please her. “I’d like to see them all punished,” she admitted. “I think when we find her killer, we’ll discover that more than one person was involved in her death, even if it was just because their selfishness put her in danger in the first place. But suppose I do find out who killed her or at least find some information that would help. What good will it do if the police won’t arrest the killer?”
“I’ve been thinking about this, and I guess there’s only one thing you can do. You can take your story to Commissioner Roosevelt.”
“Roosevelt? Why?”
“Because he’s determined to clean up the department. He’d love a scandal like this, and he’d love forcing the superintendent to investigate the murder of a poor, innocent girl, especially if he didn’t want to. The press would love it, too.”
“The newspapers?” Plainly, this did not please her. “Why would we have to involve them?”
“Because Roosevelt loves publicity. Why do you think he travels around the city at night with a newspaper reporter?” he asked, referring to Roosevelt’s habit of prowling in the darkness accompanied by Jacob Riis, checking to make sure policemen were at their posts. “Not only is he trying to find cops neglecting their duty, he wants to have his own personal reporter with him to put the story in the paper. Alicia’s story would rouse public opinion like nothing else he’s done so far, so the police couldn’t ignore Roosevelt, even if they wanted to. They’d have to take some action, and Roosevelt would look like some kind of champion.”
Murder on Astor Place Page 16