Bless the Bride

by Rhys Bowen

  “I’ve had men on the lookout for her today,” he said.

  “Any luck?” I asked cautiously.

  “One false lead. We heard of a Chinese girl hiding out at one of those settlement houses. But this one turned out to have escaped from a brothel, and the settlement workers said that she’s dying of consumption.” He paused and looked at me quizzically. “I wonder how much money I’d have paid for you?”

  “Sight unseen, from Ireland?” I asked. “About a couple of chickens and a sack of potatoes, I should think.”

  He slipped his arms around my waist. “At least two sacks of potatoes,” he murmured and kissed me.

  Twenty-five

  I was relieved when Daniel finally left the party. He actually started enjoying himself and stayed longer than I would have thought. But in the end he looked up at the clock on the mantel and sighed. “I suppose I had better get back to work,” he said. “There may be important developments tonight.”

  “A big case, is it?” Monty asked. “A murder?”

  “Only coincidentally,” Daniel said. “But yes, it’s a big case, and I’ll be mighty glad when it’s over. Like Molly and her runaway girl, I find it distasteful.”

  “Runaway girl?” Monty asked.

  Daniel chuckled. “My fiancée gets herself involved in all kinds of queer situations. This time it was tracking down a runaway bride. So if your bride decides to run off before the wedding, just hire Molly. She’ll track her down for you.”

  “Runaway bride?” Monty said. “Wait a second—you don’t mean the Chinese girl, do you? Now I remember. Sarah told me about her but I didn’t put two and two together. Ah, so that’s it.” His eyes strayed toward the stairs. Any minute now he would put two and two together.

  “Hadn’t you better go?” I pulled on Daniel’s arm.

  “Trying to get rid of me, are you?” Daniel smiled. “But you’re right. I do have to go. Where are our hostesses? I should say good-bye.”

  I didn’t start breathing again normally until Daniel was out in the street, and I stood at the front door.

  “I’ll be in touch when I can,” he said. “I hope to have the other case I’m working on sewn up in the next few days. You’ll be going back to my mother tomorrow, will you?”

  “I should help Sid and Gus clear up first,” I said. “And I still need to do some shopping for my trousseau—if you’d like your bride to start off married life with new undergarments.”

  He looked at me quizzically. “You two have to learn to get along some time,” he said. “I thought this would be a good opportunity to do so.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll go back later this week, and I’ve been trying really hard, Daniel. You’d have been proud of me. When your mother extolled the virtues of every other girl in the county, I bit my tongue and smiled sweetly.”

  “I’d like to have seen that.” He reached out and stroked my cheek. “Behave yourself now. I don’t want to find you turning up at any more crime scenes, understand?”

  “Yes, Daniel,” I said meekly.

  He laughed, but as he turned to go, I called after him, “Did you locate the murder weapon yet?”

  He turned back to me. “Murder weapon? He was pushed off the roof. Do you want a handprint in the middle of his back?”

  “Remember I mentioned the wound to one side of his head? He was struck with some object. If it didn’t kill him, at least it knocked him out enough to drag him to the edge of the roof. Isn’t it possible that the assailant left the weapon somewhere in Lee’s apartment?”

  Daniel shook his head, smiling. “Why is it that you and I never have the same conversations as other couples about to be married—about the flowers for the church and the number of guests and the honeymoon?”

  “If you’d rather discuss flowers and bridesmaids’ dresses, I’m happy to do so,” I said sweetly.

  “Your problem is that you have become too damned good at this detective stuff,” he said. “I’ll have one of my men take a quiet look for the murder weapon. Now for heaven’s sake go back and enjoy your party and stop thinking about this. And that’s an order.”

  “Yes, sweetheart,” I said in my most simpering voice.

  He laughed and hurried off into the night.

  I heaved a big sigh as I went back inside. The party continued into the wee hours of the morning. Sid and Gus’s friends certainly kept late hours, still laughing and drinking with no apparent signs of tiredness as my own eyes kept wanting to close. When at last I dragged myself upstairs I peeked into Bo Kei’s room. She was asleep, looking like a peaceful child, her dark hair spilling across the pillow. How could anyone possibly suspect that she could have killed Lee Sing Tai? And if she had dragged his body to the edge of the roof, wouldn’t there have been signs of a heavy object being dragged? Spatters of blood on the tar? I wished I could take another look. I had been allowed only the most cursory of examinations last time. But I thought it was unlikely that I’d be able to slip past a police guard without word getting back to Daniel.

  My gaze went back to Bo Kei. How long could I go on hiding her? But where could I possibly send her where she would be safe? What if I was charged with harboring a fugitive from the law? Did one go to jail for such things? What would that do to my husband’s career? As usual I had let my heart dictate to my head. I would have to learn to start thinking rationally.

  “What on earth am I going to do with you?” I whispered to the sleeping girl.

  * * *

  In the morning Bo Kei begged me to find out what was happening to Frederick. However, I could hardly slip out and leave Sid and Gus to the mountains of washing-up. Bo Kei joined in cheerfully and we soon had the house back in order.

  “Now you go and save Frederick,” she insisted as soon as the last dish was put on the dresser.

  I looked at her indignant and innocent young face. She could be forceful when she wanted to be. And the irreverent thought crossed my mind that if they had planned anything together, she would have been the driving force, not him.

  “I don’t really know what I can do, Bo Kei,” I said. “I can’t very well show up at the police station and demand that they free him.”

  “You tell them he is innocent. You make them believe.”

  “How can I do that unless I can show them who really committed the crime?”

  “You tell them Bobby Lee did this terrible thing.”

  “I don’t know that for sure,” I said. “I have suggested to Captain Sullivan that they investigate Bobby Lee, so I’m sure he’ll do that. Until then, it’s a matter for the police so we must just wait patiently.”

  “I can’t wait patiently,” she said. “We must help Frederick.”

  “You can’t do anything. You have to stay hidden. You were almost discovered last night when one of the guests saw you.”

  “I know,” she said. “But there was no chamber pot in my room, so I had to go down to water closet. This man, he looked as scared as I felt. He stared at me, then he ran down the stairs.”

  “Really?” This was an interesting interpretation of events.

  “I shall stay hidden,” she said. “But you must help us. Find out if Frederick is still in jail. He need good lawyer to help him. Not Chinese lawyer, American man. Make police listen.”

  That made a lot of sense, although it was unlikely that Frederick could afford to pay for a good lawyer. “I can try to do that much for you,” I agreed.

  I put on my straw hat and out I went, traveling reluctantly back to Elizabeth Street and just praying that I didn’t run into Daniel. I was trying to think if I knew any attorneys. One had been retained for Daniel once when he had been wrongly arrested and thrown into the Tombs. But he hadn’t managed to have Daniel released and Daniel was a well-respected person. How much more difficult would it be for a Chinese man? I wondered if they had lawyers within their community. If only I had someone to ask—then, of course, I realized that I did know somebody. Mrs. Chiu would be able to help me.

  Yester
day’s storm had passed, leaving steaming puddles in the gutters. The sun was beating down from a bright blue sky and the day promised to be a scorcher. Jefferson Market and then Washington Square seemed unnaturally quiet and empty and it took me a moment to realize that it was Labor Day. Other people would be taking picnics to Central Park or heading for the thrills of the new Luna Park on Coney Island. Nobody except for policemen and people like me would choose to stay in the heat of the city. I thought wistfully for a moment about Westchester County. Daniel’s mother would surely have a picnic or a croquet game arranged for us. And there would be ice cream and polite conversation. All so safe and civilized. At this moment it did seem infinitely preferable to the distasteful task ahead of me.

  I stood outside the Sixth Precinct police station on Elizabeth Street and collected myself before I dared to enter. I wasn’t doing anything wrong or stupid, I told myself. I was just finding out whether Frederick was still in jail or had been found innocent and released. Any normal citizen could do the same.

  I went in through the glass-fronted door and up to the counter. The same young policeman was on duty.

  “I remember you,” he said. “You were here the other day asking about something, then you ran off before I could come back with an answer for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I had to leave in a hurry the other day. I was late for an appointment. Today I just came to find out whether a man called Frederick Lee was being held in one of the jail cells and whether he has actually been charged with the murder of the Chinaman Lee Sing Tai.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” the young constable said. “He wasn’t brought here, I can tell you. But I heard all about the dead Chinaman. Our men had to guard the body. They said he fell off a rooftop—looked pretty gruesome. Said it turned their stomachs.”

  “Who would know about Frederick Lee?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s Captain Kear who’s in charge here,” he said. “I think he’s in his office. I’ll go get him for you.”

  I started to say, “No, that’s all right,” but I was too late. He moved swiftly and I heard the captain’s name echoing down a tiled hallway. Almost immediately the captain himself appeared, in braces and rolled-up shirt sleeves, and looked surprised to see me.

  “Miss Murphy. What can I do for you?”

  “I came to inquire about Frederick Lee,” I said. “I wondered if you had officially arrested him and whether he’s being held in jail?”

  A big smile crossed Kear’s face. “So Sullivan is sending you to do his dirty work now, is he? Pretends he’s not trying to step on my toes and get involved in my case, so he sends his sweetie to soften me up instead.”

  “Absolutely not,” I said angrily. “Captain Sullivan has no idea that I have come to you. It’s just that I met Frederick Lee a couple of times and I found him a thoroughly nice and decent young man. So I just wanted to find out if he was being treated fairly and whether a lawyer had been engaged to represent him.”

  “It’s actually none of your business,” he said, “but if it satisfies you, Frederick Lee is being held in the Tombs until we determine his role in the murder of Lee Sing Tai.”

  “Has he engaged the services of a lawyer?”

  “I wouldn’t know that.”

  “So you’ve dumped him in jail without anyone to advise him.” I could feel my hackles rising. “What evidence do you have against him?”

  “Motive,” he said. “Dismissed from his job the day before. Got too friendly with the master’s new bride.”

  “And did anyone see him entering or leaving the Lee residence that night?”

  “Of course not. I thought we’d already established that he came across from the next roof.”

  “Then why did none of his footprints show up there?”

  “Who says they didn’t? He’s half European, isn’t it? What’s to stop him from wearing those hobnailed boots to throw us off the scent?”

  “Have you found whether he owns such a pair of boots?”

  He looked at me scornfully. “He’d have ditched them, wouldn’t he?”

  “So you actually have no evidence against him,” I insisted. “He’s in jail because he seems like a good candidate whose arrest would satisfy everyone.”

  “We’re waiting until the bride shows up,” Kear said. “She can’t have gotten too far. We’ll find her, and then when we have them together, we’ll get to the truth.”

  “And if the murderer was someone else?” I asked. “What about Bobby Lee? Shouldn’t you be looking into him and his relationship with his father?”

  “And shouldn’t you be leaving a criminal case to the police?” he said. “If I lodge an official complaint to the commissioner that Sullivan is sending his ladylove to stick his nose into my case, I don’t think the commissioner would be very pleased, do you?”

  I gave him my coldest stare. “I thought I made it clear to you that Captain Sullivan has nothing to do with this. He would be furious if he knew I had come here.”

  “Then what’s your interest, girlie?” he asked. “Is it just morbid curiosity or are you still involved in this case in some way? Perhaps you know more than you’re telling me. Perhaps you actually know who pushed old Lee off the roof.”

  “Perhaps I just believe in justice,” I said. “But you’re right. The case has nothing to do with me. I won’t bother you again.”

  Twenty-six

  I walked very fast down the rest of the Elizabeth Street, my mind brimming with things that I would have liked to say to the smarmy Captain Kear. No wonder Daniel didn’t like him and didn’t trust him. I was relieved that I had managed to keep my temper. And of course the moment I was safely away from the police station I had regrets about ever going there in first place. It hadn’t been the wisest thing to do. What if Captain Kear really did complain to the commissioner about Daniel? It wasn’t that long ago since Daniel himself had been suspended and in disgrace. I shouldn’t have done anything to further jeopardize his career.

  More disturbing thoughts went through my head as I walked faster and faster toward Mott Street. I had been told that the Sixth Precinct officers accepted bribes from the Chinese community. What if Bobby Lee, or whoever the real killer was, was paying Captain Kear enough money to pin this crime on someone who couldn’t defend himself, like Frederick?

  If I went to the Tombs, would they let me see Frederick, I wondered. Almost certainly not, and such an act would be bound to get back to Daniel. The only way I could make Daniel take over this investigation was if I could prove Frederick’s innocence or find out who really pushed Lee Sing Tai off that roof. And I really had no idea how to do that. But the one thing I could do was to see if I could rally the decent members of the Chinese community to help Frederick. Surely the Chius might know of a lawyer who would take his case?

  I felt a growing sense of unease as I entered Mott Street even though the scene was livelier than usual today, with men sitting on stoops, standing outside restaurants drinking tea, or shopping at the stores that were all open in spite of the Labor Day holiday. Again I couldn’t see any women among the crowd until I heard a voice blaring from a megaphone and Chuck Connors came into the street with another of his slumming tour groups. Like the one I had seen before, this one was composed of more women than men and their eyes were wide with anticipation as they followed their leader into the forbidden world of Chinatown.

  “I am going to show you a scene of such vile depravity that some of you ladies may need to find your smelling salts before we enter,” he was saying as he led them to the fake opium den. I have to admit that my curiosity was piqued. What did an opium den actually look like? As they disappeared into a doorway and down a flight of stairs, I acted on impulse and followed the last members of the tour. They were a young couple, the girl clutching her sweetheart’s arm desperately.

  “Do you really think we should do this?” she whimpered. “What if someone tries to kidnap me? What if we breathe the opium fumes and we’re overco
me or robbed?”

  “I’m here to protect you, Daisy,” he said, looking down at her with concern.

  “Will we not be putting ourselves in danger?” a woman at the front of the pack asked.

  “Don’t worry, madam,” Connors replied in a low voice. “Those poor wretches we’re going to see won’t even notice we’re here. They are under the power of the drug.”

  Our footsteps echoed down the narrow stairwell. At the bottom we came into a dimly lit area. Smoke swirled around one hissing lamp, so it was hard to see what lay beyond, but I could make out wooden platforms around the walls. Figures lay on them, some smoking from long pipes, others lying in a stupor. At intervals around the room braziers glowed. Although I knew it was not a true opium den, I felt a rush of fear. The air was cloying with scented smoke and suddenly I felt that I couldn’t breathe. I turned and tiptoed back up the stairs as Connors’s voice said in a hushed stage whisper, “They are all in the land of their dreams. For the moment they are happy. They have escaped from their troubles. But the moment the drug wears off, they will have to repeat the process. Once smoked, the drug takes over their lives. They will never escape from it, never be free.”

  I came out into the fresh air and stood catching my breath, ashamed of my momentary panic. It wasn’t like me to be so easily frightened, especially when I knew that the scene had been staged for the benefit of the tourists and the moment they departed the actors would go back to their normal lives. But there was something about the place—some undercurrent of danger that I had picked up. I put it out of my mind and went straight to the Chius’ residence.

  In response to my knock the door was opened by a tall young man. He was so like Frederick Lee in appearance that I gasped out, “Frederick?”

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked, and I realized that the similarity was in the Eurasian features and this boy was younger and skinnier.

  “You must be Mrs. Chiu’s son who is attending Princeton,” I said. “My name is Murphy. I wondered if I might speak to your parents?”