Tell Me Pretty Maiden

by Rhys Bowen

  “You’re hired for the job, Daniel,” I started to say when there was another loud knock at my front door. This time it was Dr. Birnbaum, who came in waving a letter.

  “We’ve had our first reply to my second advertisement,” he said. “It looks promising, I think.”

  He handed me the letter.

  I started to read.

  Dear Sirs:

  We saw your advertisement regarding a young woman called Annie who might be missing from home. One of our dancers, Annie Parker, failed to turn up at the theater last week and we have had no communication with her since. Her fellow dancers suspect she may have run off with a young man.

  H. Goldman

  Goldman’s Theater

  New Haven, CT

  “New Haven, Daniel,” I shouted in glee. “She’s the girl who ran off with Halsted! I told you I suspected it, didn’t I?”

  “Let’s go upstairs and see if we can jog her memory,” Daniel said, already heading for the staircase.

  Birnbaum held up a warning hand. “This must be done cautiously and correctly. Do you realize that your bursting in and confronting her with her past might push her over the edge into permanent insanity?”

  “Very well, Doctor,” Daniel said, turning back to me. “We’ll let you handle it.”

  Dr. Birnbaum nodded gravely. “I should like to work more with her today, but I regret that I am expected at a hospital. I just stopped by to give you the news.”

  “Thank you for coming, Doctor,” I said.

  He gave a curt little bow in reply. “Before we take that next step it might be wise to know that we indeed have the girl from New Haven here, and it is not just a coincidence that the girl’s name is Annie. I suggest you ask the theater owner for a picture of his missing Annie before we attempt any communication with our young woman.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “I’ll write him a note.”

  “And I must take my leave.” Dr. Birnbaum headed for the front door.

  “I was planning to go up to New Haven myself today,” Daniel said. “I’ll take the letter, if I may, and talk with the theater manager. Do you have time to come with me, Molly?”

  I was going through a whole range of emotions. Relief that we might have found out who our Annie really was mingled with less noble feelings of indignation that Daniel seemed to be taking over my case, and suggesting I come along as his assistant.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Let me see. I have to be at the theater by five. I wanted a chance to speak with Blanche Lovejoy before that, and I suppose I should visit the Mendelbaums to let them know what I’ve discovered.”

  “The Mendelbaums can wait,” Daniel said airily. “This is the crucial moment in this case. You said you wanted to learn pointers from me about how a detective handles things and one of the rules is to always follow up on the vital clues yourself. I don’t mind going to New Haven alone, but . . .”

  He left the rest of the sentence hanging. I was now absurdly out of sorts. In fact I almost considered saying that I had changed my mind and nobody was going to New Haven. It was only the knowledge that Annie was lying upstairs that brought me back to reality and logic. Nothing mattered except getting that girl safely back to where she belonged.

  “You’re right,” I said. “The Mendelbaums can wait. It’s not as if the wedding is to take place tomorrow. But I do want to speak with Blanche so I have to be at the theater early. After what happened last night I want to double-check everything before the curtain goes up. And maybe persuade the stage manager to station men at all viewpoints backstage. We’ve got to stop this nonsense.”

  “And if it turns out to be a ghost?” Daniel grinned.

  “Then I’ll call in the exorcist from the church, and leave them to it,” I said.

  “You’d give up the chance to be a star?” Daniel was still teasing and, I suspect, a trifle annoyed that I was currently doing something so frowned upon by polite society.

  “If you knew how terrifying it is to go onstage in front of hundreds of people,” I said. “All right, Daniel. I suppose I can fit all this into one day if we leave right away. Can you stay on, dear Mrs. Tucker?”

  “I suppose I could,” she said grudgingly. “You certainly can’t leave that precious lamb alone.”

  “Then run upstairs and get your hat and coat, Molly. We’ve a train to catch,” Daniel said.

  TWENTY-NINE

  You seem out of sorts today,” Daniel commented as the train pulled out of Grand Central. “I’d have thought you’d be excited. Case with Mr. Roth concluded and now we’re about to ascertain the true identity of our mystery girl.”

  “I suppose I’m tired,” I said. “It’s no picnic being up until all hours at the theater and then trying to lead a normal life.” I couldn’t tell him the real reason for my displeasure was that he was acting like a typical male—trying to give the orders in what was my case and my detective agency. I know it sounds petty but I couldn’t help feeling that if I didn’t draw the line now, it would never be drawn.

  “That’s quite understandable,” he said. “And of course that near accident at the theater last night must have played on your nerves.”

  “You wouldn’t have said to a male detective that something dramatic must have played on his nerves. You’d never have told a superior officer to go upstairs and put on his hat and coat.”

  Daniel looked at me and laughed. “You’re being silly.”

  “No, I’m struggling with the fact that you don’t take me or my detective agency seriously. It’s my case and you’re helping me, and yet you’re the one who asks the questions and acts as if you are in charge.”

  “Only because most men wouldn’t feel comfortable answering questions from a woman.”

  “And you told me to go and put on my hat and coat, as if I was five years old.”

  “Because we’re in a hurry. If I’d been at police headquarters I’d have said the same to a fellow officer, only not in such polite phraseology. And if you want me to forget that you are a woman, stop being so damned sensitive.”

  “Hmmph.” I turned away and glared out of the window. The sight of my reflection, a picture of righteous indignation, made me smile. “You’re right,” I said. “It’s just because it’s you, Daniel, and because I’m thinking things through for the long term. I want to make sure I’m seen as an equal partner. I don’t want to be trodden on.”

  “Oh, I don’t think anybody would manage to tread on you,” Daniel said. “At least not without getting their ankles bitten.” He stood up. “Let’s see if there is a dining car on the train and we can have a cup of coffee and a bite to eat. I left without breakfast and I suspect you did, too.”

  Thus fortified, we arrived in better humor in New Haven. It was a gray, cold, blustery day and I held my scarf around my face as we battled the wind up Crown Street to the theater. The box office was open and we were taken through to the office of the theater manager, a Mr. Tweedie.

  “So you’ve managed to find our Annie, have you?” he asked. “That is good news. She was our star dancer, you know. We miss her sorely. There—that’s a picture of her on that playbill.”

  He pointed at the wall and a big poster affixed to it.

  Come in to the Garden, Maude was apparently the name of the show. There were various photos of pretty girls with parasols and, in the center, a group photograph of several girls peeping around giant fans.

  “There. In the center photograph,” he said. “The one in the middle.”

  He was pointing to a pretty fair girl with wide eyes like a china doll and hair in golden ringlets.

  “The one in the middle?” I said as disappointment washed over me. “That’s not her.”

  “Oh dear. What a pity,” Mr. Tweedie said. “I was so hopeful when I read your letter. We’d dearly like her back, you know. She was the most talented dancer we’ve had in years and quite a looker, too. The young men used to positively fight over her. That’s why we suspected that she ran off with one of them
. These girls do it all the time, you know. Think they are being promised home, respectability, security, when in fact the young man has no such intentions. All he wants is a good time. When he’s done with them, they often wind up in the gutter. In fact there was another girl who—”

  I turned away from the poster. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Tweedie,” I said, cutting off his rambles. I was so disappointed that I was ready to leave, but fortunately, Daniel asked, “Tell me, Mr. Tweedie, is a man named John Jacob Halsted known to you?”

  “Halsted? Why, of course we’ve all heard of him. That’s the young fellow from Yale who robbed the bank and then shot the Silvertons’ butler in cold blood, isn’t it?”

  “Did you know him before that? Did he come to your theater?”

  “I understand from the girls that he was one of the young men who hung around the stage door,” the manager said. “But the young gentlemen from Yale do so in droves, every night. I can’t say I would recognize his face if I saw it.”

  “He drove a smart red motor car,” I said. “The latest model.”

  Tweedie nodded. “Yes, I did see a vehicle like that in the alleyway behind the theater from time to time.”

  “On the day that Annie disappeared?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I can’t remember,” he said.

  We came away subdued and silent.

  “I was so excited. I was sure our girl was Annie,” I said at last. “It would have been so wonderful.”

  “Not for Annie,” Daniel said. “Because something terrible would have happened to her between leaving the theater and being found in Central Park.”

  I nodded.

  “Do you think it’s possible that Annie and Halsted might have cooked this up together and that they are now somewhere sufficiently far away, enjoying the spoils?”

  Daniel frowned. “I suppose it’s possible,” he said. “In any case, I’m afraid you’re right again and we’re back to square one with the girl. I think you may have saddled yourself with an enormous burden here, Molly. I told you at the time that I thought you were being unwise.”

  “Dr. Birnbaum and Mrs. Tucker will cure her between them, I know they will,” I said. “She smiled at Mrs. Tucker today. That’s a huge breakthrough, isn’t it?”

  “It doesn’t sound like it to me, but if you think so . . .”

  “I do.” I glanced up at him. “It means she’s coming to trust us and regard us as her friends. I bet one day she’ll suddenly start talking again.”

  “And like most women, she probably won’t shut up,” Daniel said, then dodged as I went to hit him with my handbag.

  The return journey seemed to take forever. The weather deteriorated and the heavens opened, peppering the carriage windows with cold rain.

  “I was thinking that I should leave the train at the station closest to the automobile wreck,” Daniel said. “I can question them as to whether Halsted was seen there. And then I should check with the steamship companies to see if anyone matching Halsted’s description bought tickets for two to South America.”

  “Why South America particularly?” I asked.

  “Because it’s where people go if they are running from the law. There are certain countries where foreigners are welcome and no questions are asked.”

  “I see.” I stared out at the bleak, desolate landscape and said a silent prayer that Halsted and Annie were indeed enjoying their ill-gotten gains in South America and not lying somewhere in those marshes.

  Daniel got off the train, leaving me to cross the bridge into Manhattan alone. I arrived home to be met at the front door by an excited Mrs. Tucker.

  “Good news, Miss Murphy!”

  “She’s speaking again?”

  “No, but you’ve had a letter. Her family has been found.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful news,” I said. “Where’s the letter?”

  “On the kitchen table. That German doctor brought it round. It must have come in the second delivery.”

  I was already rushing ahead of her down the hall to the kitchen. It was on cheap lined paper, the kind that comes out of a child’s school copy book.

  Dear Sir or Madam:

  My heart was full of joy when a friend show me your notice in the newspaper. You see, I believe from your description this girl is my betrothed, Anya Bartok. She was expected to arrive from Hungary on a steamship last week. I went to meet the ship but I never found her. She is a simple girl. She comes from my small village and speaks no English.

  If you would be kind enough to meet me tomorrow morning at eleven, under the clock at Grand Central Terminus, you can conduct me to her and I will be able to take her home.

  Mr. Laslo Baka

  “That’s it,” I said excitedly. “Why she couldn’t understand us! She only speaks Hungarian. Nobody spoke Hungarian to her! I’m so happy, Mrs. Tucker. She’s going to be going to people who can take care of her.”

  “Hmmph,” Mrs. Tucker said. “I’d like to get a good look at him myself, before I let her go with him. Why didn’t she meet him at the boat? That’s what I’d like to know. And what if he was the one she ran away from?”

  I hadn’t considered this.

  “We’ll take a good look at him tomorrow,” I said. “We won’t let her go if we don’t like the look of him.”

  THIRTY

  I could hardly get through the rest of the day, I was so excited. Whatever terrible thing had happened to her, our girl Annie now had a good chance of recovery among those who loved her.

  I went off to the theater earlier than usual, determined to get somewhere at last with this baffling case I was pursuing. There was a crowd around the theater, even at that time in the afternoon. A big sign across the glass doors read SOLD OUT and men were waving tickets. “Five dollars,” one was shouting. “Five dollars for a front row seat. See the ghost up close.” People started fighting to get their money out and pay him. It seemed that a lot of people were dying to see our elusive phantom.

  “People are fighting for tickets out there, Henry,” I said as I arrived, rather battered and windswept at the stage door, having run the gauntlet of reporters as well as ticket hunters.

  “Oh yes. Everyone wants to see the ghost for themselves,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve had fending off newspaper reporters all day.”

  “Henry,” I said, “you see everyone who goes in and out. Has anyone suspicious or unsavory showed up, wanting to talk to one of the stagehands, maybe?”

  Henry frowned. “I’d have sent him packing if he did. They can leave messages with me, but I’m not going to leave my post to fetch anyone from the stage.”

  “I see.” This wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I left him and made my way upstairs. I found Martha alone in Blanche’s dressing room.

  “The mistress hasn’t arrived yet,” she said, scowling at me in her normal unfriendly fashion. “Gone to her doctor to get more tonic for her nerves, poor thing.”

  “As a matter of fact, it’s you I wanted to talk to,” I said, “because I’m sure you know Miss Lovejoy better than anybody. I want to know whether she might have any enemies outside of the theater.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Martha asked sharply.

  “I mean that the falling pillar almost killed her yesterday. I was wondering if somebody could have paid off a stagehand to give it a push at the right moment, somebody who had a reason for wanting Blanche out of the way.”

  Martha’s old face stared at me, puzzled. “Who would ever want to do that? Everyone loves her. She’s the most beloved actress in New York. Always has been.”

  “Another actress maybe? One who is jealous of her? Or a jilted lover?”

  “The only jilted lover is that Barker fellow, and he never gives up. She won’t have him, you know. She’s holding out for something better.”

  I came out of the dressing room with all kinds of crazy thoughts in my head. What if Robert Barker’s devotion had turned to hate? He was a small man and sm
all men often have an exaggerated sense of pride. He was also the director, with the power to hire or fire anyone in the theater. He could have enlisted the help of anyone to do his dirty work. Maybe he had bribed a couple of stagehands to be in it together, each the alibi for the other. But how would I ever prove it?

  I walked slowly along the passageway, wondering if I would dare to confront him. He might have been a small man, but he was probably stronger than me and not hampered by tight and impractical women’s clothing. No, I’d have to be more subtle than that.

  And then there was Desmond Haynes, whom I hadn’t seen at all yesterday. Was it just that the choreographer’s work was done as soon as the show opened, or was he lying low so that he could be the ghost and create an accident? Again, I had no good reason for his wanting to kill or harm Miss Lovejoy, just tidbits of hearsay and gossip. I wished I knew more about the theater, which taverns theater folk gathered in, for example. I’d have to go back to Ryan and see if I could enlist him as my spy in places where gossip might be overheard.

  I came around the corner and bumped into Miss Lovejoy herself.

  “Molly, what are you doing here so early?” she asked.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, you hired me to get to the bottom of the ghost story,” I said. “I thought I’d take a peek around backstage for myself before the show opens today, just to make sure there are no contraptions rigged up to harm you.”

  “Contraptions?” She shook her head. “You mean deliberately rigged to fall on me?”

  “It’s possible,” I said.

  She was still shaking her head in bewilderment. “I can’t believe that anyone would want to harm me. Who would want to do that? Everyone here is so grateful that I’ve given them a chance to be in one of my hit shows.”

  “What about your friend Mr. Barker? Is it possible that he has grown tired of waiting for you?”

  “Bobby?” She gave a merry peel of laughter. “Bobby will be faithful to me until his death, I assure you. And as for rigging up contraptions—he is the most meek and mild little fellow. He once turned a horrible shade of green when he found a mouse caught in a trap.”