It Had to Be You

by Delynn Royer

  All that was what she expected to see as she followed her landlady into her cozy kitchen. What she hadn’t expected to see—in fact, had lost all hope of finding this day—was Danny O’Roarke. He was perched at Mrs. L’s kitchen table, wearing a milk moustache and snacking from a plate of ginger snap cookies.

  * * *

  The intermittent rain from earlier left the pavements slick as the evening temperatures in the city dipped below freezing. Sean had to watch his step as he walked to the nearest call box on Grove Street. He’d enlisted the assistance of a patrolman to return his radio car to headquarters, but it had been hours since Sean himself had checked in. It was now eight o’clock.

  Sean connected with the radio room and asked to be put through to Carter. As he waited, he glanced at his watch and weighed the odds that Carter would pick up. With a murder investigation as hot as the Murphy case, the odds were not in his favor.

  “Carter here.”

  “Costigan.”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  At Carter’s churlish tone, Sean took a deep breath to remind himself to stay cool. “Following some leads.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” Sean watched as Nell pulled her fur coat a little tighter around her. With a lift of her chin, she seemed to read his thoughts and tactfully moved out of earshot to wait in the hazy yellow glow of a street lamp.

  To a casual observer, she would have appeared relaxed, perhaps waiting to meet someone, but Sean could read the tense set of her mouth and the way she glanced up and down the narrow tree-lined street. Even in this quiet neighborhood where residents walked their dogs and artists strolled by on their way to sip wine from tea cups in cellar speaks, she wasn’t comfortable out in the open. He still wasn’t sure how he’d convinced her to come back to her house with him, but he had.

  They’d gone through the place methodically, room by room, closet by closet, to ascertain what was missing. The answer, when it finally came, was confounding. Nothing.

  Unless she was lying.

  Carter cut into his thoughts. “You find out where Nell Murphy is?”

  “Yeah. She’s with me.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Since when do we joke?”

  Carter didn’t sound amused. “When is she coming in for questioning?”

  “She’d rather not,” Sean said. Already, this wasn’t going well.

  “She doesn’t have a choice,” Carter said tersely.

  “I know, but she’s spooked. She doesn’t want anyone to know where she is, at least not yet. She says she’ll answer our questions, but only if we can keep her under wraps.”

  “What do you mean, ‘she says’? She’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Sure, but I think I can get more out of her if we keep this just between her and me for now.”

  “That’s all very romantic, Costigan. Maybe you’d like to explain that to the chief.”

  In truth, Sean would have much preferred explaining himself to the chief rather than a bootlicker like Carter, but he didn’t say it. He turned his back to Nell. “Look, she’s afraid her husband’s killers have their own stool pigeons in the department.”

  “Yeah? Like who?”

  Sean had to count to five to keep from reacting to Carter’s sarcasm. Maybe they’d both had a long day. “I don’t know who, Owen, but we both know it’s possible. Just give me until tomorrow with her. I’m making progress. That could get blown all to hell if we push too hard too soon.”

  There was a silence on the other end of the line, then, “Get her down here tonight.”

  “But—” The line went dead.

  Sean swore, replaced the receiver and turned back to face Nell. He’d known that he and Carter would butt heads sooner or later. Was making a stand over this worth the risk of getting kicked from the case?

  “Well?” Nell asked as he approached her.

  “They want you down at headquarters pronto.”

  Nell offered a wry smile, withdrew her hands from her coat pockets, and offered them to be cuffed. “You gonna run me in?”

  He didn’t answer for a long minute. She wasn’t just a witness, she was also a suspect—albeit one that hadn’t made the short list.

  Yeah, this was definitely going to tick Carter off.

  “I got a better idea,” he said.

  * * *

  Trixie was not by nature an early riser. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d awakened before dawn without the aid of an alarm clock, but today was one of those times. Perhaps it was because her dreams had been so busy during the night—full of stolen purses, yapping terriers, disapproving butlers, lost boys, trips to Paddy’s Market, and sleek brunettes with violet eyes.

  By 5:00 a.m., Trixie’s dreaming mind decided she’d had enough misery for one night and rang the wake-up bell. The room was dark, but the soft glow behind the window shade told her dawn was near.

  She was forgetting something.

  What day was it? Saturday? No, Sunday. Tonight was the Murphy wake. She would be meeting Finn at the funeral church.

  She was still forgetting something... A sound came from the direction of her living room, the soft gurgle of a childish snore, and her sleep-befuddled brain cleared.

  Danny.

  It was no dream that she’d come home yesterday to find him virtually on her doorstep.

  After thanking Mrs. L for taking care of her “nephew” and rushing him up the stairs, the first question she’d asked was how he’d found her.

  “Followed ya.”

  Interestingly, the almost palpable aura of sweetness that had emanated from him while in Mrs. L’s grandmotherly presence had vanished the instant they closed the door to Trixie’s apartment. She’d found herself facing the tough little customer who’d swiped her purse.

  “Say, sister, this is a swell joint. Anything to eat?”

  “Followed me?” Trixie had echoed. “When?”

  “Yesterday.” He’d plopped down on her sofa, tested the soft cushions with his hands. “Followed you home on the train. Say, you got a cigarette?”

  “No, I do not, and I wouldn’t give you one if I did. So, what’s with all the sneaking around when I told you to come see me at the office? Why didn’t you do as I asked?”

  He stopped bouncing. “’Cause of that fella.”

  “What fella?”

  “The big one I saw outside your newspaper. That’s why I came, see? He’s the one killed that other fella, so you gotta stop going there.”

  He’s the one killed that other fella...

  Wide awake now, Danny’s words played again through Trixie’s mind. She climbed out of bed, pulled on her robe and went out into the living room. There was no window to shed any light, only a sliver from beneath the door, so she could barely make out the motionless mound that was Danny asleep on the sofa.

  He’s the one killed that other fella...

  No child Danny’s age should have to utter words like those, but Danny had done more than utter them. He’d spoken them with such unguarded candor that it had chilled Trixie’s blood. He’d spoken like an eyewitness.

  Trixie had tried to get him to elaborate, but the time for candor had passed. Or, more likely, she’d pushed him too hard. Either way, Danny had clammed up tight.

  Now, Trixie watched as Danny turned over in his sleep. He would awaken soon and be hungry. Trixie thought about the meager contents of her icebox and cupboard. A shopping trip would be in order if it weren’t Sunday. The groceries, bakeries and delis were closed. Until then, she would have to impose on Mrs. L’s kind nature.

  Trixie returned to her room, selected a pair of sport pants, a blouse and underclothing. By six-fifteen, she was bathed, dressed and tip-toeing past Dann
y to the door when he stirred. “Where ya goin’?” he mumbled.

  “For some food. Are you hungry?”

  He yawned. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll go see what Mrs. L has for breakfast.”

  “Can I listen to the radio?”

  Trixie thought a bath might be in order after breakfast but decided not to mention it. There was a distinct unwashed-little-boy aroma coming from that direction. “Sure, but not too loud.”

  Trixie left. Not surprising at this hour, the phone in the foyer downstairs was free. She lifted the receiver and got an operator. “Number please?”

  “Columbus 3498.”

  “One moment please.”

  Trixie had considered calling Sean last night but had decided against it in the futile hope of gleaning some answers from Danny on her own. Now, as the telephone on the other end of the wires rang, Trixie bristled anew at Sean’s words.

  Don’t forget our agreement. She’s off the record too. Not one word about her in print. Clear? Trixie knew that to hold out on him any longer about Danny would only feed his belief that she couldn’t be trusted.

  She recognized the same gravelly voice that answered the last time she called. “Alhambra Hotel.”

  “Sean Costigan please. It’s Trixie Frank.” She tapped her foot as she leaned against the wall to wait. Before Nell Murphy had breezed into the picture, she had sensed that Sean was starting to take her seriously. After all, hadn’t she proven herself to him, schlepping all over Hell’s Kitchen in the freezing rain?

  The receiver on the other end was picked up, but it wasn’t Sean. “He’ll be a while. Ya wanna hold on or ya want he should call?”

  “I’ll wait.” She cooled her heels for another seven minutes by her watch. This only gave her time to ruminate over the blisters on her feet. She’d bet Nell Murphy didn’t have any blisters on her pretty little dogs...

  Finally, he picked up. “Hey, kid. Is that you?”

  Yowza. He sounded like he’d just rolled out of bed. She wrinkled her nose at the phone. He couldn’t get around her that easily. “You know any other Trixie Franks?”

  “One is plenty for me.” Her sarcasm apparently amused him. “It’s just that you seemed sore when you left Bickford’s yesterday. If it was something I did, I’m sorry. You did a swell job.”

  Trixie could almost hear the rest of it—for a rich dame—but he didn’t say it and her grip on the receiver relaxed. Well...at least he’d noticed.

  “Yeah, um, it’s okay,” she said. “I was tired.” It was hard to stay sore at him, but he deserved one last nip. “So, what took you so long to come to the phone anyhow, sheik? Did I disturb your beauty sleep?”

  “Nah, I’m plenty beautiful. You should see me.”

  Trixie’s mouth fell open. How would Sean look just rolling out of bed? Unshaven, ebony hair tousled, bare-chested... A new rush of warmth spread over more than just her face. Now he could make her overheat through a telephone line.

  “You got something for me?” he asked.

  Trixie realized her mouth was still open but she hadn’t said anything. She chased away her girlish fantasies and mentally jammed on her reporter hat. “You bet I got something for you, bucko. I have a little package here that I’m sure you’ll be interested in talking to.”

  “A package that talks, huh? You care to tell me how you found this talking package?”

  “Later. If you want to see him, I suggest you get over here as fast as your flivver can fly. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep him here.”

  He paused. “I got something to take care of first, but I’ll be there.” His tone was back to business. “Whatever you do, don’t lose him.”

  “I won’t,” Trixie said, then, before he could end the call, “And Sean?”

  “Yeah?”

  “One hand washes the other. Remember?”

  His voice softened. “Those are your words, kid, not mine. I never made any promises.”

  “I didn’t ask for any,” she said. “But you owe me, Detective.” Quickly, before he could reply, she hung up.

  Chapter Ten

  Sean replaced the receiver and signaled to Moe Rothstein that he was through. Moe was not a run-of-the-mill desk clerk. Although his thick-muscled physique pegged him as the tough, middle-aged ex-boxer that he was, he dressed like a cake-eater, suits with bowties and handkerchiefs.

  “So how many babes ya got these days?” Moe inquired from the leather swivel chair where he sat working out a crossword.

  Sean took his question to mean that the night clerk had courteously filled Moe in on the fact that Nell had accompanied him upstairs the previous evening. “None,” Sean said pointedly, though not in bad humor. Trixie’s call had lightened his mood. “I got no babes, Moe, and I mean to keep it that way.”

  Moe chuckled and continued to work on his puzzle.

  Sean took the elevator back up to his rooms on the fifth floor and knocked twice on the door. He heard the bolt lock disengage before the door opened to reveal Nell, clad in his robe and with her raven hair still wet from the bath.

  She also held a pistol aimed at his solar plexus.

  He raised his hands. “What the hell? A little jumpy, aren’t we?”

  She smiled nervously and lowered the barrel so it pointed to the floor. “Sorry. That call could have been a trick to get me alone. A girl can never be too careful.”

  “You carry that with you everywhere?” He held out his hand to take it.

  “Always,” she said, then caught herself. Guilt flickered across her face. It was a simple word, casually uttered, but it came with a price, a sharp, surprisingly raw twinge Sean preferred to ignore. When they were children, it held a special meaning between them. “Be here for me?” she would ask when they parted ways before school each morning. “Always,” he would answer.

  “It fits in my bag,” she added, offering him the pistol.

  He took it as she opened the door wider for him to step inside. So much for his good mood. “I hope Johnny taught you how to shoot that rod and not just carry it around.”

  “He did.” She shut the door and engaged the lock. “Maybe I’ll take you target-shooting sometime. Who was on the horn?”

  “No one to worry about.” He was too tired to consider stirring up the pot by mentioning Trixie. He’d seen the way she and Nell had eyed each other yesterday, like the Queen and Snow White. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all? Two beautiful women and no room would ever be big enough to contain them.

  Deciding to turn his attention to a less dangerous subject, he examined Nell’s pistol. A Colt Model 1908 Vest Pocket. It was a lightweight semi-automatic single-action piece with a small grip and two-inch barrel. Easily concealed but deadly if used at close range. Johnny had indeed taught his wife well.

  Sean engaged the safety catch and laid the weapon on an end table next to his service revolver. “I got somewhere to be.”

  “I won’t stay here alone. I’ll ring Little Arnie.”

  “No, I’ll take you, but you need to tell me where you’re staying.”

  Nell bit her lip. He hadn’t been able to get that information out of her last night.

  “You’ve got to trust me, remember?”

  She smiled faintly and nodded. “You know I do.”

  “Okay, then. I’m gonna get cleaned up.” He gestured toward her, indicating his robe. “Time to get dressed.”

  “Sure.” Something playful lit in her eyes. She knew perfectly well what her nearness did to him. For Sean, it had been a long and mostly sleepless night.

  His flat was small and cheap, nothing compared to what Nell was used to, but it was all he needed or cared to maintain. A modest living area and kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom with space enough for a bureau, a nightstand, book
shelves and a bed.

  Nell went ahead of him to the bedroom, where she had spent the night while Sean had taken the studio couch. Because it was now morning, with the cold light of day spilling in the window, Sean allowed himself to observe the sexual grace with which she moved. Had she always been so seductive?

  Perhaps so, but before, when they were young, it had been guileless. Now she was a woman who knew her own power.

  He felt a physical stirring and tried to brush it off by yanking open a bureau drawer to search for a clean shirt. He looked up again only to see Nell standing in profile by his bed, slowly untying the belt of his robe. When she let it slip off, she was naked.

  She ignored him as she took a perfume bottle from her handbag, uncapped it and dabbed some behind her ears, on her throat and between her breasts. Then she capped the bottle, set it down, and moved in a leisurely fashion to where her clothes were draped over an open closet door.

  He was now aroused—physically, at least. He kept some part of himself detached, but it wasn’t easy. He could go to her now, urge her down onto his bed, and she would welcome him.

  She’d made that plenty clear last night.

  “It’s been a long time.” She’d moved close and caressed his arm, awakening memories of the times they’d made love. “So what would it hurt if the two of us just... For old times’ sake?”

  Sean had almost looked into those mesmerizing violet eyes for too long. Almost. His gaze had dropped to the diamond-encrusted wedding band she still wore on her left ring finger, and it put him in mind of another ring.

  “So...you and Johnny,” he’d said. “You walked out on him, but that wasn’t really the end, was it? Did you two ever truly call it quits?”

  “In the beginning, no, but by the end, yes,” she’d said quietly. “It was over. It had to be. He couldn’t give up his women and I couldn’t live with it anymore.”

  With her standing so close, the scent of her perfume had tantalized him. He could have lost himself to her again, but that would have been a mistake. She was frightened, and he knew that she felt safe with him. She always had, but in the end, it wasn’t safety Nell wanted.