by Peg Cochran
Elizabeth let out her breath in a rush. “I know.” She ran a hand over her hair, cringing when she realized how untidy it had become on her trip to the office. “And I’ve got some new information for you, so hold on to your hat.”
“That good, huh?”
“You bet. I ran into Mrs. Brown at Madame Louise’s dress shop—”
“Madame Louise sounds awful ritzy for a cook.”
“She wasn’t shopping—she’d brought in a dress of Mrs. Post’s to be repaired.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“According to Mrs. Brown, someone in the Post household was pilfering things—small things like a bottle of perfume and a porcelain ashtray. Hogg, the caretaker, accused Noeleen of the thefts. Noeleen got wind of that and apparently decided to confront him.”
Kaminsky rubbed his chin. “Interesting. I wonder if she did confront him.”
“And I wonder how he reacted if she did,” Elizabeth added.
Kaminsky winked at Elizabeth. “You mean did he kill her when she confronted him.” He stroked his chin again. “I think it’s time we went out to Long Island and had another chat with Frank Hogg.” He chuckled softly. “No matter what, though, we’re way ahead of The Sun.” He tapped the newspaper on his desk. “I’ll go see if the boss is willing to spring for another rental car. The trains still aren’t running reliably.”
* * *
—
The rain had let up by the time Elizabeth and Kaminsky arrived on Long Island in their rental car. Roads were muddy and debris was still scattered around as if tossed by some capricious god.
Men were working everywhere—repairing damage, cutting up felled trees and removing rubble. The sound of hammering and sawing filled the air, creating an atmosphere of great industry.
Kaminsky pulled into the Posts’ driveway and turned off the engine. They sat for a moment taking in the scene.
Several men were on the roof of the mansion hammering new tiles in place while others were busy installing freshly painted shutters to replace the ones that had been ripped off by the storm. A young man was filling a wheelbarrow with sticks and twigs he’d picked up off the front lawn.
Frank Hogg was leaning against a tree, a cigarette dangling from his lips, watching the activity. One of the workmen walked over to him and began gesturing toward the house. They spoke for a few minutes and then the workman went back to the pile of shutters that were waiting to be hung.
Elizabeth and Kaminsky got out of the car and walked over to where Hogg was standing.
Hogg looked surprised to see them. “You’re with that newspaper, right?” he said when they reached him.
“Yes. We’re still following the Donovan murder,” Kaminsky said. He pushed his hat back and scratched his forehead. “We had a couple more questions, if you don’t mind.” Kaminsky waved toward the workmen. “We don’t want to disturb you.”
“I have to keep an eye on things,” Hogg said, dropping his cigarette on the ground and grinding it out with the heel of his boot. “As long as it doesn’t take too long.” He pointed at the workmen. “One good thing has come out of this storm.”
“What’s that?” Kaminsky said.
“Plenty of employment to go around. Builders are needed everywhere, along with plenty of unskilled labor to help clean up the mess the storm made.”
“Well, I promise I won’t keep you from your job for too long,” Kaminsky said.
Hogg sighed. “Okay.”
“The Posts’ cook mentioned that things had been going missing in the Posts’ house. Small things, but Mrs. Post noticed.”
Hogg looked confused. “Mrs. Brown said that?”
“Yes.”
“Why would I know anything about Mrs. Post’s things going missing? Like I told you before, most of my work is outside not inside.”
Kaminsky paused. “You didn’t know about it?” He looked at Elizabeth helplessly.
“It was Mrs. Brown who told me about it,” Elizabeth said. “She said that you blamed Noeleen for the thefts.”
“I never said that. Why would I? I didn’t know anything about it. She’s making it up.” Hogg’s face was beginning to turn red.
“Mrs. Brown said Noeleen denied the thefts and was furious that you’d told Mrs. Post that she was responsible. She said that Noeleen planned to confront you about it.”
Hogg began to sputter. “That’s not true. Mrs. Brown is lying. Noeleen never said a word to me.”
“So she never confronted you?” Kaminsky said.
Hogg shook his head. “No. Of course not.” His eyes widened. “I see what you’re getting at now. You think Noeleen and I had a set-to. And that I killed her in a fit of anger or something.” He laughed. “At least give me credit for a little more self-control than that.”
One of the workmen shouted and Hogg’s head swiveled in that direction. He watched as one of the men climbed the ladder to the roof, then turned back to Elizabeth and Kaminsky.
“I’ll tell you who was probably taking those things Mrs. Post said were missing. That son of Mrs. Brown’s. He’s crazy.” Hogg tapped the side of his head with his finger.
“Killian, you mean?” Kaminsky said.
“Yeah. Why the Posts don’t insist Mrs. Brown find him someplace else to live, I don’t know. It was one thing when he was in school, but he’s old enough to live on his own now.” He laughed. “Of course, the kid really ought to be in a mental institution. A lot of the staff was spooked by him. I know Noeleen was afraid of him. And Russo, the chauffeur, said he once found Killian in the garage sitting in the back seat of the Posts’ car just as calm as you please. That’s not normal, if you ask me.”
“Mrs. Brown seems to think he’s harmless,” Kaminsky said.
“She would, wouldn’t she?” Hogg picked a piece of loose bark off the tree he was leaning against. “You don’t dare say a word against the boy. Mrs. Brown gets vicious if you say anything about the kid.”
“So you think Killian was the light-fingered one?” Kaminsky said.
Hogg shrugged. “Stands to reason, doesn’t it? Maybe the kid doesn’t know any better. He used to go to school, but then Mrs. Brown pulled him out and said she was perfectly capable of teaching him to read and write herself.” Hogg brushed a bit of bark off the front of his shirt. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“Wonder what?” Kaminsky said.
“Well, whether or not something went wrong at the school. Maybe she didn’t take Killian out of school. Maybe he was kicked out. Who knows what someone like that might have done. Besides, I don’t think the kid learned much of anything.”
“Maybe he was being bullied at school—seeing as how he’s different,” Kaminsky said.
“Yeah, maybe,” Hogg said in a sarcastic tone. He pushed himself away from the tree. “If there’s nothing else—I need to check on the crew around back.”
“Well, how do you like them apples?” Kaminsky said as they got into the car.
“Do you think Hogg was telling the truth?” Elizabeth cracked her window slightly, relishing the cool sea breeze. “Or do you think Mrs. Brown was? I mean, they can’t both be right.”
“Who knows? Hogg strikes me as being a bit of a slimy character—like he’d go whichever way the wind was blowing as long as it benefited him.”
“If he really didn’t accuse Noeleen of stealing, then Mrs. Brown is either mistaken or lying.”
“I imagine gossip spreads like wildfire below stairs,” Kaminsky said, pulling out of the driveway. “Maybe Mrs. Brown didn’t hear it directly but someone else told her about it.”
“And they were mistaken? It’s possible. But let’s say Mrs. Brown did make it up. Why would she do that?”
“It stands out like a sore thumb, doesn’t it? To protect her son. Let’s say someone was stealing from the Posts. And Mrs. Brown knew Killian was the one
who’d done it.”
“But what would he want with an ashtray and a bottle of perfume?”
“Who knows? He’s a strange kid. Maybe he got it into his head that they had magic properties or something.”
“Could be.” Elizabeth stared out the window where two men were attaching a rope to an enormous tree that had fallen on the roof of a house.
“Let me put it this way. Mrs. Brown knows Killian is the guilty party. So what does she do? She makes something up. Maybe she doesn’t want to blame Noeleen herself. She seemed to like the gal. So instead she says Hogg told her Noeleen did it.”
“Do you think Noeleen really did confront Hogg?”
“I don’t know. But if she did, I can easily see him killing her. After all, everyone else involved was supposedly back in Manhattan. But not Hogg. He was right here on the spot.”
“Will you be able to make a story out of this?”
Kaminsky slammed on his brakes as a gaggle of chickens stepped into the road.
“I’m going to have to or else the boss will have a conniption about the car rental.” He leaned on his horn and the chickens flapped their wings and scurried across the street. “Maybe something like ‘Do Stolen Items Relate to Maid’s Murder?’ ” He glanced at Elizabeth. “Whatcha think?”
“How about ‘Are Stolen Items Clue to Maid’s Murder?’ ”
Kaminsky laughed. “Even better.” He put the car in gear again. “Come on, let’s get back to New York and get this story ready for tonight’s edition.”
Chapter 19
The elevator door opened and Elizabeth and Kaminsky got on.
“Hold it!” someone shouted as they ran across the lobby.
A young man slipped through the doors and wedged himself into the corner. He was wearing a newsboy cap and carrying a paper-wrapped bundle of flowers.
Elizabeth was surprised when he got off with them on the sixth floor and stopped at the receptionist’s desk.
Elizabeth had just sat down at her own desk when the young man with the flowers walked into the newsroom.
Elizabeth noticed Estelle Draper peering through the glass in her office door. She walked into the newsroom in a cloud of her favorite Tabu.
“I wonder who those are for?” she said, a hand fluttering to her face.
Elizabeth had noticed that Estelle had been speaking on the telephone a lot of late and acting quite furtively about it, too. She wondered if Estelle had a new beau.
The young man glanced at a slip of paper attached to the bouquet.
“Miss Elizabeth Adams?”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said. “That’s me.”
The boy handed her the bouquet.
“Who are they from?”
“I don’t know ma’am. There’s a card.” He pointed to a white envelope tucked into the paper cone.
“Well!” Estelle said, and flounced back to her office.
Elizabeth wondered if she’d meant to close her door quite so hard.
“If you don’t mind signing here, ma’am.” The boy held out a slip of paper. He rocked from foot to foot as he waited.
Elizabeth signed the receipt, put the flowers on her desk and extracted the card. She couldn’t imagine who they were from. Surely not Phillips trying to mend his fences?
The card stuck in the envelope and Elizabeth had to wiggle it to get it out. It was signed simply Sal Marino.
Elizabeth felt a rush of pleasure and knew her face was burning. She heard footsteps behind her and quickly stuffed the card back into the envelope.
“Flowers?” Kaminsky whistled. “New boyfriend?”
“Not exactly.”
“Secret admirer then?”
Elizabeth laughed. “No. I know who they’re from.”
“Better get them in some water before they wilt.”
While Elizabeth’s mother had a large collection of vases—crystal ones, silver ones, ones from Tiffany, ones from Steuben—Elizabeth didn’t have any such luxury at work. She found a tall drinking glass in the cabinet above the hot plate in the break room. It would have to do. She filled it with water and stuck the flowers in.
She couldn’t help smiling as she looked at them on her desk.
She was sorting through some photographs when her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Cara. Have you eaten lunch?”
Elizabeth hadn’t realized it until that moment, but she was starving. She looked at the clock. It was nearly two o’clock. No wonder she was hungry.
“Can you meet me for a quick pizza?” Marino said. “I’ve got a bit of time if you’re free.”
Elizabeth looked around the newsroom. Kaminsky was busy pecking out his story. No one needed her, so why not?
“I’d love to,” she said.
“I wish I could pick you up, but unfortunately I can’t. I hope you don’t mind meeting me. Something quick—I thought of Fratelli’s Pizzeria on the corner of Eighth Avenue and Forty-Sixth Street. I hope that’s not too far for you.”
“I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”
Marino’s breath came out in a rush. “Wonderful. I’ll see you then.”
Elizabeth hung up and glanced at the clock again. She’d have to leave immediately if she was going to make it to the restaurant on time.
She grabbed her coat from the hook, slipped it on and slapped her hat on her head. She didn’t have time to find a mirror to make sure it was on straight. It would have to do.
* * *
—
Elizabeth reached the restaurant just as Marino was arriving.
“You look lovely today,” he said as he held the door open for her.
A fire roared in the brick oven at the back of the restaurant as cooks in white aprons pulled out pies oozing cheese and with their crusts blistered from the intense heat.
A delicious medley of earthy aromas surrounded Elizabeth. She’d only had pizza once before—she and Irene had shared a pie the time they went to Coney Island for the day. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She really was starving.
They found an empty table in a quiet corner. Elizabeth’s chair wobbled on the uneven tile floor but she barely noticed.
Marino ordered them a cheese pie and leaned back in his chair. Elizabeth noticed the dark shadows under his eyes. She wondered if it was Noeleen’s murder that was wearing him out.
“Is there anything new on the Donovan case?” Elizabeth said.
Marino’s eyes twinkled. “Is this off the record?”
Elizabeth laughed and held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, I understand. You can’t talk about it.”
Marino took her hand. “I’m afraid not.”
They broke apart when the waiter appeared with their pie. Marino served them each a slice. Elizabeth picked up her knife and fork.
Marino grabbed her hand. “You don’t need a knife and fork to eat pizza. Just take a bite.”
Elizabeth put down the utensils, picked up the slice of pie and took a bite. She sighed with pleasure.
Marino motioned toward Elizabeth’s plate. “Is it okay?”
“Heavenly,” Elizabeth said.
She took another bite and was embarrassed when the cheese stretched and stretched but didn’t break away. Marino laughed at her predicament. Her embarrassment faded and she found herself laughing, too.
Marino leaned across the table. “I’d like you to meet my family. And I’d like to meet yours.”
Elizabeth put down her piece of pizza and stared at him. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t he realize this would never work? Their backgrounds were simply too different. And maybe that’s why she was attracted to him—it was the differences between them that made him seem exotic and exciting.
“I’m sorry,” Marino said, the smile disappearing from his face.
“It’s too…soon,” Elizabeth said. It pained her to see the hurt in his eyes.
“I understand.”
Elizabeth finished her piece of pizza in silence. Suddenly she wasn’t very hungry anymore and shook her head when Marino offered her another slice.
He wiped his lips with his napkin, balled it up and put it on his plate.
“Shall we go now?” He pushed back his chair.
“I’ll walk you back to your office,” he said when they stepped outside.
Elizabeth couldn’t bear the thought of their walking together—in the silence that had grown awkward between them—for what she knew would seem like an eternity.
“Thank you, but I think I’ll take a taxi.” She feigned looking at her watch. “It’s late and I should get back.”
Marino nodded and raised his arm. “Taxi!”
An empty cab pulled up to the curb and stopped. Marino held the door open for Elizabeth.
She searched his face for some hint that he understood—that he wasn’t hurt beyond measure—but found nothing. His face was a blank slate.
He gave a mock salute as the taxi pulled away and then turned his back and began to walk in the opposite direction.
* * *
—
Elizabeth stared at the pile of photographs on her desk without seeing them. The scent of the flowers from Marino’s bouquet wafted toward her, making it impossible to put what had just happened out of her mind. She adjusted two of the flowers and noticed that one was already wilting. Was that an omen?
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to meet Marino’s family. She simply couldn’t imagine his meeting hers. Her mother had already made her opinion quite clear, and while her father’s good manners would demand that he behave with the utmost politeness, it would be obvious from the first moment that he found Marino unsuitable.
She sighed and flipped through the photographs once again. Phillips hadn’t been right for her. Marino wasn’t right for her either. Was she destined to become an old spinster?
“Get your coat!” Kaminsky suddenly yelled from across the room. “There’s a hostage situation downtown and the boss wants us to cover it.”