Crimson Snow (30 page)

“Hmph. They believed you, all right, after that man Barnes went missing and I discovered what he had taken. I don't suppose you came up with any explanation about all that?”

“No, sir. I did ask Mr. Lowell—the Pinkerton's man, you know—to give you another copy of his reports.”

“Yes, fine. But it sounds as though you know most of what was in them.”

“Yes, sir. It is very bad, and I hope now they will close down Mrs. Schmidt's rooming house. But I think, first the police must arrest Mrs. Schmidt and her nephew, because murder is more important than—other things.”

“Yes, indeed. Very well, Hilda. I'll phone the police right now. I'll also give Mr. Barrett a ring. He'll be glad to know things are cleared up. Er—consider yourself commended, Hilda.” He looked her over again, head to toe. “Isn't there something different about you today?”

She was able, by strong force of will, to keep from rolling her eyes. “Yes, sir. I do not have a clean uniform. The one I wore this morning is still very wet, so I had to wear my street clothes.”

“Ah, that's it. Very becoming, I must say. Thank you, Hilda.” He stood and strode to his office. Hilda sat where she was for a moment, and then went off in search of her sister.

She found Elsa in their room, taking her afternoon rest. She was sound asleep and looked very young, her cheeks rosy, her golden braids in slight disarray. Hilda dropped down in the room's one chair and watched her as she slept.

She had been worried, when she thought about marriage with Patrick, about her family's strong prejudice against the Irish, and against Catholics. Now for the first time she wondered how they were all going to feel when she was rich and they were still poor. How would Elsa feel about slaving, day after day, in Hilda's old job, while Hilda lived the life of a prosperous matron? Hilda and Patrick could give gifts to her family, of course, but they couldn't support all seven of them.

Sven, as a highly skilled laborer, made good money, but most of the family did not. Hilda and Sven had been helping out the whole family for years now. Gudrun and Freya lived in Sven's house, and Sven helped pay the rent for Mama's house.

Things were changing, though. Freya was almost certainly going to marry Gunnar Borglund, who had moved up in the Oliver Plow Works and was now working as a bookkeeper in the office. Sven had his eye on a young woman, a secretary for Studebaker's, who was Protestant, though not Swedish. Mama had protested slightly at the idea of Sven marrying an American, but she didn't mind, really. That left Gudrun, who didn't seem interested in marriage, Birgit and Erik, who were much too young, and Mama. They could live together, Hilda supposed, though Mama and her eldest daughter had never got on very well. The four could fit into Sven's old house if he took his bride to a new one. They would have enough money to live on, but not much over. Would they be jealous of Hilda?

Elsa became aware of someone looking at her. She opened her eyes. “Hilda! Is something wrong?”

“No. I did not mean to wake you.”

“But I want to hear everything! Everyone talks about you, but they all say different things, and I want to know.”

“Well, I have solved the murder, or I think I have.”

“Ooh!”

So Hilda had to think of a way to tell the painful story to one of Elsa's tender age and inexperience. She had to leave out a good many things, though she said to herself that one day she was going to have to sit Elsa down and have a talk about some of the dangers facing young girls. Now didn't seem to be the time.

“So as soon as Colonel George gets the police to act, I think my work will be done.”

“So you'll come back here to work?” Elsa sounded anxious.

“Do you like it, working here?” asked Hilda. She sounded anxious, too.

“Oh, I do! This is a wonderful house, like a palace. The work isn't really hard, if only there weren't so many stairs. And I'm getting to know the other girls, and we have fun talking while we work. Even that Janecska is getting to be friendly. It's much better than the shirt factory. We couldn't talk at all there, and the bosses were always standing over us, getting us to work faster.”

Hilda made up her mind then and there. “Elsa, I have something to tell you. Patrick and I plan to be married in April. And between now and then I think I will move to Mama's house. She can help me get ready for the wedding. And that will mean you can keep this job, if you want it and Mrs. George agrees.”

“Oh, Hilda! It is so exciting!” Elsa bounced a little on the bed. “You're to be married, and rich, and I'm to have this job! I wasn't sure I liked America, but it really is as wonderful as you said!”

Hilda got up and gave her a hard hug. “It is you who are wonderful. Now listen. I have not yet given Mrs. George my notice, so say nothing until I tell you to. I must go now to hear what Colonel George has learned from the police.”

The news was discouraging. “Hilda, I'm afraid it's no good. I'm no great friend of the current city administration, you know, and the lout who answers the phone at the police station wasn't impressed with what I had to say. He said he'd tell the superintendent when he came in, but I got the idea that might not be today. It's this confounded weather. Nobody much is working, it seems.”

“No, sir. It is not a day to take out horses, even. The ice is much worse than snow. And perhaps it does not matter, but you said Mr. Barrett is ill, and I wish we could bring the matter to an end.”

“No more than I do, I can assure you. I did phone him, but he sounded very low in his spirits, even with my news.”

Hilda thought for a moment. “Sir, do you think it would help at all if I told my story to Mr. Malloy, and he called the police? He is not as important a man as you, of course, but he is a Democrat and a county councilman, and even the most stupid of policemen might think it best to listen to him.”

“Hmm. Malloy's a decent man, for a Democrat. I'll phone him. Bound to be home in this weather, I'd think.”

“He went to the store this morning, but he has maybe come home by now,” said Hilda. “The weather, it would keep shoppers away, I think.”

Hilda waited a little nervously while Colonel George picked up the telephone receiver, jiggled the hook to signal the operator, and spoke into it. She had dusted the shiny nickel-plated instrument every day. She had even answered it on the rare occasions when Colonel George was not in his office and Mr. Williams was not in the vicinity. She had never quite overcome her fear of it, but now Colonel George pushed the instrument to the corner of the desk and gestured her to a chair. “Here you are. Butler's getting Malloy now.”

“Hello?” the instrument quacked in her ear.

“Hello, sir. Is this Mr. Malloy?” she said loudly.

“It is, and there's no need to shout. Who's this?”

“Hilda Johansson, sir.” She simply could not call him Uncle Dan, not with Colonel George listening.

“Hilda! Something wrong?”

“No, sir. Not exactly. Colonel Studebaker is allowing me to use the telephone because I need your help.” She told him the story as briefly as she could. “So if you could telephone the police, please, and tell them they need to find Mrs. Schmidt's nephew, you would help me very much. They will not listen to me.” She left out the detail that they hadn't listened to Colonel George, either. That didn't seem a tactful thing to say, with him right there.

“I'll do it now. Stay by the phone. I'll call back.”

Gingerly Hilda put the receiver back on the hook. “He will call me when he has something to tell me. That is, I hope you do not mind, sir. I know it is not my place to receive telephone calls.”

Colonel George waved that away. “This is an unusual circumstance. I'll ring for you when the call comes in.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Hilda left the room feeling unsettled. She was caught between two worlds, belonging to neither of them. On the one hand she was a servant, required to be deferential and obedient. On the other she was a young woman about to be married into a prosperous merchant's family. The Malloys were not quite of the same social standing as the Studebakers. but they were not far below them, and Hilda would soon take on that rank, close to the same rank as her present mistress. It was a little dizzying, and not at all comfortable.

Part of the trouble, she realized, was that she had not told Mrs. George. She was in a false position, and she needed to remedy that as soon as possible.

Putting Patrick's ring on her finger for courage, she went to seek an interview with her employer.

Mrs. George was in the family sitting room, reading. This was a smaller room than the drawing room or the library, thus warmer and less drafty on a windy winter day. She put down her book at Hilda's approach.

“You look very nice today, Hilda,” she said in a questioning tone.

Hilda explained again about her wet uniform. “I am sorry to be improperly dressed, madam.”

“It doesn't matter. You're not officially on duty in any case, are you? Have you made any progress in your investigations? The Barretts are very much upset by this whole thing, Hilda.”

“I know they are, madam, and yes, I think I have made progress. I am waiting now to hear from the police.” She didn't detail how she would hear. Mrs. George was a reasonable mistress, but she might well draw the line at telephone use.

“I'm glad to hear it. Thank you, Hilda.” She picked up her book.

“It was not about the investigation that I wished to speak to you, madam.”

Mrs. George put the book down again. “Oh?” On her face was a look of foreboding.

“Yes, madam.” Hilda moistened her lips. “I wish to give you my month's notice, madam. I am to be married in April.”

Her mistress sighed. “Sit down, Hilda. I think you'd better tell me all about it.”

Hilda sat on the edge of a chair. “There is little to tell, madam. I have known Mr. Cavanaugh for some time. We thought we could not marry because we would not have enough money, but Mr. Malloy has taken him into the family business. There will be enough money, and I will no longer need to work. And I thought, madam, if you are willing, that I would prefer to forfeit my wages and leave as soon as possible. I would like to move to my mother's house until I am married. I have much to do to get ready, and if Elsa is a satisfactory substitute, you would not be too much bothered. If you needed me at any time, of course I would come to help.”

She waited anxiously. At last Mrs. George spoke.

“Hilda, you have served us well and faithfully for many years now. I will be very sorry to see you go, but I understand that you have your own life to live. You've considered the difficulties of marrying someone not of your own faith, I presume.”

“Yes, madam. It will not be easy, I know. Our two families will not be pleased. But the Malloys are fond of me—they are Mr. Cavanaugh's aunt and uncle—and I like them. And my brother respects Mr. Cavanaugh. It is a start.”

“Well, you seem to have thought things out. Very well. You may tell your sister that she will stay here in your place, and you may leave any time you choose. There is no hurry; you need not feel you must go immediately. This is your home until you wish to relinquish it. And Hilda?”

“Yes, madam?”

“Please allow us to give you your month's wages as a wedding present.”

…detectives…say they never before found a crime
that contained so many conflicting elements…

—South Bend
Tribune
   
January 27, 1904.

 

 

 

31

W
HEN HILDA HAD stammered her thanks and left the room, she fled to the servants' room. In this house, it was where she belonged. It was deserted at this hour, and she needed to be alone.

She had done it. She had broken the tie to her old life. Soon, tomorrow perhaps, she would go to Mama and explain her plans. Maybe in those two months of working together, making wedding preparations, the two of them could come to an understanding. There would be little money for those two months, but thanks to Mrs. George's generosity, they could get by. And then…

A bell rang. Hilda looked up at the indicator. Colonel George's office! She sped out of the room and up the stairs.

“Malloy is on the phone for you, Hilda. He has news. Sit down.” The colonel pushed the instrument her way, and she took the receiver.

“Yes, sir?”

“Hilda, the police have tracked down the name and address of Mrs. Schmidt's nephew. Fred Hartz, he is, lives over on Division. But they're not willing to go out there in this weather. They say the man will stay put, since he's got no idea anyone's after him, and they're not going to risk breaking a horse's leg. I think they're just lazy, meself, though they have a point about the horses. You can tell Colonel Studebaker for me that I'm beginnin' to agree with him about the police force in this town.”

“I, too. But the rain and sleet cannot keep up forever.” She glanced out the window. “It looks like snow, only, now. I would be willing to walk on that. What is the address on Division?”

“Blessed saints, girl, you don't think you're goin' over there to talk to a murderer!”

“Not alone. I will ask Patrick to go with me, and Sven, perhaps, if he is not working. I wish only to talk to him. I will be careful. Mr. Barrett is very low in his mind, sir. We need to know.”

“Tomorrow'll do well enough. The police are right about that much. Nobody's about to go anywhere they don't have to on a day like this. I'll keep the police up to snuff, make them go tomorrow first thing, if the weather's fit.”

Hilda sighed, but she recognized an ultimatum. However— “I want to go with them.”

“It's not safe, I tell you!”

“I want to go.” Hilda's voice was becoming more and more firm. “This is my own idea, I thought of it myself, I deserve to see him caught. I will not interfere.”