For the Love of Mike (7 page)

“Thank you,” I said. “I knew I could count on you. I am really glad that—”

I broke off at the sound of voices in the hallway outside. Before I could finish my sentence the door was flung open and a young woman burst in with a great rustle of silk.

“I’ve caught you at home, how wonderful!” She stood with arms open, a vision of loveliness in lilac silk, with a white fur wrap flung carelessly around her shoulders and an adorable little bonnet, also fur trimmed. “I wasn’t supposed to come to town this weekend, but Alicia Martin dragged me to a concert at Carnegie Hall last night and I’m so glad we went because it was an Italian tenor. You know how I feel about Italian tenors because you’ve promised to take me to hear Mr. Caruso the moment he comes to New York—and then we spent the night with Alicia’s aunt in a really interesting apartment in the Dakota. I’d always thought only poor people lived in apartments, but Alicia’s aunt isn’t at all poor and summers in Paris. Then this morning we were about to go strolling in Central Park but I said that I had to surprise my darling godmother first—are you suitably surprised?”

“Oh yes,” Miss Van Woekem said. “Most surprised.”

“You don’t seem overwhelmed with delight at seeing me.” The young woman pouted.

“I am very pleased to see you, of course, Arabella, but, as you may notice, I already have company.”

“Oh.” The girl’s mouth formed a perfect circle and she appeared to notice me for the first time. I saw her taking in the cut and quality of my clothes. “Oh, I didn’t realize. Have I burst into the middle of an interview for a position in your household? I’m awfully sorry.”

“I am entertaining a good friend,” Miss Van Woekem said calmly. “Allow me to introduce you. Miss Murphy, this is my goddaughter, Arabella Norton. Arabella, this is Miss Molly Murphy, a famous private detective who was actually trying to capture that odious man when he shot President McKinley.”

“Really? How amazingly exciting. I think I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”

“Maybe.” I knew exactly where I had seen her before but I didn’t trust my mouth to utter more than one word. Luckily she kept on babbling.

“A woman detective—how frightfully interesting and brave. You should meet my intended. You two would have a lot to talk about, although I don’t know what he will think of a woman doing his job.”

Then, to my horror, she turned back to the door. “Daniel, do stop sulking out there and come and say hello. I promised you we’d go walking in two seconds, but you have to meet this fascinating female detective.”

I took a deep breath as Daniel Sullivan stepped into the room. He was wearing a smart black-and-white check suit I hadn’t seen before with a white carnation in his buttonhole. His unruly dark curls were slicked down and parted. His derby was clutched in his hands. His face said clearly that he also wished himself anywhere else but here at this moment. “Miss Van Woekem,” he said, bowing slightly. “I trust you are well.”

“In better health than you at the present, I surmise, Daniel.” Although I had told her nothing, the old lady had been very quick to grasp the situation when I left her employment. “And this is Miss Murphy.”

“Miss Murphy.” Daniel’s eyes didn’t meet mine as he bowed.

“And she’s a detective, Daniel. Did you ever hear of such a thing?” Arabella slipped her arm through his and drew him close to her. “You two must have a lot to talk about.”

“Arabella, we are interrupting a private conversation,” Daniel said. “I really think we should be going.”

I got to my feet. “No, it is I who should be going. We have already concluded a most delightful coffee hour and I have friends waiting for me at a restaurant. Please excuse me.” I took the old woman’s hand. “Thank you for the coffee and for an enjoyable morning.”

“Do come again soon, my dear.” She patted my hand, a gesture which was most unlike her. “I hope to have news for you.”

I stumbled from the room, down the hall, and out of the front door. Arabella’s high, clear voice floated after me. “Where on earth did you meet her, Aunt Martha? What extraordinarily dreary clothes.”

I kept walking fast until I came to Park Avenue, then I turned and started walking south. The wind in my face was bitter, but I kept on walking. If I slowed down then I’d have to think, and if I thought, then the conclusions I’d come to would not be pleasant. I knew that Daniel was engaged to another woman, but he had sworn that he loved me and planned to break that engagement as soon as possible. And so I had kept hope in my heart. Now, seeing them together, I was forced to admit that such hope was ill founded.

Seven

I
came into the front hall at Patchin Place to find most of it taken up by an enormous hat stand made of the antlers of some unknown giant beast.

“What in heaven’s name?” I asked.

Sid poked her black, cropped head around the drawing room door. “Don’t you adore it?” she asked. “Mrs. Herman across the street is going to live with her sister in South Carolina and was getting rid of items that were too big to move. This was so wonderfully ugly that we just had to have it. Gus is going to hang her painting smock on it up in the studio.”

My mind was already moving beyond painting smocks. “Across the street, you say?”

“Yes, you know, the old lady at Number Ten. With the cats—who are all travelling to South Carolina in baskets, you’ll be pleased to hear.”

“So Number Ten will be vacant? Will she be selling it, do you know?”

“I don’t think she owns it. Gus will know better than I. She’s the one who takes an interest in the neighbors. Help me carry the monstrosity up to her studio and you can ask her.”

We picked up the hat stand between us and womanhandled it up two flights of stairs.

“Look what your devoted servants have done for you,” Sid said, pushing open the studio door. “We have risked life and limb bringing the monstrosity up the stairs for you. I hope you are duly grateful.”

Gus looked up from her painting. To me it was a lot of red streaks and black dots, but then I hadn’t yet learned to appreciate the intricacies of modern painting. Sid went over to it and put an arm around Gus’s shoulder. “It’s one of your best yet, Gus dear. It speaks to the heart. A true representation of the chaos of war.”

I smiled and nodded agreement without actually having to say anything.

“Do you know what is going to happen to the house opposite when Mrs. Herman moves out?” I asked, before I was drawn into a discussion on the merits of the painting.

“It will be rented to someone else, I imagine.” Gus slashed another great daub of red across her painting.

“You don’t happen to know who the landlord is, do you?”

“What is this?” Gus laughed. “Have you tired of our company and are seeking to make an escape?”

“Not tired of your company,” I said, “I could never do that, but I have been plagued with guilt about the little family I brought over from Ireland. I can’t leave them living in deplorable circumstances any longer. Now that I have two commissions and I’m well on my way to becoming a successful businesswoman, I could consider renting a place of my own if the rent were not too high.”

“We would hate to lose you, Molly,” Sid said. “But across the street would be better than nothing. And I have to admire your philanthropic attitude.”

“Across the street would suit me just fine,” I said. “It would be perfect, in fact. I could wave to Gus as she does her painting, and come over for Sid’s Turkish coffee.”

“Of course you could,” Gus said. “And we can help you look after those two poor, dear children.”

It was sounding better by the minute. I resolved to write to the landlord immediately. As yet I had no money of my own, apart from the pittance being paid me for my work at the sweatshop, but J. P. Riley and Associates had money in the bank, from which I could loan myself an advance on my salary. It would be an enormous risk, renting a whole house on such a flimsy promise of future income, but if worse came to worse, I could always take in boarders or even start my own small school. There was no limit to the things I could do with my talent and enterprise! I was resolved to forge ahead with my life without Daniel Sullivan, one way or another.

I dropped the letter in the mailbox on my way to work on Monday morning and got a reply on my return home the very next day. The landlord was prepared to rent the place for forty dollars a month. Forty dollars a month was twice as much as I was making in the sweatshop right now. Although I had the expectation of a handsome fee at the end of my assignment, I had come to realize that not all cases were resolved successfully and not everybody paid. In my case nobody had paid so far! Four hundred and eighty dollars a year—I went hot and cold all over at the thought of it. My family had never owned that much money. I wasn’t at all sure I could earn that much in a year, but I wasn’t about to let this chance slip away. I wrote the check with trembling hand to pay the deposit. I had already taken some fairly large risks in my life, but this counted among them. Like most of my risks, I had little choice if I wanted to rescue Seamus and his family. Afterward I was so excited and full of nervous energy that I went straight to Fulton Street to deliver the good news.

Nuala let me in, grudgingly, her eyes darting to see if I had come with more chickens or grapes. The children had already bedded down for the night, curled up like puppies on top of some crates that still smelled of their fishy origin. They all scrambled up as I came in and Bridie ran to my side.

“Greenwich Village,” Nuala said with a sniff as I told them my news. “No respectable person would want to live there—a lot of students and rowdies and Negroes and anarchists from what I’ve heard.”

“Which suits me just fine, because you surely won’t be welcome, Nuala. Not you nor your children.” You don’t know how long I’d been waiting to say something of the kind. It gave me enormous satisfaction. I looked at Seamus, sitting pale and white in his chair. “So it’s up to you, Seamus. If you want to move into your own room, with heat and running water, then I’m offering you a place. But no relatives. Take it or leave it.”

Bridie rushed to hold my skirt. “I want to go and live with Miss Molly,” she said.

Seamus smiled weakly. “We’d be honored,” he said, then turned hastily to his cousin. “No offence, Nuala, but I have to do what’s best for the children.”

Nuala smoothed down her apron over her wide hips. “You don’t see me crying my eyes out, do you? Crammed in like sardines we were with the three of you. I’ll be glad to see the back of you and that’s God’s truth.”

I beat a hasty retreat from what could turn into an ugly scene.

I arranged with the landlord to take up residence at the end of the week. In the meantime my days would be more than full with twelve hours spent at the sweatshop, and hopefully enough time and energy to pursue my first inquiries into the whereabouts of Katherine Faversham. I was really rather annoyed that I found myself trapped in such a lengthy and demanding assignment when this Irish case was just what I had dreamed of when I decided to become an investigator. How would I possibly be able to comb New York when I was chained to a sewing machine until dark?

I hadn’t yet heard anything from Miss Van Woekem, so my first step was to ascertain that Katherine and Michael Kelly had indeed come to New York. If they had access to Katherine’s money, they could have crossed the Atlantic in a second- or third-class cabin, which would mean that they stepped ashore with little or no formality and might well have already left the city. If they were penniless, on the other hand, they would have entered through Ellis Island and there would be a record of their arrival.

I wasn’t sure how to go about checking the Ellis Island records. I knew a record of each ship and its passenger manifest must be stored on the island, but I didn’t believe I’d be allowed to look at them. The general public was kept well away from the island buildings. Relatives who came to meet their loved ones were kept waiting at the dockside. If things had been different with Daniel I could have used his influence, but there was no point in thinking about him anymore.

Then it occurred to me that bribery and corruption had been very much in evidence when I came through Ellis Island. One of the inspectors or watchmen might do the job for me, if I offered to make it worth his while. Which was why I was standing on the dockside long before first light the next morning, waiting for the six o’clock government boat that would take the day shift over to the island and bring the night guards back. Several watchmen were standing together, impressive in their blue uniforms. I hesitated to approach a group such as this. The fewer people who knew of my plan, the better. Then I noticed a young inspector, dressed in a dark suit and stiff white collar, heading for the boat slip alone. I hurried to intercept him.

“If I might have a word with you, sir?”

He stopped and regarded me nervously. I could see him trying to decide if I was a criminal or a woman of the streets about to accost him. I gave him a big smile. “I’m Molly Murphy just come over from Ireland, and I’m trying to trace my cousin Katherine. I know you’re an inspector on the island and I wondered if you’d know how to look up the records and find out if Katherine ever got here.”

“You could write a letter to the governor, requesting such information,” he said stiffly. Wonderful—out of all the corrupt inspectors on the island, I had picked the only stiff shirt.

“I daresay I could, but it would take so long,” I said, “and I’m worried about my poor cousin Katherine, who may be living in a slum with no money when I could be helping her get a good start.” I gazed up at him appealingly. “If you’d be willing to put yourself out, I’d make it worth your while. I’m not rich, but I do have a little put by, and my cousin is very dear to me.”

I saw his Adam’s apple go up and down. “What exactly would you require me to do?”

“Nothing illegal. Just check the entries for the last few months to see if a Mr. and Mrs. Michael Kelly from Wexford arrived in New York. She ran off with this Mr. Kelly, you see, and the relatives at home suspect that they headed for America.” I touched his arm lightly. “If you are prepared to do that for me, I’ve got five dollars saved up that I’m willing to pay you for your trouble.”

I saw him glance around. Other inspectors were now hurrying past us to the dock. I heard a boat give an impatient toot.

“I have to go,” he said. “How will I find you again?”

“I’ll meet you here, shall we say on Friday morning, to give you enough time. And I’ll have the money with me.”

He glanced at the men now boarding the government launch. “I don’t know . . .”

“Do your best anyway,” I said. “I’ll understand if you can’t go through with it, but I’ll be forever in your debt if I can find my dear cousin. Michael and Katherine Kelly. They would have sailed from Queenstown.”

He nodded and had to sprint to jump onto the boat as the gangplank was being pulled away.

On Friday morning I was up before dawn, and waited in swirling fog for the young inspector. I cursed myself that I hadn’t thought to find out his name. If he hadn’t managed to do what I asked, then I’d have to start all over again, or I’d have to write to the governor and wait for the wheels of bureaucracy to turn. Then at last I saw him, hurrying through the fog.

“Miss Murphy?” he said with a little bow. “This is for you.”

He handed me an envelope.

“Thank you kindly. And this is for you.” I, in my turn, handed him an envelope. Neither of us checked our envelopes as we went our separate ways. Once around the corner, however, I ripped it open.

Michael and Katherine Kelly. Sailed from Queenstown on the
S.S.

Britannic.
Admitted to the United States August 18, 1901.

A big smile spread across my face. I had bribed an official, passed money, and got information I wanted. I was turning into a real investigator!