Murder on St. Mark's Place (17 page)

Although he usually avoided the stuff, tonight he made an exception. He downed it gratefully, in one swallow.

She waited until he had to ask, “Is George the killer?”

“I don’t think so. In fact, I don’t think he knew one of the girls at all. It’s that, or he’s a very good liar.”

“That’s possible, isn’t it?”

“Of course. He might have killed all four girls and more besides that we don’t know about and be able to lie right in my face about it. There’s men can do that. Not many of them, though, thank God, or we’d never catch any criminals at all. They all lie. It’s just that most of them aren’t very good at it.”

“Does he remember where he was the night Gerda was killed?”

“Says he stayed at the dance hall. Nobody’s likely to remember whether he did or not, since one night’s pretty much like another at those places, so he doesn’t have a good alibi.”

“Which is just what you said would be the case with an innocent man.”

Frank rubbed his chin, surprised at the growth of beard there. He should’ve gotten a shave before meeting her this evening. “Or a very clever killer.”

“What do you think?”

“He doesn’t strike me as very clever.”

She sighed. “I guess I was foolish to think it would be so easy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with hoping. Sometimes it is that easy.”

“But not very often, or else they wouldn’t need men like you to be detectives,” she said, teasing him with his own words.

He couldn’t argue.

“Lisle is a little worried that George might take some revenge on her,” she said.

“She can tell him she didn’t know anything about it. He’s not clever enough to doubt her.”

“I’ll be sure she knows. She’s very frightened.”

“Good. Maybe it will save her life.”

She sat back in her chair, swallowed up in the shadows. For a long moment they simply sat there, listening to the night sounds of the city. He was just thinking he should take his leave when she said, “What’s the next step?”

“I’ll try to find the other men on the list. The ones who were on three of the four lists, that is. I’ll question them and see if I suspect any of them are lying.”

“And what can I do in the meantime?”

He’d meant to say “nothing.” It was the only sensible thing to say. Instead, he heard himself saying, “Can you tell me just exactly where that deaf school you told me about is?”

 

S
ARAH KNEW MALLOY would not approve of her questioning the friends of the other dead girls again. The problem was, she couldn’t just sit by and wait to hear from Malloy again. Luckily, she had insisted on copying the list of suspects over more neatly for Malloy, and she had kept the original. Which meant she also had a list of the names of the men the dead girls had been seeing just prior to their deaths. The list was shorter now that they had virtually eliminated George. That left only three names. Sarah thought if she could find out some more about these men, perhaps she could figure out the most likely suspect. She was certain that someone who had murdered four women must have some notable characteristic that would distinguish him from normal men.

She only hoped she was right about that.

Sarah had sent Luisa Isenberg’s sister, Ella, a note asking if she could call on her the following day. She’d also asked if the sister could gather Luisa’s friends to answer a few more questions. She was disappointed to find only Ella and one other girl waiting for her at the beer garden when she arrived the next evening.

“Nobody else wants to talk about it anymore,” Ella explained when Sarah had greeted them and sat down at the table. Ella was a plump girl with unruly curls which she tried unsuccessfully to tame into the latest style of smooth pompadour.

“They think it’ll be bad luck or something,” the other girl said. Her name was Ingrid, and she had been of little help the first time Sarah had questioned Luisa’s friends.

“I know it’s difficult talking about all of it again,” Sarah said, trying to sound sympathetic when she was really feeling impatient. “But I have some new information, and I was hoping you could help me figure out what it means.”

“New information?” Ingrid asked, glancing at Ella uncertainly.

“Yes, we made a list of all the men who had been ... uh ... seeing the girls right before they died. We were hoping to find one man who had known all of them. We didn’t, but we found several who knew most of them. I was wondering if you can tell me anything about these three men. Their names are Donald, Robert, and Will.”

“I know three fellows named Robert,” Ella said with a frown.

Sarah tried not to let her frustration show. “We’re looking for the one you said was interested in Luisa right before she died.”

“I never knew she was seeing nobody named Robert,” Ella protested.

Someone else must have given Malloy this name. She checked the list. “He’s tall with brown hair and a handlebar mustache.”

“Oh, that’s most likely Bobby,” Ingrid said. “At least, I call him that. He ain’t the one you’re looking for, though. He got married two months ago, right after Luisa ...”

“Oh, I remember him now,” Ella agreed. “Ain’t seen him around the dances since then.”

This might well eliminate him from having known Gerda, but Sarah knew Malloy would want to check this out. She went on to the other two. “What about Donald and Will, then? Do you remember either of them?”

Donald’s name hadn’t appeared on Luisa’s list, but Sarah figured it was worth a chance. They considered the question for a moment.

“I heard some girls talking once ...” Ella began, trailing off when Sarah leaned forward eagerly. She forced herself to relax and smile.

“Yes?” she said encouragingly.

Ella glanced at Ingrid as if gauging her reaction. “I only heard this, mind you. I don’t know nothing about this fellow myself.”

“Any information will help,” Sarah assured her.

Still, she hesitated, then leaned forward so no one would overhear what she said. “I heard some fellow named Will was a little ... rough.”

“What do you mean, rough?” Sarah asked, keeping her voice low as well.

Ingrid’s eyes were wide as she listened.

Ella glanced around, making sure no one was near. The noise in the hall would easily cover anything she said. “When he didn’t like something, he’d ... well, he’d slap a girl around a bit. Nothing serious,” she hastened to explain, as if slapping a girl around at all wasn’t serious. “He didn’t really hurt her. Just scare her a little so she’d ... she’d do whatever he wanted.”

Sarah felt the surge of excitement and forced it down. She didn’t want to frighten Ella with her enthusiasm. “Do you remember who told you about this Will?”

“No.” The answer came too quickly and too certainly. Ella knew perfectly well, but she wasn’t going to say, at least not in front of Ingrid.

“What else do you know about him? Do you know what he looked like?”

“Good-looking, I heard. Nice clothes, but I don’t know more than that. Oh, he always had plenty of money to spend, too. But that’s all I know.”

Sarah fought back a sigh. She didn’t want Ella to think she was disappointed. Actually, the information was quite valuable. There just wasn’t enough of it.

“I remember!” Ingrid said suddenly and a bit loudly, startling herself. She looked around quickly to see if anyone else had noticed. No one had.

“What do you remember?” Sarah asked.

“Will. I remember now. Luisa met him at Coney Island. She talked about it for weeks. Said he spent more than five dollars on her that day!”

Five dollars would have been almost a week’s salary for Luisa, and a lot of money for a working man as well.

Ella’s expression was tight and disapproving. “Shut your mouth! You don’t know anything about it.”

“Yes, I do!” Ingrid insisted indignantly. “He gave her a present, too, I think. What was it, now?” She screwed up her face as she tried to remember.

“Luisa didn’t take presents from men,” Ella informed her in a tone that allowed for no argument.

Now Sarah understood. If Luisa had taken gifts from men, that would make her a Charity Girl. Ella didn’t want her sister’s reputation harmed any more than it had been already.

Ingrid glared at Ella, but Ella wouldn’t back down. Her sister wasn’t going to be labeled a whore.

“Do you think she saw him again after that day at Coney Island?” Sarah asked carefully.

Ingrid glanced at Ella before replying. “I wouldn’t know,” was all she would say.

Sarah turned to Ella. “If you remember anything else about him, please let me know. It could help catch Luisa’s killer,” she reminded them. She only hoped that was incentive enough.

 

F
RANK KNEW HE was probably going to make a fool of himself. He didn’t know the first thing about schools or education, particularly education for children who were deaf. And his son was deaf. He’d confirmed that with a trip to a doctor—a doctor Sarah Brandt had said was competent enough to make a judgment—who’d said nothing could be done for Brian’s hearing. Born deaf. That was the final verdict.

He’d been interested in Brian’s foot, too, but Frank wasn’t going to let just any doctor take care of that. When he felt he had built up enough credit with Mrs. Brandt that she owed him a favor, he’d ask her to make him an appointment to see her surgeon friend. Until then, he was going to see what he could find out about educating a deaf child.

Not that he believed a deaf child could be educated. If you couldn’t hear, how could you learn to do anything else? And of course Brian also couldn’t speak, which made it impossible for him to make himself understood, either. The whole thing seemed pretty hopeless to Frank, but he was willing to find out more. Maybe there was something he didn’t know. One or two things, anyway, he thought with some self-directed amusement. He hadn’t known there were schools for the deaf, for instance. Mrs. Brandt had him on that one.

The sign over the door on Lexington Avenue said NEW YORK INSTITUTE FOR THE IMPROVED INSTRUCTION OF DEAF MUTES. Deaf Mutes. That was Brian, all right. Frank liked the way it said “improved,” though. That must mean they used the best methods here.

Inside, the place was eerily quiet. The halls were empty and still, which he supposed was the way any school was when classes were in session. Here, of course, there would be no need for noise at all, since the students couldn’t hear it anyway. He entered the first room he came to, which was obviously an administrative office of some kind. A young man sat behind a desk, carefully transcribing a letter when Frank walked in. He looked up and smiled politely. He looked to be less than twenty, his face still spotted and his body thin with immaturity.

“I’d like to talk to someone about my son,” Frank said, conscious he was speaking louder than normal. Or maybe it just sounded that way because the place was so quiet.

“Sit down, please,” the young man said, although the “please” sounded more like “peas.” He indicated some chairs beside the door, and Frank took a seat while the boy disappeared into an inner office.

In a few moments a round man with a shiny bald head and a fringe of black hair beneath it came bustling out of the inner office, followed by the young man.

“Hello, hello,” he said, extending his hand as he approached Frank. “I’m Edward Higginbotham. May I help you?”

“Frank Malloy,” Frank said, rising and taking the man’s hand. It was warm and sweaty, but then the day was warm and sweaty. “I’d like to talk to someone about my son.”

“Your son is deaf?” Mr. Higginbotham said.

“Yes,” Frank said, amazed at how much it cost him to admit it aloud. He’d already admitted it silently, but confessing to a complete stranger was more difficult than he could have imagined.

“Well, then, come right in. I’ll be happy to answer all your questions, and I’m sure you have a few, don’t you?”

He didn’t wait for Frank’s reply. Indeed, he didn’t seem to expect one. He was too busy bustling right back into his office. Frank followed obediently.

The inner office was more elaborately furnished than the outer one. There was a rug on the floor and a nicely made wooden desk. The window looked out on an alley, but at least there was a window.

“Please sit down and make yourself comfortable, Mr. Malloy,” Mr. Higginbotham said, taking his own seat behind the desk.

Frank settled himself, and Mr. Higginbotham waited until he was comfortable to ask, “How old is your son, Mr. Malloy?”

“He’s three. We just ... I didn’t realize he was deaf until ... just recently.”

Mr. Higginbotham nodded sagely. “His mother didn’t notice anything peculiar?”

“His mother died when he was born.” Another costly admission.

Mr. Higginbotham looked suitably grave. “I’m sorry to hear that. Who cares for the boy, then?”

“My mother.”

“An elderly lady?”

“She’s not so old.”

“And did she not notice anything unusual about the boy?”

“We thought he was feebleminded.” Yet another costly admission. Frank was starting to feel a bit sick to his stomach. “He didn’t understand what you said to him, and he didn’t speak.”

“A common mistake,” Mr. Higginbotham agreed. “I could tell you stories about so many deaf children who were institutionalized as idiots when they were of perfectly normal intelligence. But you, Mr. Malloy, have avoided that fate for your son by recognizing his true condition. May I ask how you came to identify it?”

“A ... a friend noticed. She brought it to my attention. I don’t spend much time with the boy because of my work. I’m a detective with the police department.”

Mr. Higginbotham straightened a bit at this, although not enough to give offense. “I see,” was all he said. “And you’ve had him examined by a doctor?”

“Yes. The doctor said he was probably born deaf. There’s nothing to be done for him.”