Murder on St. Mark's Place (29 page)

He’d been pacing for over an hour, watching trolleys arrive and disgorge their passengers without seeing his quarry. Another one was approaching the station, and Frank stepped back inside the building, where he could watch without being seen.

He saw her at once, even before she got off. He’d seen her wear that hat many times, but he probably would have recognized her no matter what she was wearing. She was the kind of woman who stood out in a crowd. Something about the way she carried herself. He’d never known another like her. Not even Kathleen, with all her sass, would have gone after a killer all alone. At what point did courage become folly? Frank only knew he was not the proper person to judge such a distinction.

Schyler looked the part of gentleman-about-town. He was dressed as if he was going to the races with his society friends. Sarah Brandt looked just as she always did. Was her smile too bright? Perhaps a little strained? Would Schyler notice? If he was the killer, he’d miss nothing. Frank had to resist the urge to rush out there and confront him, which told him more than he wanted to know about his feelings for Mrs. Brandt. Usually, he had all the patience in the world waiting for the trap to spring on his prey. But usually, he didn’t particularly care about the fate of the bait. Today he cared very much indeed.

Another reason to hope Schyler was the killer. As soon as they locked up the man who’d been murdering all these young women, Frank would no longer have to encounter Sarah Brandt. He could return to his solitary existence and everything would be as it was before.

He only wished he believed that.

He watched the two of them as they made their way out of the trolley and onto the platform. Schyler offered her his arm, and Frank felt his hackles rise. But she pretended not to notice and pointed at something instead of tucking her arm into his. They started off toward the park. Did Schyler look suspicious? Had she given herself away already? Frank no longer trusted his instincts.

Waiting until they were almost out of sight, Frank finally stepped out of the station. That’s when he saw Broughan stumbling down the steps of the trolley. He was drunk and making no effort to hide it. Frank wanted to thrash him. What if Sarah had needed help? What if she’d asked the wrong question and angered Schyler? What use would a drunk have been?

Frank wanted to slam Broughan up against the wall and ask him those questions rather forcefully, but if he did, he’d lose Sarah in the crowd. He settled for giving him a black look before setting out after them.

They had paid their admission and gone into the park. Frank waited until he saw what direction they were headed before doing the same. The laughter and screams of delight from the crowd mocked him as he made his way into the throng. He’d never felt less carefree in his life.

 

S
ARAH SMILED AT Dirk, although her face felt stiff. She hadn’t expected to be frightened. Not that she was afraid exactly. Dirk wouldn’t harm her here, not with hundreds of people around, and certainly not with Malloy nearby. But she was nervous. Anxious. Unable to relax. Her mission was so important, and one false word could spoil everything. She should have let Malloy talk her out of this. He’d certainly tried hard enough. He was probably right, too. Even if Dirk was the killer, he was hardly likely to confess it to Sarah, no matter how clever she might be.

“What are we looking for today?” Dirk asked pleasantly as they strolled through the park. “Do you have more information on this fellow you think killed the girl ... ? What was her name? Gilda?”

“Gerda,” Sarah supplied, wondering if he could really have forgotten. “No,” she said. “Today I want to forget all about killers and their victims. I just want to have a good time.”

“You chose an odd destination for our outing, then,” Dirk pointed out. “I could have taken you to a museum or to dinner or a show or—”

“Don’t you ever get tired of doing the proper things, Dirk?” she asked, hoping she sounded as rebellious as she should. “I do. Sometimes I think I’Il scream if I have to sit through another dinner party.” Not that she attended many anymore, but Dirk wouldn’t know that.

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Most women I know would faint to hear one of their own talking like that.”

“Most women you know?” she repeated skeptically. “Probably not that girl I saw you with that day we first met here.”

“Ah,
touché,”
he said. “I forget, you know my ugly secrets.”

“Do I?” she asked.

“Well, you know about my fondness for shop girls, at least,” he replied with a secretive grin.

“Is there more, then? What other ugly secrets could you have?”

“None I would share with a lady,” he replied.

“Do you share them with your shop girls?”

He frowned at this. “Is that why we came? So you could berate me for my lapses in judgment?”

“Is that what you consider them?” She didn’t wait for an answer, knowing he wouldn’t admit to it. “No, I’m just curious. How did you happen to discover that you had a ... a fondness for shop girls in the first place?”

“Oh, Sarah, you really can’t be interested in hearing about my follies,” he protested uneasily.

“Nonsense, I’m fascinated. Are you doing it to embarrass your family? Are you planning to bring one of these girls home one day and present her as the future Mrs. Dirk Schyler?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He seemed shocked at the very idea.

“But you are trying to rebel, aren’t you? Why else would you keep company with girls of that sort?”

He was plainly uncomfortable discussing this, which was all the better. “I’ve never given the matter any thought,” he insisted.

“Well, think about it now,” she insisted right back. “At first I thought it was just that you ... Well, I’ve been married, so I understand that a man has needs. I thought you were simply using these girls to meet those needs. But then I realized that a man of your means could keep a mistress to satisfy him in that way if that was all he was interested in. Such an arrangement would be safer, surely. You wouldn’t have to worry about disease or even about possible rejection. Surely, all these girls don’t succumb to your seductions, Dirk.”

“Sarah, you shock me,” he said, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

“Do I? I’ve shocked many people with my attitudes. That’s what comes of living alone and earning your own living, I suppose. You lose all sense of what is proper. I thought I’d found a soul mate in you, however. I thought you were a man who understood what it’s like to break the bonds of society. At least tell me how you first discovered an interest in pursuing these girls.”

“Are you thinking of following in my footsteps?” he asked in an effort to put her on the defensive.

“Perhaps,” she allowed with a small smile.

He smiled back, reluctantly. “I was coerced,” he said. “In the beginning, at least. My friends were bored one evening, and one of them said he knew a place where we could meet some attractive ... uh ... harlots. He took us to one of those places where they have dances. We asked the door-man to introduce us, but he insisted that he was unable to tell the respectable girls from the other kinds, and he left us to our own devices.”

“And were you able to tell?”

“Not at all,” Dirk assured her, warming to the story. “They all looked alike. And they all seemed quite pleased to have such well-dressed gentlemen paying attention to them. We bought drinks for some of them and engaged them to dance. Their behavior was quite outrageous, but they were insulted when we offered them money for their favors. My friends quickly lost interest when they learned they had been misled about the kind of female who frequents such dances, but I was intrigued.”

“You like a challenge,” she guessed.

He shrugged. “What man doesn’t?”

Indeed, she knew few who didn’t. “So you rose to that challenge.”

“I went back on another night, alone. This time I met a young woman who wasn’t quite so coy.” He grinned, a smile that chilled Sarah’s blood, but she managed to smile back.

“Your first conquest?” she asked, tempting him to brag.

“Ah, a gentleman never tells,” he replied.

“Does a gentleman seduce shop girls?” she countered.

He pretended to be offended. “Sarah, you cut me to the heart.”

“That assumes you have one, Dirk.”

“How cruel you are. When you lived in your father’s house, I’m sure you had better manners.”

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “I just had less opportunity to prove it.”

She surprised a bark of laughter from him. The sound wasn’t pleasant. “Are we quarreling?” he asked.

“Are you angry?”

“Not yet, but I can’t promise not to become so if you continue to insult me.”

“I can’t resist a challenge either,” she confessed. “What if I told you that all the murdered girls were killed after attending a dance? And they also had one other, very important thing in common.”

“What was that?”

“They all knew a man named Will.”

Dirk didn’t so much as blink. “You told me this before, and I believe I pointed out that it’s a fairly common name.”

“They all knew the
same
man named Will. A man who gave them all gifts right before they were murdered.”

He gave her a pitying look. “I’ll admit I don’t know as much about murder and murderers as your friend the policeman, but is it common practice for killers to give their victims gifts before murdering them?”

It did sound strange, but everything about this was strange. “We believe this man named Will seduced these girls, and when they succumbed, he became enraged and beat them to death.”

“Sarah, my dear, that is preposterous. Who would believe that a man would become enraged and kill a woman
because
she submitted to him? Isn’t it usually just the opposite?”

“Yes, it is, which is why this case has been so difficult to solve. But just the other day, we discovered a clue that puts everything into perspective.”

“A clue?” She had his interest once again. “What kind of clue?”

“We have a photograph of the man named Will, Dirk. I don’t think it will surprise you to learn that it’s a picture of you.”

She watched the play of emotions across his face. Surprise came first, but the others followed so rapidly, she couldn’t even keep track, much less identify each one. The final one was, of all things, amusement.

“You think I killed those girls?” he asked in astonishment.

She didn’t want to admit it. She wanted to be wrong.

“You knew them all,” she reminded him.

“So you say. I don’t know which girls were murdered, so I can’t deny it. But I know dozens of girls like that, Sarah, much as it must shame me to admit it. Surely, not all of them have been murdered. Not a tenth of them, or the newspapers would have been raising a hue and cry against such a slaughter!”

“We don’t know why the victims were singled out,” Sarah said.

“And who is this we you keep talking about? You and that Irishman? Sarah, don’t you know anything at all about the police? They’re nothing more than uniformed criminals themselves! That detective—what’s his name?”

“Malloy,” Sarah supplied.

“Malloy,” he repeated, making a face as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. “I already told you why he’s so interested in this case, if you don’t. He doesn’t care who killed these girls. He’s only pretending to in order to impress you. Any fool can see he has designs on you, Sarah. He must consider you quite a prize to spend so much time chasing a killer of women no better than prostitutes. Why should he care how many of them die? The world would be a better place with fewer such creatures in it!”

“Dirk!” she cried, horrified by his attitude, although she knew far too many others shared it. She could also have set him straight about Malloy’s interest in her, but she didn’t think it was worth the effort.

“Don’t bother to be offended, Sarah. You’ve accused me of murder. I think I’ve got a right to be offensive in return.”

“Can you explain how you happen to know all the dead girls?” she asked.

“I told you, I know dozens of these girls, dead and alive. I’ve given them gifts and enjoyed their favors. At least give me an opportunity to defend myself. I probably have an alibi for the crimes. When were these girls killed? I’ll consult my calendar and give you a full report!” He seemed genuinely offended.

Sarah was starting to feel foolish. Although she wanted him to be innocent, she hadn’t really considered the possibility that he was. “Dirk, really, this isn’t necessary.”

“Of course it is. I can see I must prove myself to you or live under a cloud of suspicion for the rest of my life. Tell me. You must know when these girls died. What about this Gretel, the one you knew? You must have the date of her death engraved in your memory.”

Sarah wanted to deny it, but she did know the date. “Her name was Gerda. She died on the night of July sixth.”

He stared at her for a moment, then slowly a smile spread across his face. “I knew it. I thought I’d have to go home and check, but that’s a date I’ll never forget. Timothy Vandervort. You remember him. He got married a few weeks ago. I was his best man. That was the night we had a bachelor party for him. There were about twenty of us. We had a suite at the Plaza Hotel, and several young ladies came to ... uh ... to entertain us. All of the men are from the best families in New York, and every one of them will vouch for the fact that I was there with them all night. So you see, I could not possibly have killed your poor little Gerda.”

Malloy would make discreet inquiries, of course, but she knew Dirk wouldn’t lie about something that could be so easily disproved. He wasn’t the killer.

“What’s the matter, Sarah? You look disappointed.”

“No, I... I’m just so relieved,” she said, realizing that she was. So relieved that she was weak from it.