Murder on St. Nicholas Avenue (24 page)

Emboldened, Maeve followed. He stopped a few steps in, and Maeve came up beside him. Una Pollock sat in a chair on the other end of the room, by the gas fire, glaring at them. She wore a dark blue skirt and bodice that Maeve remembered from packing up her clothes. It fit her perfectly and made her eyes look even bluer than they usually did. She was giving them a look that could have drawn blood.

Gino didn't seem to notice. “Mr. Decker asked us to call
on you to see what you needed, Mrs. Pollock. He told us to help you with whatever it is.”

She looked them over as if she were examining something she'd stepped in on the street. “And exactly what can you do to help me?”

“Anything Mr. Decker can.”

She sniffed in derision. “And what about your little doxy? Why is she here?”

Maeve saw a little twitch in his cheek, as if he wanted to smile at that, but he said, “She's here in case you need a woman to confide in.”

Una stared at them for another moment, then to Maeve's surprise, she covered her face with both hands and began to sob. Gino glanced down at Maeve, horrified and obviously helpless. Muttering an imprecation on the Deckers for sending her here, she called out, “Hattie, bring Mrs. Pollock some tea, please.” Then she glanced around for a cabinet that looked like it might contain liquor. She had to open a few doors before she located the proper one. The selection was modest, but she settled on brandy and poured some into a glass she found there.

Una was really working herself into a state by the time Maeve reached her. “Here, drink this.”

Una either ignored her or was simply too upset to care. Maeve grabbed one of Una's wrists with her free hand and yanked it away. Shocked into momentary silence, Una stared up at her stupidly.

“Drink this,” Maeve repeated, pressing it to her lips. Una obeyed, taking a sip that promptly started her choking. When she was finished, Maeve made her drink some more. After a couple small sips, she pushed the glass away and glared up at Maeve with renewed hatred.

Maeve returned the favor, furious that Una Pollock even
looked pretty when she cried. Her long eyelashes were spiked and the color in her cheeks was rosy. Maeve wanted to dash what was left of the brandy in her face. Instead, she said, “Now tell us what all the fuss is about.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, still glaring.

“Hattie told us you were screaming at Eddie, and you've been upset all day.”

“Wouldn't you be? Do you know what's going on outside my house?”

“Of course we do. We just fought our way through because you asked for help.”

“We can't go outside. We can't have visitors. No one wants to be interrogated by those jackals outside.”

“You might as well get used to it, because they'll be there every day until the trial.”

Una's dismay heartened Maeve a little, but then she looked like she might start crying again, so Maeve got angry all over again.

“Just tell us what you wanted Mr. Decker to do for you.”

Una's gaze darted over to where Gino had been standing, and when Maeve looked, she saw he'd slipped out, the sniveling coward. If Una had thought to use her wiles on him, she'd missed her chance, at least for the moment.

Maeve watched Una's face as she considered her options. Whatever she'd intended to ask Felix Decker must have depended on using her feminine charms because she obviously had no intention of asking it of Maeve. After a minute or two of deliberation, Una stuck out her chin and said, “I want to see my mother.”

“Your mother?” This was the last thing Maeve had expected to hear.

“Yes, I . . . I miss her. She was so kind to me when I was
arrested. She got me an attorney and paid my bond so I could get out of that horrible jail. I need to see her to . . . to thank her. And I just need her support right now. She's the only family I have left.”

She managed to end this little speech on a sob, and she pulled a lacy handkerchief from her sleeve to dab her now-dry eyes.

“And this is why you sent for Mr. Decker?”

“Of course.”

There was no “of course” about it, in Maeve's mind. If she just wanted her mother, why didn't she send the telegram to Mrs. O'Neill instead of Felix Decker?

*   *   *

G
ino took one look at Una Pollock sobbing and decided he needed to check on poor Eddie. Eddie might also be sobbing if Una had yelled at him, but Gino was pretty sure he could deal with that. He knew very well where the kitchen was, so he found the stairs and hurried down them. Maeve, he was sure, could handle Una all by herself.

He found the three remaining servants in the kitchen. Velvet was preparing a tea tray while Hattie waited impatiently. Eddie sat at the kitchen table looking like his best friend had just shot his dog. His eyes were swollen from crying, but he didn't seem to be crying now, thank heaven.

“How are you folks doing?” he asked with as much cheer as he could muster.

“Oh, Officer, I don't know what's going to become of us,” Hattie said. “Those reporters is going to hound us from now on. That's what they said when they was following me today. They said I might as well tell them what they want to know because they'll find it out some other way if I didn't. They said
they'd pay me, too. Can you imagine? They'd pay me money to talk about Mr. and Mrs. Pollock!”

“I'm glad somebody's willing to pay us money,” Velvet said to no one in particular, reminding Gino that Mrs. Decker had promised them their wages. He knew only too well that Una Pollock had no way to pay them. Maybe she'd already figured that out and that's why she'd sent for Mr. Decker.

“As soon as we find out who killed Mr. Pollock, this will all be over,” he said.

Eddie groaned as if he were in pain. Hattie scurried over to comfort him. “There now, chile. Don't you be fretting yourself.”

He obviously didn't take any comfort from these words, because he put his head down on his arms and started sobbing.

“He's been like this all day,” Velvet said. “The missus lit into him something fierce this morning, and his poor heart is broke. He thinks the world of her, you see.”

Hattie was patting him on the back, but that only seemed to make it worse. Gino figured talking about it wasn't the right thing to do, what with Eddie sitting right there and everything. “What's this about Jane leaving?” he tried by way of changing the subject.

“Oh, she just up and left. Hattie sent her to the market but she never come back,” Velvet said.

“I guess she wanted to get away from the reporters.”

“Oh, she left before they got here. She left before the missus come home, even.”

“Where would she go without a reference?” Gino asked. He didn't mention the part about her back pay since he didn't want to remind them of it.

“That girl was up to something,” Hattie said. “I caught her writing a letter.”

“A letter?” Velvet scoffed. “She don't got no family that I know of. Who'd she be writing a letter to?”

“That's what I was wondering, but she got real uppity when I asked and wouldn't say.”

“When was this?” Gino asked.

“When she was writing the letter, you mean?” Hattie asked.

“Yes. When did she write it? Before or after Mr. Pollock died?”

“After, for sure. She wouldn't write no letters if Mrs. Pollock was in the house. The next day, I think.”

“Oh, I remember now,” Velvet said. “She was acting all funny. Said she had to go out to get something, but I put a stop to that. I bet she wanted to mail her letter.”

Gino noticed Eddie had stopped sobbing to listen. He'd raised his head and was scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. “She give it to me.”

“Give what to you, honey?” Hattie asked.

“The letter. She give it to me to mail.”

“What'd she do for a stamp?” Gino asked.

“You don't need no stamp. The person what gets it will pay, if they want the letter,” Eddie said. “That's what she told me.”

“Who was it addressed to?” Gino asked, wondering if he'd found the answer to one of their many questions.

Eddie looked away and shrugged. “Didn't notice.”

Velvet touched Gino's sleeve to get his attention and mouthed, “He can't read much.”

Gino nodded. “Do you have any idea where Jane might've gone? You said she didn't have any family, but did she have friends?”

“Nobody that would take her in, I don't think,” Hattie said. “Maybe she heard about another job and went to try for it.”

“Where would she hear about another job?” Velvet asked. No one had an answer.

The water had started boiling, so Velvet poured it into the teapot. Everything else on the tray was ready. “You can take this up now,” she said to Hattie.

Left with no more excuses, Gino followed her up the stairs and back to the parlor, where he hoped Una Pollock was no longer weeping.

*   *   *

“I
'll be glad to tell your mother that you want to see her,” Maeve said, still puzzled by the request. “I'm sure she'll be happy to see you.”

Una said nothing. She was more interested in dabbing at what was left of her tears and patting her hair back into place. Maybe she thought Mr. Decker was still coming.

“Your mother said she hasn't been invited to your house since you got married,” Maeve tried.

Una looked up sharply but took her time responding. “Randolph wasn't very sociable. He didn't like company.”

“I thought you regularly entertained his business associates. Didn't they come for dinner?”

Una frowned, obviously not enjoying being contradicted. “Why are you so interested in my social life?”

“I'm just making conversation, trying to keep your mind off your troubles.”

“I wish you could.”

They heard the clatter of the tea tray in the hallway. Maeve stood up, ready to help, although she noticed Una did not. She was used to being waited on. Maeve wondered how long it took for that to happen. Maybe it came more naturally for pretty girls.

Hattie glanced warily at her mistress, as if she were prepared to bolt, tea tray and all, if Una's mood wasn't just right. Una had run out of steam, however, and didn't even turn her head in Hattie's direction.

Hattie set the tea tray down on the side cabinet where Maeve had found the liquor. “Should I pour?” she asked Maeve softly.

“I'll do it.”

Hattie nodded gratefully and made her escape. Only then did Maeve notice Gino lurking just outside the still-open doorway.

“Welcome back,” she said as she crossed to pour the tea.

He stepped into the room as if he'd intended to all along. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Pollock?”

“Better, thank you.” She even used a different tone of voice when she was talking to a man she wanted to manipulate, Maeve noticed.

Instead of going to her, as Maeve had expected, Gino came to where Maeve was pouring tea into three cups. “Do you think she knows about Truett?” he whispered.

Maeve looked up in surprise. They hadn't even considered this. “How could she?” she whispered back.

“What are you plotting over there?” Una snapped.

Maeve plastered a polite smile on her lips and carried one of the teacups over to her. “We were just wondering if you've seen any newspapers.”

“Of course not. My staff can't even get out to buy food, and I wouldn't want to read them anyway.”

Maeve handed Una the cup, for which she did not thank her, and then glanced at Gino with a silent question. He shrugged, which was not at all helpful, so Maeve decided to plunge ahead.

“Did you know that Mr. Truett is dead?”

Una had just taken a sip of tea, and she spit it out in a most unladylike fashion and began to choke.

Gino started over, ready to slap her on the back or whatever, but Maeve stopped him with a gesture. She took the cup and saucer from Una while she coughed and got her breath back, letting her struggle without assistance. When she was breathing again, she looked up at Maeve with pure hatred.

“Are you all right?” Maeve asked without much genuine concern.

“I'm fine.”

“I guess you hadn't heard about him. I'm sorry to break it to you, but I suppose that's better than reading about it in the newspaper. You must've known him pretty well, since he was your husband's business partner.”

Una was still seething, although Maeve couldn't be sure if she was mad because Maeve had made her choke or because Truett was dead or both. Maeve offered her the tea again, and she took it without much grace.

After a sip or two, she looked up at where Maeve still loomed over her. “How did he . . . die?”

“He was murdered,” Maeve said. “The same way your husband was.”

Una closed her eyes, and the cup rattled in the saucer as her hands shook. This was obviously a shock to her. Maybe she did know Truett well. Maeve felt a niggle of regret that she'd broken the news so baldly. But only a niggle.

Gino came over and pushed a cup of tea into Maeve's hands. “Sit down,” he said softly, and she understood that he wanted her to ease up on Una. Maybe he was right, so she sat in the chair opposite and took a polite sip of the tea.

Gino went over to the sofa and sat down, too. Without his tea, Maeve noticed. By then Una had regained her composure. She looked almost angelic sitting there.

“Mrs. Pollock wants to see her mother,” Maeve said to Gino.

This surprised him as much as it had her, but he said, “She'll be happy to hear that. She's been worried about you.”

Una didn't seem to care if her mother was worried or not. “Do they know . . . ? Do they have any idea who might have killed Gor— Mr. Truett?”

“No,” Gino said. “Whoever did it searched his rooms the same way your husband's office was searched, though.”