75
An hour after seeing Penwill off at headquarters, Falconer stepped off a crowded streetcar and headed over to the entrance of the Hoffman House. As he approached, he saw Penwill, Jimmy Halloran, and James Waidler lingering outside the entrance along with the three men who had been detailed to keep watch over Seidler that day—Rebholz, Steinert, and Walsh. One look at the six of them told Falconer that something was not right. “What’s going on?” he asked the men. “Where is he?”
Rebholz stepped forward, clearly agitated. “I’m sorry, detective, but…”
“But what, Rebholz?” Falconer said quickly. “Speak up, man.”
Penwill stepped forward and spoke. “He gave them the slip, I’m afraid, Falconer. It’s no one’s fault—the men did their duty and followed him closely across the park and up to Madison Square Garden, where he sat for some time on a bench smoking a pipe. But then, just as he got up to stroll a bit more, a prizefight in the arena ended and the entire crowd let out onto the street like some great cattle run. I’m sorry, but he blended right into the crowd. I don’t think any of us could have kept an eye on him in something like that.”
“I’m sorry, detective,” Rebholz said again, looking crestfallen. “The crowd was huge—just a bunch of dark coats and hats twelve deep on the sidewalk—everyone looked the same…”
Falconer looked at the men and then away towards the park across Broadway. His thoughts ran to Byrnes sitting at his great, big desk on Mulberry and how he would explode at this latest bit of news. Damn it…that’s it…I’m finished now.
“Falconer?”
Falconer looked back at the men and saw Penwill gazing at him. “We can’t let this bog us down now,” the Englishman said. “We’ve got to keep acting. He probably used the crowd to find another opportunity—the clever bastard. We must get men out into the streets now and do our best to locate him.”
“Yes,” Falconer finally said. “We must do that. Waidler, send a message to all precincts to be on the lookout for Seidler. In the meantime, you men go back inside and see if anyone knows where he was going. You never know.”
“Right,” Rebholz said before beckoning Steinert and Walsh to follow him inside the hotel.
“So?” Penwill said, turning to Falconer. “Where do we start now?”
Falconer did not say anything as he scanned the surrounding buildings and watched the busy street in front of them, a boulevard full of nameless pedestrians and dark carriages riding by full of people going somewhere in the great big city as the sun slowly started to fall in the sky to the west. Then he looked back at Penwill. “Back at Oak Street,” he said. “Let’s go.”
76
Nellie Bly heard Maggie, her housemaid, ask to enter the drawing room inside Bly’s stately, brick walk-up on Thirty-Fifth Street. “Yes, come in,” Bly answered as she scanned the Evening World.
“I have a message just left for you, miss,” Maggie stated as she entered with a folded note.
“Really?” Bly asked. “From whom? Not Detective Falconer from Oak Street, I hope.”
“No, miss,” Maggie replied as she handed the note to Bly. “It wasn’t the police—just a young boy messenger who said he had a message from someone you’d be interested in meeting.”
“Really? How intriguing,” Bly said as she eagerly opened up the note and read.
“Is there anything else, miss?” Maggie asked. But Bly did not answer.
“Miss, are you all right?” Maggie asked again.
“What? Um…it’s fine, Maggie, that will be all,” Bly said as she looked around the room trying to figure out what to do first. “Please just tell my mother that I will be going out shortly and to not wait up for me. Thank you.”
“Yes, miss,” Maggie said, and then she left the room.
Bly felt a slight shudder in her body as she thought of the approaching evening, and then she remembered what it was like to travel to all those far-off places on her trip around the world without ever really know what was coming next. And then she smiled and stood up to get her coat.
77
Penwill walked into the Oak Street station with Levine by his side and moved between a jumble of vagrants who were waiting eagerly in the lobby to be admitted into the downstairs lodging rooms for the night. It was later in the evening after a first day of failed searches for Seidler, and Penwill wanted to regroup with the other investigators. He motioned for Levine to follow him to the detective offices in the back, and, coming to a doorway at the end of the main hallway, he looked in and saw Falconer sitting on his desk across the room examining some telegraph messages. “Evening,” Penwill said to him. “Anything of note on your end, old boy?”
Falconer looked up. “Hello, gentlemen,” he said. “Nothing to report, I’m afraid. What about you?”
“Nothing, as well,” Penwill said, taking a seat next to Falconer as Levine did the same. “The professor and I have been scouring the lower part of the Tenderloin with your men, all to no avail. No one has seen the man, it seems.”
“Right,” Falconer said, looking back at the messages in his hand. “But he’s out there, inspector. I know it.”
“Unfortunately, I believe that you’re right, Falconer,” Penwill said. “And we’re just about powerless to stop this man unless someone can spot him first and get word to us.”
“I had a thought just a minute ago,” Falconer said, standing up. “How about you two and I go visit Miss Bly at her home up on Thirty-Fifth? Maybe she’ll have an idea through her newspaper contacts—and to be honest, I think I should apologize to her for coming down so hard on her at the Hoffman House yesterday.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Falconer,” Penwill said, getting up out of his chair to pour a glass of water from a pitcher standing on a nearby desk. “You did the right thing, I believe. And besides, she’s a big girl. But I do think that’s a bloody well good idea right now. Shall we, professor?”
“Absolutely, inspector,” Levine replied, getting up out of seat. “I think we should try anything at this point.”
“Good,” Falconer said, grabbing his bowler and jacket. “Let’s go.”
He led the two men out of the detective offices and down the hallway to the front entrance to the station, and they all walked briskly to the elevated train nearby.
78
Thirty-five minutes after leaving the station, Falconer, Penwill, and Levine headed up the front stairs of Bly’s elegant brownstone home at 120 West 35th Street in the Murray Hill District of midtown. “Nice place,” Penwill remarked as the men took their hats off and Falconer knocked.
“Indeed,” Levine said.
A few seconds later, a young woman answered the door and peered out at the three men. “Yes, sirs?” she said. “May I help you?”
“Hello, miss,” Falconer said, taking off his bowler. “I’m Detective Falconer from the Oak Street station, and this here is Investigator Penwill and Professor Levine from Columbia College of Law. We are in the middle of an investigation, and Miss Bly is well acquainted with it. We’re just wondering if we might see her for just a moment. She’s not in any sort of trouble, I can assure you.”
“Yes, I understand, but I’m afraid that will be impossible, detective,” the girl replied. “She just went out about an hour ago and has not yet returned.”
“Really?” Falconer said. “Do you happen to know where she might have gone?”
“I don’t sir,” the girl answered. “She received a message a little over an hour ago suddenly, and she ran out rather excitedly, I must say. She didn’t say where she was going.”
“I see,” Falconer said. “You mentioned a message—do you happen to have it here still? I just want to make sure she’s safe—you understand.”
“Safe?” the women said looking a little alarmed. “I thought you said she’s not in any trouble, detective.”
“No, I don’t believe so, miss,” Falconer replied. “She’s just been, well, assisting us a little bit on a case, and I did
n’t want her doing any investigations on her own.”
“I see,” the woman said. “But…was what your name again? I’m sorry…”
“Not at all,” Falconer said. “I’m Detective Falconer from the Oak Street station down in the Fourth Ward.”
“Why, then my goodness—the other message is for you,” she said excitedly, as she opened the door a little farther.
“Other message?” Penwill said. “What was that?”
“Yes,” the girl said, “another boy came by about a half hour ago and gave me one more message addressed to you, Detective Falconer. I had no idea why he was leaving it here, but the boy insisted that the sender wanted it left for you here, and he said it was for your eyes only. Here, let me fetch it for you.”
She opened the door wider to let the men in and they followed her in several feet into the long hallway that ran towards the back of the home. Falconer looked at Penwill and Levine as the girl disappeared for a moment and then returned quickly holding a white envelope in her hand. She handed it to Falconer and he looked down and read the writing on the front: “Det. Robert Falconer,” written in very ornate lettering. He opened the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper, and read the contents:
Falconer:
By now you will have gotten word of Miss Bly’s strange disappearance. I knew that this would lead you to her home, so I am leaving this, my last message to you before departing, here at her residence. As I have said to you in the past, you have been a formidable opponent—much more so than the incompetents who litter Scotland Yard (although not including your partner, Penwill, who is, I must say, a true professional in every sense of the word). I am sorry that you failed in your quest, Falconer, but someone had to lose this game, and I certainly did not intend that it would be me. For now, I bid you goodbye and good luck. Somehow, I can’t help thinking that if you had been there in Whitechapel, things might have worked out differently. But now you are a part of my New York story. You will find Miss Bly somewhere in the river near your precinct. I just could not bring myself to take the knife to her, so I decided to just let her “drop in,” as they say.
I am surprised at how well you and your colleagues have kept this all very quiet in the press, but that won’t last.
Farewell, Falconer,
J.
He finished reading and looked up at Penwill, who had a look of a man who had never smiled once in his life, and then Levine, who remained as stoic as ever.
“What the devil is going on, Falconer?” Penwill asked. “What does it say?”
Falconer handed the note to Penwill, who showed it to Levine as he read, and then Falconer turned to the housemaid. “When was this note brought to you?” he asked. “A half hour ago?”
“Yes, detective,” the ashen-faced woman answered.
“And it was just a boy, you say? There was no carriage waiting on him?”
“No, sir,” she replied. “None that I could see. What is going on, detective? This is scaring me.”
“It will be all right, miss,” he said, and then he looked over at Levine and Penwill, who had both finished reading the note.
“‘Let her drop in?’” Falconer said to them. “Into the river?”
“That appears to be the plan,” Penwill answered. “Tonight, Falconer.”
Falconer walked a few steps away, looked up, and saw himself reflected in a mirror hanging on the hallway wall. “He couldn’t have meant that we get this in time,” he said to the men.
“No, detective,” Levine said forcefully, stepping toward him. “He meant for you to get this tomorrow or even the next day, after it was all done. But in deciding to come over here tonight and apologize to Miss Bly, you’ve had an incredible stroke of good luck. He just sent this message an hour ago and we could still have time to save her.”
“The question is,” Penwill interrupted, “where is he and where is he dropping her in?”
“He said it was down near my precinct,” Falconer said, walking closer to the front door. “That means it’s the bridge—it has to be. Let’s go!”
He ran out the door and bounded down the stairs, and he heard Penwill and Levine following him. As he reached the bottom, however, he suddenly collided with a dark form that appeared, and he grabbed out at the person’s jacket as the person fell towards the sidewalk. “Riis?” Falconer exclaimed as he looked down at the man’s face. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, Detective Falconer,” Riis sputtered as he regained his balance with Falconer’s help. “I was coming over to see Miss Bly, and wasn’t looking just now, I’m afraid.”
“Well, there’s a problem now, and we don’t have time to explain,” Falconer said, “but suffice to say, Miss Bly’s life is in danger.”
“Danger, you say?” Riis said. “What sort of danger?”
“To be blunt, Mister Riis,” Penwill interrupted, “she has been kidnapped by the man we believe has killed several women here in the city, and he is about to drop her off your Brooklyn Bridge.”
“The bridge?” Riis said with a look of agony on his face. “Good god, I shouldn’t have let her do it.”
“Do what?” Falconer asked.
“Go to meet this man,” Riis answered. “She’s been planning on arranging a meeting with him and asked me to assist.”
“Well, it’s no use worrying about it now,” Falconer said. “We need to go to the bridge and save her, so come along with us.”
“Me?” Riis asked, looking at the three men in turn. “You want me to come save her with you?”
“You might as well join us,” Falconer said. “You can fill us in on her little scheme.”
Falconer then led the men in a quick trot down the sidewalk towards Broadway. As they got close to the intersection, Penwill spoke up: “Well, how on earth are we going to get there before it’s too late? We’re in bloody midtown, gentlemen.”
Falconer ran a few last steps before coming to a stop at the grand, busy thoroughfare. “By horse,” he said to the men. “It’s the only way to get to her in time now.”
“Horse?” Penwill asked, looking around. “What horse?”
“This one,” Falconer said as he pointed to a horse-drawn carriage coming down the avenue towards them. Falconer ran towards it and grabbed the horse’s reins roughly, ordering the driver to stop as he showed his badge. “Police!” he shouted up to the befuddled-looking man sitting up atop the driver’s seat. “This is an emergency, and I need your horse now!”
“My horse?” the driver asked quizzically. “But I’ve only got one.”
“This man here will get your name and ensure that the horse gets back to you,” Falconer said, quickly untying the reins holding the horse to the carriage and motioning to Penwill. “We’ve got a woman up on the bridge who’s in danger, and I need to get there immediately. I’m sorry, sir.”
“But—”
Falconer did not hear the rest of the man’s pleas, but only looked down at Penwill as he mounted the horse and nudged it with his boots, causing the horse to rear up and take off down the street. “Get a boat out under the bridge!” he shouted. “I will see you there!”
“Right!” Penwill answered, and then Falconer looked ahead as he urged the horse forward, riding towards downtown and the ramp leading up to the Brooklyn Bridge at Park Row.
79
Penwill watched Falconer recede into the darkness on Broadway and then looked over at Levine and Riis. “Professor,” he said, “could you please get this good man’s name and address? I’m going to grab us a wagon or carriage here.”
“Certainly,” Levine said, and he walked quickly over to the man sitting on top of the now-stationary carriage.
Penwill, meanwhile, walked out into the middle of the street, which was largely quiet at this late hour, and searched for any sign of a carriage or wagon heading in their direction. He saw nothing for several seconds, but then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw an old wooden wagon turning from 36th Street onto Broadway led b
y a team of two horses. He ran up the street and came upon the driver, a young man, sitting on the rickety old vehicle as it slowed to a halt. “Police,” he said, showing his badge to the youth. “I’m sorry, lad, but I must commandeer this wagon for official police purposes.”
“Commandeer it?” the man said. “What for?”
“We’ve got a lady who might be thrown from your Brooklyn Bridge at any moment, I’m afraid,” Penwill answered as he hopped onto the driver’s seat and grabbed the reins from the man. “I’m dreadfully sorry about this, but we’re trying to stop the suspect from doing it.”
“Who’s the suspect?” the young man inquired as Penwill drove the team over towards Levine and Riis waiting near the curb of the street.
“Well,” Penwill said nonchalantly, “have you ever heard of Jack the Ripper?”
“Jack the—what?!”
Penwill declined to explain further as he drove the two horses and wagon up to Levine at the side of the street. “Hop up, professor…Mister Riis,” he said, pulling to a stop. “This young man has graciously offered the services of his wagon.”
“Really?” Levine said as he stepped up and took a seat beside the two men. “Thank you very much, sir—we certainly appreciate it.”
“Sure,” the man said, as Penwill pulled the wagon out into the street and snapped at the reins. “So, where are you all going and what are you going to do?”
“Down to beneath the bridge,” Penwill said, speaking louder now that the wagon was racing as fast as possible behind the two horses. “We’ll find a boat and row out beneath it.”
Penwill did not hear any more questions from the young man as he looked forward down the street with the reins in his hands, mentally urging the two horses to run faster and faster towards the great bridge that loomed in the distance like a dark tower, menacing and threatening in its stillness in the night.
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