Murder in the Bowery

by Victoria Thompson

  “I know many of the Daughters of Hope had been prostitutes before they found refuge at the Mission. That’s the main reason it was started in the first place.”

  “Yes, and when I heard what some of the girls had been through, I was even more grateful to my grandfather for taking me in. He might’ve been a crook, but he made sure I didn’t end up on the streets.”

  “I’m grateful to him, too.”

  That made Maeve smile, but only briefly. “The girls who had to sell themselves, they talked about how they had to pretend they enjoyed it even though they didn’t, but this one girl . . . Well, she told us she knew a trick. She’d learned it when she was a little girl and her stepfather used to sneak into her bed at night and have his way with her. She said when he’d come to bother her, she’d just pretend she was somewhere else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not really sure, but she said she could just lay there and shut out what was happening and not even feel it, like she wasn’t there at all.”

  “How amazing.”

  “I’d forgotten all about that until you asked me.”

  “But she was a child, or at least very young, I guess. Children are good at pretending.”

  “They’re better than adults, but if you’d learned how to do that, I suppose you could always remember.”

  “But that would probably mean you’d have to have learned it when you were a child,” Sarah said, and suddenly she remembered something Penelope Longacre had said that sent chills up her spine: Horace Longacre hadn’t remarried because he had the girl.

  “What is it?” Maeve asked.

  “Nothing. I just . . . I was thinking how horrible that would be.”

  “You said Mr. Malloy also talked to Robinson. Did he say the same thing?”

  Sarah shook off the ugly thoughts. “He said that apparently Estelle acted the same way with him at first, but that his, uh, skill as a lover overcame her disinterest.”

  This time Maeve gave a bark of laughter. “Did he really say that?”

  “I don’t know what his exact words were, but yes. I did suggest that he might have been bragging, though.”

  “I’d have to agree with that. I don’t have any experience with this, but I do know that men usually try to make themselves look good, so I doubt Arburn would lie about Estelle not being interested in him. That’s too humiliating to admit if it wasn’t true.”

  “I agree. And maybe Robinson really is a magnificent lover who won Estelle’s heart, but he also confirmed she wasn’t particularly interested when they first met. Now we need to figure out if that means anything.”

  “You think it does.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I saw the look on your face a few minutes ago. You thought of something.”

  “I did, but it’s not something I want to discuss with you. You already know too much about the uglier aspects of life.”

  “I’m so happy that you want to protect me, but it may be too late.”

  “I’m still going to try,” Sarah said. “Oh, looks like we’re here.”

  As the carriage came to a stop, Maeve looked out the window at the house. “Is that it?” she asked in disbelief.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Maeve gave her a glorious smile. “This is going to be so much fun!”

  John the coachman stayed outside with the horses to prevent anyone from stealing them and the coach and to keep the dozens of children who had gathered in their wake from climbing all over it.

  Sarah and Maeve climbed the rickety front steps, and Sarah pulled the key Jack Robinson had given her out of her purse and unlocked the door. “Hello!” she called before stepping through the front door.

  “Do you expect somebody to answer you?” Maeve asked.

  “No, but I saw evidence that people had been squatting in the house. If they’re still here, I want to give them a chance to escape.”

  “I guess I don’t have to ask how they got in,” Maeve said, pointing to a broken window.

  The summer heat had festered in the house, turning the air thick. They left the front door open and started strolling through the rooms as Maeve made mental notes of everything she saw. “This was a nice place once.”

  “Yes. I like to think a happy family grew up here. There’s a pump in the kitchen, so there’s water, but we’ll have to install at least one bathroom.”

  They had made it as far as the kitchen and were discussing what needed to be done when a male voice called out. “Hello?”

  “Who could that be?” Maeve asked.

  “Let’s go see.”

  They found an attractive young man standing just inside the front door. He wore one of those checked suits that young men thought made them look dashing but really made them look silly. His derby sat on the back of his head, so he looked like he’d been buffeted by a strong wind. He’d been scowling until they got close enough for him to see clearly in the shadows of the hallway.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said with a delighted smile. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I doubt it,” Sarah said. She glanced over to see that Maeve was unimpressed with his charm. Maeve was extremely difficult to impress.

  This seemed to disconcert him, but only for a moment. “Do you ladies know this is private property?”

  “Yes, it is, and may I ask what you’re doing here?” Sarah said.

  “I, uh, I’m protecting it for the owner.”

  “That’s a surprise, since I’m the owner.”

  He blinked a few times while he considered this information. “You . . . But . . . Mr. Robinson owns this house.”

  “Not anymore. He sold it to me.”

  His surprise was almost comical, but it lasted only a moment before he remembered himself. He tried his charming smile again. “I hadn’t heard that. I’m sorry. One of the neighborhood kids came running to tell me some people were breaking into Mr. Robinson’s house, so naturally I came to see.”

  “And you work for Mr. Robinson?”

  “Uh, yeah, I mean, yes, ma’am.” He pulled off his derby, nearly dropping it in his haste. “I’m Will Arburn, and you must be Mrs. Malloy.”

  Of course he would know her name. Robinson had assigned Arburn the task of investigating her before he sold her the house, and that was how he’d found Malloy. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Arburn. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Her tone left no doubt that it hadn’t been good things she’d heard, but he refused to be intimidated. Instead he nodded to Maeve. “Miss.”

  “Oh, and this is Miss Smith.”

  Arburn turned the full force of his charm on Maeve, probably knowing it would be wasted on Frank Malloy’s wife. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Smith. We don’t see many young ladies as lovely as you down here.”

  “Mr. Arburn,” Maeve said primly.

  “Oh, please call me Will.”

  “No, thank you.”

  He blinked in surprise, but refused to be discouraged. “I hadn’t heard the house was sold.”

  “I don’t suppose Mr. Robinson is speaking to you at the moment,” Sarah said.

  Arburn also refused to be embarrassed. “He’s a busy man.”

  “Did you intend to run us off?” Maeve asked.

  “I intended to find out what your intentions were, but two such lovely ladies as yourselves couldn’t possibly mean any harm. And you must know it isn’t really safe for you in this neighborhood. But I’ll be glad to offer my protection while you’re here.”

  Someone giggled, and Sarah looked past him to see a cluster of children peering in the front door. They must have found him as ridiculous as Sarah did.

  Arburn turned and shouted, “Get out of here!”

  The children scattered, but Sarah noticed they were still giggling.
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  “We would be delighted to have your company,” Sarah said. This was probably the only opportunity she’d have to get to know him.

  “And we’d be so grateful for your protection,” Maeve added, although she didn’t sound quite sincere. She wasn’t really trying, but Arburn was so sure of himself he didn’t seem to notice.

  “We were just going upstairs,” Sarah said.

  “Let me go ahead,” he suggested. “You never know what you might find in an empty house.”

  They let him precede them up the stairs.

  Maeve stopped to stomp on two or three of the steps, earning a shocked look from Arburn, which she ignored. “They seem pretty sturdy.”

  “The whole place is sturdy,” Arburn said, but as he reached the top of the stairs, his next step made a splintering sound and he stumbled and almost fell when his foot broke through a rotting floorboard.

  “Oh my, are you all right, Mr. Arburn?” Sarah said.

  “Uh, yes, I’m fine. Just a little . . . a bad board there, I guess.”

  Sarah and Maeve stepped carefully around it, ignoring Arburn’s offered hand. “This is the room with the leak,” Sarah said, and they proceeded to explore the rest of the house with Arburn trailing behind them.

  “It looks like whoever was squatting here is gone,” Sarah observed as they descended the stairs again.

  “Oh, Mr. Robinson would’ve run them off for you, I’m sure. Are you ladies really going to turn this house into a hospital?”

  “Yes, a maternity hospital,” Sarah said.

  “I wouldn’t expect you’d get much business in this neighborhood. Nobody here can afford to go to a hospital.”

  “That’s exactly why we chose to put it here. We aren’t going to charge our patients.”

  “So anybody can come?”

  “Any woman who is expecting a baby, yes.”

  “Ah, that’s what maternity means, then. But how are you going to stay in business if you don’t charge the patients?”

  “We’ll take donations from rich people,” Sarah said. “Mr. Robinson has already made a generous gift.”

  They’d reached the front hallway, and Sarah stopped. This would be a good opportunity to question Arburn some more. “I know Freddie wasn’t really your brother, but you must have known him well.”

  Arburn’s charming smile faded. “Not real well.”

  “But he worked for Mr. Robinson, too, didn’t he?”

  “If you call what he did working.”

  “Did he know Miss Longacre? I understand you would meet her at Mr. Robinson’s flat over the saloon, so surely, he’d seen her there.”

  Arburn glanced at Maeve, as if concerned about her reaction. “He might’ve seen her there a lot of times, I guess, but not with me.”

  Sarah feigned surprise. “But I thought you were lovers.”

  Plainly, he hadn’t expected a lady like Sarah to say anything like that. “I . . . I only saw her a few times. She had bigger fish to fry.”

  “I’m sure you were hurt when she threw you over for Mr. Robinson.”

  “I wouldn’t say I was hurt,” he hedged.

  “But still, you must have been shocked to hear she’d been murdered.”

  “Or maybe you were glad,” Maeve said sweetly. “Maybe you thought she got what she deserved.”

  Arburn’s gaze darted between the two women. “I . . . I wasn’t glad, exactly.”

  “I’m so happy to hear that,” Sarah said. “I would hate to think you callous.”

  “But you had a right to be angry,” Maeve said. “She treated you badly. Making you fall in love with her and—”

  “I wasn’t in love with her.”

  “But you were angry,” Maeve said. “Nobody likes to be humiliated.”

  “I wasn’t humiliated,” he insisted, sounding angry now.

  “Not even when you found her with Black Jack Robinson and she sent you away with your tail between your legs?”

  “She didn’t . . .” He paused to regain control, which disappointed Sarah. He was far more likely to blurt out something if he was angry. “I never cared about her. She was the one who started it. We were on a tour, and she slipped me a note. She’d written it out ahead of time. She planned it all.”

  “And being a gentleman, you couldn’t hurt her feelings by refusing her,” Sarah said.

  He gave her black look. “I wasn’t going to refuse her, no. What man would?”

  He had a point. But still . . . “Didn’t Mr. Robinson laugh at you when she sent you away?”

  “No!”

  “But they must’ve laughed when you were gone,” Maeve said. “You knew they would, and it rankled, didn’t it?”

  “Where do you get your ideas? I told you, I never cared for her. I was glad when he took her. She was more trouble than she was worth.”

  “How was she trouble?” Sarah asked in a voice that demanded a reply.

  “She wanted me to marry her.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yes, she told me that the first time we . . . we were alone.”

  “Why would she want to marry you?” Maeve asked, which did hurt his feelings, if the look on his face was any indication.

  “Because that’s what women want. They all want a man to take care of them. She said she wanted me to take her away from her father’s house. She never wanted to go back there again.”

  “You must have been very flattered,” Sarah said.

  “Flattered? She just wanted to use me. I wasn’t going to marry no spoiled rich girl. I wasn’t going to marry anybody.”

  “But you weren’t going to let Black Jack marry her either, were you?” Sarah tried. “If you couldn’t have her, nobody could.”

  “What are you saying? Do you think I killed her? I never killed nobody. He could have her and good riddance.”

  “I think you’re right, Mrs. Malloy,” Maeve said. “I think Mr. Arburn here couldn’t stand the thought that some spoiled rich girl had thrown him over, so when he saw her go into the flat that night, he followed her. He went up there to tell her what he thought of her and things got out of hand and he strangled her.”

  “I never!”

  “Yes, and Freddie saw him go in there,” Sarah said. “Maybe he even asked Freddie to help him carry the trunk down the stairs. And when somebody found her body, Freddie was going to hear about it and figure out what had happened, so you had to kill him, too, didn’t you?”

  “I never killed her and I never killed Freddie, but if you want to find out who did, you should ask Norman Tufts.”

  “Norman? What does he have to do with this?”

  “Just ask him.” With that, Arburn turned and was gone, stomping down the front steps with a foolish disregard for how unstable those steps were.

  “That was interesting,” Maeve said. “I think Mr. Malloy would’ve been impressed.”

  “If only we’d learned something important.”

  “I think we learned that Arburn didn’t kill them.”

  “You may be right, although Arburn is probably a good liar, so we can’t be absolutely sure.”

  “He doesn’t have much experience with women, though. I think he usually just gets by on his charm and never really has to talk to them.”

  “You’re probably right. Did you believe him when he said Estelle gave him a note?”

  “I did, actually,” Maeve said. “People don’t usually lie with so much detail.”

  What a useful thing to know, Sarah thought.

  The children Arburn had scared away were starting to gather again. “Let’s go,” Sarah said. “We can talk in the carriage.” She locked the front door behind them, although she knew that wouldn’t really keep anyone out.

  John appeared relieved to see them and had them quickly on their way, even th
ough the progress through the crowded streets was slow.

  “All right, let’s see what we learned,” Sarah said. “You think he was telling the truth about Estelle initiating their relationship. But why would she do it?”

  “Usually, if a girl goes after a man like that it’s because she really likes him. Do we think Estelle really liked Arburn?”

  “She couldn’t have liked him very much if she threw him over the minute she met Jack Robinson.”

  “Exactly. Another reason she might go after him is because she—uh, I don’t really know how to describe this but maybe desire would be the right word—because she desired him.”

  “And you think that would be different from liking him?”

  Maeve shrugged. “I’ve noticed that women often stay with men they don’t like, so there must be other reasons.”

  “Ah, I see what you mean. And do we believe Estelle desired Will Arburn?”

  “Having met him, I can’t imagine why, and she apparently didn’t enjoy his, uh, attentions, so I have to say no to that as well.”

  “Then what possible reason could she have had for . . . well, let’s call it seducing him, because that was the result of her efforts. Why would she do that if she didn’t like him and she didn’t desire him?” Sarah asked.

  “For the same reason women have always married men they don’t love or desire—she wanted a husband.”

  “Yes, a husband and all that goes with him, a home of her own and a family.”

  “Arburn said himself she wanted to get away from her father. I can understand that, but how desperate would she have to be to think somebody like Will Arburn could save her?”

  Sarah knew one reason Estelle might have been desperate to marry. “She was with child.”

  “She was? Why didn’t you tell me this?”

  “I only found out yesterday myself. The coroner mentioned it to Malloy back when he went to identify Freddie’s body, but he didn’t even know who she was then, and he’d forgotten all about it. She was about three months along.”

  “So she was already pregnant when she met Arburn.”

  “Apparently, but not very far along at that point. I don’t know if she even realized it yet, but if she did, she’d be desperate to get married and not too particular to whom.”