Murder in Little Italy gm-8

by Victoria Thompson

  “Police! Police! Get out of the way!” someone was yelling over the commotion, and Gino burst through the crowd like an avenging angel.

  “Step back, all of you,” Frank commanded, and the shocked crowd obeyed, giving Frank and Gino room to pull Keith to his feet.

  “Let’s get him out of here,” Frank said, and Gino helped him half drag, half carry Keith through the crowd, outside, and down the stairs to the street.

  “Why did you hit me?” Keith asked, glaring blearily at Frank.

  “I didn’t hit you . . . yet,” Frank said, standing him up on his feet and glaring at him, while Gino stood by to catch him if he fell. “Tell me, Mr. Keith, what is a happily married family man doing in a dance house with one of the girls who works for him?”

  Keith’s eyes widened as he realized his predicament.

  “I . . . I like to dance,” he claimed. “I just happened to see Brigit there and . . . and . . .”

  “And you thought you’d buy her a drink and diddle her a little, is that it?”

  “No! I never . . . I don’t . . .”

  “Yeah, I know, the girls don’t get any bastards from you,”

  Frank said in disgust. “Doesn’t stop you from getting plenty from them, though, does it?”

  “I . . . They don’t mind, though,” Keith insisted.

  “I’ll bet they have a different opinion,” Frank said.

  “They don’t, really! I never make them actually do it,” he claimed virtuously.

  “How did Nainsi get pregnant then?” Frank demanded.

  That sobered him instantly. “I didn’t . . .” he tried, but the words caught in his throat. “I couldn’t help it! It wasn’t my baby, though,” he added hastily. “I don’t care what she said. It couldn’t have been!”

  “And why is that?” Frank asked with genuine interest.

  “Because she . . . It didn’t happen until July. That was too late. Brigit told me.” Frank noticed he was sweating even though the evening was pleasantly cool.

  “What did Brigit tell you?”

  “When the baby was born, she told me it was full-grown.

  I’ve got kids of my own. I know if a baby is born early, it’s sickly. If it was mine, it would’ve been sickly.”

  Frank considered him for a long moment. “Mr. Keith,”

  he said with mock respect. “How is it that a man so careful as yourself got caught up in this?”

  “I . . .” he looked around wildly for a moment, as if searching for someone to help him. “It was her—Nainsi.

  She was a witch! She tricked me and . . .” He ran a hand over his face, and his shoulders slumped with despair.

  “And what?” Frank prodded.

  “I already told you, I’m a careful man. I don’t . . . penetrate the girls,” he explained in a whisper, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. “They just . . . They hold their legs together. It’s a trick I learned from a whore years ago,” he added defensively.

  Gino frowned in distaste, and Frank felt his skin prickling with fury. “So you think it’s all right to use the girls like that so long as you don’t penetrate them.”

  “I told you, they don’t mind,” he insisted. “They don’t have to worry about losing their jobs or getting a baby, and I get what I want, too.”

  Frank had to close his hands into fists to keep from striking Keith. He still needed a few more answers. “You said Nainsi tricked you,” he reminded him. “How did she do that?”

  “Well, she . . . See, it was like always except at the end she puts it in! Wasn’t nothing I could do, either. It just happened. Then she laughs, like she did something funny,” he added in amazement.

  “Did she tell you the baby was yours?” Frank asked, trying to figure out what Nainsi had been trying to accomplish by taking such a risk.

  “She . . . hinted,” he admitted reluctantly. “When she comes in to tell me she’s leaving to get married, she sort of winks and tells me she’s in a family way. Says she won’t know until it comes who the father is, either.”

  “So you told Brigit to let you know as soon as the baby was born,” Frank guessed.

  “I needed to be sure,” he defended himself. “I can’t have some little whore bringing a baby to my front door and telling my wife it’s mine, now can I?”

  “Is that what you thought Nainsi would do when the Ruoccos threw her out?”

  Keith wiped his sleeve across his beaded forehead. “No, why would she?” he asked shakily. “She’d know it wasn’t mine.”

  “Because she’d need money, and you’re the richest man she knows.”

  “She’d never get a cent from me. It wasn’t my kid!”

  “But your wife would know it might’ve been, wouldn’t she?” Frank said. “Is that why you killed Nainsi, Keith?

  So she wouldn’t tell your wife what you’ve been up to with all the girls?”

  “I didn’t kill her!” he cried.

  Frank remembered when he’d first questioned Brigit.

  He’d been sure there was something she hadn’t wanted to tell him in front of Keith. “But you did know the Ruoccos thought her husband wasn’t the father. Brigit told you that, too, didn’t she? You knew they were going to throw her and the baby out.”

  “What if I did? It was nothing to do with me!” he insisted.

  “It was everything to do with you if you thought she was going to talk to your wife. So you went over to the Ruoccos’

  place, sneaked up the back stairs, and killed her.”

  “I didn’t! I wasn’t anywhere near there that night!”

  “Where were you then?”

  “Here, right here! After Brigit came to tell me, I stayed until about eleven-thirty. Ask her. She was here, too.”

  “Where did you go then?”

  “Home to bed. My wife will tell you.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Frank said. “Officer Donatelli, take him to Headquarters and lock him up for the night.”

  “What?” Keith roared in outrage. “You can’t lock me up!”

  “Don’t annoy me, Keith,” Frank warned. “It’s all I can do to keep from smashing your face in right now.”

  “But I didn’t do anything!”

  “You’ve done enough to deserve a night in the lockup,”

  Frank told him pleasantly. “If Brigit and your wife vouch for you, I’ll think about letting you go.”

  “You can’t ask my wife!” he cried desperately. “She’ll want to know why you’re asking. You can’t tell her!”

  “Would you rather go to prison for murder?”

  “What about the Ruocco boys?” Gino asked.

  “We’ll have to catch up with them later,” Frank said.

  “Don’t tell her! Please, don’t tell her!” Keith pleaded as Gino grabbed him by the collar and started hustling him down the sidewalk.

  Frank ignored him. He was already climbing the steps back up to the dance house. The music was blaring again, and Frank stood in the doorway, watching the couples spin-ning by. He wondered what his mother would say if she saw the way these men held the girls so obscenely close. And the steps they did, so suggestive. The fellow guarding the door watched him glumly, probably expecting the worst, but this time he knew better than to challenge Frank’s entrance into the hall.

  When he’d circled the room twice and looked at every woman there, he had to conclude that Brigit had escaped.

  Seeing them carrying Keith out would’ve frightened her, of course. She had probably run out some back entrance as soon as they left. Well, he knew where she lived and where she worked. He’d find her soon enough. And the longer it took to check Keith’s alibi, the longer he’d have to stay in jail. That suited Frank just fine.

  Frank had a pretty good idea of what Mrs. Keith would be like, so he found himself speechless early the next morning when the woman who opened the front door acknowledged she was indeed Richard Keith’s wife. Mrs.

  Keith was a wisp of a woman, her face pale an
d drawn, and her eyes sunken and shadowed. She’d once been pretty. The evidence was still present, even though suffering had etched deep lines across her beauty.

  “Is my husband dead?” she asked raggedly when Frank had identified himself.

  “Oh, no,” he hastily assured her. “He’s fine.” But even still, she looked as though she might faint as her thin shoulders sagged in a sigh of relief.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Keith?” he asked, instinctively reaching to catch her in case she fell.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m . . .

  I’ll be fine,” she said. When she opened her eyes, he saw resignation there along with the pain that he realized must be constant. “Do you know where he is? He didn’t come home last night.”

  “Yes, he’s . . . he’s helping us with an investigation,”

  Frank said, not really lying. “Can I come in for a minute? I’d like to explain what happened with your husband, and you look like you need to sit down.”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you,” she said and moved aside to allow him to enter.

  The Keith home was modest but well tended. The parlor where she led Frank had the comfortable look of a room where a family gathered to enjoy each other’s company. She took a seat near the fireplace where a coal fire burned on the grate, even though the day was mild. He realized she had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, too, as if she was unable to get warm.

  Frank took the chair she offered.

  “You’re certain my husband is all right?” she asked anxiously. “He’s never been away from home all night before.

  He’s late sometimes, when he has to work, but he always comes home by midnight. I’ve been terrified for him.”

  Nainsi had been killed in the wee hours of the morning, according to Maria’s account of her waking up when Joe came home. Mrs. Keith had just confirmed her husband’s alibi. He wouldn’t even have to question her, thank God. He didn’t relish the idea of causing this woman any more pain.

  “He’s in perfect health, I promise. He’ll explain everything when he gets home,” Frank said, figuring that would be his small revenge on Keith. Let him come up with a believable story for this poor woman. He’d thought Keith was afraid of a harridan who would make his life miserable. Instead he’d been trying to protect a woman who had already suffered enough. Frank didn’t feel any more kindly toward Keith, of course. The man was adding to her pain, even if she didn’t know it. “We needed his help just a bit longer, so he asked if I would come and let you know not to worry.”

  “Will he be late for work? He mustn’t lose his job,” she asked.

  Frank had seen the photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Keith and their two children on the mantel. “I’ll speak to his em-ployer as well. We’re sorry to have caused you distress, Mrs.

  Keith.”

  “I’m very grateful that you came to tell me. If anything happened to him . . .” She bit her lip and managed not to weep.

  Now Frank really did want to smash Keith’s face in. Unfortunately, he’d only be hurting this woman if he did.

  Frank stopped at the factory next, but Brigit hadn’t come in to work that morning. The owner was rant-ing about his foreman not showing up, but Frank was able to calm him with a story about Keith being in an accident.

  The lie was like gall in his throat, but he thought about Mrs. Keith and the children and swallowed it down.

  “I need to talk to one of your other girls,” Frank added at the end of his explanation. Not waiting for permission, he strode down the center aisle to where Nainsi’s other friends sat. He found the one he remembered being so talkative the last time he’d been here. He took her by the arm and jerked her out of her chair.

  “I didn’t do nothing!” she protested as Frank roughly conducted her to the back of the room.

  “What happened to Brigit last night?” he asked softly, so no one would overhear.

  The girl’s eyes grew large. “She disappeared! We was all at the dance house like always, and then she and Mr. Keith was both just gone. We thought . . .”

  “Well, don’t think it anymore. I put Keith in jail. Brigit must’ve gotten scared and run. Where would she go?”

  The girl shrugged. “Home, I guess. She didn’t come to none of us, and she’s got no place else.”

  He was just about to let her go when he remembered one more thing. “When did you first meet Antonio?”

  She looked at him in surprise at this sudden change of subject. “I don’t know. Right before they got married, I guess. She was talking about him for so long, we all thought she made him up. Then she just shows up with him one night and says they’re getting married.”

  He did let her go then, and she scurried back to her seat, casting an apprehensive glance at the owner before putting her head down and starting up her sewing machine again.

  With a weary sigh, Frank started back downtown to the tenement where Brigit lived. He didn’t want to let Keith go if there was any chance he might’ve killed Nainsi, so he wanted to hear what Brigit had to say before he cleared him completely.

  The building was still as dark and dreary as he remembered. He wasn’t sure which flat was Brigit’s, so he had to knock on a few doors before a plump young woman holding a screaming baby directed him to the third floor. According to the neighbor, Brigit lived with her mother and several younger brothers. Frank knew they’d rely on her meager in-come to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads.

  She wouldn’t have missed work without a good reason.

  Even before he reached the landing, he could hear the sobs. Someone was crying as if her heart would break. Frank pounded on the door, and the weeping ceased abruptly.

  “Who’s there?” a female voice called hoarsely.

  “Police,” he replied in his official voice. “Open the door or I’ll break it down.”

  He heard a little cry of distress, but after a moment, the lock turned and the door opened a crack. Frank pushed it wide, sending Brigit stumbling back into the room.

  “What do you want?” she asked fearfully. “Where’s Dickie?”

  “Who’s Dickie?”

  “Richard . . . Mr. Keith,” she corrected herself. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut, her face blotchy and tear-streaked.

  “You took him, and he didn’t come back. What did you do to him?”

  “He’s in jail.”

  She cried out in dismay. “Why? He didn’t do anything!”

  “I’ll be the judge of that, and this time you’ll tell me the truth.”

  “I never lied!”

  “Oh, I think you did, Brigit. What happened the night you found out that Nainsi had her baby?”

  “What do you mean?” She seemed to be trembling. That was good. Terrified people seldom had the wit to make things up.

  “What did you do after Mrs. O’Hara told you Nainsi’s baby was born?”

  “I . . . I went out.”

  “To the dance house where I saw you last night.”

  She nodded, relieved. “That’s right. To see my friends.”

  “Maybe you went to see Dickie,” he suggested.

  She swallowed. “No, I . . . I didn’t know he’d be there, but . . . but he was.”

  “I said I wanted the truth,” he reminded her, taking a step closer.

  Her breath caught in her throat. “He goes there a lot!”

  she admitted quickly. “He wanted to know when the baby was born, so I went there to find him.”

  “What did you tell him?” Frank asked, keeping his voice even and icy cold.

  “Just that it had been born, and it was a boy.”

  “What else?”

  She laid a hand on her heart, as if to quiet it. Frank figured it was pounding like a trip-hammer. “That . . . that they were all mad at Nainsi, because they didn’t think Antonio was the father.”

  “What did Dickie say to that?” Frank asked, the contempt in his voice thick.

  “Nothing!” she claimed. “He just .
. . he just wanted to know, that’s all.”

  “Why would he even care about a thing like that?” Frank asked, watching her face carefully.

  “I don’t know! Because she worked for him, I guess,” she tried. “He was just . . . interested.”

  “Oh, he was interested all right. He wanted to know how long it had been since he’d slept with her until her baby came. He wanted to know if it was his.”

  “No!” she cried fiercely. “It couldn’t have been his!”

  “Why not?” Frank asked with interest.

  “Because he doesn’t—” She caught herself, too embarrassed to speak of such things to a stranger.

  “I know he doesn’t,” Frank assured her. “He’s usually real careful, but not with Nainsi. He had a little slip with Nainsi, you see. That’s why he wanted to know when her baby was born, so he’d know if it was his.”

  “He didn’t love her,” Brigit insisted. “He didn’t love any of them!”

  “Does he love you?” Frank asked curiously.

  “Yes, he does!” Her swollen eyes glowed with pride.

  “He’s going to marry me, too.”

  Frank couldn’t help the wave of pity he felt for her.

  “Don’t you know he’s already married?”

  “His wife’s real sick, though,” she informed him. “She’s going to die, and then we’ll be married.”

  This was all very interesting, but not getting him any closer to solving Nainsi’s murder. Frank gave himself a little shake. “Congratulations,” he said sarcastically. “Meantime, tell me the rest of what happened the night the baby was born.”

  “Nothing happened!”

  He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Does that mean you spoke to him, and then you all went straight home to bed?”

  “No, we . . . we just . . . We danced a little. Dickie wasn’t real happy that night. He kept staring off at nothing, like he was thinking about something real hard. I know he was thinking about her.”

  “Nainsi?”

  “No, his wife,” she corrected him testily. “Why would he think about Nainsi?”

  “Because he was afraid she’d just had his baby, and the Ruoccos were going to throw her out, and she was going to end up on his doorstep asking for money.”