by Rhys Bowen
“Absolutely not.” I laughed. “He made a beeline for the Christmas tree. We’ll have to keep the parlor door shut.”
That evening at sundown I took the children over and we all enjoyed the first night of Hanukkah. My mother-in-law was invited, but politely declined. “I see no reason to celebrate a Jewish holiday,” she said with strong emphasis on the word “Jewish.” I realized that my living in this part of the city had made me far more broad-minded and tolerant than most people, and that for people like my mother-in-law this time of peace and goodwill did not extend to those of a different faith.
We had just sat down to dinner when there was a knock at the door.
“Who now?” Daniel demanded irritably.
I opened the door to find Constable Byrne standing there. “Sorry to disturb you so late, but I was on duty and couldn’t get away earlier, Mrs. Sullivan,” he said. “But I think I’ve found the lady you were looking for.”
“You have?” I ushered him into the parlor. He commented on the Christmas tree and how festive the room looked while I almost danced with impatience. We had to wait while Daniel made his way slowly down the hall to us, then he handed Daniel a large manila envelope. “This is the description of a young woman pulled from the East River on March 28 this year. It matches the one you gave me completely. And there’s even a photograph.”
“They take photographs in the morgue these days?” I asked.
“In the case of a suspicious death they do. These days cameras are everywhere, aren’t they? And what a boon. It makes our job so much easier.”
“Let me see.” Daniel removed a sheet of paper from the envelope. The photograph was not of the best quality, probably taken without a flash, but I could see the resemblance to Emmy immediately—the upturned slant of the eyes and the heart-shaped face. Even in death she looked so peaceful, as if she was asleep, her long blonde hair draped over her shoulders. My immediate reaction was Ophelia, or the Lady of Shalott. There was a sort of timeless, ethereal beauty about her. A lump came into my throat. “Then she did take her own life after all,” I said.
“Probably not,” Constable Byrne said. “As it turned out, she didn’t drown. There was no water in her lungs. She was dead when she was thrown in, so it seems.”
“Then why wasn’t her death followed up sooner?” I demanded, fighting back the anger that welled up in me.
“Nothing to go on. No identification on her. No laundry marks. Nothing on her clothing. And nobody reported her missing. You can throw someone into the East River wherever you like and eventually the current will bring them down to the docks.”
“So her death need not have happened in the city,” I said.
“Could have happened anywhere,” Daniel agreed. “But you think this is the right woman, do you, Molly?”
“Without a doubt. The likeness to her daughter is striking. And the timing is right. The end of March. That’s when she would have disappeared. So she went to find her family and on the way something happened to her.”
“And in all likelihood we’ll never know what,” Constable Byrne said.
I studied the paper. “It doesn’t mention any obvious bruising or trauma to her body then?”
The constable clearly winced at a lady calmly discussing such topics.
“I only know what’s on this record, Mrs. Sullivan,” he said.
I read it through again, carefully, word by word. “It does list the clothing she was wearing,” I said. “Light blue cambric dress. Black boots, underclothes…” I looked up. “That seems too light to be wearing in March, doesn’t it? Where were her outer garments? She’d not have gone out without a coat of some sort.”
“I suppose the answer to that is that she died while indoors and was dumped in the river later,” Daniel said.
“And nobody reported seeing a body dumped into the river?” I demanded, angry now that Margaret should have come all this way, hopeful for a reunion with her family, only to come to such an ignominious end.
Daniel looked at me with understanding. “There are many places where a body could be dumped without the risk of anyone witnessing. North of here in the marshes—even down on some of the docks.”
“From the condition of her face in the photograph she hadn’t been in the water long,” I said, studying the photograph again. “If she’d been in there for days the fish would have found her.”
The young constable turned visibly green.
“I must apologize for my wife, Constable,” Daniel said with a chuckle. “You must realize she was once a detective herself. She has handled some pretty tough cases and now lacks all feminine sensibility to such matters.”
“Yes, sir.” Constable Byrne nodded. “Will that be all now, sir? Because I need to get home.”
“Of course you do. And we can’t thank you enough for your kindness,” I replied. “At least we know that Margaret Jones came to a tragic end. I just wish it might have been investigated more at the time … but with the absence of any identification, I can understand how hard that might be.”
I escorted him to the front door. When I returned Daniel was staring at the sheet of paper. “Whoever killed her made sure she wouldn’t be identified in a hurry,” he said. “Nobody goes out with no identification on them.”
“I suppose it could have been in her purse, stolen by robbers who hit her over the head and dumped her in the river,” I said. “Something as simple as that.”
“It often is,” Daniel agreed. “Life is cheap in this city. I’ve seen people murdered for their boots on a cold day.”
I shuddered. In spite of my supposed callousness I still did retain enough feminine sensibilities.
“Do you plan to show this to her children?” Daniel asked.
I stared at the photograph. “I don’t think so,” I said. “What good would it do? It can’t bring their mother back to life. When I’ve successfully reunited them with their family, then is the time to tell them that their mother is dead. Not before. They’ve been through enough recently.”
Daniel nodded. “You really think that you can reunite them with their family then?”
I sighed. “From all I’ve been told her father was a harsh and unforgiving sort of person, but even a heart like his should be melted if he once sees his grandchildren. They are so sweet and gentle, Daniel. Who could possibly turn them away?” I waved the photograph at him. “I’ll take this to Eustace Everett tomorrow. I was going to see him anyway, to find out what his uncle’s reaction was when he was shown Margaret’s locket. Now I have more ammunition, and a verification that the photograph really was of her.”
“And we only commented a few days ago that for once we’d be able to enjoy a quiet and peaceful Christmas,” Daniel said with a tired smile on his face.
I took his hand and held it in my own. “We will, my darling, I promise you,” I said.
Twenty-one
Friday, December 22
The next morning I paid an early call on Sid and Gus to tell them what we had learned. The children were sitting at the kitchen table, eating large omelets. They had already lost that fragile and hollow look. Both looked up and beamed when they saw me.
“Do you have any news about Mummy yet?” Tig asked.
“Not yet,” I lied. “But I may have news for you really soon.”
Then I remembered the fact sheet that Constable Byrne had brought us. “Tell me, Tig. Do you remember what your mother was wearing when she left you?”
“I remember,” Emmy piped up. “Her pretty blue dress. It was my favorite.”
I smiled. “Blue is my favorite color too,” I said. “But eat up your eggs before they get cold. I need to have a word with Miss Goldfarb.”
Sid followed me out of the kitchen and into the front parlor. “What is it?” she asked. “You’ve found out something?”
I nodded, glancing back at the door to make sure nobody could overhear us. “It would appear that their mother’s body was pulled from the East River last spring. Anyway the
description matches and she was wearing a blue dress. But there was no identification of any kind on her, and the horrible thing is that she didn’t drown. She was dead when she was thrown into the water.”
“How awful,” Sid said. “And the police never found out who did it?”
I shook my head. “Daniel says that given the strength of the current she could have been thrown in anywhere. Nobody of her description was reported missing. So they had nothing to go on.”
“Is it possible that the landlady and her friend killed her the way they threatened to do the children?”
“I’ve been wondering that too. But for what reason, I wonder?”
Sid shrugged. “To rob her of her jewelry, maybe?”
“I don’t think she had many worldly goods, Sid. She had eloped with the singing teacher, who was later reduced to working on the docks. I think she only came back here because she was desperate. And anyway,” I added, “this body was pulled from the East River. Why would they have taken her across the island when they could have thrown her into the Hudson?”
Sid nodded in agreement at this. “Poor children.” She also glanced back toward the door. “Let’s just pray that their grandfather relents and takes them in.”
“And if he doesn’t? What then?” I asked.
“They are so sweet, Molly. No trouble at all. And Gus has fallen completely in love with them. She said last night it was like a gift from heaven, when she thought she would never have a child of her own.”
“It would certainly curtail your lifestyle,” I said.
“We’ll face that obstacle when we come to it. There are nannies and governesses, you know. And we are not without funds.”
All the same, I worried a little as I got ready to visit Eustace Everett on Wall Street. Sid and Gus were so kind and generous, but they were also impulsive and given to whims. Could they really leave the children with a nursemaid if they decided to go back to Europe or to trek across the Sahara? Still, this might never be a problem after today. Mr. Montague would have seen the locket and hopefully agreed to meet his grandchildren.
“Off again?” my mother-in-law asked, her face a mask of disapproval.
“I’ve more shopping to do,” I lied. “Christmas is only a few days away.”
“Anyone would think your husband earned a princely amount the way you are spending,” she commented.
“It’s Christmas,” I replied. “I still need to order the turkey and we have no candy canes or sugar mice for the tree yet. Just lots of little things, you know. I’m certainly not being extravagant.”
I think I heard a hmmph sound as I headed for the front door and felt guilty that I had lied to her. It was true I did still have shopping to do, but it would have to wait until more important matters had been taken care of.
The East River looked gray and unfriendly as I walked down Wall Street toward the Montague Coffee Importers building. The river had actually frozen around the docks and I could hear the sound of ice groaning and grinding with the movement of the water. It sounded as if the river was alive and angry and I shuddered as I thought of Margaret’s body floating there. There will be justice for you, I thought.
This time I was met immediately by a rather grand young man in a high, stiff collar and black suit. I told him that I’d come to see Mr. Everett.
“I am Phipps, his personal secretary,” he said. “May I assist you? Mr. Everett is extremely busy at the moment.”
“It is a personal matter and he is expecting me,” I said. “Please tell him that Mrs. Sullivan has returned and hopes he has good news for her.”
He went away, but returned almost immediately. “Mr. Everett says he is not aware of anyone called Sullivan and has no appointment with you.”
“But he saw me only two days ago,” I said. “Clearly he has forgotten my name.”
I wasn’t about to wait any longer, but pushed past him, heading for the stairs. Phipps gave a little cry of surprise and tried to grab my arm. “I’m sorry, madam, but Mr. Everett is extremely busy and has no time to see you today. He has a lot of work to finish before he heads out to Long Island for his engagement party tomorrow.”
“I need to speak to him and I’m going to speak to him, and you’ll not stop me,” I said. Then I pushed past the astonished Phipps, went up the second flight of stairs, and let myself in to Everett’s office. The supercilious young man was at his desk again and looked up at me with a frown. “I thought I made it clear to my secretary that I was not to be disturbed,” he said. “If this is some kind of charity call, I do not have time today.”
“You don’t remember me, Mr. Everett? I came to see you two days ago, about your cousin’s children. I brought you the locket to give to your uncle.”
He stared at me coldly. “Locket? What locket? I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
For a second I was lost for words. “Are you suffering from amnesia?” I demanded angrily. “I brought you a locket that had belonged to your cousin Margaret. You promised to take it to your uncle.”
He even managed a smile now. “I’m afraid I have no recollection of any such meeting.”
“I’ll go and find the young man who escorted me to your office last time,” I said. “I have a witness that I was here, don’t I?”
“Young man?” He looked puzzled. “The only person you would have met was Phipps. He mans the outer office and ascertains that only legitimate callers are shown up to me. And you’ve never seen this woman before, have you, Phipps?”
“Never, sir,” Phipps answered smoothly.
“It wasn’t Phipps. A young man with red hair. Skinny.”
“I’m not aware of any such man working here. Are you, Phipps?”
“No, sir,” Phipps answered again. “I’ve been here every day. The lady could not have passed me.”
“You see?” Eustace Everett’s expression bordered on triumphant. “Now I suggest you leave before there is any unpleasantness. I understand that they lock away delusional women in the asylum on Ward’s Island, and I would hate to see you wind up there. If you don’t leave now I will call the police.”
I was about to tell him he was welcome to do that. My husband was a senior officer and he’d end up being the one in trouble for stealing my locket. But I swallowed back the words at the last second. My husband was incapacitated at home, and there was a faction in the New York police department who wanted him ousted. I could no longer rely on the police to be on my side.
I forced myself to keep calm. “You will regret this, Mr. Everett,” I said. Then I let Phipps usher me down the stairs. I was furious with myself for handing over the locket—the one piece of proof that the children really were Mr. Montague’s grandchildren—to a man who obviously would do anything in his power to prevent new heirs from usurping his place. I knew I had taken an instant dislike to him—I saw him as arrogant and self-satisfied. I should have done some investigation into him first—asked Miss Van Woekem what she thought of him. And now he had the locket.
I stood on the bleak waterfront, looking up when a tugboat gave a mournful toot nearby. And an awful suspicion crept into my mind. Had Margaret first come to visit him—to sound him out? To ask for his help in smoothing things over with her father? And had he agreed to help her? Offered to escort her to the estate on Long Island, only to kill her along the way and throw her body into the river? But maybe he couldn’t bring himself to kill two children, so he had paid Hettie to look after them. Or maybe Hettie and Jack had somehow found out what he had done, and he was paying them for their silence? It seemed all too possible now. And completely unprovable. I seethed with frustration. Was there anything I could do? I could tell Daniel and he might have a bright idea. But Daniel was recovering from a dangerous injury and should not be upset. I could confront Hettie and get the truth out of her, but Jack Hobbs was a dangerous man. I could go to Miss Van Woekem and warn her about her godchild’s fiancé. But again it would all be my word against his. If Julia was really in love with him she wou
ld hear nothing against him, and I might risk losing the friendship of the old lady.
Besides, presumably Julia would already be out on Long Island, getting ready for her party. And it struck me that maybe I should risk everything by going out there myself, before Eustace could get there and inform the servants that I wasn’t to be admitted. There was to be a big party tonight. Could I pose as a guest? The only problem was that there would certainly be a reception line. Eustace would spot me and I’d find myself hauled away by the police. I had to admit that his threat of sending me off to Ward’s Island asylum certainly made me think twice about doing anything too risky. I had been to that place to rescue a girl who had been wrongly committed, and I knew how difficult it was to get out again, once one was locked up.
But if I went to the house now, before Eustace arrived … might I just have a chance? I had never been out any farther than Brooklyn and Coney Island, and I wasn’t even sure if trains went in that direction. Probably not from Grand Central Terminus, as I didn’t think there was a railway bridge across the East River to Long Island. If I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, would I find a train or a trolley that would take me to the right railroad station? I was horribly conscious of time. Daniel knew some of what I planned to do. I had mentioned Eustace Everett to him. My mother-in-law thought I was out spending Daniel’s money. So I would be fine for a while, but I had no idea how long it might take to reach Great Neck. And if I made it that far, what then? All I knew was that it was the Montague estate in Great Neck. Would that be enough to find the place?
I walked back to the nearest El station and asked hopefully at the ticket booth. The ticket agent shook his head with disinterest. “Never had no call to go out to Long Island,” he said. “Coney Island. I can tell you how to get there. That’s the place to go, in good weather, that is.”
“But I need to go to Great Neck,” I said.
“Where the swanks live?” He looked at what I was wearing with something like a smirk on his face.
“Never mind.” I turned away, biting back frustration.
