Murder on St. Mark's Place

by Victoria Thompson

  He looked like he was going to argue with her, but just then the fellows lingering outside the dance hall got a look at Malloy, and they scattered like pigeons, ducking and dodging in every direction.

  Malloy frowned, and Sarah said smugly, “You see what I mean? You just look too much like a policeman. You frighten people.”

  “Only people with something to hide,” Malloy argued.

  “Maybe this George has something to hide.”

  Malloy grunted his acceptance.

  When they reached the stairs up to the dance hall, Sarah looked around the neighborhood. “We need to decide where we’ll meet you.”

  “We?” he asked. “I thought this Lisle girl was going to bring him out. And don’t expect to stand around and watch me question this George fellow. You don’t have the stomach for it.”

  Sarah could have argued that point. She’d seen people die in hideous ways during her years of nursing and midwifery, so her stomach was quite strong. But he probably wasn’t talking about that sort of thing. She wouldn’t approve of his tactics, which she imagined could be quite violent if necessary. If so, then he was right, she didn’t have the stomach for it.

  “What kind of a place do you need for your interrogation?” she asked. “Is an alley all right?”

  “Anyplace out of sight,” he replied, also scanning the area for an appropriate spot. “I’ll wait in the bar across the street. I’ll sit near the front window so I can see them come out.”

  “You don’t know what they look like,” Sarah reminded him. “I’ll come out just before or just after them and catch your eye. Then we can follow them until you see a suitable place to ... to do whatever you need to do.”

  Malloy didn’t like accepting her plan, but it made so much sense, he couldn’t argue with it. “All right, but don’t think you’re going to watch me question him.”

  Sarah smiled sweetly, then started up the stairs to the dance hall. The music was loud and discordant, and the hall was already crowded and smoky and unbearably hot. The bouncer took her admission fee, but his expression told her he found her presence in a place like this very strange indeed.

  Sarah took a moment to allow her eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness of the hall. Then she was able to find Lisle and the other girls sitting at a table on the other side of the room. She made her way over to them, drawing curious glances as she moved through the crowd. Feeling conspicuously out of place, Sarah finally reached the table where Lisle, Hetty, and Bertha sat.

  Hetty and Bertha were looking grim, and Lisle was smoking furiously on a cigarette. Sarah noticed her hand was less than steady when she brought it to her lips to take a drag.

  “You shouldn’t’ve made her do this,” Hetty told Sarah as she took the empty chair at the table. “She’s scared silly!”

  “Shut up, Hetty,” Lisle said, glaring at her friend, even as she took another puff of the cigarette. “I ain’t scared. I’m just nervous.”

  “If you don’t want to do it, I can go tell Malloy that—”

  “I do want to do it!” Lisle insisted, throwing the butt of her cigarette to the floor and grinding it out with the toe of her shoe. “Don’t you want to know who killed Gerda?” she demanded of the other girls.

  Their gazes dropped. Sarah wasn’t sure if it was shame or fear that cowed them. She only hoped whatever it was wouldn’t interfere with the investigation.

  “I told my friend Detective Sergeant Malloy that when Lisle leaves the hall with George—”

  “You mean she’s got to go out with him? What if he’s the killer?” Bertha wailed.

  “Shush!” Hetty said, looking around nervously in case they had been overheard. Fortunately, the music was so loud, they could hardly even hear each other.

  “Mr. Malloy is waiting downstairs,” Sarah hurried to explain. “He’ll follow Lisle and George, then he’ll confront George and question him. After I take Lisle away,” she hastened to add when Bertha would have protested again, “I’ll either follow them outside or go out ahead of them. That way I can point them out to Mr. Malloy. They won’t get far, and Lisle will never be alone with him.”

  The girls didn’t seem reassured. Lisle looked around and saw a young man passing their table. “Got a smoke?” she asked with a brittle smile.

  He was only too delighted to offer her a cigarette and light it for her. But when he made as if to sit down and join them, she turned away with a faint, “Thanks. See you later.”

  Stung, he moved away, looking back once with an angry glare. Sarah imagined she saw murder in his eyes. She was becoming much too suspicious lately.

  “Have you seen George? Is he here yet?” Sarah asked.

  The girls shook their heads. A young man with buckteeth and freckles came over and asked Bertha to dance. She went reluctantly and only after Lisle told her to. A few minutes later another fellow came and asked Hetty to dance. Left alone with Lisle, Sarah watched her smoke the second cigarette down until it was too small to hold any longer. She ground it out with a ferocity that made Sarah wince.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Sarah tried. “Mr. Malloy won’t let you out of his sight.”

  “I ain’t afraid,” Lisle snapped, her fragile face rigid with whatever emotions she was feeling. “Not of George, any-ways. He won’t hurt me. He’d of done it before now if he was going to. I just don’t like tricking him like this. And what’s that copper friend of yours going to do to him? What if he don’t know who killed Gerda?”

  Before Sarah could answer, a young man approached them. He was moderately tall and solidly built with the cheerful, open face of a born salesman. If his suit was loud, it was also well made and fit him perfectly. His hair was slicked back with pomade beneath his bowler hat, and his cheeks were clean-shaven. His smile revealed strong, even teeth.

  “Lisle, my darling girl, sorry I’m late. The trolley jumped the track, and I had to walk most of the way up from ... Oh, hello there, miss,” he said, noticing Sarah.

  “This is my friend Sarah,” Lisle said without looking at her.

  “George Smith,” he said, tipping his hat. “Pleased to meet you.” His expression told her he was trying to figure out what a woman like her was doing in a place like this. With Lisle. She simply smiled serenely, trying to picture him beating a young woman to death. The picture simply would not form in her mind.

  “Thank you,” she said, almost shouting to make herself heard above the music.

  George pulled one of the other chairs a little closer to Lisle’s and sat down. “You look down in the mouth, kiddo. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m tired of this place. Can we go somewhere else?” She didn’t sound very enthusiastic at the prospect, and George must have been a little suspicious. He glanced at Sarah as if trying to figure something out.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Sarah said. “I was just leaving myself.”

  “I wouldn’t want to run you off,” he said with his too friendly smile. “The night’s just starting.”

  “Not for me, I’m afraid.” Sarah got up, looking at Lisle to make sure she was going to be all right. The girl’s chin rose a notch, and she met Sarah’s gaze steadily.

  “You go on,” she said. “Don’t worry none about me. I’ll be fine now George is here.”

  “Very nice meeting you, Mr. Smith,” Sarah said to George, who stood politely and nodded. He was still puzzled, trying to figure out who Sarah was and why she was here, but he would get no satisfaction from her.

  By the time Sarah reached the relative quiet of the street outside, she felt her own tension quivering along every nerve ending. No wonder Lisle was so nervous.

  She walked straight across the street, dodging the late-evening traffic, to the bar where Malloy said he would wait, giving him ample time to see her. Then she paused, looking up and down the street as if trying to decide which way to go. A moment later Malloy was at her side.

  “Did you see him?”

  “Yes, and I think he and Lisle will be co
ming out in just a moment. Where can we hide so he doesn’t see me watching for him?”

  “No need to hide,” he said, taking her arm and guiding her to the next building. He put her back against it and stood in front of her, facing her, as if they were enjoying a very private conversation. He put his arm up, bracing his hand against the wall beside her head so her face would be shielded from anyone coming from the direction of the dance hall.

  She looked up at Malloy, his face only inches from hers. She could see the tiny hairs where his beard was starting to grow. How odd she’d never noticed before but his eyes weren’t solid brown. They had gold flecks in them.

  “Do you see them yet?” he asked. His voice sounded a little hoarse. Or maybe she was just being fanciful.

  Obediently, she glanced under his arm. People were going into the hall, a group of young men who had obviously been drinking. They were laughing and shoving each other playfully as they unsteadily climbed the steps. Seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness. Sarah was very aware of Malloy. The evening was warm, but it had grown considerably warmer in the past few minutes.

  Sarah tried to draw a breath and found her lungs didn’t want to cooperate. Just when she thought she would have to duck under Malloy’s arm and flee or lose her sanity, she saw them.

  “There they are!” she cried with as much relief as triumph.

  7

  MALLOY GLANCED OVER HIS SHOULDER AND saw a man and a woman—well, a girl, actually—coming down the steps. The girl was small and slender, her hair blond under the oversized hat she wore. The man was dressed the way he’d seen countless salesmen dressed, in a suit tailored more for flash than for style. Apparently, salesmen thought they had to make an indelible impression on people, even if the impression was one of tawdriness.

  The fellow had the girl’s hand tucked into the crook of his arm, and they turned in the opposite direction from where he and Mrs. Brandt were standing. He should give them a minute to get a start. If he followed them right off, it would look suspicious.

  He could hear Mrs. Brandt breathing. Her breath came quickly. Probably she was frightened. This sort of thing wasn’t something a midwife usually did in the course of her work. Maybe she was even worried some harm might come to the girl. It was possible, he supposed, but not very likely, not with Frank on his tail.

  Frank could feel her breath on his cheek. He could feel the sweat forming all over his body. The night was warm, but not that warm. He was just standing too close to Mrs. Brandt was all. He’d fix that in a minute. There, they were turning the comer.

  “Come on,” he said, pushing himself away from the wall with a sense of relief. Action, that’s what he needed. Anything to distract him from thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking.

  He didn’t wait to see if she was coming. She’d be with him every step of the way. He knew he’d probably have to force her to leave when they caught up with George, too. She’d want to hear everything he had to say. Well, he’d deal with that, too.

  He started down the sidewalk in the direction they had gone, watching the traffic for a break so they could cross and follow the other couple. Unconsciously, he reached for her arm, clasping it tightly so she would be with him when he saw an opportunity to cross. It came unexpectedly, a break between two wagons, and he fairly dragged her across the street, just barely missing a pile of horse manure.

  She was sputtering a little, but he ignored that. He let go of her arm, and by then they were at the comer. He could see the couple walking up ahead, heading downtown. The girl was still clinging to his arm. Was she looking back? Damn her, she’d tip him off that they were being followed!

  No, wait, she was just talking to him. He was leaning down to hear her better. She was pointing, and he reacted in some surprise, but he followed her lead. They disappeared into an alley.

  “Smart girl,” Frank said in approval to Mrs. Brandt, who was struggling to keep up with him.

  “I think I’m starting to understand why there are no female police officers,” she said breathlessly. “It’s too hard to keep up the chase in skirts.”

  He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help it. They were almost to the alley into which the other couple had disappeared. He pulled up short and caught her arm again.

  “Stay here,” he warned. “When the girl comes out, take her away. I don’t care where you go, just get away from here.”

  “Will Lisle be in danger after this?” she asked, new fears widening her eyes and flushing her cheeks. Or maybe it was just the chase that had flushed her cheeks.

  “Not if he isn’t the killer, and if he is the killer, then I’ll arrest him, so no, don’t worry about her. She’ll be safe. I just don’t want either of you around when I question him. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t like it, but she nodded. And she stayed put when he went into the alley. Thank God for that.

  The evening shadows were long now, and no sunlight entered here even at midday. Frank needed a moment to accustom himself to the darkness. He didn’t need his eyes to find them, though. He could hear the sounds of their kissing from here. Either the girl was really enthusiastic or she was making sure Frank found them. Considering she thought this fellow might’ve killed her friend, Frank thought it was probably the latter.

  George muttered something Frank couldn’t understand. He carefully picked his way through the piles of trash, trying not to alert George before he was in a position to overpower him. By the time he was close enough, however, he realized George probably wouldn’t have noticed a brass band marching by.

  “Hello there, George,” Frank said amiably, startling the fellow as he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back.

  “What the he—” he cried, ending on a gasp of pain as Frank nearly wrenched his shoulder from its socket.

  The girl cried out, but whether it was from fear or in protest, he didn’t particularly care. “Get out of here,” he told her. “Go on now, run.”

  She hesitated a moment, looking at George’s grimace of pain, but she apparently decided to obey him. She darted away. Frank figured Mrs. Brandt would catch her up and take care of her. At any rate, she was no longer his concern.

  “Are you her father?” George said, his voice high with terror. “Stepfather, I mean. Look, it’s not what you think!”

  “How do you know what I think?” Frank inquired genially as he smashed George’s face into the brick wall.

  “Owww!” he cried, but he didn’t struggle. He had more sense than that. “She was willing!” he tried. “I didn’t force her. It was even her idea!”

  “That’s not exactly what a father wants to hear, George,” Frank said. “Maybe you should try a different story.” He gave George’s arm a little pull.

  “Owww! I didn’t mean no harm!”

  “What did you mean, then, bringing a girl into an alley like that?” Frank asked, his voice still friendly, even if his actions were not. “Maybe you had something in mind. Like maybe you were going to start hitting her.”

  “Hitting her?” he gasped in surprise. “Why would I do that?”

  “Oh, maybe because you hate her. You hate all women, don’t you, George? You think they all deserve to die.”

  “Die? What’re you talking about? Who are you?” he was starting to sound frantic now.

  “I’m Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy of the New York City police, and I’m investigating the deaths of several young women in the city.”

  “What do you want with me, then?” he asked, his words distorted because Frank was pressing his face a little harder into the bricks. And because he was terrified.

  “Because you knew them. You knew all of them,” Frank said, exaggerating a bit for effect. “And we know you bought at least one of them a gift right before she died. Also very interesting, she was killed right after you got angry because she danced with someone else one night.”

  “Who ... ? Gerda? Is that who you mean?” He sounded almost relieved. “You think I killed her?”

&nbs
p; “The thought did cross my mind, especially after I heard you got into a fight with her over her seeing another man.”

  “If that’s all you want, you can let me go.” He sounded relieved. “You don’t have to hurt me anymore. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “Why don’t you get started, then, and when I’ve heard something I like, I’ll think about letting you go.” He gave George’s arm a little twist that made him shudder with pain.

  “I did give her a hat,” he said quickly, his voice high again and much faster. He was in a hurry to get this over. “She and I ... Well, she earned it, is all I can say. She liked pretty things and was willing to do whatever it took to get them.”

  “It’s not very gentlemanly to talk about a lady like that, George,” he chastised him.

  “Gerda was no lady,” he said. “You can ask anybody.”

  “Maybe I will. So you bought her this hat, and then she found somebody with more brass and gave you the gate.”

  “Made me mad!” George admitted. “One day she was my girl, and the next day she wouldn’t even dance with me. Said she found somebody could give her even nicer things. Showed me these red shoes he’d give her. They wasn’t even good quality! I know quality. That’s one thing I know. But she didn’t care. They was flashy. That’s all she cared about. She never cared a fig for me.”

  “Did you care a fig for her?” Frank asked.

  George didn’t want to answer that one until Frank gave him a little encouragement. “I liked her all right,” he admitted on a gasp of pain. “She was a lot of fun when she felt like it.”

  “And when she didn’t feel like it anymore, you took her into an alley and beat her to death.”

  “No! I never touched her! I never even saw her after that! She went off with some fellow, and I never saw her again. Nobody did. That’s the night she got killed.”

  “Who was the fellow?”

  “I don’t know. She never said his name.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “I never saw him!”