Murder on St. Mark's Place

by Victoria Thompson

  “Excuse me,” she said, startling the fellow. He had been fiddling with his camera.

  “Just get in the boat, miss,” he said. “Soon as it’s full, I’ll take a picture.”

  “No, I don’t want my picture made. I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”

  “About what?” He glanced uncertainly at Dirk, who shrugged, telling him he had no explanation for Sarah’s strange behavior.

  “There’s a man who comes to the park a lot. He’s quite a ladies’ man, and he’s probably with a different girl every time. I was wondering if you knew him. His name is Will.”

  The photographer stared at her as if he’d never seen a creature like her before. He glanced at Dirk again, but got no help there, either.

  “I know that’s not much help,” Sarah admitted, realizing how silly her question must sound. Hadn’t she pointed out to Dirk how many men were named Will? “I also know that he’s well dressed and well mannered,” she added lamely, hoping to jog his memory a bit. “He seems to have a lot of money to spend, too.”

  The fellow looked at Dirk once more, and the two men seemed to reach some sort of understanding. Over what, Sarah couldn’t imagine, and it annoyed her tremendously. Why was the fellow looking at Dirk when she was the one asking the questions?

  At any rate, the fellow seemed to relax and even smiled at her. “Sorry, miss. I don’t know nobody named Will. The men come through here, they don’t tell me their names. Now, maybe if you had a photograph of him...”

  She did have a photograph, of course, but she wasn’t sure the fellow in it was the man named Will, and even if he was, his face was obscured too much to identify him. “Thank you for your time,” she said, less than graciously.

  Dirk was grinning as they walked away. “Did you really think that fellow would know who you were talking about?”

  Sarah didn’t know what she’d thought. Every time she believed she’d come up with a plan to find the killer, she realized the depths of her ignorance. Malloy would be laughing in her face for being so naive. Her one comfort was that he would never know how stupid she had been.

  “Do you plan to ask every man who works here at the park if they know this Will person?” Dirk asked, his amusement all too evident. “Shall we stop here at the freak show? I’m sure the barker would be more than happy to answer any questions.”

  Sarah glared at him, but that only amused him more. “I don’t think the killer is a freak,” she informed him. “Or at least he doesn’t look like one. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to attract the attentions of young women.”

  “You’re right! Maybe we should try asking if anyone has seen a normal-looking man named Will, then. Someone who doesn’t look like a killer. That should help a lot.”

  Sarah sighed wearily. “You’ve made your point. It’s hopeless. I can see that.”

  “Oh, perhaps not hopeless. Simply futile,” Dirk allowed graciously.

  Sarah wanted to smack him, especially because he was right. Asking if anyone knew this Will was a waste of time. She wasn’t even sure Gerda had known the man named Will. Still, she couldn’t help thinking that the key was here, in Coney Island. If only she could find it.

  “Shall we move on then?” Dirk asked, his charm back in place. “What would you like to do next?”

  Sarah allowed him to lead her on through the park.

  Malloy had won her a prize with his marksmanship, but Dirk had no such skill. Instead, he tried to impress her on the Hi-Striker machine, the one that tested a man’s strength. He removed his jacket—today he had chosen to dress conservatively, probably in deference to her—and handed it to Sarah to hold.

  “Dirk, this isn’t necessary,” she protested.

  “Of course it is,” he replied with that grotesquely boyish grin. “I’ll take three chances,” he told the barker, who removed the coins from his hand so quickly, Sarah hardly saw his fingers move.

  Dirk turned back his cuffs, as if preparing to do a hard day’s work, and he spit on his palms and rubbed them together, probably because he’d seen someone else do it and thought it looked manly. Then he picked up the huge hammer.

  Lifting the thing was a challenge in itself. Sarah supposed that kept children from making a pest of themselves, trying to ring the bell. If they couldn’t lift the hammer, they couldn’t play the game.

  Dirk raised the huge thing up over his head with practiced ease and brought it down with a crash. The weight rose up more than halfway, then fell back down with a thud. The crowd murmured its disappointment.

  “Look at the gentleman here,” the barker shouted. “Out to win his lady a prize. Look how far he got it. Just a little more, sir, just a little more’ll do it! Ring the bell and win, you pick any of the prizes! Step right up, folks! Watch the gentleman win his lady a prize! Try your luck! You there, young fellow, you could do this with one hand tied behind your back!”

  Sarah watched as Dirk lifted the hammer again, swinging it in an arc over his head and bringing it down onto the strike plate with a crash. The weight rose up and up, and Sarah found herself rising on her tiptoes, as if by stretching herself, she could help it reach the top. But it stopped just short and slid back down to the bottom again. The crowd moaned.

  They were breathless with anticipation now. They started to cheer Dirk on, encouraging him to try again. He flashed Sarah a grin, enjoying the attention. She felt a little foolish, but she was calling out encouragement, too.

  The obnoxious barker was whipping up the crowd’s enthusiasm, urging everyone within shouting distance to come and watch. Sarah found it odd that he would be as interested in seeing someone win as the rest of them were, but then she realized that if Dirk won, a dozen more men would be encouraged to try their skill and prove themselves at least as good as he. Few of them would succeed, and the barker would still have their money.

  Dirk waited, rubbing his hands together, shaking his arms to loosen the muscles, playing his part to perfection, until the barker had the crowd whipped into a frenzy of anticipation. The look Dirk cast Sarah was one of pride. He was doing this for her, to impress her in some way, or perhaps simply to prove that he had a sort of power. Probably, he had used this tactic to impress his shop girls. The young girls in the crowd were certainly awed. He did look imposing, standing there in the center of the crowd, ready to master the fearsome machine.

  He seemed to sense the perfect moment, the time when all eyes who could be on him were. Then he started swinging the hammer again. Back and forth, building up a rhythm, building up momentum. That was when Sarah realized that he had known how to get the bell to ring all along. He could have done so on the very first try, but no one would have been watching. He had to tease it along for a while, until he had the crowd in his thrall. The barker was nearly hysterical, ranting and chanting, the meaning of his words lost to the delirium of excitement building around them.

  Sarah watched in fascination as Dirk finally swung the huge hammer up over his head and brought it down with a resounding smack that sent the small weight sailing up and up and up until it struck the bell with a clang that set the crowd to cheering wildly.

  Men were slapping him on the back and shaking his hand. Women were gazing at him in admiration. And Sarah was taking it all in with a combination of amazement and amusement. Anyone would think Dirk had just accomplished something important, like saving someone’s life or bringing peace to warring nations, instead of just using brute strength to ring a bell.

  No one was interested in Sarah’s opinion, however, so she stood back, still holding Dirk’s jacket, while he finished receiving his accolades. The barker encouraged him to select his prize while the crowd was still interested. He wanted to remind everyone that there was a higher purpose in ringing the bell. The satisfaction of achievement was only part of it. But Dirk finally remembered Sarah, and he insisted she make the selection.

  The prizes were cheap trinkets, glass beads and small toys. Sarah thought of Malloy’s son, but she knew he would
n’t appreciate her bringing Brian a prize Dirk Schyler had won for her. Then she remembered Gerda Reinhard’s nieces and nephew. She chose a small rag doll. She could purchase toys for the other children, and deliver them next time she was in the neighborhood. Perhaps that would gain her admittance to the Otto home.

  Dirk was still teasing her about her selection of a prize when they came to the Old Mill ride. “What does this do?” Sarah asked.

  “Let’s get on and find out,” Dirk suggested.

  Sarah could think of no reason to refuse, so they got in line and quickly made their way to the front. They were seated in a boat which began drifting down a man-made stream toward the opening of a tunnel, much like the Shoot-the-Chutes tunnel. A mill wheel turned picturesquely in the water, and over the entrance of the tunnel, Sarah saw a tableau of scantily clad girls performing some kind of spring Maypole dance.

  “Oh, my,” she said, a little shocked at how suggestive the picture was.

  “People come to Coney Island to be shocked,” Dirk explained cheerfully as their boat was swallowed up into the darkness of the tunnel.

  Before Sarah could think of a suitable reply, she was shocked once more. Dirk took her roughly in his arms and covered her mouth with his.

  10

  FOR A MOMENT SARAH WAS TOO SURPRISED TO move. She hadn’t been kissed in a very long time, and she’d never been kissed against her will. She only needed a moment, however, before she realized she was furious. The anger took over, and she shoved against Dirk’s chest as hard as she could and wrenched her mouth free.

  “Stop that this instant!” she cried, moving as far away as the confines of the boat would allow and holding him back with stiff arms so he wouldn’t try to follow.

  “Sarah—” he tried, but she was having none of it.

  “Stop making a fool of yourself, Dirk,” she said. “What’s the matter with you? Have you lost your senses?”

  “You’ve stolen them, I’m afraid, Sarah,” he said, his voice breathless and husky. “How can you expect me to control myself? You’re a bewitching woman. You must know that. No man can help but fall under your spell.”

  He sounded so sincere, Sarah was only sorry it was too dark in the tunnel to see his expression. She imagined he would look lovesick and vulnerable. He probably tried this trick on every girl he met. He must be quite practiced at it by now. The only thing she couldn’t understand was why he felt he had to work his wiles on her.

  “Dirk, you’re being ridiculous!” she insisted.

  “And you’re being a tease!” He sounded annoyed now, but she figured it was all part of his game. “What do you expect me to think when you practically throw yourself in my way and then ask me to take you to Coney Island?”

  “I told you I wanted to come here to catch a killer,” she reminded him, growing annoyed herself. “That doesn’t sound very romantic to me.”

  “I assumed it was simply a ploy to get my attention.”

  “Why would I want your attention?”

  At last he reared back, giving Sarah some room again. “You’re a penniless widow, Sarah.” The sincerity was gone, replaced by contempt. “The Schylers are one of the wealthiest families in the city.”

  “And you thought I was looking for a husband?” Sarah could hardly credit this.

  “Your mother made it clear to me that I was invited to her dinner party at your request. You had just encountered me here at Coney Island and learned I wasn’t married. What was I supposed to think?”

  “You were supposed to think I needed your help finding my way around this place, just as I said.”

  “Women never say what they mean, Sarah,” he told her. His voice had changed again. He was growing angry now. “Yes means no and no means yes. They lie and cheat and all they care about is how much money you have to spend on them.”

  Sarah was beginning to understand why Dirk was still unmarried. “Not all women are like that, Dirk. Perhaps if you spent more time with women of your own class—”

  “Don’t be a snob, Sarah. Women of my own class are the worst of all. They can’t be bought with a few amusement-park rides and a Red Hot. They want jewels and furs and a country estate, but their virtue is for sale just the same. The price is just higher.”

  “Well, you can rest assured that my virtue is not for sale at any price, Dirk. I have no interest in your fortune or your person, so you can remember your manners and keep your hands to yourself.”

  “I thought you were different, Sarah.”

  “I am different. I’m not going to let you molest me.”

  He gave a bark of mirthless laughter that sent chills over her. Indeed, he could molest her easily if he so chose. The tunnel was dark and no one was likely to heed her screams of protest. Plainly, this ride was designed to provide a few moments of privacy for couples to indulge at least the minimal pleasures of the flesh. She thought of her hat pin and wondered how long it would hold him at bay if he decided to press the issue.

  For the first time in her life Sarah felt an inkling of the kind of terror Gerda and the others must have felt at the hand of their killer. As a woman, she had worried about her personal safety many times while making her way through the city after dark, but that had been a nebulous fear, vague and general, a fear of what could happen. This was a fear of what very well might happen, with a familiar face to put on the person who could harm her.

  His breathing was ragged, as if he were battling some inner demons, and she imagined he probably was. Sarah glanced up ahead, hoping to see some sign that the ride would shortly be coming to an end. She imagined she saw a glimmer of light, but perhaps that was only wishful thinking. How long could a ride like this last?

  But to her great relief, Dirk finally drew a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I’m afraid I must beg your pardon, Sarah. It’s been a long time since I was in the presence of a true lady.”

  She considered pointing out that his mother was most likely a lady and decided not to. Perhaps he had a different opinion. Knowing his mother, he probably did. “I could chastise you for keeping bad company, Dirk.”

  “You’d be right, too. But you’re too much of a lady to point out a man’s faults right to his face, aren’t you?”

  “I will be, in this case, at least,” she allowed.

  “Thank you. Can you ever forgive my abominable behavior? I’m afraid I forgot myself completely.”

  “Or perhaps you simply misjudged your companion.”

  “More likely I have forgotten how to conduct myself in polite company. Can you pretend this never happened?”

  “Since you were so gracious as to bring me here today and to patiently endure my feeble attempts at playing detective, I can do nothing less.” Anything to get through this awkward moment.

  “I will be eternally in your debt,” he said. He sounded sincere again. Perhaps he had practice at that, too. “I promise you I will behave myself for the remainder of the day. You need not fear a repeat of my boorishness ever again.”

  “And you need not fear that I will stick you with a hat pin,” she replied archly.

  “Oh, dear, I hadn’t expected such spirit from you, Sarah.” She heard amusement in his tone. “I must count myself lucky that I didn’t press my suit.”

  “You must indeed.” There, at last the darkness was lifting. The opening of the tunnel had appeared and was drawing ever closer. Or rather they were drawing closer to it.

  Sarah looked at Dirk in the growing light, judging his mood. He seemed perfectly composed, his features calm, his eyes expressionless. Whatever passion had possessed him in the tunnel had passed now. She only wished the words he’d said could pass as easily from her mind. He’d displayed a disturbing contempt for women, and she wondered how he had developed it. True, most men of his class believed women to be helpless creatures who weren’t very bright and had to be looked after by men. That was far different from the genuine disdain he had shown, though. He apparently believed women were liars and cheats, saying one t
hing and meaning another. That was sometimes true, of course. Occasionally, one had to conceal one’s genuine feelings or risk giving offense. But that wasn’t what he’d meant, she was sure.

  She remembered how Malloy had taken an instant dislike to Dirk. She supposed he had much more practice than she at judging a man’s character. He’d seen what she hadn’t known to look for. She’d have to remember to take his assessments more seriously in the future.

  As they emerged into the summer sunshine, Dirk smiled at her. She studied his face, noticing again the signs of dissipation. The puffiness around the eyes, the sagging along his jawline in spite of his relative youth. His eyes were carefully expressionless, or perhaps he had no expression to reveal.

  “Can we still be friends, Sarah?” he asked, trying the boyish charm she found so unappealing.

  “Of course. We’ve known each other since the nursery, after all.” A slight exaggeration, but what did that matter? She had no intention of ever purposely seeing him again once this day was finished. In the meantime, she would make what use of him she could.

  As the boat reached the docking point, a young man caught it with a long, hooked pole and pulled it in. Dirk helped her disembark, taking her hand with just the right amount of pressure but assuming no other liberties.

  Sarah felt relief. Perhaps they could get through the rest of the day without any more unpleasantness.

  She began to believe it when he said, “I must confess, Sarah. I always was rather fond of you. You were the prettiest girl in our dancing class, but you never looked at me twice. I must have been remembering that and thinking that I could get you to notice me now.”

  “I noticed you then, Dirk. It’s just that I didn’t like boys yet. And now ... well, I think we’re much too different to suit, don’t you?”

  His smile was strange. “Sometimes I think I’m too different to suit anyone.”

  Sarah had no intention of exploring that subject with him. “Tell me, Dirk, are there shops around here where someone could buy articles of ladies’ clothing?”