Murder on St. Nicholas Avenue

by Victoria Thompson

  “I . . . uh . . . Let’s just say I was hoping. You see, I haven’t found any information about my husband’s bank account, and I’m running short of funds. I thought perhaps you might have found more than that and just . . .”

  “Just what?” Maeve asked sweetly. “Stolen it?”

  Una’s cheeks turned fiery red, and her eyes narrowed in fury.

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean to suggest that, Miss Smith,” Mrs. O’Neill said quickly. “You’ve been so kind to us, after all.”

  “And after I took money out of my own pocket to bribe the matron to look after you at the Tombs,” Maeve said. The money had come out of her own pocket. She wasn’t going to discuss where it had come from before that, of course. “And Mrs. Decker offered to pay your servants their back wages and write them references when you were in jail.”

  “That’s so generous, isn’t it, Una?” Mrs. O’Neill said pleadingly.

  Una didn’t so much as glance in her mother’s direction. “I was hoping I would be able to pay my servants myself with my own money.”

  “I’m sure you were,” Maeve said, still being completely honest, since she was now certain Una at least knew there should have been more than five hundred dollars in Pollock’s office. “I suppose there might have been more money in the safe. Before it was robbed, I mean.”

  This seemed to confuse her. “Didn’t you look in the safe?”

  “It was locked,” Maeve said, not really answering the question. “And of course I don’t know how to open a safe without the combination.” Also perfectly true.

  Una pinched the bridge of her nose, as if she might be fighting off a headache.

  “Are you all right?” Maeve asked, trying to sound concerned.

  “Of course I’m not all right,” she snapped. “My husband is dead, I’m accused of killing him, and I don’t have a penny to my name.”

  “Well, if you could just remember who killed him, you’d no longer be charged with murder, and you’d at least get your bond money back,” Maeve pointed out.

  Una glared daggers at her again. “I’ve told you, I don’t remember.”

  “And you could also sell the house and the furniture and move back in with your mother,” Maeve continued, knowing full well that was the last thing Una would want to do. “You could probably be very comfortable.”

  Of course, Una really wanted to continue to live in this house and have thirty-seven thousand dollars to live on until she found another rich man to marry her and buy her an even nicer house. Maeve was certain of it, although she knew Una would never admit it. Doing so would reveal that she knew about Pollock’s money—and probably his scheme—in the first place. And that would give her yet another motive for killing him.

  “Thank you for bringing my mother to see me, Miss Smith. I’m very tired now, and would like to rest. Would you mind seeing that she gets home all right?”

  “Home? I just got here, Una,” Mrs. O’Neill protested. “I thought we could have a nice visit and I could even spend the night. We haven’t really seen each other in months.”

  Una got up, went to the parlor door, and called for Hattie. “Would you see my guests out? I’m going to bed,” she said to the maid when she appeared. Una walked out without another word and headed up the stairs in the hallway.

  The expression on Mrs. O’Neill’s face nearly broke Maeve’s heart. She had half a notion to tell Mrs. O’Neill that Una couldn’t possibly have meant to send her away and convince her to spend the night anyway, but then she remembered what Gino had said about the extra bedrooms having no furniture. Mrs. O’Neill would have to sleep on the floor, when she wasn’t even welcome in the first place. Maeve couldn’t put her through that.

  Hattie frowned in confusion, knowing they’d only just arrived. “You’re leaving?” They hadn’t even taken their coats off.

  “Yes, we are,” Maeve said with more enthusiasm than she felt. “Come along, Mrs. O’Neill. I’ll take you home.”

  Maeve kept thinking Una would realize how cruel she was being and change her mind about sending her mother back out into the cold night, but she didn’t. Even Hattie looked pained as she opened the door for them. Luckily, most of the reporters were gone. They must have decided it wouldn’t be worthwhile to wait for hours on a wintry Sunday night to accost the two visitors when they came out again. Maeve could almost smile at the irony. The ones who remained shouted questions, but only halfheartedly, and no one followed them past the corner.

  As they stood in the station, waiting for the El to arrive, Maeve said, “Do you know why Una sent for you?” She didn’t add what she was thinking: when she was just going to send you away five minutes later.

  “I don’t know. As soon as I got there, she just started asking me where I got the money to pay for her bail, to get her out of jail.”

  “And what did you tell her?”

  “I told her the truth, that we found it at the house.”

  “You told her that I found it?”

  Mrs. O’Neill winced a little. “Not at first. I . . . I wanted her to think I was the one who helped her. I said I found it in Mr. Pollock’s office.”

  “And that didn’t satisfy her?”

  “No, she wanted to know where the rest of it was. I told her that was all I found, but she didn’t believe me. She just kept asking where I found it and what I did with the rest. That’s when I had to tell her you were really the one who found it.”

  So Una did know Pollock had more than five hundred dollars in his safe. She was awfully angry that it had gone missing, which was understandable, but why was she blaming her mother when she knew the house had been robbed days ago and the safe opened? In fact, she hadn’t been upset about the robbery at all, certainly not the way she was upset now.

  And why, when the house was robbed days ago, was she just now wondering where the money went?

  * * *

  Even though Felix knew no one could possibly guess what he carried in the case he’d borrowed from his son-in-law’s office, he was still glad to have Gino along to help in the event of trouble. His driver, John, could also help, although he seemed to think these nightly trips were something of a lark, especially after Felix insisted he keep the bribes he’d earned from the newspaper reporters last night.

  “Do you think Zimmerman will tell us where Jane is?” Gino asked.

  “I think he’ll be very grateful to get his money back, and if he isn’t, I’ll be happy to remind him of his obligation to me. He really owes this Jane nothing by comparison, and we’re no threat to her in any case. Why wouldn’t he let us speak with her?”

  “If he knows where she is at all.”

  “If she went to him, he would have helped her. He’s an honest fellow, if a bit naïve. That’s exactly the sort that men like Pollock prey on. I can’t tell you how much pleasure it gives me to be able to right his wrong.”

  “It is a good feeling,” Gino said. “That’s why I joined the police in the first place. I wanted to see men like Pollock punished.”

  “And instead, you saw them rewarded,” Felix said, remembering only too well his own experiences as a young man.

  “Too many times, yes.”

  “And you hope Frank will establish a detective agency where you can help the people the police don’t?”

  “I wouldn’t have put it like that, but yes, I think so.”

  Felix hoped his son-in-law would agree. “Young men like you give me hope for the future, Gino.”

  Gino didn’t reply, and Felix realized he had embarrassed him. He quickly changed the subject and started asking Gino about his experiences in Cuba with Roosevelt. Until they reached Zimmerman’s house Gino gave Felix what he suspected was a heavily censored version of events.

  The maid was surprised to see visitors at this time of night. The family was still at supper, she informed them.

 
“Please tell Mr. Zimmerman I’m sorry to disturb him, but it’s a matter of utmost urgency.” Felix handed her his card. “And tell him that I’m here to return his missing property.”

  “Missing property?” she repeated, as if to make sure she understood correctly.

  “That’s right.”

  When she had gone, leaving them standing in the front hall, Gino grinned at him. “Missing property?”

  “I didn’t think I should mention money. Some people think it’s rude to discuss it in polite company.”

  “I’m guessing Zimmerman won’t think it’s rude.”

  The maid returned with an entirely different attitude. She escorted them upstairs to Mr. Zimmerman’s library, where he greeted Felix with a warm handshake and welcomed Gino just as eagerly. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Decker, although I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  “Some things have happened that made me think I should take care of this matter immediately.”

  “What things?” Zimmerman asked. “Not another murder, I hope.”

  “As a matter of fact, someone else has been murdered. Pollock’s partner.”

  “That’s terrible,” Zimmerman said, looking like he really thought it was, but then he frowned. “Partner, did you say? I didn’t know he had a partner.”

  “Partner in crime, I suppose I should say. If you didn’t know him, then he worked behind the scenes. At any rate, he’s dead, and I decided to put an end to this as quickly as possible.”

  The room might be called the “library,” but it held precious few books. A large desk sat against one wall, and the rest of the room was furnished for smoking and conversation. Felix set the case he carried on the desk and opened it. Zimmerman gasped.

  “This isn’t your entire investment, I’m afraid,” Felix said. “Pollock had spent some of it already. I did find a ledger showing the amount of each person’s investment, so I’m returning a proportion of the remaining funds, based on each investor’s original contribution. I’ve included the calculations, so you can see how I arrived at the total.” He handed Zimmerman the sheet of paper on which he’d determined how much he was due.

  “This is amazing. I never expected to see a penny of this money again.” He looked truly flummoxed.

  “I’m glad you’re pleased. If any of the missing money turns up, we’ll return it as well, but I’m not holding out much hope of that.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Decker.” Zimmerman was almost embarrassingly grateful.

  Felix glanced at Gino, giving him silent permission to respond.

  “You can thank us by telling us where Jane is, Mr. Zimmerman.”

  Zimmerman’s body jerked with surprise. “Jane?”

  “Yes, the maid who wrote to tell you about Pollock’s murder.”

  It was a guess, of course. They didn’t know that for sure, but from Zimmerman’s reaction, Felix knew they’d guessed correctly

  “I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried.

  “Mr. Zimmerman, we know that Jane used to work for you,” Gino said, surprising Felix because they didn’t know anything of the kind, at least for certain. “When Pollock invited you to dinner at his house, she recognized you. Maybe you recognized her, too. That’s probably why she felt she should warn you when Pollock was murdered. She knew you were doing business with him. Maybe she even knew you’d given him money that might now be in jeopardy because of his death.”

  “That’s . . . ridiculous,” Zimmerman said.

  “But it does explain how you knew Pollock was dead before it was reported in the newspapers,” Felix said. “And why you were so certain the person who informed you was not the one who killed Pollock.”

  “Mr. Zimmerman,” Gino said with an authority that impressed Felix, “we need to speak with Jane. We believe she has information that will keep an innocent woman from going to prison.”

  Felix had to bite back a smile. He didn’t want to break the mood, but he certainly was enjoying Gino’s performance.

  “She’s not in any trouble, is she? Jane, I mean. Or any danger?”

  “If we don’t know where she is, the killer doesn’t either,” Felix said, “and we aren’t going to tell anyone where she is if we do find her. We just need to ask her some questions.”

  Zimmerman’s resolve was fading quickly. Gino’s reference to an innocent woman going to prison had really rattled him. “If I have your word no harm will come to her . . .”

  “You do,” Felix said.

  “I . . . Well, she did write to me, as you said. She used to work here until she had a disagreement with one of the other maids and quit. I appreciated learning about Pollock’s death, even though it didn’t help me in any way. She couldn’t have known that, though. Then she came to me the other day. She’d run away from Pollock’s house, you see. She seemed frightened, and I couldn’t turn her away. We didn’t have a place for her here, though, so I couldn’t take her on either, so I sent her to Reed.”

  “Paul Reed?”

  “Yes,” he said, surprised that Felix had guessed so easily. “Reed always needs help. She’d tried to warn us, even though it didn’t help us get our money back, so I felt obligated, you see.”

  “That was generous of you, Zimmerman,” Felix said.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “We’re going to talk to her.”

  “Tonight?”

  Felix wasn’t going to tell him that they were afraid Jane might run again if she had time. “It’s very important.”

  As they left, Felix noticed the case felt much lighter than just the absence of the money would have made it. When the carriage pulled up in front of Reed’s house, Felix himself felt lighter, too, as if he’d dropped a decade’s worth of aging. This was good work.

  “When I was here before, I remember the maid acted oddly,” Felix said as they walked up to the house. “She seemed surprised to see me, and then she kept turning her face away and wouldn’t look at me.”

  “She must’ve recognized you.”

  “She needn’t have worried about that. One hardly notices servants, especially other people’s. I don’t think I did more than glance at her at Pollock’s house.”

  “I just hope she’s still here after seeing you.”

  Felix hadn’t thought of that. He hoped so, too.

  He only had another two minutes to wait, because the woman who answered the door was the same one he’d seen yesterday. Once again she registered surprise, and then genuine fear when she saw Gino beside him. She knew Gino as a police officer.

  “Jane,” Gino said in the gentle voice Felix had heard him use with Catherine. “Don’t be afraid. We aren’t going to let anything happen to you.”

  “It’s all right, Jane.” Reed had come up behind her. “They just need to ask you some questions. If you can help them catch the killer, you won’t need to be afraid anymore.” He looked up at Felix, who still stood on the stoop. “Zimmerman telephoned me. He wanted to be sure I let you in.”

  * * *

  Maeve was surprised to see Mrs. Decker emerge from Mrs. Malloy’s parlor when she arrived back home.

  “You’re still here?” Maeve asked in surprise. “I hope you’re not waiting for me.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m waiting for Felix,” Mrs. Decker said. “He and Gino decided to deliver some of the money this evening and see if they could find the missing maid. You’re back earlier than I expected, though. I guess Una didn’t welcome you as warmly as she did her mother. Did she at least let you in the house?”

  “She didn’t welcome either of us. I don’t think we were there ten minutes before she sent us both on our way.”

  “Her own mother?” Mrs. Decker said.

  “I told you, that girl has no heart,” Mrs. Malloy said.

  “Mrs. O’Neill was hea
rtbroken,” Maeve said.

  “Why did she want to see her mother at all then?” Mrs. Decker asked.

  “She just wanted to know where her mother got the money for her bail and what she’d done with the rest of it.”

  “So she did know there was more,” Mrs. Decker said.

  “Yes. Thank heaven we didn’t tell Mrs. O’Neill how much we really found. What I can’t figure out, though, is why Una is just now realizing it’s gone.”

  “Yes, Felix told her about the robbery practically the first minute she walked in her front door, and she wasn’t the least bit upset then. I still think that was odd, even if she hadn’t known there was anything of value in the safe.”

  “And plainly, she did.”

  “Well, I don’t suppose we can solve this standing in the hall,” Mrs. Decker said. “You must be frozen. We can make you some hot chocolate.”

  They’d just settled in the warmth of the kitchen when someone rang the front doorbell. Mrs. Malloy went to answer it. Mr. Decker and Gino were back, and Maeve found herself straining for the first glimpse of Gino as the men filed into the kitchen. He smiled when he saw her, and she smiled back just for an instant, before she caught herself.

  “I hope you had better luck than I did,” she said.

  The men sat down at the table with her, rubbing their hands, their cheeks still rosy from the cold. “I’m not sure we did,” Mr. Decker said.

  “Didn’t you find Jane?” Mrs. Decker asked.

  “Yes, and we talked to her.” He told her about their conversation with Zimmerman and going to Reed’s house while Mrs. Malloy and Mrs. Decker bustled about, serving them all hot chocolate.

  “Did she know anything useful?” Maeve asked.

  Mr. Decker deferred to Gino. “She told us a few things we didn’t know. First of all, the errand Eddie went on the morning Pollock was killed was taking a package to Truett. She even saw it, and from what she described, it was the package of contracts that we found in Truett’s apartment.”