Murder In Chinatown

by Victoria Thompson

  George’s eyes were wild with terror, but he shook his head again.

  Frank leaned back and studied the young man for a few moments. “Now before I send you down to the Tombs, I want to make sure that I’ve got everything straight. You killed Angel Lee, is that right?”

  “Yes,” he said quickly, although his voice broke. He had to clear his throat and try again. “Yes.”

  “I have to tell you, George, I’m surprised. See, I thought it was John Wong all along.”

  “Wong?” he repeated stupidly.

  “That’s right,” Frank said. “I’ve been wrong before, though, and now I know it wasn’t Wong because somebody killed him today.”

  “Killed? John Wong is dead?” he exclaimed in surprise.

  “That’s right. Somebody killed him. And you know what’s really strange? He had already sent for me because he knew who really killed Angel Lee. He was going to tell me, and then somebody killed him. Now who do you think would’ve done that?”

  “I…I do not know,” George admitted.

  “I don’t either, at least not yet,” Frank admitted right back. “But I know it wasn’t you, because you were locked up. Besides, if you were the one who killed Angel, and you killed Wong to keep him from telling me, why would you come down here and confess? That wouldn’t make sense, now would it?”

  George looked a little confused, but he said “No” with a worried frown.

  “Another thing I know is that Harry Lee didn’t kill Angel, either.”

  George looked surprised.

  “That’s right, George. Harry didn’t kill his sister. In fact, I was just about to let him go when you showed up.”

  George was moving his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but no sound was coming out.

  “I’ve been wondering something, George,” Frank confided. “I’ve been wondering if you knew I was going to let Harry go, would you have come down and confessed to killing Angel?”

  “No!” he cried, then caught himself. He looked so miserable, even Frank was moved.

  “You didn’t kill Angel, did you, George?”

  “I…I want help Harry,” he mumbled.

  “So you decided to take the blame so that Harry would go free. So his parents wouldn’t lose both their children, is that right?”

  “Charlie, he is like father to me,” he explained.

  “And what about your son, George? Who’s going to be a father to him if you go to jail for killing Angel?”

  His face practically convulsed with pain. “I…Charlie take care,” he said sadly.

  “You aren’t doing me any favors here, George,” Frank said sternly. “If I lock you up for killing Angel, the person who really killed her goes free. Is that what you want?”

  “No!” George said, outraged at the thought.

  “Then tell me the truth. Did you kill her?”

  “No! No!” he cried in relief. “I not kill. I lie to help Harry.”

  “You know I could lock you up for doing that,” Frank said and let him squirm for a minute or two before adding, “but I’ve got too much to do today. I need to find the real killer. Now you go home and tell your wife how sorry you are for getting yourself arrested and scaring her half to death.”

  Frank had to endure an embarrassing amount of gratitude from George before he finally got him released and out of the building and on his way home. Then he set out to find the O’Neal boys.

  ROUNDING UP THE O’NEAL BROTHERS WAS PROBABLY going to take half the night, so Frank brought several officers with him. He started by posting them outside the building at the bottom of the fire escape and on the inside stairs and in the hallway outside the O’Neal flat. Then he knocked on the door.

  Mrs. O’Neal answered it. She didn’t look happy to see Frank. “What do you want?”

  “I’d like to talk to your boys again,” Frank said politely.

  “They ain’t here,” she replied with undisguised satisfaction and started to close the door in his face.

  “Mind if I come in to make sure?” Without waiting for an answer, Frank gave the door a shove, sending her staggering backward into the room.

  Frank needed only a moment to check the entire flat while Mrs. O’Neal sputtered furiously. Iris and the baby were the only other occupants. The baby appeared to be sleeping, and Iris and Mrs. O’Neal had been sewing men’s vests. Several piles of them lay on the kitchen table.

  “My boys didn’t have nothing to do with killing Angel,” Mrs. O’Neal reminded him.

  Frank fixed one of his glares on her. “Why did you go to see John Wong last night?”

  She gaped at him for a moment. “I…I thought you was here to see the boys,” she tried.

  “I’m asking you a question, Mrs. O’Neal. Why did you go to see John Wong?”

  “Might as well tell him,” Iris said, not even looking up from her sewing.

  Mrs. O’Neal gave her daughter-in-law a black look, which she didn’t see because she was concentrating on her work. Finally, Mrs. O’Neal looked back at Frank. “I was looking for my girl.”

  “Keely?” Frank asked.

  “That’s right,” she said, growing a bit more confident. “I thought he might know where to find her.”

  “What made you think that?”

  “I…Somebody told me,” she tried.

  “Who told you?”

  “I…I don’t remember.”

  “Was it Angel?”

  “Angel? How could it be Angel?” she asked in feigned amazement. “She’s dead.”

  “But she told you where Keely went before she died, didn’t she?”

  “I told you, I didn’t know where Keely was. That’s why I wanted to ask Mr. Wong about it.”

  “Then Angel must have told you something about Wong.”

  She thought this over. “Well, yeah, she did. She allowed as how he knows everything that happens in Chinatown.”

  “Mrs. O’Neal,” Frank said with elaborate patience. “I know Keely was with Wong because I saw her there. I know she went to him because Angel told her that he was rich and Keely was hoping to get him to marry her. Now why did you go to see him last night?”

  Her eyes were darting everywhere as she searched her brain for a story that would sound true. “I…I wanted to get Keely and bring her home.”

  “Bring her home!” Iris scoffed with a harsh laugh. “You didn’t want her here after she’d been rutting with a Chinaman!”

  “Shut your yap, you stupid cow!” Mrs. O’Neal fairly shouted.

  Iris was on her feet in an instant, leaning over the table to shout right back. “Stupid cow, am I? You miserable old—”

  “Iris,” Frank said sharply, to distract her from the looming fight, “why do you think she went to see him?”

  “She wanted money from him,” Iris reported. “For taking Keely.”

  “He stole my girl!” Mrs. O’Neal exclaimed, having decided to play the aggrieved mother.

  “Keely already admitted that she went to Wong of her own free will. In fact,” Frank added with some satisfaction, “it was all her idea.”

  “That ain’t true!” Mrs. O’Neal insisted. “She’s just a baby. He tricked her somehow.”

  “How much money did you want from Wong?” Frank asked.

  “I already told you—” Mrs. O’Neal began, but Iris interrupted her.

  “A hundred dollars!” the younger woman crowed. “I don’t know why she’d think Keely was worth that much.”

  “She’s worth a hundred of you!” Mrs. O’Neal shouted.

  “I guess you were mad when Wong wouldn’t pay,” Frank guessed.

  “That damn heathen!” Mrs. O’Neal sputtered. “He says if I don’t like it, I can just take Keely back!”

  “I’ll bet that made you pretty mad,” Frank said.

  “Mad enough to spit!”

  “So that’s why you threatened him.”

  “I…” She realized he’d tricked her. “I never!”

  “You told him he’d be
sorry he didn’t pay,” Frank reminded her. “Other people heard you say it.”

  Mrs. O’Neal sniffed in derision. “Is that why you come? You gonna arrest me for threatening a Chinaman?”

  “No, not for threatening one,” Frank told her. “For killing one.”

  “Killing?” she echoed in surprise.

  “You never said you killed him!” Iris exclaimed in delight. “Is that true? Did she really kill him? You gonna take her away to jail?”

  “Shut your mouth!” Mrs. O’Neal screamed and turned back to Frank in alarm. “I never killed no one! He was right as rain when I left him!”

  “Yes, he was,” Frank agreed, “but somebody paid him a visit today and bashed his head in. Is that what you told your boys to do after he laughed in your face?”

  “No!” she cried, clapping her hands to her cheeks. “I never! I never even told them I’d gone!”

  “Did they know Keely was with him?”

  She stared back at him, pressing her thin lips tightly together in silent refusal to answer.

  “Sure they did,” Iris replied for her. “We all knew. She didn’t let us tell nobody, though. Guess she’d rather let everybody think she ran off to a whorehouse or something.”

  “How did the boys feel about their sister living with a Chinaman?” Frank asked Iris.

  Iris opened her mouth to reply but caught herself. She wasn’t real smart, but she’d know better than to implicate her own husband. “They didn’t care,” she claimed. “They was glad to be rid of her.”

  “Her mother might’ve been glad to be rid of her, too,” Frank observed, “but that didn’t stop her from trying to get something out of it. Is that what they wanted, too? Did they go to see Wong to get the money their mother wanted?”

  Now Iris was confused. “They never did that,” she said. “Not that I knew!”

  “Where were they all day today?” Frank asked.

  “I don’t know! They go out when they want, and they come back when they please. They don’t answer to no one.”

  “Any idea where they’d be now?”

  “No!” Mrs. O’Neal said before Iris could reply. “We got no idea at all. You want ’em, you’ll have to find ’em, but they ain’t done nothing wrong. Iris is right, I never even to Id ’em I went to see Wong. That would’ve shamed them.”

  Frank sighed. He doubted a hundred dollars in cash would have caused anyone in the O’Neal family a bit of embarrassment. Now he would have to spend the better part of the night trying to find the sons.

  He was already out in the hallway when he remembered something else. “Keely needs a place to live now that Wong is dead,” he told the girl’s mother.

  Mrs. O’Neal glared at him. “She’ll have to find one on her own. She ain’t welcome here no more.”

  So much for the power of a mother’s love, Frank thought.

  AFTER SARAH HAD PUT CATHERINE TO BED, SHE WENT back downstairs to find Maeve waiting for her. Catherine had been content with Sarah’s explanation that she had taken Mrs. Lee home and found that Mr. Malloy had released her son from jail. Catherine liked stories with happy endings, but Maeve wanted a more detailed account of Sarah’s eventful day.

  Sarah told her tale, leaving out nothing. Maeve had probably seen more of life than Sarah ever would, so she didn’t have to worry about shocking the girl with the description of Wong’s murder.

  “You think this Keely had feelings for the Chinese man?” Maeve asked when she’d taken a few minutes to consider the bizarre story.

  “If you’re asking if she was in love with him, no, she wasn’t. I don’t think she even knows what that means. She seemed fond of him, though. He treated her well, by her standards, at least, and they were very…affectionate,” Sarah added discreetly.

  “Most girls would want pretty clothes,” Maeve observed wryly.

  Sarah smiled. “I’m sure she would’ve started demanding things sooner or later. I think she was concentrating on getting him to marry her first.”

  “And having no clothes at all would help with that, I guess.” Maeve shook her head. “What do you think happened?”

  “As near as we can figure, Mr. Wong must have figured out who killed Angel. He sent his nephew to find Mr. Malloy. He must have wanted to keep Keely out of it, so he gave her some kind of drug to put her to sleep.”

  “She does sound like she’d be the kind to want to horn in on everything.”

  “Oh, yes,” Sarah agreed. “But for whatever reason, she drank something he gave her and was sound asleep when we got there. She said she thought she heard somebody arguing, but she might have dreamed that. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Mr. Malloy about the crime, but from what I saw, it looked like someone had hit Mr. Wong over the head with something heavy. I didn’t see any signs that he’d been struggling with the person or anything like that, though. Nothing in the room was out of place.”

  “So if they was shouting, they was being polite about it,” Maeve observed.

  “I guess so,” Sarah agreed.

  Maeve shook her head. “Seems kind of strange. Most people, when they’re shouting, they’re fighting, too.”

  Maeve’s life had been so different from Sarah’s. Her heart ached for the girl.

  “So you think it’s a Chinese what killed Mr. Wong?” Maeve asked.

  “If it’s the same person who killed Angel, then it would definitely be a Chinese man. Of course, the person who killed Mr. Wong could be someone else entirely. Maybe he had other enemies. And there’s the girl, Keely. Her mother wanted her back, and Wong refused. Maybe her brothers decided to have a word with him, and things got out of hand.”

  “I don’t know her brothers, but from what you said…”

  “What?” Sarah prodded when she hesitated.

  “It’s just…I’d think they wouldn’t want her back.”

  “You mean because she’d taken up with a Chinaman?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes. Besides, even if she’d just run away, I expect they’d be glad to be rid of her. One less mouth to feed.”

  Sarah had imagined the O’Neal boys defending their sister’s honor, but Maeve was more likely to be right in her assessment of their character. “Her mother did try to rescue her, at least.”

  But Maeve shook her head. “That don’t seem right either. Did Keely really hear what her ma wanted or did she just go by what Mr. Wong told her?”

  “That’s a good question,” Sarah said. “I don’t know. Keely seemed very confident her mother wanted her to come home, though. What else could she have wanted?”

  Maeve shrugged a shoulder. “You said Mr. Wong was rich. People like the O’Neals, they wouldn’t mind a few extra dollars coming their way, even if it did come from a Chinaman.”

  “Oh, dear,” Sarah said, realizing she hadn’t been seeing this situation as clearly as she should. “I wonder if Mr. Wong gave her some money to get rid of her and then told Keely that story about her wanting to take Keely home.”

  “You said he treated her good. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

  Was Wong that kind of a man? Sarah had no idea.

  “What did Keely think of the Mission?” Maeve asked.

  “She wasn’t very happy to be there, but I’m sure she’ll get used to it.”

  Maeve gave her a small grin. “Maybe,” was all she would say.

  FRANK WAS AMAZED THAT THEY’D ONLY HAD TO ROUST half the bars in New York to round up all the O’Neals. Well, half the Irish bars, anyway. It wasn’t even midnight. He might get home to sleep yet tonight.

  The boys were all drunk to varying degrees, but all three managed to protest their captivity loudly and profanely as they were hauled into Headquarters. Frank ordered them put in individual interrogation rooms again, and the officers who had helped bring them in dragged them away.

  In the ensuing quiet, the desk sergeant called to him. “Donatelli’s been waiting for you.”

  Frank vaguely remembered he’d assigned Donatelli to question Won
g’s neighbors this afternoon to find out if they’d seen anything. It seemed like days had passed since then. “Where is he?”

  “Upstairs,” he said, referring to the dormitory where members of the force could catch some sleep if it was too much trouble to go home. “I’ll send somebody to wake him.”

  Frank was waiting at his desk in the detectives’ room when Donatelli found him. A day’s growth of whiskers marred his handsome face, and his eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, but he was grinning ear to ear.

  “You figure out who killed Wong?” Frank asked, allowing himself a glimmer of hope.

  “No, but I got some interesting information,” he said, pulling up a chair from a neighboring desk and straddling it. “Seems Charlie Lee went to see Wong yesterday.”

  “Lee? Are you sure?”

  “Everybody in the neighborhood knows him. A couple different people saw him, so there’s no mistake.”

  “What time was he there?”

  “Midmorning, seems like. He didn’t stay long, half an hour or less.”

  “So somebody saw him leave?”

  “The same people who saw him come, mostly. That’s how they knew how long he was there.”

  “What did he look like when he left?”

  “He didn’t have any blood on him, if that’s what you want to know,” Donatelli said knowingly. “At least not that anybody noticed. He wasn’t running, neither. Of course, Lee’s too smart to do something to call attention to himself if he’d just killed a man.”

  “I don’t suppose anybody saw an O’Neal boy,” Frank asked sourly.

  “No. Didn’t see anybody else either.”

  “Nobody at all? Not even somebody sneaking around, even if they didn’t see them going into Wong’s house?”

  “Not a soul doing anything suspicious. They would’ve noticed white men that didn’t belong in that neighborhood, at least.”

  “They probably would,” Frank agreed wearily. “I guess I wasted the whole night gathering up the O’Neals.”

  Donatelli shook his head in sympathy. “So unless the nephew killed Wong before he left that morning to find you, it looks like Charlie Lee has to be the killer.”