by Rhys Bowen
I made my way down the dark stair and reached the stage door.
“You saw Miss Lovejoy then, did you?” Old Henry asked. “Gave her the message all right?”
“I did, and I’m going to be coming back tomorrow to help her out with something, so I’ll see you then.” I gave him my most friendly smile. He could prove to be a useful ally.
“Button up your coat,” he said. “Awful fierce wind out there tonight. Cut right through ya.”
“Thanks, Henry,” I said, and stepped out into the night.
I had only taken a couple of steps down the alleyway when I noticed a dark shape looming in the shadows. It was large, featureless and grotesque. I gasped and was about to flee back to Henry when it spoke in a normal man’s voice.
“Pardon me, miss, but are you part of the play?”
I saw then that the strange appearance was due to an enormous shawl the man wore over his head and shoulders against the cold, so that just his eyes were showing.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, noting my reaction. “It’s just that it’s so damned cold tonight. Are you one of the chorus girls?”
“Not exactly,” I said, “but I will be working with the play.”
“So you’ll know then if it’s true that the ghost appeared again tonight?”
“Ghost?” I feigned innocence.
“You must have heard about the ghost. They’re saying the theater’s haunted. They’re saying the ghost is trying to kill Blanche Lovejoy.”
“Who is saying?” I demanded. “What is this—third-hand gossip?”
“Oh no, miss. I work for the Herald. My sources are quite reliable.”
“If you work for the Herald I suggest you go and find some real news and not a fairy story,” I said and walked away before he could stop me.
It seemed that the story of the ghost was common knowledge already, whether Miss Lovejoy wanted it to be or not.
TEN
I had a dream about the girl in the snowdrift that night. It was strange and nebulous, the way dreams are, but it was permeated with fear and I awoke feeling that I needed to visit the hospital to see if there was any news. I had expected Daniel would report on last night’s assignment, but there was no sign of him before it was time to get ready for lunch with my friends and with Elizabeth, aka Nelly Bly. I also remembered he had expressed interest in meeting Nelly Bly, so I waited for him as long as I dared before I went across Patchin Place and knocked on their door with Gus’s fur-lined cape over my arm.
“Molly, come in, we’re dying to know all,” Gus said, sweeping me through to the kitchen at the back of the house. “How did the skating go? Was the cape all right? Did it keep you warm?”
“It was perfect, thank you, and I hope I’ve returned it in good condition,” I said, “because it was put to a use I hadn’t expected.”
“Really?” The occupants of the kitchen looked up with interest. Sid was stirring pots on their big kitchen stove while Elizabeth, or was it Nelly, sat at the table with a glass of sherry in her hand. “Dare one ask what kind of use? I hope you were sensible, Molly dear.”
“More than sensible. I helped save a life. We found a girl in a snowdrift in Central Park. She was scarcely alive so we wrapped her in the cloak and whisked her to the nearest hospital.”
Elizabeth leaned forward in her seat, her face alight. “My dear, how very interesting. Who was she and what was she doing in a snowdrift?”
“We don’t yet know,” I said. “She regained consciousness but didn’t say a word. It was almost as if she didn’t understand us. We thought that maybe she spoke another language.”
“I wonder what she was doing alone in Central Park then,” Sid said. “Young ladies who speak no English don’t usually wander around alone, especially in the swank uptown area. They stay in their neighborhoods, don’t they?”
This was a valid comment. “It’s all very intriguing,” I said, “because she was not dressed for an outing in the snow. She wore no coat, and only a flimsy white silk dress.”
“Maybe she had been robbed and her coat had been taken. The criminal element in this city would kill for less than a winter coat in weather like this.”
“I would agree,” I said, “except that she only had dainty little evening slippers on her feet and they were soaked through. She wouldn’t have intentionally gone out at all in those.”
“What a fascinating mystery,” Sid said. “So will you find out more?”
“She can’t walk away from something so delicious,” Elizabeth said. “It’s an investigator’s dream. If she doesn’t pursue it, I shall do so myself.”
“I’m going back to the hospital today,” I said. “I hope to hear good news. That she has recovered her faculties and her family has been contacted.”
“Do keep us informed, won’t you, Molly,” Gus said. “You know how we love a good puzzle.”
“And you can drop me a note and keep me informed as well,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll give you my card. I’m moving into the Fifth Avenue Hotel while I carry out my research.”
She took out a calling card and wrote the Fifth Avenue address on it.
“You plan to come in and out of the Fifth Avenue Hotel in your newsboy’s rags?” I asked. “Won’t that attract attention, to say the least?”
“I think I’ve given up wearing a disguise,” Elizabeth said, “especially such a chilly one. I’ll do my research in future by interviewing boys at those awful hovels where they live like little rats. And then I’ll feel guilty when I come back to the warmth and civilized comfort of the hotel.”
“You know you don’t have to leave us, Elizabeth,” Gus said. “You know you are welcome to stay on here as long as you like.”
“You are very kind, but you more than anybody should know that I like my independence and don’t wish to be beholden to anybody. You should rejoice that one woman in the universe beside yourselves is her own woman, comes and goes as she pleases and is not slave to the dictation of a male, or of a male-dominated society.”
“Add me to that list,” I said.
“So how was your little outing yesterday morning, apart from finding the girl in the snowdrift?” Sid asked with a sweet smile. “Did you get your skating in first?”
“Unfortunately not,” I said. “I was running away from Daniel when I stumbled over the girl.”
“Running away? My dear, had he tried anything improper?” Elizabeth asked.
I started to laugh. “On the contrary, I had just aimed a snowball rather accurately and he was seeking revenge.”
Amid our laughter Gus asked, “Sid, dearest, how is lunch coming along? I’m sure our guests are getting hungry. Maybe we should move our conversation to the dining table.”
Sid lifted the lid of a large cast-iron pot and poked at something inside. Then she sniffed appreciatively. “Almost ready, I think.”
“Daniel had expressed interest in joining us,” I said, “but I haven’t heard from him this morning, so I don’t know where he can be.”
“So he has finally come to realize that we are intelligent company?” Gus asked.
“It has more to do with Nellie Bly being present, I fear,” I said, laughing.
“Anyway, since lunch is now ready, it’s too bad for him. What are we eating, Sid?”
One never knew what was coming next when Sid was cooking. It could be anything from Mongolian stew to Moroccan couscous, depending on my friends’ whim and which part of the world was currently capturing their interest. Before I could ask, Sid put the lid back down and announced, “Coq au vin. We decided to opt for simplicity and winter comfort today.”
Elizabeth nodded. “One can’t go wrong with French food, can one?”
It was at times like this that I had to stop myself from grinning. I, who had grown up in a peasant’s cottage, who had lived on potatoes and turnips and the occasional bit of mutton in a stew when we were lucky, was now living among people who thought that coq au vin constituted a simple meal. I wond
ered if there would ever be a day when I took this life for granted.
“The table’s laid, so why don’t you go through and I’ll serve,” Sid said. “If you’d be good enough to carry the wine, Molly. It has been near the stove so I’m sure we must have chambre-ed it sufficiently.”
I carried the wine bottle and soon we were eating the most delicious chicken, which was cooked so tenderly that it absolutely fell from the bone. There was crusty bread from the French bakery around the corner on Greenwich Avenue to accompany it and afterward that big bowl of figs, dates, and nuts, with a dessert wine.
Sated and a little tipsy, I made my way home, having promised to keep them all apprised of the fortunes of the girl we rescued from the snow. I desperately wanted to know how she was faring and was annoyed that Daniel hadn’t appeared all day. I wondered if he had had second thoughts about working for me, or was angry with me for forcing him into a situation not of his choosing. Then I told myself I was being too sensitive. I had offered him a job. He could have turned it down if it wasn’t to his liking. Maybe something important had come up this morning. Maybe he had been summoned to police headquarters or even to the commissioner’s office. Whatever the cause, I was determined to visit that hospital with or without him before I went to the theater at four.
I hurried to dress in my business suit and was just on my way out when I bumped into Daniel, trudging through the deep snow up Patchin Place.
“Well, here you are at last,” I said. “I’ve been waiting for you all day. I was about to dismiss you as an unreliable employee.”
“Don’t joke, Molly,” he said.
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“I think I might have caught pneumonia,” he said, holding a thick woolen scarf over his mouth.
“Oh no. You’re sick, are you? Come into the house and I’ll make you a cup of tea or something. Then we’ll get you home to bed.”
“That’s the best invitation I’ve had in a long while,” said the voice from inside the scarf.
“Not that sick then,” I replied dryly, and shoved him into the house. “Here, let me feel your forehead.” I put my hand up to touch it. It was freezing cold. I tried his cheeks. Equally cold. “No fever,” I said. “So it’s not pneumonia.”
“It could well turn into pneumonia,” he said peevishly and slumped at the kitchen table. “I got thoroughly chilled to the marrow working on your damned case last night. Do you know that that Roth fellow stayed out until two A.M?”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—then he’s not the paragon we thought he was after all.”
“I didn’t say he was doing anything sinful all that time,” Daniel said, unwrapping the scarf as he spoke. “He was at Delmonico’s, with friends. All young men like himself. But they talked and talked and they were the last to leave. The waiters practically had to throw them out in the end.”
“He was drunk, then?”
“Not in the least. They only had a couple of bottles of wine all evening.”
“So nothing detrimental to report?”
“Yes. That I was frozen to the marrow and this morning my throat was distinctly scratchy. So I stayed in bed all morning as a precaution and got Mrs. O’Shea to make me hot chamomile tea and broth.”
“Oh, you poor dear man.” I laid on the sarcasm so thickly that he got the message.
“Better to be safe than sorry,” he said. “You’re going to have to treat your employees better than this if you want them to stay, Miss Murphy.”
“I spent one evening following Mr. Roth dressed only in rags, remember?”
“Yes, but you were home before ten. I was out until two,” Daniel said.
“Surely you’ve had similar duties in the police department?” I said. “Your men patrol the streets all night, every night.”
“That’s why I became a captain,” he replied with a reluctant grin. “I did my share as a young officer and then I left it to my juniors.”
“Exactly what I’m doing. Leaving it to my juniors.”
Daniel glared at me as I laughed. “Oh, come on, Daniel. You’ll know to wear something warmer tonight. Buy some hot chestnuts or a hot potato and put it in your pocket. That’ll help you keep warm. And take along a flask of brandy.”
“You expect me to go out there again?”
“Somebody has to,” I said. “I’m due at the theater at four and my evenings are going to be occupied by watching over Blanche Lovejoy.”
“What does she want you to do for her?”
“Protect her from a ghost,” I said. “No, don’t laugh. She is mortally afraid, Daniel. She thinks her theater is haunted.”
“And just how do you plan to protect her from a ghost? I don’t see you wearing a large crucifix around your neck—and where is your holy water?”
“The aim is to prove to her that there is no ghost and that she’s imagining things. Either that, or . . .” I broke off.
“Or what?”
“Or someone in the cast is trying to scare Blanche Lovejoy and make sure the production is shut down.”
Daniel reached out his hand and grabbed mine. “Molly, be careful. If someone is resorting to such desperate measures, they may resent your trying to stand in their way. I should think that backstage in a theater is a great place for nasty accidents. Make sure one doesn’t happen to you.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Nobody knows why I am there except Blanche, and she’s going to arrange it so that I have a good reason for being near her at all times. I’m to meet her at four, which doesn’t give us much time to visit the hospital.”
“Oh, about the hospital,” Daniel said. “Would you really mind going on your own today? I don’t think I should risk being around so many sick people, not in my present condition.”
“Daniel, you’ve got the beginnings of an ordinary little cold. But I don’t mind going alone, if you’d like to stay here and rest before this evening’s assignment with Mr. Roth.”
“You’re a heartless slave driver, Molly Murphy,” he said, but in a good-natured way.
ELEVEN
I arrived at the German hospital just as the clock on a nearby church was striking three. That gave me one hour to see my mystery girl and then get back to the theater. I inquired which ward she had been taken to and found her lying, as still and white as the first time I had seen her, in a bed at the far end. For a moment I wondered if she had died, but as I stood beside her those clear blues eyes opened and focused on me. I thought I saw some recognition there.
“Hello.” I gave her my warmest smile. “Do you remember me from yesterday? I was the one who found you in Central Park. How are you feeling today? Recovered from your ordeal?”
She continued to stare at me, but didn’t say a word. Nor did her expression change.
“Have they managed to contact your relatives yet?” I asked.
Again, not a glimmer of anything in her eyes.
I saw a nurse coming down the ward with some medicine on a tray. “Has this young lady spoken at all yet?” I asked.
“Not a word,” the nurse said.
“Do you think she doesn’t understand English?”
“We’ve tried several languages but she just stares blankly.”
“So you obviously haven’t managed to contact her family.”
“Not as far as I know. How are you connected with her?”
“I was the one who found her in a snowbank yesterday.”
“Mercy me. The poor child. Well, maybe she’ll come around soon with loving care and nourishing food.”
She continued on her way. I went to seek out the doctor we had seen yesterday and found him coming out of a ward down the hall. He recognized me right away.
“The young lady. You have seen for yourself, no? She does not respond to anything. Maybe the blow to her head?”
“She did receive a blow to the head then?”
“We had to sedate her before we could examine her properly, and yes, there was a bump on one side of her head, and some
bruises and scratches on the same side of her body. But nothing that seemed severe enough to cause such deep amnesia.”
“If she was hit on the head in the park, and presumably knocked out, then how did she manage to walk to the spot where I found her on her own?” I said, speaking more to myself than the doctor. “And why bruises and scratches just on one side of her body?”
“A tricky puzzle,” the doctor said. “I wish I knew the answers.”
“And that was the extent of her injuries?” I asked. “No signs of other—uh—kinds of assault?”
“No sign at all.”
“Well, that’s one piece of good news, isn’t it?” I said. “So, is something being done to locate her next of kin?”
“We have informed the police about her. We can’t do any more,” he said. “Physically she’ll be strong enough to leave us any day.”
“And if they don’t manage to locate her family?”
“If her mental condition doesn’t improve, then she’ll have to be placed in an institution. We need our beds here for the sick.”
“You’re sure this isn’t just a language problem?”
“My dear young lady, we have tried,” he said. “If you don’t understand a language, there is always some way of communicating, isn’t there? Gestures and smiles and words that languages have in common, like mama, papa.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right,” I agreed. “Oh dear. I had hoped for better news today. I’ll come back tomorrow and bring her some good broth—something nourishing. Maybe you’ll have better news by then.”
“Let us hope so,” he said. “Goodbye, Fraulein.” He nodded gravely and moved on.
I was in deep gloom as I walked down the long tiled hallway. Nurses drifted past in crisply starched pairs. Loud moans came from a ward on my right. I hate hospitals, I decided. Maybe it was that smell of disinfectant that doesn’t really mask the sweeter odors of sickness and death. Then I noticed a figure I thought I recognized coming toward me. The meticulous outfit, the neat blond beard, the homburg, the silver-tipped cane—I couldn’t be mistaken. It was the young German alienist I had encountered on several occasions previously.
