Tell Me Pretty Maiden

by Rhys Bowen

  He took her hand. She shrank away from him, looking scared, and grabbed at Mrs. Tucker for support.

  “She may not remember anything at all,” I said. “In which case she won’t remember you or where she is or why she’s here.”

  “Tragic,” the old man said. “So sad. What she needs is to be among her own people. I am sure she will soon recover, God willing.”

  Laslo had knelt beside her, stroking her hair and murmuring strange-sounding endearments. He sounded genuinely concerned and my heart warmed a little to him. Annie, however, glanced up at me with a worried look on her face and tried to push his hand away.

  “It is so sad. She does not remember him.” The uncle wiped his eyes. “Come, nephew. We will take her home. My wife makes the good noodles, the goulash. Look how thin she is! Soon we will make her fat and healthy again, you see.”

  Laslo took the blanket from her bed and wrapped it around her, then he gathered her up into his arms. She made a pathetic little whimpering noise. Mrs. Tucker leaped forward. “Hey, you make sure she’s kept warm enough. And you treat her properly now.”

  “Of course,” the uncle said.

  Laslo started to carry her downstairs. She lay in his arms unresisting, which seemed to me a good sign. I caught up with the uncle.

  “Can I have your address, please? I know that Dr. Birnbaum wants to go on treating her, if that’s all right with you.”

  “We don’t need strange doctor. We have Hungarian doctor.”

  “But he is an alienist—a doctor of the mind. He was beginning to have success in getting through to her with hypnosis. He reckons he can find out what happened to her that night and why she is so afraid. You can work with him and translate for her.”

  The old man shook his head firmly. “This I do not like. We do not believe in such things. She will come back to us with love and with good food. You see. She just needs to be with her own people. Then all will be well.”

  “I’d like your address anyway,” I said. “Just in case.”

  “Of course. It is twenty-nine Brook Street. Brooklyn. You are welcome to come and visit her when she recovers more.”

  “Thank you.” I stood in the doorway as they made their way toward the waiting hansom. “Take good care of her, won’t you,” I called after them.

  “Of course. Goodbye.”

  The cab started up and disappeared from view.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Mrs. Tucker and I looked at each other in silence.

  “You shouldn’t have let her go,” she said.

  “What choice did I have? They are her family—or she is about to be part of their family.”

  “Then why wasn’t she wearing a ring, if she was promised to him?”

  “Maybe they don’t in their society. Maybe he was going to give her the ring when they met here in America, or maybe it was stolen from her in Central Park. Who knows, maybe she was robbed of all her possessions.”

  Mrs. Tucker shook her head again. “I didn’t like the look of them, myself.”

  “They looked prosperous enough,” I said. “And they are taking on a tough assignment, restoring her to health, so they must care about her.”

  “I’m glad you got their address. If I were you, I’d go and check on her for myself. Just in case.”

  “I will,” I said. “And I expect that Dr. Birnbaum will want to as well, even if they don’t wish him to continue with his treatments.”

  I felt bleak and empty as I went upstairs. Mrs. T. was already bustling around the room, stripping the bed and folding the sheets for the laundry.

  “They walked off with your blanket as well,” she said accusingly. “The darned cheek of it.”

  “They’re welcome to the blanket,” I said, “as long as it keeps her warm.”

  Then I started to cry. I don’t know why I felt so strongly about her, but ever since I stumbled over her in Central Park I felt as if she were calling to me to protect her. And I had just let her go.

  Still, I now had one less item on my plate, one less thing to worry about, which was good. This could be a day for sewing up loose ends, to use yet another household meta phor. I would go to see the Mendelbaums with my report. I just wished I could tie up my theater case as well. It irked me that I was no closer to unmasking the ghost. And now Blanche had virtually decided that I was useless and was going to terminate my contract at the end of the week. My only chance of getting anywhere was to enlist Ryan O’Hare as my spy. He heard all the theater gossip. Surely someone must have dropped a hint if they knew anything at all.

  Mrs. Tucker had finished tidying up. “Well that’s that then, I suppose,” she said, looking sadly at me. “You’ll not be needing me anymore.”

  “I suppose not, Mrs. Tucker. And I’m most grateful to you. You did a wonderful job looking after her. Let me give you what I owe you.”

  I went to the drawer in the kitchen cabinet and took out the money. I gave her more than we had agreed on.

  “That’s very generous of you, miss,” she said. “I’ll make you a nice macaroni pudding for your lunch, before I go, shall I?”

  “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

  “It’s all for the best,” she said as she collected her hat and shawl.

  “I hope so,” I whispered as I stood alone in my dark hallway. Then I saw my gloomy face in the mirror. No use in standing around moping. At least I had one case I could conclude successfully. I spruced myself up, put on my long woolen cape, and headed uptown to the apartment of the Mendelbaums on the Upper West Side.

  I was greeted by a prim maid and shown into the front hall while she went to announce my arrival. I could tell instantly that my timing had been bad. I could hear the chink of dishes and the sound of luncheon conversation coming from a door on my right. After a short wait Mrs. Mendelbaum appeared, wiping her hands on her napkin.

  “Miss Murphy,” she said, looking a little flustered. “How nice of you to call. Unfortunately, I am currently entertaining guests to luncheon.” She shot a worried glance toward the dining room.

  “I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized the time,” I said. “I should call back later, when your guests have gone.”

  “That might be better,” she said, “Unless you would care to join us? We’re already halfway through the main course, though.”

  “No, thank you. I don’t think that would be appropriate, or fair to your guests,” I said. “Should I return in an hour or so?”

  “Very good,” she said. “That would be an excellent idea.”

  She looked much relieved as she headed back into the dining room and I made for the front door. I spent an hour kicking my heels in a ladies’ tea room on Amsterdam Avenue, where I suspected the cheese sandwich had been on display in the window for several days, then returned to the Mendelbaums’ apartment building.

  “Mrs. Mendelbaum is expecting me,” I said to the maid this time. “She asked me to return in an hour and I have done so.”

  “Very good, miss. Come this way then.” She took me down the hall to the doorway past the dining room and ushered me inside. “Miss Murphy has returned as requested, madam.”

  I stepped into a warm sitting room and was surprised to find that Mrs. Mendelbaum was not alone. She jumped to her feet as I came in.

  “Oh, Miss Murphy. So soon? I’m sorry but my luncheon guests haven’t all departed yet.”

  I wasn’t going to disappear again. It was a long trip for me to the Upper West Side.

  A young woman who had been sitting on a sofa also got to her feet. “We were just leaving, weren’t we, Leon?”

  I looked at the young man whose hand she was tugging to pull him up from the sofa. It was Mr. Roth.

  “There’s no rush, Lanie,” he said. “Let us digest our luncheon, for goodness sake.”

  Mrs. Mendelbaum’s eyes darted from Mr. Roth to me. “Miss Murphy, may I present my daughter Lanie and her betrothed, Mr. Leon Roth.”

  “How do you do,” I said and politely shook hands.


  “I suggest you two go on your walk, if you’re going,” Mrs. Mendelbaum said. “You know how early it gets dark at this time of year.”

  “Yes, I am determined to walk to the park and back,” Lanie said. “Come, Leon.”

  He got up, unwillingly, and followed her from the room.

  Mrs. Mendelbaum’s gaze turned to an elderly woman. “And you, Mama. Isn’t it time for you nap?”

  “I can tell when I’m not wanted,” the old woman said, rising from her chair with difficulty and shuffling out of the door.

  Mrs. Mendelbaum and I stood facing each other in awkward silence.

  “Please take a seat, Miss Murphy,” she said at last. “It was good of you to come.”

  “Rather awkward under the circumstances,” I said. “I see you have already made up your minds about the suitability of Mr. Roth as a husband for your daughter. You didn’t need my help after all.”

  “It was our daughter who rushed things along, Miss Murphy. She took one look at the young man and fell hopelessly in love. She is an impulsive girl, and she has her father wrapped around her little finger. He doesn’t deny her anything she wants.”

  “I wish you could have waited until I submitted my report,” I said, “because I believe I have uncovered some not-so-savory details about Mr. Roth.”

  “Oh dear. How vexing.” She glanced at the door as her daughter’s high-pitched laugh echoed down the hallway, followed by the slamming of the front door.

  “They’ve gone,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Now please feel free to speak. You do not think it wise that Lanie should proceed with this engagement?”

  “I don’t, Mrs. Mendelbaum.” I leaned closer to her. “I followed Mr. Roth for several days and I am disappointed to report that his moral character is not all that it should be.”

  “Mercy me,” she said. “What can you mean?”

  “I mean that he hangs around stage doors and picks up chorus girls.”

  She put her hand to her impressive bosom and started to chuckle. “Is that all? Surely every young man in New York has had a yen for chorus girls at some time or other. It’s a natural part of growing up, Miss Murphy.”

  “But I heard rumors that he does not treat them well. That he is—well, rather rough with them. That he makes strange demands of them.”

  “What kind of demands?”

  Since I hadn’t been privy to that conversation I couldn’t supply her with details. “Just that they were afraid to go with him. That should be enough to warn you, shouldn’t it?”

  Instead of agreeing with me, she shook her head, still smiling. “This is of no importance for Lanie’s future, Miss Murphy. After they are married there will be no more evenings at the theater. No more chorus girls. The boy will learn to settle down and be a good husband and doting father. We shall make sure of that. I was more concerned about his financial status.”

  “His financial affairs seem above reproach,” I said. “He is thought of highly among his colleagues and at his bank, one gathers.”

  “Then that is all that matters. Young men are expected to sow their wild oats, Miss Murphy. You’re no more than a slip of a girl yourself. You have probably led a sheltered life and never encountered such things, but young men with a good income make a practice of wining and dining chorus girls. They may get drunk and act foolishly from time to time. But it all stops when they marry.”

  “But are you not concerned that he may treat your daughter roughly? He may make strange demands of her?”

  “My daughter is used to getting her own way, Miss Murphy,” she said firmly. “I don’t think she’ll have any problem keeping Leon Roth in order, and if she does, then Mr. Mendelbaum will soon straighten him out. Everyone listens to Mr. Mendelbaum, if they know what’s good for them.”

  She stood up again. “I’m so glad you came and I thank you for the information. I owe you a fee, don’t I? Let me find my checkbook.”

  She went to a lady’s writing desk, beautifully carved in mahogany, and opened the roll top. Then she scrawled something on a check and handed it to me. “I think we agreed on one hundred, didn’t we?”

  “I hardly like to take it if I did you no service,” I said.

  “Take it. Of course you should take it. You put in the time and effort, didn’t you? You supplied us with the facts. Now it is up to us to decide whether we should act on those facts. And knowing my daughter and how headstrong she is, I’d say there is little likelihood that she will let Leon Roth out of her clutches again. And I suspect they will be blissfully happy.”

  She waved the check back and forth to let the ink dry and then put it firmly into my hands.

  I left the house with a bad taste in my mouth. Should I have been more forceful in my condemnation of Leon Roth? Was Lanie Mendelbaum destined for a hard time ahead? Then I told myself that it was none of my business. I had been hired for a job. I had done the job. What they did with the information I supplied was their business. As my friends had told me, I got too emotionally involved with my cases. I should learn to keep all emotion out of my work.

  THIRTY-THREE

  After I left the Mendelbaums’, I paid a satisfying visit to my bank, then I checked a nearby clock and decided I might just have time to find Ryan at home before I had to report to the theater. I went all the way back to Washington Square and to the Hotel Lafayette, only to find that Ryan wasn’t there. This was turning into a most vexing day. I was just leaving the hotel again when who should be coming along the sidewalk but Dr. Birnbaum, who also resided at the Lafayette.

  “Ah, Miss Murphy,” he said, raising his hat to me and clicking his heels at the same time, which was no mean feat. “I have just been to call on you. I was most anxious to hear how things went this morning.”

  “Our girl has been taken away by her relatives,” I said.

  “Well, that is good news, isn’t it? So all was well? They recognized her immediately?”

  “They did.”

  “And it was too much to expect that she recognized them?”

  “She certainly didn’t seem to. If anything she looked worried when they spoke to her.”

  He nodded. “Only natural. Her brain was trying to put the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle back together. Something inside her was saying that she should know these people, but she probably associates them with home and knows that they are in the wrong place. She didn’t even react to their speaking Hungarian to her?”

  “She didn’t answer them, or even look as if she understood.”

  “It will take time. We just have to be patient. At least with loving care she may make dramatic improvements. You told them that I would like to continue treating the patient?”

  “I did, but they insisted that they would rather have their own doctor. They seemed suspicious of alienists.”

  “Only too frequent a reaction, I fear. But you took their address, did you?”

  “I did. And I remember it. It is twenty-nine Brook Street, Brooklyn.”

  “Excellent.” He produced a little notebook, took a pencil from the side of it, and jotted down the address. “I think I will call on them anyway and again offer my services. I can say modestly that I have a better chance of restoring her to health than any other doctor in New York, except for Meyer, maybe.”

  “I’d be glad if you did call on her,” I said. “I’d like to know she was safely settled and being looked after well.”

  “I will report back to you then,” he said. “But I shouldn’t keep you out here in the cold. Were you looking for me at the hotel?”

  “No, for Ryan, actually. But he’s not home.”

  “When is he ever home? He flits around like a dragonfly, that one. So may I offer you some tea before you go on your way?”

  “It’s kind of you, but I have to make my way back to the theater,” I said.

  “Ah yes, the famous play. Were there any ghostly manifestations last night?”

  “No, the play went smoothly.”

  “Fascinating.” The d
octor stroked his light blond beard. “What is your own deduction, Miss Murphy? Have you personally seen this spirit?”

  “I have seen its acts,” I said. “I have seen a jug of lemonade throw itself over Miss Lovejoy. I have seen a pillar topple and nearly hit her. But I can’t believe it is the work of a ghost. I’m sure it’s a vindictive person, but I can account for everybody’s movements and I have no idea how these tricks were done.”

  “If it were an illusionist show, like that rascal Houdini’s, then you’d have your answer. Those fellows can make things appear and disappear before your very eyes. Most unnerving.”

  “Unfortunately, this is a simple musical comedy. No illusionists as far as I know.”

  I left him and went on my way to the theater, deep in thought. This was a suggestion that might be worth pursuing. Somehow I should be able to check whether anyone in the cast had worked as an illusionist or with an illusionist at any time. At least this gave me something positive to do and I walked up Broadway from the trolley with a more sprightly step.

  There was another large crowd milling around the front entrance. I even overheard a bookmaker taking odds on whether the ghost would appear tonight. I pushed through to the stage door and was on my way up to the dressing room when Robert Barker called to me.

  “You, girl.”

  I stopped and looked back at him.

  “Miss Lovejoy wants you onstage.”

  “Onstage? Now?”

  I could feel my cheeks flaming. Had I got something wrong? Was the performance on Fridays at an earlier time and nobody had told me?

  “Yes, now,” he snapped. “Hurry up. She needs you there.”

  I ran back down the stairs, past the prop room, and negotiated the backstage area. Through the side curtains I could see that the stage lights were full on. I stepped out into their glare, shielding my eyes. I saw that Blanche was standing alone at the front of the stage. The curtain was up and she was addressing invisible people in the audience.

  “Here she is now,” I heard a male voice say.

  Blanche turned around, saw me, and held out her hand in a welcoming gesture.