Balducci gave a beleaguered sigh. “Dante. He went back to the flat the next morning. Nunzio would come here to the saloon when he got up, and Dante knew he’d want to be guarded on the way. He was worried when he saw the door was open.”
“Unlocked, you mean?” Frank asked.
“No. Open partway. When nobody answered, he went in and found Nunzio. He came running back here. I live upstairs.”
“And you decided to pin the murder on the next person who came to the door?” Frank surmised, sarcastic again.
This time Balducci’s smile held real mirth. “Not exactly, but it did work out pretty well. Donatelli came knocking a little while later, and I sent Dante to find Ogden.”
“Why go to all that trouble?” Petrosino asked. “The police weren’t going to be looking too hard for Esposito’s killer.”
“Maybe, but I could not count on that, and if they did decide to look, I’m the first one they would look at. Me and the rest of our crew. Better if some other dago got the blame.”
“Or maybe you killed Esposito yourself and that’s why you tried to blame it on Gino,” Frank tried.
But Balducci just chuckled. “You know nothing. You think because I sit behind this desk that I am the new boss.”
“Aren’t you?”
Balducci leaned back in his chair and gave Petrosino an expectant look.
Petrosino sighed this time. “I think what Mr. Balducci is saying is that with Esposito dead, nothing is certain. One of the other men in their crew can challenge him for leadership. His men might leave him and join another Black Hand group if they don’t want to work for him. Or another Black Hand group could take over this neighborhood and push Balducci out.”
“They were afraid of Nunzio, but they are not so much afraid of me,” Balducci said.
“Even if you killed Esposito?” Frank challenged.
“If I did, then I cannot be trusted,” Balducci said. “You see, you know nothing.”
Frank was beginning to think that was true. “Then you’re not planning to take revenge on Donatelli?”
“Vendetta?” Balducci scoffed. “When I know he did not kill Nunzio?”
Frank shrugged. “If you killed Gino, that would make people think you were innocent and believe he was guilty.”
“That is too twisted, Malloy. We are simple men.”
Frank doubted that, but Balducci’s arguments made a certain kind of sense. And it would be great if Gino’s life wasn’t in danger. He wasn’t about to test that out just yet, because he certainly had no reason to trust Balducci, but at least he had a spark of hope now. “So we’re back to the original question. Do you have any idea who did kill Esposito?”
“If I did, I would go right to the police,” he said without a shred of sincerity.
“Don’t you want justice for your friend?”
“There is no justice, Malloy. Even you should know that.”
Frank did know it. He had long been trying to change that.
* * *
* * *
Maeve had dressed carefully for her trip uptown, trying to look like a young lady who had been to college. Luckily, that didn’t require much effort. Young ladies who went to college were usually not very concerned with fashion, so Maeve actually had to tone down her outfit quite a bit.
The El wasn’t particularly crowded during the middle of the day and it was always much more pleasant to ride than the trolleys with their mashers always putting their hands where they shouldn’t and people stepping on your feet. It was much faster, too.
She paid particular attention to the neighborhood as she walked the few blocks from the El station to the settlement house. The cacophony of languages being spoken by pedestrians and shouted by street vendors gave testimony to how many ethnic groups lived in East Harlem. A lot more than just the Italians that had given it the nickname of Italian Harlem, to be sure. How ambitious to think one set of idealistic volunteers could serve such a disparate group of people in any meaningful way. Still, the number of people frequenting the settlement house showed that they must be doing something to benefit someone. Maeve supposed she could understand why an idealistic young person would want to be part of that.
She found the settlement house easily enough. The sign was helpful, but the number of people going in and out of the row houses was a good indicator that she had reached her destination. She and Mrs. Malloy had decided she should ask for Teo first, tell her their plan, and then ask her for help.
Teo was in a cooking class, helping the students—all middle-aged women of various ethnicities—master the proper way to make fried chicken. In preparation for the Fourth of July holiday, the staff had apparently thought the women should learn how to make a proper American picnic. The smell sent Maeve’s stomach growling, and she happily accepted Teo’s invitation to join them in sampling the final results.
Only when the students were gone did Teo finally turn to Maeve and say, “Why are you here? Is everything all right?”
“Yes, everything is fine. Gino is fine. I’m just tired of sitting in the office doing nothing. I thought I could volunteer here for a while and maybe pick up some useful gossip.”
Teo frowned and took Maeve to the corner of the room farthest from the door, where they would be least likely to be overheard. “Mr. McWilliam must approve all the volunteers. He would want you to apply and give him references and it would take weeks. I think it is better if you just pretend you live in the neighborhood and go to some classes.”
“Would anybody believe I live in this neighborhood?” Maeve asked with a grin.
Teo frowned. “Maybe not.”
They stood there thinking for a long moment. “I know,” Maeve said at last. “How about if I say I’m interested in volunteering, but I’m not sure. I’d like to find out more about the work you do and observe some classes and—”
“Oh, that is a good idea!” Teo cried. “We would not even have to tell Mr. McWilliam, because he would certainly ask you a lot of questions that you maybe could not answer, and he might decide you would not suit and send you away. I can get one of the residents to show you around. I could even let her think Mr. McWilliam has assigned her this duty.”
“Teo, you are a very clever woman,” Maeve said with approval.
Teo grinned. “I am a woman. We are all very clever or we do not survive.”
Which was so true. “Who is the resident you want to introduce me to?”
“Kate Westrop. She showed Mr. and Mrs. Malloy around when they were here. She is the one Mr. McWilliam always chooses for that because she is so friendly, but . . .” She glanced around, making sure they were still alone. “. . . she is too friendly, I think. She sometimes says things she should not.”
“And if I was very interested, she might say even more?” Maeve asked.
“I think so. Come, we will find her.”
Kate Westrop was outside, watching the children on the playground. Teo introduced Maeve and told Kate the story they had settled on.
“Mr. McWilliam, well, you know how careful he is,” Teo concluded. “Miss Smith needs to know what we do here and if she thinks she will fit in before she applies to become a resident, and we thought you were the best one to show her.”
Maeve could not have done it better herself. Now Kate Westrop thought McWilliam had assigned her this task.
“How did you hear about the settlement, Miss Smith?” Miss Westrop asked.
“I had a friend in school, and she was coming to volunteer at the settlement after graduation. I thought it would be fun to volunteer at the same place, but Mrs. Donatelli tells me she’s not here at the moment.”
“Who is your friend?” Kate asked with a worried frown. She was one step ahead of Maeve already.
“Jane Harding. She made the settlement house sound so wonderful that I just had to come and see for my
self.”
Kate exchanged a glance with Teo, who just stared innocently back. Did Kate have any suspicions about why Jane had left? Maeve would know what they were before the day was out.
* * *
* * *
This time the maid admitted Sarah to the Prince house immediately and took her right up to the parlor, where Mrs. Prince was waiting.
“Mrs. Malloy, how kind of you to come,” she said, jumping up and coming to meet Sarah.
“I’m glad I was able to,” Sarah said, accepting Mrs. Prince’s invitation to sit on the sofa with her. They exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather and Sarah answered some questions about Catherine and her school, and then the maid brought in some delicious iced fruit drinks and little tea cakes.
Up until that moment, Mrs. Prince had been cordial and very proper, but Sarah had still felt the tension in her. She was like a violin string pulled too tightly and almost ready to break. As soon as the maid left, she gave a shuddering sigh.
“Are you all right?” Sarah asked, setting down her glass.
Mrs. Prince hadn’t even picked hers up yet. “I don’t know what to do with Jane. She’s behaving so strangely.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she’s been polite and considerate, just as a houseguest should be, but there’s something wrong with her. She sits for hours in her room, just staring out her window. I tried taking her shopping, but she was too distracted, hardly even noticing anything in the shops. I . . . I know this sounds foolish and even selfish, but at least if she was disagreeable, I would have a reason to send her home to her parents. Having her here is very uncomfortable for Joe and me, but I can’t think of a single reason to ask her to leave. I also have the feeling that if I did, she would be devastated. I’m at my wits’ end.”
Oh dear, it was as bad as Sarah had feared, and plainly Jane had not told her cousin about her ordeal. “I believe I told you that Jane’s experience at the settlement house was somewhat unpleasant.”
“Yes, you did, and I asked her about it, but she refused to discuss it. Mrs. Malloy, if something happened that affected her so badly, I feel I need to know what it was. Someone does, at least, so we can help her.”
Sarah picked up her glass and took a sip to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. She couldn’t possibly betray Jane, but Mrs. Prince was right, she really did need to know what had happened. Their past relationship may have given Mrs. Prince no reason to feel kindly toward Jane, but now Jane needed kindness. How could Lisa Prince help Jane or even feel the proper amount of sympathy, if she had no idea of the situation?
“Mrs. Prince, I can’t betray Jane’s confidence, but perhaps if I could see her, I could convince her to tell you about her experiences. I think you’d feel much differently if you understood what she’s been through.”
“Good heavens, you make it sound like . . . Well, I suppose it must have been awful, whatever it was. She’s in her room, as she usually is. Shall I ask her to come down? Do you think I should tell her that you’re here?”
“Perhaps not by name. Just say a friend has come to see her.”
“I’ll send the maid, so she won’t be able to ask her any questions about who the friend is.”
“Good idea.”
Mrs. Prince rang for the maid and gave her instructions. Then they waited in awkward silence for the message to be delivered. After what seemed an eternity, the parlor door opened and Jane Harding came in. She wore a plain brown skirt and a shirtwaist. Her hair was in a haphazard bun, and her expression was blank, at least until she saw Sarah.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, more puzzled than anything.
“Mrs. Malloy was in the neighborhood and decided to check on you, Jane,” Mrs. Prince said with forced cheerfulness. “Wasn’t that kind of her?”
Jane plainly didn’t think so, but years of deportment lessons overruled whatever her true emotions were. “Yes. How nice to see you, Mrs. Malloy.”
“Come and join us, Jane,” Mrs. Prince urged a bit too enthusiastically. She asked the maid to bring another glass.
Jane took a chair opposite them, her reluctance obvious. Sarah thought she looked a bit pale, but that was probably to be expected.
“Your cousin is very concerned about you, Miss Harding,” Sarah began, not sure exactly how far she should go.
Jane’s gaze flitted to Lisa and back to Sarah. “She needn’t be.”
“When I delivered your note to her, I told her that your experience at the settlement house had been unpleasant. I didn’t feel I could tell her more than that, but she’s having a difficult time understanding why you seem so withdrawn.”
Finally, Jane showed a reaction. The color bloomed in her cheeks and her eyes flashed with sudden anger. “And you think I should tell her something?”
“That’s your decision of course, but I’ve found that sharing our troubles with people who care about us can often help us deal with them.”
“What do you think I have to deal with, Mrs. Malloy?” Jane asked sharply.
Sarah glanced meaningfully at Lisa Prince. “I don’t want to betray your confidence . . .”
“Don’t worry about that. Tell Lisa about my unpleasant experience. Go ahead.”
Sarah could believe that Jane was angry but not that she wanted Sarah to be the one telling her story. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Tell her.” Jane folded her hands and lifted her chin in silent defiance of Sarah’s hesitation.
Sarah drew a fortifying breath and turned to Lisa, who waited apprehensively. “Mrs. Prince, in the neighborhood where the settlement house is located, there is a group of criminals that calls itself the Black Hand. They are engaged in several different illegal activities, and one of them is kidnapping children and sometimes women and holding them for ransom.”
Sarah waited and watched as Lisa Prince absorbed this information and slowly, reluctantly, made the connection. “Jane, did you . . . ? Oh dear heaven, no wonder you’re . . . How awful! I’m so sorry, my dear. Whatever can I do for you?”
“Nothing,” Jane said, still angry. “I’m fine now. I escaped.” She turned back to Sarah. “I heard one of them got killed.”
Sarah blinked in surprise. How had she heard that? Sarah thought she’d left the settlement house before news of the murder had spread. “Yes, Nunzio Esposito.”
“Do they know what happened? Do they know who did it?”
Why was she asking about this? She would have no reason to unless . . . Yes, it must be true. She must be the woman who had been held in that flat as Esposito’s prisoner, just as they had feared. The poor girl, no wonder she was now so withdrawn and moody. It was a wonder she could function at all. “No, they don’t know who killed him yet.”
This only made her angrier. “But they must have some idea. Someone must have seen something. In that neighborhood, they know everything that happens.”
They’d certainly known about the blond woman Esposito was keeping there. Should she mention that? Why not? “They say that Esposito was holding a woman in the apartment where he was killed, but she had left in the morning, and he was killed late that night.”
Jane drew a deep breath, still holding her chin very high and glaring furiously at Sarah. “Then she couldn’t have killed him.”
“No,” Sarah said quickly. Had Jane been concerned that she would be accused? How awful for her. “We think . . . That is, my husband is looking into it. He thinks perhaps one of Esposito’s men killed him so he could take Esposito’s place.”
“That seems logical,” Mrs. Prince said, obviously eager to solve the mystery and change the subject to one less horrifying.
“Is that what you think?” Jane asked Sarah.
Sarah frowned. Why did Jane care what she thought? But of course if Esposito had kidnapped and assaulted Jane, she’d be anxious for vengeance, perhaps even be a
bit bloodthirsty, wanting to know every detail and eager to know whom she had to thank for taking her revenge. “As I said, we don’t really know, but we have to consider the families of the kidnap victims. One of them might have taken advantage of knowing Esposito was alone in that building.”
“Family members, yes,” Jane said, nodding as if she’d just reached a conclusion. “A family member could have done it. Someone who hated him.”
Sarah thought of the final possibility they had considered. Should she mention it to Jane? But if Jane really was the woman in the flat, did that mean she’d gotten Mrs. Esposito’s diamond? Sarah couldn’t imagine a captive receiving a valuable gift. Had Mrs. Esposito been wrong about that? Was there another woman they didn’t know about? “And someone saw Esposito’s wife at the flat the night he was killed,” she offered, allowing no trace of emotion into her voice.
“His wife? Why would she have been there?”
What an odd question. Sarah hesitated a moment and then stretched the truth a bit. “Rumor said that Esposito had a new mistress. Maybe she went to see for herself.”
Jane was clearly shocked. “What kind of a woman does a thing like that?”
“I can’t imagine,” Lisa Prince said, obviously just as shocked. “Does the woman have no pride?”
“She did say she didn’t actually care that he had a mistress,” Sarah said, watching Jane’s reaction closely.
“Didn’t care?” Lisa exclaimed, outraged. “How could she not care?”
No one answered her.
“Why would she go there, then?” Jane demanded, apparently not convinced she had.
“She said Esposito had taken something of hers, something very valuable, and given it to this woman. She went to get it back.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Lisa insisted. “What could be that valuable?”
“A diamond ring, I think,” Sarah said, still watching Jane.
Jane’s face contorted. “A ring?” she echoed, then shook her head as if to clear it. “Is that what she said? That it was a ring?”
Murder on Pleasant Avenue Page 16
