Murder on Pleasant Avenue

by Victoria Thompson

  When the new client left, Frank pulled up one of the chairs next to Maeve’s desk. She’d been practicing her typing, and she stopped with a sigh, obviously grateful for the interruption.

  “What are we going to do, Mr. Malloy? Gino can’t hide forever.”

  “I guess we could let him show himself and see if anybody tries to kill him,” Frank said in an attempt at humor.

  “He’d love that, I’m sure,” Maeve said, not seeing the humor at all. “He’d get to be a hero.”

  “Only if he survived.”

  “He wouldn’t be able to imagine any other outcome, but I certainly can. Who do you think killed Esposito?”

  “I wish I knew, but when I think about all the possible suspects, the only one who really has the nerve to confront a man like Esposito is—”

  “—his wife,” Maeve said with a knowing nod.

  Frank blinked in surprise. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  “Really? What were you going to say?”

  “I was going to say Balducci.”

  But Maeve frowned. “I thought you’d decided he didn’t do it.”

  “He made a good argument, but who else would have the nerve? Everybody in the neighborhood was terrified of him.”

  “Not everybody or he wouldn’t have needed a bodyguard.”

  Frank hadn’t thought of it that way. “Maybe he used a bodyguard just so people would think he was important.”

  “Maybe, but they don’t call them bodyguards for nothing.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Now tell me why you think it’s his wife.”

  “As you said, she’s the only one who wasn’t afraid to confront him.”

  “We don’t know that,” Frank said. “Maybe she was afraid of him. Maybe he used to beat her.”

  “Then why did she march right over to that tenement when she realized he’d stolen her diamond ring or whatever it was?”

  Frank opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn’t argue with her logic. “I see what you mean. That’s not the way a woman acts if she’s scared of her husband.”

  “She was probably furious and out for blood. His blood.”

  “And he told her he’d given the diamond to the other woman, so she wasn’t going to get it back.”

  “What was it Mrs. Malloy told us? That he’d originally given it to his wife to sell if she ever fell on hard times.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Which sounds very thoughtful for a gangster,” Maeve allowed. “Not many men worry about what will become of their widows.”

  “I’m sure a lot of men worry about that,” Frank chided her. “It’s just that not many of them can give their wives a diamond to sell.”

  “I suppose you could be right. At any rate, it’s true that not many men could give their wives a diamond at all. Is that why engagement rings have become so popular?”

  “I think they serve a different purpose.”

  “And what purpose is that?”

  Frank smiled. “If a man jilts his fiancée, she can keep the ring instead of suing him for breach of promise.”

  “But a woman wouldn’t have to support herself for the rest of her life over a broken engagement, would she? Not the way you would if your husband died and left you penniless.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “So would a diamond be enough to support a widow? How much do diamond rings cost anyway?”

  “I paid over a hundred dollars for Sarah’s.”

  “That wouldn’t keep her for the rest of her life,” Maeve said.

  “I see what you mean.”

  “So it would have to be a very big diamond.”

  “Or something else entirely,” Frank mused.

  “Something pretty valuable. Something valuable enough to go storming out late at night to confront your husband and demand that he give it back.”

  “And when he didn’t have it . . .”

  “And you found out another woman did have it, one who had disappeared or at least had left, that would make me mad enough to commit murder, and I imagine Mrs. Esposito felt the same way,” Maeve concluded.

  “Does that mean that Jane Harding could have this diamond thing after all?”

  “Mrs. Malloy said she didn’t seem to know anything about it.”

  Frank considered this. “What happened to it, then?”

  “Let’s see if we can figure it out. Apparently, he did take it from his wife,” Maeve said, closing her eyes as she tried to imagine what had happened. Frank watched, controlling his amusement in case she really did come up with something. “Maybe he thought he could win Jane over with it somehow.”

  “A woman he’d kidnapped?” Frank scoffed.

  “They say he was very charming. He was probably full of himself, too. Men like that usually are. He kidnapped her because he wanted her, and he set out to win her heart.”

  “That sounds like a bad melodrama.”

  “I know, but men can be very stupid sometimes.”

  Frank couldn’t argue with that. “All right. So maybe he’s going to give her this diamond thing to impress her.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking. But when he arrives at the flat, he discovers that she’s escaped.”

  “Or just run away.”

  Maeve nodded. “Whatever it was, she’s gone, so he can’t give it to her. Then his wife shows up and demands it back, but he refuses. He’s still thinking he can find Jane and win her over.”

  “He’s really not very smart, is he?”

  Maeve gave him a pitying look. “So he lies and tells his wife the girl took it, and the wife gets so angry, she stabs him.”

  “That makes sense, but what happened to the diamond thing?”

  “The wife took it.”

  “But she didn’t know he still had it. That’s why she killed him.”

  “Maybe she searched him just to be sure and found it.”

  Frank sighed. “Or maybe whoever found his body took it.”

  “The bodyguard maybe. What was his name?”

  “Dante. Or maybe Balducci or one of his other goons.”

  “Or the cop. What was his name?”

  “Ogden,” Frank said with another sigh. Cops always searched dead bodies they found and kept any valuables. It was a convenient way to supplement their income. “But if somebody found it, and it was worth as much as Mrs. Esposito seems to think, then that person will soon be throwing money around pretty freely.”

  “Then we should be able to find them easily. But that person didn’t kill Esposito, so why do we care about him?”

  “He might know something,” Frank said.

  “Well, I know something. I know Mrs. Esposito is probably the one who killed her husband, because she was the only one who could come at him with a knife like that.”

  “Another man could,” Frank argued.

  “Would Esposito really let himself get into a situation like that with another man?”

  Frank was trying to picture it himself—he really needed to go to the theater more so he could see how these things were done—when the office telephone rang.

  Maeve picked up the earpiece and spoke very professionally into the mouthpiece. “Yes,” she said after identifying herself and waiting to hear what the caller had to say. “What? Say that again.”

  Her eyes grew large, and she gave Frank a look of astonishment. “Yes, yes. We’ll meet you there.”

  “Who was that?” Frank demanded when she had hung up.

  “It was Teo. She was using the telephone at the settlement house. Mrs. Esposito is dead.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The Esposito house was indeed the biggest and fanciest in the neighborhood. It resembled a stone castle with turrets and mullioned windows. Even Fra
nk could see it was outrageous and bore the stigma of new money, but it probably succeeded in intimidating everyone in the neighborhood. He supposed that had been Esposito’s intention in any case.

  This time the police were still there, although they had already taken Mrs. Esposito’s body away. Ogden stood guard at the front door, and he wasn’t at all happy to see Frank join the crowd of onlookers. Frank wondered who would do the autopsy. Would they take her all the way down to Bellevue or give the body to a coroner nearby? And would that coroner know what he was doing, because many of them did not? But maybe someone had stabbed Mrs. Esposito, too, and the cause of death would be obvious even to the most incompetent medical man.

  Teo was already there when Frank and Maeve arrived. She’d gone to the house as soon as she’d notified them, and she’d notified them the instant someone had brought the news to the settlement house, so she’d been there long enough to have heard all the gossip.

  “Mrs. Esposito’s maid found her this morning when she came to work,” Teo reported, having drawn them aside from the crowd of onlookers so they wouldn’t be overheard. “She’d been dead for a while.”

  “How did she die?” Frank asked.

  “She was very sick. In the stomach. She made a lot of mess, according to the maid,” Teo said gravely.

  “What an awful way to die,” Maeve sympathized.

  Frank thought any way of dying was pretty awful, but women did hate making a mess. “If she was sick, why are the police here?”

  “Because of her husband, I think,” Teo said. “People think if he was murdered, maybe she was, too.”

  “Do the police think that?” Frank asked.

  Teo shrugged. “They are here,” she pointed out.

  “Did the neighbors see anything? Or hear anything?” Frank asked. “You can’t tell me they don’t pay attention to this house, even with Esposito dead.”

  “You are right,” Teo said. “They would watch for trouble, if nothing else, but they will not say anything when the police are here.”

  Of course not. They didn’t trust the police. “We’ll have to come back later, after they’re gone.” Maybe Gino’s middle-aged Italian man could find out something. “Is that Mr. Cassidi?” he added, trying to see through the crowd. He’d only gotten a glimpse, but he was pretty sure that was him.

  “He lives on this street,” Teo said, rising on tiptoe in an attempt to see over the crowd. “Yes, and his wife is with him.”

  Frank hadn’t met Mrs. Cassidi of course, but she’d helped Sarah meet Mrs. Esposito and now Mrs. Esposito was dead.

  “She probably won’t want to see us,” Maeve whispered to him, obviously thinking the same thing he was.

  “I should speak to her,” Teo said, oblivious to their hesitation. She knew nothing about the drama with Mrs. Esposito, and of course Mr. Cassidi employed Rinaldo. “Come, I will introduce you both.”

  Maeve cast Frank a desperate glance but followed Teo meekly. Left only with the option of appearing rude, Frank trailed along behind them as they made their way through the crowd that had spilled over the sidewalk and onto the street.

  Teo greeted the Cassidis in Italian and had a brief, somber conversation with them as they obviously discussed the tragedy of Mrs. Esposito’s death. Then she switched to English. “Signor Cassidi, I believe you know Mr. Malloy.”

  Cassidi frowned his displeasure, but his wife turned to Frank with interest. “Mr. Malloy, I know your wife, I think.”

  Frank managed not to wince. “Yes, you do.”

  Cassidi belatedly and grudgingly introduced them, and Teo introduced Maeve.

  “We’re very sorry to hear about Mrs. Esposito,” Frank said.

  Mrs. Cassidi pursed her lips and then said, “It is wrong to speak evil of the dead.”

  So much for Frank’s concerns that she might be feeling guilty. “Did you happen to see anybody going to visit Mrs. Esposito?”

  “Who would visit her?”

  “Maybe the person who killed her.”

  Now he had the full attention of both of the Cassidis. “Do you think she was murdered?” Cassidi asked.

  “If what they’re saying is true, it’s possible.”

  “They say she was very sick,” Mrs. Cassidi said.

  “Was she ever sick like that before?” Frank asked.

  They all exchanged questioning glances. “Not that we heard,” Teo admitted.

  “I’ve seen people who were poisoned get sick like that very suddenly,” Frank said.

  “But who would do that? And why?” Mrs. Cassidi asked.

  Frank almost said, “Maybe the person who killed her husband,” but just in time he remembered he’d practically accused Cassidi of that at their meeting. Instead he said, “Maybe when we solve her husband’s murder, we’ll figure it out.”

  Cassidi glared at him, but Mrs. Cassidi nodded. Then she said, “Maybe you would like to know that a boy came home to his family last night. A boy who was kidnapped.”

  “Yes, I would like to know that,” Frank said, forgetting all about Cassidi and his damaged feelings. “Do the police know? Have they spoken to him?”

  “The police know nothing about it,” Cassidi said, still annoyed but too passionate about this topic to let that stop him from talking to Frank. “The family did not tell the police he was taken.”

  “Then they must have paid the ransom,” Frank said.

  No one replied, telling Frank what he needed to know. “Do you think the family would talk to me? Or to Gino?” He turned to Mrs. Cassidi. “You said there were other children being held, too. If we could find them . . .”

  She said something to her husband in Italian, and they had a brief argument that she apparently won. She turned back to Frank. “I will invite the boy and his mother to my house. The boy speaks English, and I think his mother would allow your wife to speak to him.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Cassidi. Just let her know when to come.”

  Maeve tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Malloy, do you think that’s a detective?”

  Frank turned to see a man in a suit step out of the Esposito house and stop to speak to Ogden. This would be the precinct detective. Every precinct had one or two who investigated local crimes. If it was a big or important case, they would call in help from Police Headquarters, because the precinct detectives weren’t the best ones on the force. This one looked like one of the worst of a bad lot.

  Frank excused himself and went over to the wrought iron fence that surrounded the Espositos’ small yard.

  Ogden saw him and said something to the detective by way of warning, so he was ready for a fight by the time he reached the front gate.

  Frank decided to pretend he hadn’t noticed. “I’m Frank Malloy,” he said, holding out his business card. “My partner, Gino Donatelli, is the one you charged with Esposito’s murder.”

  The detective glanced over his shoulder at Ogden, who was glowering at them both. “Ogden told me. I’m Sullivan.” The two men shook hands. “Look, I know it was a put-up job with your partner, and I’m sorry he got caught up in it, but that’s how things go in this neighborhood. You just have to bribe somebody and he’s free, so what else do you need to worry about?”

  “For one thing, I’m worried about who killed Mrs. Esposito.”

  “Who said anybody did?”

  “It just seems strange she turns up dead right after her husband is murdered.”

  “She got sick. The coroner said gastric fever or something like that.”

  “In a perfectly healthy woman?”

  “It happens all the time.”

  Unfortunately, it did. People got sick from bad water or spoiled food or something in the air. Who knew what caused all these illnesses? Still . . . “From what I heard, her symptoms could have been from arsenic poisoning.”

  “That’s hard to believe,
but maybe it’s true. If it is, I’d say she committed suicide.”

  “A good Catholic lady like her? She went to Mass every day.”

  Sullivan shook his head. “Why are you so interested?”

  “Because if she really was murdered and I can figure out why, maybe that will help me figure out who killed her husband. At least tell the coroner who does the autopsy that you suspect arsenic poisoning.”

  Sullivan smiled. “But I don’t suspect arsenic poisoning.”

  “Then tell him I do.”

  Sullivan stared at him in wonder for a long moment. “I heard you used to be a cop yourself.”

  “Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy, at your service,” Frank admitted.

  “And you quit when you got rich.”

  “They made me quit.”

  “And now you amuse yourself by solving cases the police can’t.”

  “Not exactly. I’m not amused by any of this, and I solve cases the police won’t.”

  Sullivan sighed. “Well, I can tell you the police won’t solve this one, because nobody cares that some dago gangster’s widow died, even if she was murdered.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I look into it, but I need to know if she really was poisoned.”

  “Don’t you ever give up?” Sullivan asked in exasperation.

  “Not often.”

  “All right. The coroner is Unger.” He gave Frank the address.

  “Is he any good?”

  “How would I know? Now I’m going to see if I can find another crime to solve. This one is yours.”

  Frank didn’t thank him.

  * * *

  * * *

  Mrs. Esposito is dead,” Maeve announced to Gino the moment she arrived home and had sent Catherine into the kitchen for an after-school snack and they were alone. They were in the hallway, so Gino drew her into the parlor where they were less likely to be overheard.

  “What do you mean, she’s dead?”

  Maeve explained how Teo had telephoned the office and what they had learned since. “Mr. Malloy went to talk to the coroner and I had to get Catherine from school.”