Murder of the Mysterious Maid

by Megan Mollson

  Unfortunately, Cal wasn’t ready to let it go. When Father went in search of a book he wanted to Cal to read, the detective turned to me with a steely look in his eyes.

  “Don’t even think about going to Grace Church Street. It’s a seedy part of town and not safe, even in the daylight.”

  I don’t know if I imagined the condescension in his voice or if it was really there. I straightened my back and put on my haughtiest finishing school glare, complete with raised eyebrow and hooded eyes. “You don’t have any business telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. You are not my father.” I put an extra emphasis on the word father, wanting to point out the difference in our ages, to rub in the reminder of our conversation during our infamous waltz.

  Cal cleared his throat and looked away, clearly annoyed by the jab. “I only speak out of concern for your safety, Miss Lunceford. I would warn any woman away from that part of town.”

  Never before had I wanted anything more than to go to Grace Church Street. I pictured myself walking down the road, chin high, unmolested, and questioning the landlord with confidence and finesse. Oh, I wanted Cal to eat his words!

  “I’m serious,” he leaned forward, eyes intense. “Stay away from there.”

  My heart lurched, but I ignored it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  You won’t be surprised to learn that it took very little to convince Will to accompany me to Grace Church Street. He bounded beside me down the road like a tall, gangly puppy.

  “Father wanted me to work on the Mason account today. How could anyone write reports on a day like this?” He spread his arms wide and raised his face to the sun.

  I smiled at him. “You’re in the wrong line of work, Will. Why don’t you find something you’re actually inclined to do?”

  “The boss gives me all the time off I want,” he smiled impishly. “I hear most bosses expect their employees to show up every day.”

  “How shocking,” I quipped. “Is your father the sort of man who insists you follow in his footsteps?”

  Will shook his head. “He doesn’t care what I do as long as I do something. We don’t have so much family pride anymore now that the money is mostly gone. If I wanted to lay bricks, he’d encourage me.”

  “What work interests you?” I asked. Will was a fun boy, but he did need some sort of path for his life.

  “I like being a detective,” he said seriously.

  “Have you considered becoming a policeman?”

  “I don’t want to be a policeman; I want to be a detective. A private detective like Sherlock Holmes. I want to have my own agency and help people the police can’t or won’t help. You can work with me. In fact, it would be better if you ran the agency and I worked for you. I don’t have a head for accounts and ledgers, despite my father’s attempts to improve me.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?” He frowned at me. “I was certain you’d be on board.”

  I swallowed hard. “Father wouldn’t like it.” Cal wouldn’t like it.

  “You have enough money to run such an agency even if we don’t make a good profit. It would allow us both the ability to go where we need to go and be free from restraints.” Will was growing excited. “Say you’ll think about it, please, Rose?”

  I could hardly tell if he was being serious. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  Our walk into town was quiet after that, both of us lost in our own considerations of Will’s idea. Was it reasonable or was it ridiculous? I vacillated between the two like a pendulum. Would anyone hire a young lady and a goofy boy to help solve their mysteries? I couldn’t guess. If we took the chance and started such a venture, would we be completely humiliated? By the time we arrived in Grace Church Street, I decided to put it from my mind.

  It’s possible that the shabbiness and sense of menace helped push it from me. I understood why Cal had warned me away long before we turned down the street we were looking for. The buildings were rundown with dirty windows. There was debris in haphazard piles spilling from crevices as though the buildings were oozing their contents. Children ran barefoot in dirty clothes, their hair unwashed and tangled.

  We felt eyes watching us from the moment we set foot on the packed dirt roads. The worn men and women who stumbled painfully down the road ahead of us cast us measuring looks. People stood in doorways, sat on rickety front steps, or lingered in pairs discussing the weather. Torn curtains or the newspapers that covered windows twitched aside when we walked past.

  Will’s posture straightened as we moved deeper into the new territory. He walked closer beside me, our arms brushing. A group of young men nudged each other and all eyes pivoted to us as we passed. Will put a hand protectively on my elbow and we continued on as though we were unafraid, all the while our hearts pounded.

  Finally, we turned onto a small side street that was home to half a dozen gray buildings in various stages of disrepair. Will called to a passing child and asked which one was number eight. Wordlessly, the child pointed and my friend tossed the boy a penny. He scampered off and we made our way to the door and knocked as boldly as we dared.

  “What?” a voice called as the door swung open.

  The woman standing there could have been my age or in her forties. Her hair was the sort of blond that might have been gray. Her eyes were a pale blue and whispered that she’d already lived a hundred years. Her shapeless, faded dress hid whatever figure she had very effectively.

  “We’d like to ask you some questions about a man who stayed here,” I said pleasantly. “His name was Donald, though I don’t know his last name. It’s possible that his mother stayed here as well.”

  “Are you with the police?” the woman accused.

  “What makes you ask that?” I asked, taken aback.

  She squinted at me. “It’s just that the cops was here this morning and they asked the same thing.”

  “We’re not with the police,” Will said, smiling his easy smile. “We’re investigating a woman’s death. Anything you have to tell us might help us find her family to let them know of her passing.”

  “I already told the cops that there isn’t no Donald here, with or without a mother.” She stepped back and reached to shut the door.

  “He might have been here a month ago,” I called urgently. “Please?”

  She scowled, but didn’t close the door. “Listen, it don’t do me any good to have loose lips. People can stay in my establishment without being afraid that I’ll tell tales. Now, get off my porch before someone sees.” The door slammed and Will and I exchanged a frown.

  “What do we do now?” I wondered. I didn’t want to stay in this part of town any longer than I had to. We stood out in our clean clothes and washed faces.

  “Psst!” A young woman beckoned us from the alley beside the house. Her eyes brightened when we looked her way and she waved us over to her.

  With trepidation, we walked to the alley and ducked inside. It felt decidedly like a bad idea, but I wasn’t ready to leave without have learned something of use. The girl was a few inches taller than I was and every bit as slim. I knew that Will could keep us safe should she have nefarious ideas.

  “You’re asking about Flora, aren’t you?” she said in a low voice.

  “Who are you?” Will was turning on his charm and I was glad of it.

  “I’m Fran Jones. I do cleaning for this boardinghouse and two others.” She jerked a thumb back over her shoulder.

  “I see. Did you know Flora?” I asked.

  Fran nodded. “I did. There was a fellow staying here and she visited him sometimes. The two of them were always with a second fellow. I saw the three of them together all the time for about two weeks. Then she wasn’t around as much and I heard one of the fellows say she was working somewhere.”

  “Do you know the names of either of the men? Or where they are now?” I pressed, trying not to frighten her with my eagerness.

  She thought this over. “On
e was called Hal. He had big ears and a big scar.”

  “Was the scar on his cheek?” My heart broke into a ragged jog.

  Fran nodded again. “That’s right. It was like this,” she ran a finger across her own cheek and I had to resist dancing with glee. “The other fellow was called Don. I only heard his name once. Hal was staying here, but he must have moved out because I haven’t seen him in days.”

  “I believe he’s in prison,” I said significantly and Will’s eyes grew wide as he caught on.

  “Ah, well, that happens, I suppose,” Fran shook that off.

  “What can you tell us about Don?”

  “He wasn’t too nice. Never smiled. He looked like a gentleman, but he wasn’t. I don’t know where he was staying in town.” Fran rubbed her chin as she thought. “He was tall, but not as tall as you.” Her eyes turned up at Will and grew soft. “He had dark hair and tan skin. He had dark eyes, too, I think.”

  “Thank you, Fran, you’ve been very helpful. By the way, did you tell any of this to the police when they were here?” I fished in my bag for a dollar to tip her.

  “Oh no, miss. I don’t like to talk to the cops. They make me nervous.” She took the coin I handed her, bobbed a sort of curtsy, and disappeared down the alley.

  “Flora was spending time with the man who broke into your family’s house,” I hissed as soon as I felt Fran was out of earshot. “This Donald must have used Hal’s address at Grace Church Street for sending and receiving mail with Flora while she was at the Grand Hotel.”

  “I hardly know what to think,” Will absently ran a hand through his hair. “If she was spending time with thieves, then it isn’t at all surprising that she was killed.”

  “And she was expecting,” I reminded him. “If one of those men was the father, they might not want the child born. Do you think that Flora was a thief? Is that why she was at the Dennises?”

  “It’s possible. If it’s the same woman from the Grand Hotel, then it’s more than possible.”

  “Don could be the Donald from the letter,” I pointed out. “That fits, too.”

  “Should we tell the police?” Will asked.

  “No. Cal told me not to come here and I don’t want to hear him scold me again.”

  Will laughed. “All right, we’ll keep it to ourselves. How are we going to find this Donald?”

  “We might need that friend of yours to look around on our behalf again. If Donald dressed as a gentleman, he wouldn’t be staying here. It’s possible he’s taken a room at a better boardinghouse or even the hotel.”

  “Like Flora did in Chicago,” Will agreed. “That’s good thinking. I’ll get in touch with Herb and ask him to look around for us. If he finds anything, could you see your way to giving him five dollars as a reward?”

  It would come out of my dress money, but I knew it would well be worth it. I nodded eagerly, hopeful that this incentive would produce a quick answer.

  We stepped out of the alley and tried not to hurry as we walked to the part of Brinkman that didn’t feel quite so threatening. We were getting close to Main Street when a man in a dirty jacket stepped out of a doorway and walked toward us. My instincts warned me that he meant trouble moments before I saw the knife in his hand.

  “Give me your money,” he growled.

  Will laughed, reached in his pockets and pulled out a nickel, which he held out to the man. He swatted Will’s hand and the coin bounced away.

  “That’s all the money I have,” Will complained.

  The man turned his attention to me. My heart was pounding and I found that I was more angry than afraid. Why would he assume that we were carrying a large amount of cash? Obviously, he knew little of the world of higher social circles. Ladies of my grandmother’s generation never handled money. It was only in recent years that girls my age took to carrying it in our purses rather than putting everything on our fathers’ accounts.

  I opened my purse and thrust it out to the man. “I just gave away my last dollar. Look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  “Give me your jewelry then,” he spat, his eyes growing wilder.

  “I haven’t any,” I was glad to be able to say. “I don’t have a wedding ring and I’m not wearing anything else. The most valuable thing I have with me is my hat and I doubt very much that you would be able to sell it anywhere.”

  The man licked his lips as he considered his options. His eyes flickered momentarily to my hat but he quickly dismissed this idea. This robbery wasn’t going as he’d planned. He was about to get nothing for his daring and Will and I could identify him easily. It was that thought that made my stomach drop and fear start taking its icy grip. The knife was suddenly glinting in the light and I was sure that the gleam in his eye was that of a killer’s.

  “Look, we can’t give you anything. You didn’t rob us, so we won’t go to the police.” Will was trying his charm again. I wasn’t sure that it would work this time.

  For a moment it looked as though the man was seriously considering Will’s deal. Then a voice shouted suddenly from down the street and he jumped. Without warning, he lurched forward, swiping his knife at Will who leaned back instinctively. The man ignored me completely and raised his arm to take another lunge and it was my turn to react without thinking it through.

  I reached for an abandoned board, lifted it, and brought it down onto the man’s arm with all my strength. He dropped the knife and ran off howling and holding his elbow. I watched him go, board cocked and ready for another attack if he returned.

  Will leaned back against the wall, one hand on his chest as he tried to catch his breath. “Good lord, Rose, I had no idea you were so lethal! With a swing like that, you could join the Cubs.”

  “This is no time to be funny. Let’s get away before he comes back with friends,” I reached for Will and pulled him toward Main Street.

  We had walked several blocks before we stopped looking back over our shoulders. I finally felt safe enough to drop the board on the side of the road.

  “I can understand now why Cal warned me away from Grace Church Street,” I admitted.

  “He had no idea how dangerous you were with a weapon,” Will teased, still breathing heavily and looking behind him every few steps.

  “You almost talked our way out of that sticky spot,” I pointed out. “We almost escaped thanks to your charming ways.”

  “We’re just lucky I didn’t have to fight. We would be lying dead on the ground if it depended on me. I avoided schoolyard fights throughout my entire academic career.”

  I appreciated his self-deprecation. “Should we go to the police? I suppose getting a dangerous man off the street would be worth a lecture from Cal.”

  Will shook his head, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “That man probably has a broken elbow thanks to you. Isn’t that punishment enough?”

  I laughed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As we walked home, I felt fearless and strong. Once Will left and I was alone in my bedroom, the frightening parts of the day began to settle in. My hands shook and a piercing headache began to drill behind my eye. I couldn’t stop thinking about how afraid I’d been on Grace Church Street and how terrifying it had been to be threatened at knife point. I laid down, hoping that a short nap would help, but every time I closed my eyes I pictured the man swinging his knife at Will.

  June helped me dress and fix my hair and I had difficulties thinking of anything to talk about with her. She was improving quickly and knew how I liked my hair pinned and which shoes I would choose to go with the ivory dress and which with the navy one. Tonight, though, I hardly noticed her ministrations as she prepared me to go to supper at the house of one of Father’s acquaintances.

  “Are you all right, miss?” she finally asked.

  “I’m sorry.” I shook my painful head hoping to clear it, to no avail. “I have a headache, that’s all.”

  June looked more worried than the situation warranted. I supposed that she was worried about w
hat to do if I was ill. We had yet to deal with the issue of sickness. She probably feared her lack of knowledge about caring for a mistress who was feeling poorly. If I’d been staying in, I would have asked her for a cool compress and to close the curtains and help me into bed.

  I was the first one in the parlor as usual and I sat on the settee with my head in my hand, feeling the pounding with every heartbeat. I’d managed to carry on pleasant conversations at social events while not feeling well in the past, but I was also struggling to focus on anything other than the earlier events and that worried me.

  When the front door opened and Harrison ushered Cal Lloyd into the room, I was afraid that he would be able to read guilt on my face. We sat in awkward silence until Father arrived.

  “Good, Cal’s here,” he boomed. “Let’s get on our way, shall we?”

  I rose to my feet and a particularly painful pulse throbbed behind my eye. “Father, I’m afraid that I’m not feeling well. I’ll have to stay home. Please give my regards to the MacKinnons.”

  Father looked at me as if I’d suggested dying my hair purple. “You’re ill?”

  “Just a headache, but it’s been growing all afternoon and I’m afraid it’s getting worse rather than better.” I tried to smile but it turned into a grimace.

  “Get right into bed, then.” He nodded at me as though he’d said something brilliant. Then his face clouded. “Oh dear. I gave the staff the night off. I believe Harrison and the cook had plans outside the house. I don’t like asking them to stay.”

  I waved him off. “I don’t want to eat anything. I’m sure I won’t need anything at all.”

  Father’s expression cleared and he marched out the door with Cal trailing behind looking mildly concerned.

  I sighed with relief as the door closed and made my way wearily up to my room. A quiet night would be just the ticket. I would pull every pin from my hair, remove my corset, and settle into my room with a book. It sounded so delicious that I found myself walking more quickly toward my room despite my discomfort.