“Oh. No, he didn’t.”
“Do you know any dairies in particular that he didn’t approve of?”
The man shrugged. Plainly the subject didn’t interest him. “Did you say private investigator? Why would Harvey need you? Aren’t the police investigating?”
Gino smiled apologetically. “Uh, no. It seems they’ve decided not to.” Gino glanced around to see if anyone else was around. “Would you have any idea why they did that?”
The man’s eyes widened in alarm. “Me? No. I don’t know nothing. I just do my job and don’t ask questions.”
“Is there something you’d like to ask questions about?”
He shook his head quite certainly. “No, and if you’re smart, you won’t either.”
* * *
• • •
Harvey is definitely hiding something,” Gino told Frank and Sarah. He’d joined them at their home after his conversation with young Pritchard at the Pure Milk Dairy.
“But what?” Frank asked as Sarah served Gino the coffee their maid, Hattie, had brought to them in the parlor.
“I thought he must have been involved in his father’s death, but now I’m thinking he’s just acting guilty because there’s something going on at the dairy.”
“Or it could be both,” Sarah pointed out. “Nothing is ever simple, is it?”
No, it wasn’t. “Mrs. Pritchard is hiding something, too, and we actually got to meet him,” Frank said.
Gino perked right up at that. “Him?”
Frank nodded to indicate Sarah should tell the story of meeting Mr. Bergman.
When she’d finished, Gino sat back and considered it for a moment. “You think this Bergman and Mrs. Pritchard are lovers?”
“It seems obvious,” Sarah said.
Gino winced. “But they’re so old.”
Both Frank and Sarah burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Gino asked, offended.
“They’re not much more than forty,” Sarah said.
“That’s pretty old.”
Frank caught Sarah’s eye, and they enjoyed another good laugh. “I’ll remind you of this someday,” he promised Gino.
“I still don’t see why it’s so funny.”
“At any rate,” Sarah said, managing a straight face, “if they are lovers, one or both of them might have decided to get rid of Mr. Pritchard before they got any older.”
“That’s possible, I guess,” Gino said. “And let’s not forget about whoever owns this dairy that Pritchard was going to report to the authorities.”
“If it really exists,” Frank said. “Harvey might’ve been lying about that. We’ll find out when you go back to see him tomorrow.”
“In the meantime, we need to find out more about Mrs. Pritchard and this Bergman fellow,” Sarah said. “I’m wondering if Mrs. Ellsworth knows anything about him.”
Frank couldn’t help smiling at that. “When has Mrs. Ellsworth not known everything there was to know about everyone she meets?”
* * *
• • •
Sarah waited until the next morning, when Nelson would be at work, to call on Mrs. Ellsworth. Nelson might not approve of them gossiping about his wife’s family, so she didn’t want to take any chances.
“Oh, Mrs. Malloy, I’m so glad to see you,” Theda said when the maid escorted her into the family parlor where Theda and Mrs. Ellsworth were sewing. “Has Mr. Malloy found out anything yet?”
“He only started yesterday,” Sarah said. “These things take time.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m just so very anxious.”
“Theda, go fix a tea tray and slice up some of that cake we made yesterday,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “Then we can have a nice chat.”
Theda obediently hurried off, and Mrs. Ellsworth closed the parlor door behind her. “That will keep her busy for a few minutes, if there’s something you’d like to talk to me about.”
“How did you know?” Sarah asked in amazement.
Mrs. Ellsworth smiled mysteriously. “Let’s just say I was hoping. Now, what is it?”
“Have you met Mr. Otto Bergman?”
Mrs. Ellsworth’s eyes lit up. “Uncle Otto? Of course I have. He was at the wedding. Mrs. Pritchard’s dear friend from childhood. May I assume you’ve met him, too?”
So that was why he’d looked familiar. Sarah had seen him at the wedding. “Malloy and I both met him. We called on her yesterday to let her know Nelson had hired Malloy, and he was there.”
“There? At her house, you mean? Dear me, that’s brazen of her.”
“She’s a widow now,” Sarah said. “She doesn’t have to worry about her husband finding out.”
Mrs. Ellsworth glanced at the door as if to make sure it was still closed. “What is it you suspect?”
“Probably the same thing you suspect. Malloy and I think Mrs. Pritchard and Bergman are much more than friends.”
“You mustn’t mention that to Theda. She . . . Well, people often see only what they want to see, and of course we never want to think ill of our parents.”
“How did you find out?”
Mrs. Ellsworth sighed. “Theda often mentions him because he is usually included in family gatherings. He is very fond of her and spoiled her a bit, I think. At first it just seemed strange to me that a man who is no relation to the family would be so involved with them, but then I saw the two of them together and . . .” She shrugged.
“Do you think Mr. Pritchard knew?”
“Heavens no! He never would have allowed the man near his family if he had. Not that he cared that much about his family, but you know how men are. Pride is everything. He wouldn’t want it known his wife preferred another man.”
Yes, too many men put pride before all else. “Do you think Harvey knew?”
Mrs. Ellsworth frowned at this. “I can’t imagine. Children don’t tend to think of their parents in that way, do they? Can you imagine your own mother having an affair?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You see? And yet she’s still a very attractive woman, and if she were unhappy with your father . . .”
Sarah gave a little shudder, although she had to admit Mrs. Ellsworth was correct. “I see what you mean, and love often drives people to do things they’d never otherwise do.”
“Yes, and . . . Good heavens! Do you think Mrs. Pritchard and Bergman could have been driven to murder her husband?”
Mrs. Ellsworth certainly hadn’t needed much encouragement to reach that conclusion. “I hope not, but we do have to consider every possibility.”
“I know you do, but . . . Poor Theda!” Mrs. Ellsworth looked truly stricken.
“We don’t have any reason to think it’s true,” Sarah added hastily.
“That’s comforting, I suppose.” Mrs. Ellsworth didn’t look comforted, though.
Theda chose that moment to return. “Sally will bring the tray when the tea is ready. Did I miss anything important?” she asked, taking the seat she’d vacated earlier.
“Mrs. Malloy was just telling me she called on your mother yesterday. They wanted to tell her you’d hired Mr. Malloy,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.
“How do you think she’s doing?” Theda asked.
“Very well, I think. She’s fortunate to have good friends to support her. A Mr. Bergman was there when we arrived.”
“Oh yes, I should have known Uncle Otto would visit her. They’re very old friends. Did she tell you?”
“She mentioned that they’d grown up together,” Sarah said.
Theda smiled fondly. “In the old German neighborhood. Father didn’t like being reminded that she was very poor, so she didn’t talk about it when he was around, but Harvey and I loved hearing their stories about what their life was like back then.”
“So your fat
her’s family was well-off?”
“Oh no, not at all! If anything, he was even poorer, but as I said, he didn’t like being reminded.”
Pride again. “I see. You seem very fond of Mr. Bergman yourself. Are you friendly with his family as well?” Sarah asked, hoping to nudge more information out of Theda without questioning her outright.
“He doesn’t have any family, sadly. His wife died very young, and he never remarried.”
“Which is probably why he doted on you and Harvey,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.
The maid brought their refreshments then, interrupting what had become a promising exchange of information. When she’d gone and Mrs. Ellsworth was serving them, Sarah cast about frantically for an innocent-sounding question that would keep the conversation going in the right direction.
Before she could, Theda said, “It’s funny to think of it now, but mother and Uncle Otto almost married once.”
V
Frank hadn’t wanted to start his morning at the morgue, but he realized he needed to know some details about how Clarence Pritchard had died, and he’d already put it off long enough. He found Doc Haynes in his office at Bellevue, which was much better than finding him in the middle of an autopsy.
“Clarence Pritchard?” Doc muttered, sorting through the files scattered haphazardly across his desk. He pulled one from the mess and flipped it opened. “Oh yes, one of our New Year’s Eve casualties.” Doc peered at Frank over the folder. “What is your interest in him, if I might ask?”
“I’ve been hired to investigate his death because Devery has forbidden the detective squad from doing it.”
Doc considered this. “How interesting. Do we know why?”
“You mean why besides some money changed hands? No, we do not.”
Doc nodded and returned to perusing the file. “Strangled from behind with his own scarf, a good-quality piece of wool, I noted. It was still around his neck.”
“Any other injuries?”
“Broken fingernails and scratches on his neck, where he tried to pull the scarf loose. No bruised knuckles or any other marks on him to indicate a fight. It looks like somebody came up behind him, got ahold of his scarf, and choked him. And he was missing a shoe.”
“A shoe?”
Haynes nodded. “They said his body was lying in some bushes, so probably whoever killed him did it nearby and then dragged the body to the bushes where it wouldn’t be easily discovered. I figure his shoe came off during his death struggles or maybe when the body was moved.”
What were the odds the shoe would still be there? Probably pretty slim after several days. “Any idea when he died?”
Doc shook his head. “He was pretty stiff when they found him the next morning, but rigor mortis wasn’t complete. It was a cold night, though, so that would’ve slowed things down, which makes it hard to judge how long he’d been dead.”
“I saw him the night he died between eleven thirty and midnight, so it was after that, if anyone asks you.”
“You knew him?” Doc asked in surprise.
“I’d met him. His daughter is married to our neighbor. That’s why they asked me to help when the police lost interest.”
“I see. Well, I’m sorry I don’t have more to tell you.”
“How long would it have taken him to die?”
“A few minutes, but he wouldn’t have been able to make a sound as soon as the scarf tightened around his throat. In the dark and with the noise from the crowd . . . I expect this could’ve happened with a hundred people within arm’s length and they might not have noticed.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. And if anybody saw him lying on the ground after, they would’ve just thought he was drunk.”
“There’s a lot of that on New Year’s Eve, although I’ve never understood what all the excitement’s about.”
“Just another excuse to drink, I’d guess.”
“You’re probably right.”
“When are you going to release the body?”
“I already did. Sent word to the family and somebody picked it up first thing this morning.”
“I need to find out when the funeral is, then. Thanks, Doc.”
“Just let me know if this turns out to be interesting.”
Frank grinned. “I certainly will.”
* * *
• • •
They almost married?” Sarah echoed, unable to believe she’d heard Theda correctly. A glance at Mrs. Ellsworth told her that her neighbor hadn’t known this delicious piece of gossip either. How on earth had she missed it?
Theda smiled a little sheepishly. “Mother doesn’t know that I know, and I never would have mentioned it when Father was alive, of course. Not that Mother ever gave him reason to be jealous, but . . . It could have made things awkward, couldn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “Men are such fragile creatures.”
“Fragile?” Theda marveled. “Surely you’re joking.”
“Not at all. They can’t stand the slightest challenge to their manly pride. You must have noticed.”
Theda considered this for a moment. “Oh, I see it now. That explains poor Amelio.”
“Amelio?” Sarah asked.
“Amelio Bruno. He works at the dairy. He . . . Oh, it’s embarrassing now, and it sounds like I’m boasting, but he was quite infatuated with me at one time.” She blushed prettily.
“How could we blame him?” Mrs. Ellsworth said.
Theda sighed at her memories. “I was so sorry for him. I didn’t feel that way about him at all, and of course Father let him know he would never approve of him courting me, so that was the end of it, but I could tell Amelio was very hurt.”
“I’m sure he was, dear,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I can imagine how Nelson would have grieved if he had lost you.”
“I suppose Uncle Otto was hurt, too, although he must have recovered if he and Mother became such good friends,” Theda said.
“How did you find out they’d almost married if your mother didn’t tell you?” Sarah asked to return them to the subject she really wanted to discuss.
“My grandmother said something about it one time. She died years ago, when I was still a little girl, but I’ll never forget what she said that day. Uncle Otto had just been to visit us. He’d brought me a doll, and she was so beautiful, which is why I remember. Grandmother told my mother she was sorry she hadn’t let Mother marry him because he really had become successful after all.”
“I wonder what she meant by that?” Mrs. Ellsworth said.
Theda sighed. “Grandmother was very ambitious for her children. She wanted Mother to marry well so she wouldn’t have to struggle the way Grandmother did, and Father already had the dairy when they met. He was a bit older, you see.”
“What does Mr. Bergman do for a living?” Sarah asked.
“He was a tailor, or at least that’s how he started out. He was just an apprentice when Mother married Father, but now he owns several tailor shops around the city.”
“So he’s done very well for himself,” Sarah said. “But your grandmother didn’t know what would happen, so she encouraged your mother to marry Mr. Pritchard, who already owned a dairy.”
“I think she did more than encourage it,” Theda said. “Mother was young and so was Uncle Otto then—only seventeen or eighteen, I think—and they couldn’t dream of disobeying their parents.”
“But Mr. Bergman married someone else, too,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.
“Eventually, yes. I suppose it was expected of a young man who was earning a good living. He and his wife were friends of my parents, or at least they saw each other socially. By then Uncle Otto had his own tailor shop, so even Grandmother couldn’t object. But as I said, Uncle Otto’s wife died young. No one spoke of such things, but I’ve always suspected she died in childbirth
.”
So many women did, and their babies along with them. “And you said Mr. Bergman never remarried,” Sarah said.
“No, although he and Mother remained friends.”
“And what about your father?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked. “Was he friends with Mr. Bergman, too?”
“I suppose, although Father was always so busy with the dairy, he didn’t have much time for socializing. Uncle Otto would take us on outings when Father couldn’t, though. I know Mother appreciated it very much.”
“And your father didn’t mind?”
Theda smiled a little sadly. “I think he was just glad Mother wasn’t nagging him to go places with us.”
The doorbell interrupted them, and they waited in silence to see who might be calling at this unfashionable hour.
They heard the maid answer the door, and in a few moments, she brought in a telegram addressed to Theda. Theda tore it open and read it quickly. “It’s from Mother. Father’s funeral will be in two days.”
“Saturday,” Mrs. Ellsworth calculated.
The police would have released the body since they weren’t investigating anymore.
“Oh dear, that suddenly makes it seem very real,” Theda said, and burst into tears. Sarah and Mrs. Ellsworth spent the rest of the visit comforting her.
* * *
• • •
Frank caught the Third Avenue elevated train at the 28th Street station and got off at Fulton Street to walk the rest of the way over to Trinity Church. No one was working outside on this crisp January day, but the building wasn’t locked. He easily found the church office and was soon directed to Mr. Quincy, who the church secretary assured Frank was the one who had found that poor man’s body on New Year’s Day.
Mr. Quincy was an older man in work clothes who at that moment was dusting the pews in the breathtakingly beautiful sanctuary. He looked up in surprise when Frank approached and introduced himself.
“You’re not with the police?” he asked, eyeing Frank’s card suspiciously.
“No. The police have decided not to investigate Mr. Pritchard’s death, so the family hired me to see if I could find out who killed him.”
Murder on Trinity Place Page 8
