“At least the newspapers have seemed to lose interest,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I would so hate for this to become a scandal.”
Sarah would hate that, too, although she had to bite her tongue to keep from teasing Mrs. Ellsworth, who usually loved a good scandal when it didn’t involve her own family. “Harvey told Malloy about a dairy in Brooklyn that still sells swill milk. Apparently, your father was going to report it to the authorities.”
“That sounds just like Father,” Theda said, tearing up. “He was so proud of the quality of his milk.”
“He had every right to be,” Sarah said.
“Do you think the owner of that dairy might be responsible for Mr. Pritchard’s death?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.
“Malloy doesn’t think so, but this man did say . . . Well, this is awkward, but he hinted that Harvey might have been involved in something . . . embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” Theda echoed in surprise. “What do you suppose he meant by that?”
“Perhaps Mrs. Frank is just being discreet,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “Do you mean something that might have caused embarrassment to his family?”
“Embarrassment or distress,” Sarah clarified. “I hate to remind you of it, but the night we were here for supper, Harvey and your father had a . . . a disagreement.”
“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” Theda said, tearing up again. “They never used to argue like that. I don’t know what got into them.”
“So the . . . the tension between them was a recent thing?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, just in the past few months. I confess, I was so distracted by the wedding plans that I didn’t take much notice at first. Harvey had always been such a quiet boy, so when he was sent home from school, it was a surprise.”
“From school?”
“Yes, he’d started college in the fall, but . . . I don’t know. There was some to-do and Harvey had to leave the school. He said it was all a mistake. He said some other boy had done something but they blamed him for it. Father was very angry, but he put Harvey to work at the dairy and everything settled down again, or at least I thought it did. After Nelson and I married, I wasn’t at home anymore, you see, so I didn’t know . . .”
“You didn’t know what?” Sarah asked gently.
“I didn’t know that they were still at odds. Mother wouldn’t tell me a thing like that, of course. She wouldn’t want me to be unhappy.”
“But they were at odds,” Sarah guessed.
“Apparently.”
“Do you know why?”
“No one would tell me exactly. It turns out Harvey really did do whatever they’d accused him of at school, and then he did something here that made Father even more angry.”
Sarah silently debated “guessing” it might be gambling, but she didn’t want to alert Mrs. Ellsworth to that possibility if it turned out to be untrue. “I see.”
“But that couldn’t have anything to do with Father’s death, could it? Harvey certainly didn’t kill him.”
Sarah only wished she could be sure of that.
* * *
• • •
Frank and Gino went to the Pure Milk Dairy to see if Harvey would verify the story Jack Robinson had heard. The weather was a bit milder, so Frank didn’t suffer quite so much on the drive over, although he still wasn’t completely convinced the motorcar was a better mode of travel than a horse-drawn vehicle. The milk wagons were still out on their morning deliveries, so Frank went upstairs to the offices while Gino strolled around, looking for anyone who might want to chat.
As Frank had hoped, Harvey was in his office. This morning he looked a little more at home. He was actually reading some papers when Frank came in, and the desk had been cleared a bit.
“Mr. Malloy, what brings you here?” He didn’t sound very happy to see Frank.
Frank took a seat, even though Harvey hadn’t offered it. “I wanted to have a quick word with you about the investigation into your father’s death.”
“I don’t . . . I mean, I already told you everything I know.”
Frank doubted this very much. “Are you aware that some of your milk wagons are being taken out late at night?”
Harvey’s hands clenched where they rested on the desktop, but he said, “Of course they are. That’s when we deliver the milk.”
“No, I don’t mean in the early-morning hours. Someone is taking a few of them out around midnight.”
“I . . . You must be mistaken. We have very strict rules. I would know if that was happening.”
“Is that why you went to the dairy on New Year’s Eve? To make sure the wagons went out?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You told my associate, Mr. Donatelli, that you were at the dairy that evening.”
“I most certainly did not.”
Had Harvey forgotten? Or was he simply lying?
“Where were you, then?”
“As I told Donatelli, I was with my friends. We met for a late supper and celebrated together.”
Except Harvey had joined them only later. “You left the house at eight o’clock, but you didn’t meet your friends until after midnight.”
“Who told you that?”
“A number of people.”
“They’re lying. I was with my friends.”
“Then your friends will confirm that.”
“They’d better.”
Frank blinked in surprise but managed not to laugh out loud. His friend Amelio Bruno had already failed to confirm it, Harvey had refused to name any other friends he’d been with, and then Harvey had changed his story a third time to say he’d followed his father to Trinity Church. “Are you much of a card player, Harvey?”
“What?”
“You know, cards. Gambling.”
“I . . . I don’t play cards. My mother doesn’t approve.”
“Really?” Could Black Jack Robinson’s information be wrong? “A young man-about-town like you? I thought all the young bucks like a game of chance on occasion.”
“Oh well, I do buck the tiger now and then,” he admitted a little reluctantly.
“Ah, faro,” Frank said. “But . . . isn’t that a card game, too?”
“It’s not playing cards. Not like poker or . . . It’s just played with cards.”
Frank thought that a hairsplitting difference, but he didn’t argue. “It’s exciting, though, isn’t it?”
“I . . . I suppose.”
“Where do you play?”
“Lots of places.”
“I hope you don’t go slumming down on Bowery. You’re likely to get skinned down there.”
“Oh no. There’s plenty of nice places around.”
“They cater to the rich, I suppose.”
Harvey found this distasteful. “They’re in respectable neighborhoods, if that’s what you mean.”
“But they can still cheat you.”
Harvey also found this distasteful. “They use a dealing box so the dealer can’t palm the cards and cheat.”
Did Harvey really not know all the possible ways a dealing box could be rigged? “So I suppose you win as often as you lose.”
This was the most distasteful of all. “Why are you so interested in my hobbies, Mr. Malloy?”
“I’m investigating your father’s murder. I have to figure out who might have profited from his death.”
“You really don’t have to figure out anything at all. In fact, I would be happy to pay you to drop your investigation altogether.”
“Would you, now?” Frank said with genuine surprise. “Are you the one who paid the police to drop theirs?”
“What?”
“Did you bribe the police to stop investigating?”
“Of course not! Why would I do something l
ike that?”
“I don’t know. But somebody did, and it seems logical that whoever did is the same person who killed your father.”
Harvey opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He closed it almost instantly.
“You do know it’s dangerous to get into debt to a gangster,” Frank tried.
“He’s not . . . What do you mean, a gangster?”
“A man who makes his living by illegal means, such as running a faro board.”
“I’m not in debt.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
Harvey blanched at that. “Where did you hear something like that?”
“From a reliable source.”
“Well, he’s not all that reliable. My debts are paid.”
How interesting. “Did your father pay them?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It’s my business if it has anything to do with your father’s murder.”
“It doesn’t.”
Frank stared at Harvey for a long moment, trying to decide what to ask that would get him the information he needed. “Did paying your debts have anything to do with the milk wagons going out at midnight?”
“I don’t know who told you that, but it isn’t true. It isn’t happening. Nobody is using the wagons for . . . for anything anymore.”
“Anymore?” Frank asked.
The office door flew open and Amelio Bruno said, “What’s going on in here?”
“Harvey and I are just having a friendly discussion,” Frank said.
Color flooded Harvey’s face and he jumped to his feet. “You have no business here, Malloy. Get out. Get out now before I throw you out.”
IX
I think I need to talk to Lou Lawson,” Malloy said.
They’d all gathered at the house when Sarah had returned from her visit and Malloy and Gino got back from the dairy. Maeve had been kicking her heels all morning, waiting for them after returning from taking Catherine to school.
“Is that a good idea?” Gino asked. “Mr. Robinson said—” He stopped short when Malloy shot him a black look.
“What did Mr. Robinson say?” Sarah asked, giving Malloy a black look of her own.
“I told you, he said Harvey was in debt to Lawson,” Malloy said.
Sarah glanced at Gino, but he just shook his head. He wasn’t getting involved in this. “Malloy,” she said by way of warning.
“He just offered to go with me if I met with Lawson,” Malloy said, as if that were the most natural thing in the world.
“And why would he do that?” Sarah challenged.
“Because he’s such a kind and thoughtful man,” Maeve supplied when Malloy couldn’t come up with a plausible lie quickly enough.
Sarah continued to glare at Malloy. “Was he thinking he needed to protect you somehow?”
“I don’t need protection. I was a New York City Police detective, for heaven’s sake.”
“And I’d go with him,” Gino said.
“But still Black Jack Robinson offered to accompany you.”
Malloy shrugged with unconvincing nonchalance. “I think he likes feeling important.”
“All right,” Sarah said. “Suppose we do decide you need to speak to this Lou Lawson. Do you really think he’ll admit it if he’s using the Pure Milk wagons to move stolen goods?”
“And that he bribed the chief of police to stop the investigation into Mr. Pritchard’s murder because he had him killed?” Maeve added with a little too much glee.
Sarah sighed. “Yes, I can see where you might need protection. What man is going to answer questions like that?”
“I can understand your concern, but who else could have arranged to use the milk wagons, had Clarence Pritchard killed when he objected, and convinced Big Bill Devery not to investigate?” Malloy said.
“And what’s to stop a man like that from killing you for asking too many questions?” Sarah replied in exasperation.
“She has a point,” Gino said with a smirk.
“I’m certainly not going to accuse him of killing Pritchard right to his face,” Malloy replied, equally as exasperated.
“Then, what would you accuse him of?” Sarah asked sweetly.
This time Malloy sighed. “All right, I can see your argument.”
“Maybe we can find out more if we go back to the dairy tonight,” Gino suggested. “We could barge in and see who’s there and question them, at least.”
“That does sound a little safer than bearding Lou Lawson in his den,” Maeve said.
In the end, that’s what they decided to do.
* * *
• • •
This time Gino parked the car around the corner, out of sight of the dairy, and they walked over. Lights blazed in the stable area and they could see men moving around inside. Since it was only a little after eleven, they knew it wasn’t the regular drivers getting ready for the milk deliveries. They’d discussed several possible ways to approach this and had chosen to simply walk in, as if they had every right.
At first no one even noticed. A few stable boys were harnessing horses to about half a dozen wagons, and some older men were making sure the wagons were completely empty. Finally, one of the men stopped what he was doing and said, “What do you want?”
That made everyone else stop and turn. Frank just stood there with his hands stuffed into his overcoat pockets and smiled. “Is Harvey here?”
“What’s going on?” someone called from the back.
No one answered, and hurried footsteps told them someone was rushing up to find out. When he came into view, Frank’s smile broadened.
“Hello, Mr. Bruno.”
Amelio Bruno stopped abruptly at the sight of Frank and Gino. He still wore the suit he’d been wearing earlier today, but now straw clung to it in unlikely places, as if he’d spent more time in the stable than a man wearing a suit usually did. “What are you doing here?”
“We’d like to have a little chat, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind. You have a lot of nerve showing up here. Mr. Pritchard threw you out earlier today.”
“Which is why I came back.”
Bruno frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“When he threw me out, I knew he must be doing something he didn’t want me to know about, so I came here tonight to find out what it was.”
Although no one said anything, Frank felt a wave of tension go through the room.
“What’s going on here?” another man demanded. He’d also come from the back, and he also wore a suit. His was much cleaner, however, and much more expensive. It might even have been the same one he’d worn to the funeral on Saturday.
“We meet again,” Frank said. He was the man Harvey Pritchard had accosted on Saturday. “But I don’t think we were actually introduced. I’m Frank Malloy.”
“Oh yeah, the detective,” he said with distaste. “And what do you think you’re detecting here?”
“Some unusual activity, and I wonder if Harvey Pritchard knows about it.”
“You can wonder all you like—” Bruno began, but the other man stopped him with a raised hand.
He glanced around at the men and boys who were still watching them and listening to every word. “Let’s go upstairs and talk about this in private.”
Bruno led the way, with the other man following behind Frank and Gino. They went to the third floor, where Harvey Pritchard’s office was, but Bruno didn’t take them any farther than the reception area. He just stopped there and crossed his arms belligerently. The other man also stopped, but he didn’t appear to be as upset as Bruno.
“There’s nothing going on here that should concern you, Mr. Malloy.”
“And why should what’s going on here concern you?” Frank asked him.
“I mean, who are you and what are you doing here after hours when the dairy is usually closed and what is going on with those wagons downstairs?”
“I think that is between Mr. Bruno and myself,” he replied, his poise restored.
“But I don’t think that at all. You see, the owner’s daughter hired me to find out who murdered her father, so if something unusual is going on at his business, it’s my duty to investigate. It’s also my duty to find out if it has anything to do with Mr. Pritchard’s murder.”
“But it doesn’t, so you can go,” the man said.
Frank pulled his hand out of his pocket and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you’ll tell me who you are and what you’re doing here, and if that impresses me, then maybe I will go.”
The man sighed. Everything about him told Frank he was confident in his power and his ability to handle any situation. Frank could also see he wasn’t used to being challenged. “All right, Mr. Malloy. My name is White, and I’m, uh, advising Mr. Bruno.”
“Advising Mr. Bruno about what?”
“About a way to increase the dairy’s profits.”
Frank considered this for a long moment. “And does Harvey Pritchard know about this?”
“Of course he does,” Bruno said before White could reply.
“What about Clarence Pritchard? Did he know?” Frank asked.
“He certainly did,” White replied before Bruno could. “He was quite pleased with our arrangement.”
“What exactly is your arrangement?” Frank asked. “What are you using the wagons for?”
“Deliveries,” White said without hesitation. “The wagons would just be sitting idle otherwise, and this time of night, the traffic is much lighter.”
“Deliveries of what?”
Mr. White smiled. “Merchandise, Mr. Malloy. Now, that should answer all your questions, although Mr. Bruno is correct, this is really none of your business.”
“So if I ask Harvey Pritchard about this, he will confirm what you’ve told me?”
Murder on Trinity Place Page 15
