Murder on Trinity Place

by Victoria Thompson

  She somehow managed not to smile at that because she was still angry at him, but she said, “Mother pointed out that it didn’t make a lot of sense for the gangster who was using the milk wagons to kill Mr. Pritchard and Harvey.”

  “I wish she’d told you this sooner. I wouldn’t have had to go see Lawson at all.”

  She did smile at that, but only a little and very grudgingly.

  “Maybe you’ll tell me her reasoning,” Malloy said.

  “She could see that the gangster would be angry if Mr. Pritchard threatened to go to the police. If the gangster could be sure Harvey would take over the dairy with Mr. Pritchard dead, then killing the father made some sense, but what if Harvey didn’t want to go along with the scheme either?”

  “And it looks like he might not have, which would explain why he was also killed.”

  “Except who is going to run the dairy now that Harvey is dead?”

  She was gratified to see that Malloy had no answer. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “I’m sure no one else has either, certainly not before Harvey was killed. So if no one knows for sure—and Mrs. Pritchard might even sell the dairy—how could the gangster be certain whoever took charge would go along with his scheme?”

  “I see, so killing Harvey and even Mr. Pritchard was no guarantee that the scheme would continue.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Bergman said he was going to let me question his man White.”

  Sarah didn’t like the sound of that. “Why? I thought you were convinced Lawson or Bergman or whoever he is didn’t kill the Pritchards.”

  “I’m not positive one of his men didn’t, though. Somebody may have decided it would help and did it without Lawson’s permission.”

  “So you’re going to meet with a man you think committed the murders,” she said, not bothering to hide her dismay.

  “But this time I’m telling you about it ahead of time.” He went on before she could object. “You said you’d learned a few things today. Was there something else?”

  She gave him a glare to let him know how displeased she was, but she said, “Amelio Bruno tried to call on Theda today.”

  “Bruno? What for?”

  “He wanted to give her some flowers.”

  “That’s a little strange.”

  “Especially when you remember that he once fancied himself in love with Theda, and apparently his feelings haven’t changed very much even though she’s married now.”

  “He was talking to her at her father’s funeral,” Malloy remembered.

  “Yes, and she didn’t seem very happy about it.”

  Before Malloy could reply, they heard the doorbell ring.

  “Who could that be at this hour?” Sarah asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’ll go.”

  He hurried out and Sarah followed, stopping at the top of the stairs, where she could hear what was said without being noticed.

  Malloy had sent their maid, Hattie, back to her room, and he opened the door.

  “I’m sorry to bother you so late, Mr. Malloy, but Mr. Lawson said I needed to see you right away.”

  XIV

  Frank didn’t like the way White stood there with his hands in his pockets, where he could be hiding anything, but maybe he was just cold. He also didn’t want to invite White in, but he couldn’t have a conversation with him standing on the stoop.

  With a quick glance out to the street, Frank determined the man had arrived alone. “You better come inside, then.”

  White stepped in, and Frank closed the door after checking the street again. White pulled his hands out of his pockets, and when Frank saw they were empty, he said, “Can I take your coat?”

  White gave it up without hesitation, making Frank feel a little easier.

  “Come inside and I’ll get you a drink.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” He rubbed some warmth back into his hands as they moved into the parlor. Frank turned on a few of the electric lamps. He hadn’t intended the gesture to impress his visitor, but he could see that it did. The room really did look nice.

  He invited White to sit in one of the overstuffed chairs while he poured each of them a glass of whiskey. White accepted his gratefully and took a swallow while Frank sat down in the chair beside his.

  “I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Frank said.

  “Mr. Lawson told me to find you right away so I could set you straight.” White grinned mirthlessly. “He doesn’t like being suspected of murder, I guess.”

  “I was willing to believe he didn’t know anything about it, but I thought maybe you’d decided to take matters into your own hands.”

  “And go against Mr. Lawson?” White asked without the slightest trace of irony. “No man with good sense would even consider that, Mr. Malloy.”

  “Can I assume you’ve got good sense?”

  “I wouldn’t have lived this long if I didn’t. Only a fool crosses Mr. Lawson.”

  So much for Lawson’s claim that he didn’t like to use violence. “Did Lawson tell you to answer my questions?”

  White winced. “He did.”

  “I can understand that you don’t like this, Mr. White, but I’m trying to solve two murders.”

  “I don’t know anything about them, I swear.”

  “You probably know something, though. Let’s start with New Year’s Eve.”

  White took another sip of his drink, apparently in fortification. “All right.”

  “Did you take the milk wagons out that night?”

  “No. We decided too many people would be out because they’d be celebrating.”

  “But you were at the dairy anyway.”

  “How did you know that?”

  Frank had no intention of admitting he’d guessed. “And young Harvey came to see you, all upset because his father was going to tell the police what you were doing with the wagons.”

  White nodded, albeit grudgingly. “I don’t think Harvey ever really understood very much about how we run our business. We already pay the cops to look the other way, so it probably wouldn’t have made any difference if the old man had gone to them, but you never know, and Harvey certainly didn’t know that, so naturally he was upset.”

  “If his debts were already paid off, why should he care if his father put a stop to it?”

  “Who told you they were paid off?” White asked with some amusement.

  “They weren’t?”

  “I don’t know what he told you, but Harvey wasn’t ever going to get square because he could never stop gambling. I told him when he’d worked off his debts, we’d start paying to use the milk wagons, but we knew he’d never stop, so we’d never have to actually pay.”

  “But Harvey did come to the dairy to warn you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why were you there that night if you weren’t going to take the wagons out?”

  White shrugged. “To make sure nobody got the idea to use the wagons on their own. Some of our men are ambitious, and I didn’t want to explain it to Mr. Lawson if one of them went off on his own and got caught.”

  “Who else was there?”

  “Harvey, like I told you.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “Bruno was working late, I guess. He was there when I arrived.”

  “Did he see Harvey?”

  “Sure. He . . .” White had obviously remembered something important.

  “He what?”

  “He told Harvey not to worry. He said he’d convince the old man not to go to the cops.”

  Wasn’t that interesting? “What made him think he could do that?”

  “I don’t know. I figured he was just saying that to calm Harvey down. The old man was pretty straight, and he hated what we were doing, so I didn’t think anybody could talk him out
of going to the cops if that’s what he’d decided to do, but if Bruno wanted to try, more power to him.”

  “Did Harvey believe he could do it?”

  “It’s funny, but he did, I think. He calmed down, at least. In the end, Harvey arranged to meet Bruno later for a drink to celebrate the New Year.”

  “What was Harvey going to do until then?”

  “He said he was going to try to find his father and get him home before he got himself in trouble. Something about arguing with people about the New Year. It didn’t make much sense to me, but he seemed real worried about the old man.”

  “Did Bruno go with him?”

  “No. In fact, he kept trying to convince Harvey not to go himself, but he couldn’t. Harvey had been drinking, and you know how the Germans are, head like a rock when they get an idea in it.”

  Frank didn’t think that trait was reserved only for Germans, but he didn’t bother to argue. “What did Bruno do?”

  “After Harvey left, he said he had some things to do himself and he left, too.”

  “How soon after Harvey?”

  “A few minutes. He went back upstairs and turned out the lights and got his coat and hat. Not long.”

  “So he might’ve followed Harvey.”

  “He wouldn’t have to follow him. Harvey said the old man was going down to Trinity Church, so all Bruno had to do was head down there if he wanted to catch up with Harvey.”

  “That’s true. When the old man died, what kind of a deal did you make with Harvey?”

  White frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “That means, did you change anything?”

  Plainly, White didn’t want to answer that, but he said, “We never got the chance.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, after the old man died, Mr. Lawson said we should lay off for a while.”

  “But you didn’t lay off. You came to Pritchard’s funeral.”

  “That was just to keep an eye on Harvey, in case he got drunk and started saying things he shouldn’t. Mr. Lawson was worried about him. But Mr. Lawson didn’t want us to use the wagons for a while, at least.”

  “But I saw the wagons going out just a few days later.”

  “Because Bruno told us it was all right to start up again.”

  “Bruno? Did you take your orders from him?”

  “He was running the place.”

  “But I saw Harvey in the office.”

  White gave him a pitying look and tried to take another sip of his drink, but his glass was empty. Frank got up and filled it again. When White had taken a healthy swig, he said, “Harvey may have come into the office, but Bruno was running the place. He told us we could start the runs again, so we did.”

  “Did you do them every night?”

  White grinned at that. “No, not every night. Even Lou Lawson doesn’t steal that much stuff.”

  “So you didn’t use them the night Harvey was murdered.”

  “Tuesday night, you mean? No, we didn’t use them that night, but not because we didn’t need them. It was because Harvey and Bruno had an argument about it.”

  “When was this?”

  “The night before. Harvey showed up at the dairy that night, and he was hopping mad when he saw us taking the wagons out. Seems like Harvey hadn’t really given Bruno permission to start up the runs again. In fact, he’d asked Bruno about it that afternoon, and Bruno had sworn it had stopped.”

  Monday was the day Frank had gone to Harvey’s office to ask him about the late-night runs. Harvey had insisted they weren’t happening anymore. Frank had thought he was lying, but what if he simply hadn’t known? Would Bruno really have gone behind Harvey’s back? “Why would Bruno tell you to use the wagons without telling Harvey?”

  “You’ll have to ask him. I just do what I’m told.”

  “Were you paying Bruno something on top of taking care of Harvey’s debts?” White shifted uneasily in his chair, and Frank realized he was onto something. “You were, weren’t you? But why did you have to pay him?”

  “He said the regular drivers were complaining. They’d come in and find the wagons were dirty or the horses weren’t groomed or some other thing. It was extra work for them, so he needed to give them something extra, too, he said. He didn’t want much, so I slipped it to him without Harvey or the old man knowing. We didn’t want some driver complaining to the wrong people, did we?”

  “And did you come in at all on Tuesday night?” Frank already knew the night watchman had seen him there.

  “Yeah, but just to make sure nobody showed up for a run by mistake.”

  “Did you see anybody while you were there?”

  “You mean did I see somebody kill Harvey? No, I didn’t even go upstairs. Why should I?”

  “I don’t know, maybe to see Bruno.”

  “Why would I need to see him?”

  “Because he tells you when you can use the wagons.”

  That shut him up. Frank let him stew for a minute, waiting to see what he’d say to fill the uncomfortable silence.

  “All right, I did see Bruno. He told me he’d calm Harvey down and let me know when it was safe to start up again. He said he had to do everything now that the old man was dead, because Harvey didn’t know how to do anything. But I didn’t see Harvey.”

  “What about the night watchman?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about him.”

  Frank doubted that, but he said, “Did you talk to him?”

  “I . . . I guess I did. Bruno said to send him home.”

  “Then you were going to take the wagons out that night.”

  “No, I told you . . . Come to think of it, that’s strange, isn’t it? We usually only sent him home on the nights we used the wagons. I wonder . . .”

  “What do you wonder?”

  “Maybe Bruno had something of his own going on. He’s a sly one.”

  “So he sent you and the night watchman home so he could do something of his own?”

  White shrugged again, and Frank remembered his conversation with the night watchman. He’d been disturbed about something. Gino had wondered if the watchman knew who had killed Harvey, and Frank had theorized that he was afraid that he did. Now Frank knew—if White was telling the truth—that the only person left at the dairy the night Harvey was murdered there was Amelio Bruno.

  * * *

  • • •

  Sarah stayed hidden until Malloy had closed the door behind White. When she stepped out of the shadows in the hallway, he said, “Did you hear?”

  “Yes. Most of it, anyway. But why would Bruno have killed the Pritchards?”

  “I’ve been trying to figure that out. White admits he was paying him off, so maybe . . .”

  “Yes, but he wasn’t paying him much, and he had to give at least some of that to the drivers who were complaining.”

  “He might have been lying about that and keeping the payments for himself. And maybe he thought if he ran the dairy and without Harvey’s gambling debts to settle, they’d pay him a lot more.”

  “Maybe.” Sarah took his arm and led him up the stairs. “But with both the Pritchards dead, how could he be sure he’d be the one to take over for them? Mrs. Pritchard might have decided to sell the whole thing and there’s no guarantee he’d still even have a job there.”

  “But she wouldn’t have sold with just Pritchard dead because she’d probably expect Harvey to take over, and Harvey obviously didn’t know how to run the place, so Bruno would really be in charge.”

  “But Harvey would still be gambling, so how much money could Bruno really expect?”

  “Not enough to tempt most people, I’d think, so killing Harvey doesn’t make sense at all.”

  “Maybe he just got angry and killed him without thinking,” Sarah said.

 
; “Or maybe we’re missing something,” Malloy said.

  “You mean we might have overlooked the fact that Bruno seems to still be in love with Theda?”

  “That seems a little drastic. Even a gangster like Lou Lawson didn’t kill Ilsa’s family, and Bruno is no gangster.”

  “You’re right, and killing her family hardly seems likely to endear him to poor Theda either.”

  “I really need to talk to Bruno again.”

  “The funeral is tomorrow. Maybe you’ll get a chance then.” Although she thought that very unlikely.

  * * *

  • • •

  Clarence Pritchard’s funeral service had been a sad affair, with his daughter sobbing and his many friends lamenting his tragic loss. Harvey Pritchard’s funeral less than a week later was more pathetic than sad. Harvey didn’t have many friends to recall his great contributions to the dairy industry. Harvey also hadn’t made any such contributions. In fact, he hadn’t done much of anything worth recalling. One scrawny young man who had apparently known Harvey since childhood got up and mumbled how much he would miss Harvey, but otherwise, the minister was left with the task of eulogizing the young man. Even he had little to say.

  Poor Theda was sobbing just as hard at this funeral, and this time her mother was, too. Ilsa might not have cared much for her husband, but she’d obviously loved her son and felt his loss to the depth of her soul. She might have been annoyed by his gambling and his having been sent home from college, but he was still her beloved boy.

  Frank noted that Otto Bergman was no longer being discreet. He walked with Ilsa down the aisle behind the coffin and sat beside her in the family pew, offering what comfort he could. At least that helped ease the burden on Nelson, who had to comfort only Theda.

  They had scheduled the service for the afternoon so the dairy employees could attend. Only a few of them hitched rides in the rented carriages for the trip to the gravesite afterward, though. Most dispersed to their own pursuits. So much for loyalty to the boss’s son.

  Although Frank would have greatly preferred riding in a carriage himself, he’d had Gino drive them in the motorcar. His mother had refused to go with them, judging the motorcar to be far too dangerous, and had chosen instead to ride in the carriage that picked up Nelson, Theda, and Mrs. Ellsworth, so Maeve had gone with them in the motorcar, too. Mrs. Decker was going to look after the children, so Frank would have four people watching to see how Amelio Bruno behaved.