Murder on Trinity Place

by Victoria Thompson

  “Did you see?” Gino asked when they were bundled into their dusters and lap robes for the trip to the cemetery. “Bruno drove one of the milk wagons.”

  “To a funeral?” Maeve marveled.

  “See, there it is,” Gino said as the wagon came lumbering by. “He’s got it all decked out in mourning.”

  Indeed, he’d hung a black wreath on the back doors and draped the rest of the wagon with black crepe. Even the horses sported black plumes, like the horses pulling the hearse.

  “I notice no other dairy employees are riding with him,” Sarah said.

  “They’re probably too embarrassed,” Maeve said. “Who is he trying to impress?”

  “I hope it’s not Theda,” Sarah said.

  No one had a response to that.

  Gino cranked the engine and got them on their way. He’d hung back to join in at the end of the funeral procession, since some horses still shied or bolted when confronted with a motorcar, and he didn’t want to cause a catastrophe. As a result, the trip to the cemetery was much slower than it would have been if he could have simply driven straight there. By the time they arrived and had walked to the gravesite, the coffin had been lowered into the freshly dug hole beside the still-raw earth of Harvey’s father’s grave.

  Theda and her mother appeared to have exhausted themselves and stared dry-eyed down into the opening as the minister quoted scriptures meant to comfort them. How much tragedy could people stand? Frank knew the pain of losing a loved one, and while he didn’t know the answer to that question, he did know Theda and her mother were near the breaking point.

  Sarah clung to his arm as they listened to the minister’s words, and he automatically glanced over the crowd of mourners to see who had made the trip. He found Amelio Bruno, his handsome face grim. Frank noted he had found a spot immediately behind the family, almost as if he were insinuating himself into that select group. He looked pretty harmless standing there, but in Frank’s experience, few murderers looked the part.

  At last the minister concluded his remarks, and the mourners stood back so the family could make their way to the lead coach. Frank watched Bruno, but he made no effort to follow or to speak to them. Like everyone else, he waited and then walked slowly on cold-numbed feet back to the ridiculously decked-out milk wagon.

  Would he try to speak to Theda again, the way he had at her father’s funeral? This time Frank wouldn’t let Nelson be the one to interfere.

  * * *

  • • •

  The scene at the Pritchard house was all too familiar, with the buffet in the dining room and mourners taking turns speaking to the surviving family members in the parlor. Sarah knew Malloy had assigned Gino and Maeve to watch Amelio Bruno and alert them if he did anything suspicious, but he seemed to be intent on behaving completely normally instead.

  He greeted the handful of dairy employees who had come to the house, but they didn’t seem particularly happy to see him, and they didn’t stand around chatting with him either. Sarah couldn’t spend the afternoon staring at him, so she found Mrs. Ellsworth and her own mother-in-law in a corner where they were unlikely to be noticed and joined them.

  “It was a lovely service,” she said because it was what people always said after a funeral.

  “I wish they hadn’t let that boy give the eulogy,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I don’t think he even knew Harvey very well.”

  Sarah thought his current associates would have been even less appropriate, but she didn’t say so. “I’ve just remembered that Mr. Bruno spoke to Theda after her father’s funeral and she seemed upset. I hope he’s not going to upset her again.”

  “I do, too,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I already warned Nelson. He wasn’t at all pleased when he saw those flowers.”

  “What flowers?” Mother Malloy asked.

  Mrs. Ellsworth explained.

  “What kind of man brings flowers to another man’s wife?” Mother Malloy asked when she’d finished.

  “That’s what Nelson wanted to know,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, “although he didn’t say that to Theda. She wasn’t any happier about it than he was, I can tell you.”

  “Do you happen to know what he said at Mr. Pritchard’s funeral that upset her?”

  Mrs. Ellsworth frowned. “I asked her, and she couldn’t remember exactly, but something about how she was free now that her father was dead and could do whatever she liked, so she should be happy. She didn’t know what he was talking about, and she certainly wasn’t a bit freer or happier now that her father was dead.”

  “What an awful thing to say,” Mother Malloy said.

  But it confirmed Sarah’s worst suspicions about Amelio Bruno. She needed to find Malloy. She excused herself, but before she could escape, she had to pass Theda, who was, for the moment, alone. She reached out her hand, and Sarah could not ignore her silent request for company.

  “How are you doing?” Sarah asked, taking a seat beside her on the sofa.

  “I don’t really know. When I’m not overcome with grief, I just feel numb. I keep thinking Harvey will come through the door and say something to make me mad. I used to think he was so annoying, but now I’d give anything to have him here to annoy me again.”

  “I know. I lost my sister a number of years ago, and I still think of things I’d like to tell her.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Malloy, I had no idea. How sad for you. But tell me, does it ever get easier?”

  “I don’t know if easier is the right word. You never stop missing them, I imagine, but you do eventually get used to not having them with you anymore.”

  “Does it help having new people to love?”

  “I think it must.”

  Theda nodded. “I’m so lucky to have Nelson. He’s been so kind to me these past weeks. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  Theda looked around the room. “I wonder what’s become of him. He went to get me some tea, but he’s been gone for a long time.”

  “Someone probably stopped him to talk. People do that at events like this, and Nelson is too well mannered to ignore them, I’m afraid.”

  “You’re probably right, but . . . I’m just being foolish, I suppose, but after everything else, I just don’t want him out of my sight.”

  “I’d be glad to go find him for you, if you like.”

  “Would you?” she asked hopefully.

  “Of course,” Sarah said because she had just realized that two of the three most important men in Theda’s life had been murdered and the last remaining one might be in mortal danger.

  * * *

  • • •

  Frank was trying to decide which dessert to choose from the heavily laden buffet table when Maeve came pushing her way unceremoniously through the crowd. Oblivious of the nasty looks being cast her way, she squeezed in between two matrons and whispered in Frank’s ear.

  “Gino says to get your coat and get out to the motorcar as fast as you can.”

  “Why—?”

  “Just go!”

  Frank had no idea where his coat was, so he had to find a maid and she had to show him where she had piled them. He was sorting through them when Sarah found him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Trying to find my coat. Maeve told me Gino wants me to meet him outside.”

  She started looking, too. “Have you seen Nelson?”

  “Nelson? No.” He’d found his coat and began to pull it on.

  “I can’t find him either. He’s nowhere in the house.” She grabbed Frank’s arm when he would have hurried out. “Malloy, listen to me. I just realized that the man who stopped Amelio Bruno from courting Theda is dead, and Bruno actually told her that with her father dead, she’d finally be free. Now with Harvey dead, she’s even freer, and that only leaves her husband.�
��

  Suddenly, Frank had a very good idea of why Gino needed him. “Dear God. Gino must have seen Bruno do something to Nelson.”

  “So now we know for sure why he killed them.”

  “And why he still needs to kill Nelson.”

  By the time Frank got outside, still buttoning his coat, Gino had started the motorcar and pulled it up to the front door to meet him.

  “What’s going on?” Frank asked as he climbed into the front seat.

  Gino barely gave him time to get seated before pulling away. “I think Bruno kidnapped Nelson Ellsworth.”

  For a full minute, Frank was too busy trying not to fall out of the motorcar to even register what Gino had said. When he finally felt secure enough, he said, “Kidnapped?” Not as bad as he’d feared, but if he’d kidnapped Nelson, it very well might be.

  “Yes. That milk wagon. I think I know why he brought it.”

  They were whipping through the streets now, or at least moving steadily. The frigid wind made it hard to keep his eyes open until Gino passed him a pair of goggles. When he’d managed to get them on, he turned back to Gino. “What happened?”

  “I was watching Bruno, like you told me to. He went up to Nelson and said something. I was expecting trouble, but Nelson didn’t seem alarmed or mad or anything. He just nodded and followed Bruno out of the room.”

  “And you followed them?”

  “Of course.” Gino took a corner a little too fast and Frank had to grab on to his seat to keep from being flung out of it.

  “And they went outside?”

  “I think Bruno must’ve told Nelson there was something in the milk wagon he needed help with. Nelson didn’t seem to think anything was wrong, and they both went to the back of the wagon and opened the doors. I was still inside, peeking out the window, so I couldn’t see exactly what happened, but after a minute or two, Bruno closed the doors, hopped into the front seat, and drove away.”

  “Where was Nelson?”

  “That’s just it—I didn’t see him. I ran outside to see if he was standing there or even lying in the street or something, but there was no sign of him. So I ran inside and told Maeve to find you.”

  “So he must have somehow gotten Nelson into the wagon and locked him in.”

  “That’s what I think. I didn’t see any blood, and he didn’t have much time, so maybe Nelson is still all right, at least for now.”

  “Please God, I hope so. How do you know where they went?”

  “I made sure to watch which way he turned. I don’t think he’s going to the dairy because that’s the other direction.”

  Frank craned his neck to see as far ahead as possible. The January sun had dropped below the city’s horizon, casting the streets into shadows, and the streetlights weren’t lit yet. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

  “No, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find him.” Gino slowed down at the next corner, where a cop was busy holding up the building. “Excuse me, sir! Did you see a milk wagon go by here, all draped in black crepe?”

  The cop blinked in surprise. For a second Frank wondered if he should claim to be a brother police officer, but he didn’t need to. “Yeah, it just went by a few minutes ago.”

  “Did you notice if he turned off?”

  “Yeah, right at the second corner. Why was it all draped in black?”

  “Funeral. Thanks!”

  Gino gave the engine some juice and they took off again, sending pedestrians scattering. The cop yelled something, but they couldn’t hear it, so they paid him no mind.

  “I see what you mean about not having any trouble following it,” Frank said.

  “Even if he hadn’t put all that crepe on it, there aren’t usually any milk wagons on the street this time of day.” They’d reached the second corner, and Gino turned right. “You look down the side streets on your side and I’ll look on this side,” Gino shouted.

  Gino was taking years off Frank’s life by zigzagging in between the carriages, passing whenever the opportunity afforded and often when it really didn’t, and the rapidly fading light made it harder and harder to see.

  “There,” Frank shouted when he caught a glimpse of the wagon several blocks down the side street.

  Even Gino couldn’t make the left turn that quickly, so he turned at the next street, inspiring a string of profanity from a cab driver whose horse almost reared when they turned only inches in front of him.

  “Where could he be going?” Gino asked.

  “He’s heading toward the river.”

  This time Gino was the one who swore. “Do you think he’s going to throw Nelson in?”

  “That might be his plan. I’m pretty sure he wants to make Theda a widow.”

  XV

  Sarah made a point of not returning to the parlor. She didn’t want to frighten Theda by telling her she hadn’t found Nelson. Better that she just be a little worried because he hadn’t returned yet. She found Maeve instead, and they compared what they knew, realizing neither of them knew very much.

  “Gino and I were watching Bruno, like Mr. Malloy told us to,” Maeve said when Sarah had told her what she suspected about Bruno. “Bruno was talking to Nelson, and the two of them went outside. Bruno drove away in the milk wagon and Nelson never came back inside.”

  “What do you mean Nelson never came back inside?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked in alarm, having managed to approach without their noticing. “Where would he have gone?”

  Sarah and Maeve exchanged a desperate glance, and Sarah decided she needed to tell her the truth, as far as she knew it. “Gino saw Nelson go outside to the milk wagon with Amelio Bruno.”

  “The milk wagon? Why on earth did he bring that to a funeral, for heaven’s sake? Oh, never mind. But why did Nelson go outside?”

  “We don’t know, but we do know he never came back inside and Bruno drove off in the wagon.”

  Poor Mrs. Ellsworth was terribly confused. “Did Nelson go with him?”

  “We think so.”

  “But . . . Nelson wouldn’t just leave his brother-in-law’s funeral.”

  Sarah took her hand. “We know. That’s why Gino and Malloy have gone after them in the motorcar.”

  Suddenly, Mrs. Ellsworth understood. “Dear heaven, is Bruno . . . ? But why . . . ? Oh dear, does he intend to . . . ?” Tears filled her eyes and Sarah took her arm when she swayed.

  “We don’t know anything for sure,” Sarah said, “but the important thing is that Malloy and Gino have gone after them. They won’t let anything happen to Nelson.”

  Mrs. Ellsworth nodded, but her eyes were still filled with terror when Sarah managed to ease her down into a chair.

  * * *

  • • •

  Amelio Bruno had timed his departure well. Twilight in the city muted colors and blended everything into shadows. Frank had begun to think his eyes had deceived him as they rumbled around corners to backtrack to the street where he’d seen the milk wagon, only to find no trace of it there.

  Gino pulled up again, this time beside a group of young men who must have just finished their workday and were deciding how to spend their evening. “Say, did any of you happen to see a milk wagon go by here in the past few minutes? It was all draped in black crepe.”

  The young men had indeed seen it and they had found it hilarious, but they needed to argue for a minute or two before they could decide which way it had turned. Consensus finally put Gino and Frank back on the trail, and a right turn sent them closer to the river.

  “What if we don’t find him in time?” Gino shouted.

  Frank didn’t even want to think of that. “There, is that it?” he called, pointing.

  Gino strained to see, but the darkness was closing in now, and the gas lamps in this neighborhood hadn’t been lit yet. At least traffic was lighter as they neared the edge of Manhattan island.
Work at the docks required daylight, so things were quiet here now.

  But that also meant fewer people to help them track the milk wagon.

  They slowed at every intersection but saw no sign of it.

  “What should we do?” Gino asked.

  “Keep heading to the water. That’s probably what he’ll do. We’ll be able to see farther when we get away from the buildings.”

  So Gino gave the motorcar more juice and they sped forward, with Frank clinging to the frame and leaning as far forward as he dared, hoping for a glimpse of their quarry. When they finally cleared the last street, the vastness of the docks loomed before them. Enormous ships sat at anchor, dark and silent, but not every berth was filled. Like a mouth with missing teeth, black vacancies loomed here and there, and they would provide the easiest access to the water.

  Gino stopped the motorcar with a jerk, and both he and Frank stood up, peering into the darkness. Frank scrambled up to the tonneau for a better view, and that’s when he saw the milk wagon rumbling back toward the city.

  Were they too late?

  * * *

  • • •

  What’s the matter? What’s going on?” Theda demanded when she came out into the hallway and saw Sarah and Maeve fussing over a distraught Mrs. Ellsworth. “It’s Nelson, isn’t it? What’s happened to him?”

  “Nothing,” Maeve said quickly, moving to slip a comforting arm around Theda.

  “Where is he, then?” Theda demanded, not fooled at all.

  “Mr. Bruno has taken him,” Mrs. Ellsworth said baldly.

  Sarah managed not to snap at her for being so tactless.

  “Taken him where?” Theda cried.

  “We aren’t sure of anything,” Sarah told her, using her most reasonable voice. Her mother would be so proud. “All we know is that Mr. Bruno apparently asked Nelson for assistance with something outside. Then Mr. Donatelli saw Mr. Bruno drive away in the milk wagon, and we can’t find Nelson anywhere.”