Murder In Chinatown (16 page)

She glanced meaningfully around the room. People like her didn’t own clocks, she was telling him silently.

“Maybe you heard a clock strike outside,” he tried. The city was filled with tower clocks that chimed the hours to let people like her know the time.

She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe it struck three a little after I noticed her just laying there. I can’t be sure, though. The time just goes for me. Every day is pretty much like another, and every hour is, too.”

Frank was certain this was true. Once again he swallowed down his frustration. “I don’t suppose you’d recognize the man who killed her.”

She glanced out the window, silently reminding Frank of how far down it was to where they’d been standing. “I can tell you one thing, though. He was a Chinaman.”

Frank doubted very much she could be certain of this. “If you couldn’t tell
she
was Chinese from up here, how could you tell
he
was?”

“His clothes,” she said with obvious satisfaction. “He was wearing them baggy clothes they all wear.”

“Are you sure?” Frank asked in amazement, trying not to let himself hope it would be this easy.

“Of course I’m sure, and that ain’t all,” she added, her sunken eyes glittering with glee.

“All right,” Frank said, willing to play along. “What else is there?”

“His hair,” she informed him smugly. “He had one of them long, black pigtails hanging down his back.”

Frank managed not to grin. He guessed he could let the O’Neal brothers go home now.

S
ARAH FOUND THE CHURCH EASILY
. T
HROUGH HER WORK
at the Prodigal Son Mission, she’d learned about other Christian charity groups in the city. She knew that at least two dozen churches were operating Sunday schools for the Chinese, to teach them the error of their heathen ways, and many of those churches also offered evening classes where volunteers helped the immigrants learn English.

“Are you here to volunteer?” an elderly lady asked Sarah when she stepped inside. The woman had been sitting at a table with a young Chinese man, apparently tutoring him, as others were doing with other Chinese men at the tables scattered around the large room in the church basement.

“I…I’m interested in finding out more about your classes,” Sarah said. It wasn’t a complete lie. “Is there someone I could speak with?”

“Oh, yes,” the lady assured her. “Mrs. Adkins. She’s the one who started the school. Wait here, and I’ll get her.”

Sarah gave her name and watched the woman scurry toward the back of the room.

While she waited, Sarah had an opportunity to observe the lessons in progress. Most of the students were younger men, some of them still in their teens. The oldest ones were probably no older than thirty. All of them were paying the strictest attention to their tutors, whether they were receiving individual attention or were part of a small group. Learning English was apparently serious business to them.

The tutors were far more diverse, however. Women outnumbered the men, two to one. The men were middle-aged or older, dressed in suits and boiled white shirts. The women varied much more greatly in age. The lady who had helped her appeared to be the oldest. Some of the others were obviously wealthy matrons, ranging in age from twenties to fifties, their tastefully fashionable gowns betraying their financial status. A few were younger, probably not yet married, and a couple appeared to be hardly out of the schoolroom themselves.

Mrs. Adkins was coming toward her from the back of the room, the elderly lady in her wake. She was about Sarah’s age, a handsome woman who had discreetly not worn any jewelry to adorn her simple outfit. Sarah’s experience told her that her dress had been custom made, however. Discreet or not, Mrs. Adkins was among the privileged few.

As she came closer, Sarah realized Mrs. Adkins was looking at her rather intently, and for an instant, Sarah’s guilty conscience pricked her. How could this woman know she was here under false pretenses? But then something else pricked her, a vague sense of recognition.

“Sarah?” Mrs. Adkins asked when she reached her. “Sarah Decker?”

Sarah needed another moment to study the other woman’s face. Then she remembered. “Corinne Fink!”

Both women laughed with the delight of finding an old friend unexpectedly after many years. Corinne gave Sarah her hand, and Sarah pressed it warmly.

“What brings you here?” Corinne asked.

“I wanted to learn more about the work you’re doing,” Sarah said, feeling not the slightest twinge of guilt because this was perfectly true. “Could you spare a few minutes for me?”

“Of course!” She looked around. “Thank you, Mrs. Ott,” she said to the elderly lady. “As you can see, Mrs. Brandt and I know each other quite well.” She turned back to Sarah. “There’s a small room right over here where we can talk.”

“I hope I’m not taking you away from your students,” Sarah said.

“Not at all. I have plenty of able assistants.”

Corinne led her into an adjacent room and closed the door so they wouldn’t disturb the students. The room was furnished with a table and several chairs, and they seated themselves across from each other.

“I should have remembered your married name,” Sarah said. “I was at your wedding.”

“And I
heard
about yours,” Corinne said with amusement. “You ran away with a poor, young doctor, I believe. Quite the scandal.”

“My parents have never forgiven me,” Sarah confirmed.

“Do you have any children?” Corinne asked.

Sarah managed a smile. “Tom and I never had any, and he died four years ago.”

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know.”

Sarah didn’t want to linger over that news. “Do
you
have children?” she countered.

Corinne brightened at once. “Yes, four. Three boys and a girl.”

“That’s wonderful! I’ve recently fostered a little girl from a mission down on Mulberry Street. I was doing volunteer work there, and I fell in love with her.”

Corinne nodded. “It’s easy to do. I even find myself falling in love with my students here.”

Sarah couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Oh, not romantically, of course,” Corinne hastened to explain. “The young men are so sincere, though, and so eager to learn. They want to better themselves, and they’ll do whatever they must.”

“How did you become involved in this work?” Sarah asked.

Corinne smiled knowingly. “You’re wondering how a woman with a husband and four children has time to do anything else. That’s what everyone wants to know. But
you
should know how it really is. The servants take care of everything in the house, and the children are in school most of the day. I can only go to so many teas before I die of boredom. I wanted to do something important.”

Sarah nodded. She understood completely. “But why this?”

“A missionary visited our church. He’d been in China for twenty years, and he spoke so passionately about the Chinese people. He introduced a young man who had come to America and studied medicine so he could return to his people and help them better themselves. We wanted to help, too, so the church opened a Sunday school for the Chinese here in the city. We quickly realized their greatest need was to learn English, though, so we started this school, too.”

“And you’re in charge?” Sarah asked in amazement.

“I’m one of many of the people who support it,” Corinne corrected her.

“What does your family think about your work?”

“They aren’t as enthusiastic as I am, I’m afraid, but they can’t criticize too much, since I’m working through the church. If they knew the truth, though, I don’t think they’d approve at all.”

“What do you mean,
the truth
?” Sarah asked in surprise.

Corinne shook her head sadly. “They believe we’re helping convert the Chinese so that when they return to China, they will win other converts there as well.”

“You don’t think they’re really sincere about converting to Christianity?”

“Oh, some of them are very sincere. It’s not that. It…it’s the part about them returning to China. Most of them have no intention of returning at all.”

“Do people really think they’ll all go back someday?” Sarah asked in amazement.

“As strange as it may seem, I believe they do,” Corinne confirmed. “Even though the Chinese have been coming to this country for decades, the government still doesn’t allow Chinese females to immigrate. After all these years, there are still only a handful of them in this country. That’s because the government believes that if the Chinese can’t bring their women over, they will be forced to return home.”

“And instead they’ve married American women,” Sarah said.

“Don’t let anyone here hear you say that,” Corinne chided, only half in jest.

“But surely everyone knows already.”

“Knowing about it and seeing it in your own church are two very different things,” Corinne said. “At our school, we have to be very careful that none of our female teachers gives the slightest appearance of interest in the Chinese men. If there was to be any romantic attraction, the scandal would probably compel us to close the school.”

“But surely—” Sarah began.

Corinne interrupted her. “I know what you’re thinking, that no respectable white woman would be attracted to a Chinese man, but that’s not the case at all. I said that I loved my students, and that’s because they are so sensitive and caring. I’ve rarely met such true gentlemen, and they treat females with the utmost respect. Girls who are accustomed to the rough manners of even the most well-bred white boys are quite taken with the Chinese manners.”

“So I’ve heard,” Sarah said.

“What do you mean?” Corinne asked in surprise.

“Did you know that I’m a midwife?”

“A midwife? Sarah, however did you manage that?”

“When I rebelled, I did a very good job of it,” Sarah said wryly. “I recently delivered a baby down in Chinatown, and I’ve gotten to know several women who married Chinese men.”

“Then you understand,” Corinne said with relief. “We had a case here…It was nipped in the bud, but it was almost the end of our school. The daughter of one of our teachers had been coming along to help her mother. She developed an attachment to one of the young men. I don’t know how serious it was, but her parents sent her off on a European tour the instant they discovered it. If word had gotten out…Well, as I said, it could have been tragic.”

“And yet the women I know are very happy with their choice of husband.”

“Perhaps they are, but the Chinese still suffer terrible persecution. Some of our students have been accosted and even beaten for daring to enter this neighborhood. It happens all over the city. Tormenting a Chinaman is considered great sport by far too many.”

“Yet they still come.”

“I told you, they’re determined to better themselves.”

Sarah thought about Charlie and George Lee and the lives they’d built for themselves and their families. She knew Corinne was right.

“Tell me, Sarah,” Corinne asked after a moment. “What brought you down here this evening?”

“I wanted to learn more about the Chinese.”

“Because of the women you met?”

“No,” Sarah admitted sadly. “You see, a young girl was murdered a few days ago.”

“How awful! And you knew her?”

“Yes, she’s the daughter of a Chinese man and his Irish wife. She’d run off with a white man, someone her family didn’t even know about and would never have approved of.”

“And he killed her?”

“We don’t know who killed her yet. Her father had wanted her to marry an older Chinese man, and that’s why she ran away. I’ve been trying to figure out who might have killed her. I thought if I understood the Chinese better, that would help.”

“I think I understand the Chinese very well,” Corinne said. “And I can promise you one thing: the person who killed that girl was not Chinese.”

F
RANK FOUND
M
RS
. L
EE AT HOME THE NEXT MORNING.
She needed a moment to recognize him, and when she did, her face lit with hope.

He quashed it instantly. “I don’t have any news,” he said quickly. “I have to ask you a few more questions.”

The hope faded from her face, but she kept her composure. “Come in,” she said, stepping aside so he could enter. “But I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

“How’s your son doing?” he asked as he took a seat on the chair she indicated.

“Better,” she said without much enthusiasm. “He’s ashamed for what he did, scaring us like that. He didn’t mean to hurt himself. He said…” She drew a deep breath to ward off the tears. “He said he just wanted to forget what happened to Angel.”

“That’s easy to understand,” Frank said.

She nodded, pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, and dabbed at her eyes. She was dressed in black, mourning her daughter. In spite of her grief, Frank noted, she was still well turned out. Her dress looked fairly new and fit her as if it had been made for her. It probably had. He noticed again the high quality of the furnishings in the room. Not as fancy as Sarah’s family, of course. Sarah’s parents were Old Money and had nothing but the very best. The Lees had it pretty good, though. Nothing old or worn. Nothing cheap or shabby. Frank felt a pang of envy. Charlie Lee had done well for himself.