Murder In Chinatown (3 page)

“No, he’s not. If he doesn’t have time to see me now, I can wait for a while or come back later.”

“Please, have a seat,” the secretary said. “I’ll see if he’s free.”

To Frank’s surprise, the great man summoned him at once. When he saw Decker’s face, he realized why.

“Is something wrong?” Decker asked, half rising from his chair. “Is it my daughter?” His face had gone pale.

“No, nothing like that,” Frank assured him hastily. He had no love for Felix Decker, but he hadn’t meant to frighten the man half to death. “She’s fine, as far as I know. I haven’t seen her for a couple weeks.”

Decker’s relief was obvious. He sank back into his chair and took a moment to compose himself. But only a moment. When his gaze met Frank’s again, he was in complete control and his usual mask of reserve had slid back into place.

“Sit down, Mr. Malloy, and tell me why you’ve come.”

Frank seated himself in one of the two comfortably worn leather chairs placed in front of Decker’s desk. Once again he was struck by how unpretentious the office was. He’d investigated murders that concerned several wealthy businessmen in the city, and all of them had held court behind massive desks in lavishly furnished rooms draped in velvet and carpeted with handwoven rugs. Decker’s desk was large but plain, and the furnishings comfortable but not ostentatious.

“It’s about Tom Brandt’s death,” Frank said.

“You’ve found his killer,” Decker guessed. Frank couldn’t tell if he was pleased at the thought or not. His patrician face betrayed no expression. He and Decker had disagreed before on whether it was in Sarah’s best interest to solve Dr. Brandt’s murder.

“No,” Frank said, the word burning his throat, but that wasn’t the worst thing he had to admit today. “And I’m not going to be able to solve it, either.”

Decker raised one eyebrow at this. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t have the time it’s going to take to track down everyone I need to talk to.”

“I thought Commissioner Roosevelt had given you permission to work on the case.”

Sarah had taken care of that. “He said I could work on it if I didn’t neglect my other duties. At least one of the women’s families has left the city. It could take weeks to find all of them.” Before his death, Tom Brandt had taken a deep interest in the cases of several young women who had developed a mysterious form of insanity that made them believe the good doctor had seduced them. At least Frank hoped it was just their insanity that made them believe it.

“You’re convinced that one of these women is connected to Brandt’s death?” It was more a challenge than a question.

“They’re the best lead I have,” he said, not really answering.

“What do you want me to do?”

Frank managed not to sigh. He didn’t
want
Decker to do anything, but he had no choice. “Hire a Pinkerton again,” he said, referring to the private detectives employed by Allan Pinkerton’s agency. “Have him locate all the families and find out which of the women have fathers who were alive at the time Brandt was killed.”

“If I’m going to all that trouble, I could simply ask the Pinkerton to solve the case,” Decker pointed out.

“No,”
Frank said without thinking, making Decker raise his eyebrow again. “I mean, I don’t trust them to do the job right. We only have one chance to question these people. If your Pinkerton asks the wrong question or misses a clue, we might never find the real killer.”

“You want to question them yourself,” Decker said skeptically. “You think you’re the only one who can do the job right.”

Frank didn’t bat an eye. “I
am
the only one who can do it right.”

Decker considered him for a long moment. Maybe he was remembering how Frank had handled other cases. Maybe he was remembering how Frank had found the truth when no one believed he could. Or maybe he was certain Frank would fail and lose Sarah Brandt’s respect forever. Whatever he was thinking, he said, “All right, Mr. Malloy. I will hire a Pinkerton to get your information.”

“
N
O ONE IN
C
HINATOWN WOULD HIDE HER FROM HER
family,” Cora said, not for the first time.

Night had fallen, and Sarah had lit the gaslights in the flat and prepared supper for both of them. They’d eaten in silence, and now they were waiting.

“Does she have friends outside of Chinatown? Maybe someone from school,” Sarah suggested.

“Angel wouldn’t be welcome, being half-Chinese.”

“That’s such a pretty name,” Sarah remarked, trying to take Cora’s mind off the crisis if only for a moment. “It really suits her.”

“Minnie’s last name is Angel. Minnie Mae Angel. When they saw how pretty their baby was, like she came straight from heaven, Minnie got the idea to call her Angel. She’s that innocent, too. She won’t know somebody might mean her harm. She’d probably go with anybody who was nice to her.” Cora’s voice broke, and she wiped her eyes with the corner of the sheet.

“What about Minnie’s family?” Sarah asked. “Would they take her in?”

“Minnie doesn’t have any family here. She left them all in Ireland.”

“She came over alone?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“Sure, lots of girls did. Their families died, and everybody else was starving. In America they could find work and maybe even a husband, so they came over here.”

“Is that what you did?” Sarah asked.

Cora smiled slightly. “Didn’t have much choice, did I?” She rubbed her head absently, as if it ached.

“You should get some rest,” Sarah suggested. “The baby will probably be awake most of the night. While he’s asleep, you should at least try to take a nap.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Cora protested, “not with Angel out there someplace, all alone.”

“You can’t help her by staying awake. You’ve got to think of your baby,” Sarah argued. “And Minnie will need your support, too, especially if they can’t find Angel.”

More tears leaked out, spilling down her cheeks. Sarah went to her and helped rearrange the pillows so she could lie down. “What if the baby wakes up?” she asked as Sarah tucked her in.

“You’ll hear him, I promise,” Sarah said.

“But—”

“I’ll be right here.”

“I’ll just close my eyes for a few minutes then.”

Within seconds, exhaustion claimed her. Sarah turned down the gas jets in the bedroom and went out into the parlor to wait.

The baby woke up a little later, and Cora fed him again. Sarah convinced Cora the waiting would go much more quickly if she slept, so she consented again. Sarah had dozed off herself when Minnie returned to the flat.

Sarah started awake at the sound of the door opening, and one look at Minnie’s face told her they hadn’t found the missing girl.

“Cora?” Minnie asked.

“Asleep,” Sarah reported. “They’re both doing fine. Did you find out anything at all?”

Minnie shook her head as she sank wearily onto Cora’s comfortable sofa. “Someone saw her walking down the street. She was carrying a bundle, but no one thought anything about it. Figured it was laundry or something. Nobody noticed where she went.”

“You checked with her friends?”

“She didn’t go to any of them, and they all swear they don’t know where she did go.” Minnie seemed to have aged a decade since this afternoon. “Charlie and George and everybody we know is still out searching, in case she tried to hide in an alley or something.”

“Have you called in the police?” Sarah asked.

Minnie looked at her as if she’d suddenly gone insane. “The
police
?” she echoed in amazement. “Why would we call in the police?”

“They…they could help look for her,” she tried.

Minnie made a rude noise. “The police don’t come to Chinatown unless they want to arrest somebody. They won’t care a lick that Angel is missing unless she stole something or killed somebody. Even then, they won’t care unless she stole from a white person.”

“Maybe if you offered a reward,” Sarah said, hating herself for having to say it. The police seldom investigated a crime unless a “reward” was offered. In their defense, they could hardly survive on the salary the city paid them. On the other hand, the poor had little hope of justice if it had to be purchased.

Minnie rubbed her forehead wearily. “Charlie won’t offer no reward to the police. He hates them like the devil.”

Sarah had no answer for that. “I’ll stay with Cora for the rest of the night. You should probably try to get some rest yourself.”

“I couldn’t sleep, not with my girl out there someplace all alone. I just came back to see if she’d changed her mind and come home. I’m going right out again.”

Sarah tried unsuccessfully to get her to eat something, then wished her good luck as she left again. She found herself wishing for Frank Malloy. He’d know what to do. He’d know how to search for Angel. Or so she told herself. The truth was, no one would be able to find Angel if she didn’t want to be found—or if someone else didn’t want her to be found. Girls disappeared in New York every day. Sometimes their bodies floated up in the harbor, but most times they simply vanished.

Time was when Sarah could only imagine the heartbreak of losing a child. Now she had a child of her own. She’d found little Catherine at the Prodigal Son Mission. She’d simply appeared on the Mission’s doorstep one morning, and she either couldn’t or wouldn’t speak, so no one knew where she’d come from.

Did a mother somewhere weep for the child she’d lost? The child Sarah had found? Sarah could easily imagine that mother’s pain and Minnie’s, too. Losing Catherine would be like having her heart ripped from her chest. She whispered a prayer for Angel’s safety and settled in for the rest of the night to wait.

S
ARAH ACHED IN EVERY MUSCLE AS SHE APPROACHED
her home on Bank Street late the next afternoon. No one had found any sign of Angel, and Minnie had finally returned home. She’d insisted she could look after Cora and the baby herself. It would keep her mind off her own troubles, she’d said, and sent Sarah home for some much-needed rest.

She automatically glanced over at her neighbor’s front porch. Years of experience had taught her that Mrs. Ellsworth would be out, sweeping her front steps while she kept an eye on everything that happened on Bank Street. But Mrs. Ellsworth’s steps had gone unswept most days in the months since Sarah had brought Catherine home from the Mission. Mrs. Ellsworth now had better ways to spend her time.

The moment Sarah pushed open her front door, she heard the sound of running feet. Catherine appeared almost instantly, running full tilt from the back of the house, through the front room that Sarah used as her office, and straight into Sarah’s arms. Hugging Catherine’s small body tightly, Sarah once again understood Minnie’s desperate fear. She inhaled the sweet scent of the child’s hair and brushed her lips across the satiny cheek. How could a mother bear the pain of losing a child? Surely, nothing else could be so terrible.

“We were about to give you up,” Mrs. Ellsworth said good-naturedly.

Sarah looked up to see that her neighbor had followed Catherine at a more sedate pace. Maeve, the girl who served as Catherine’s nursemaid, was behind her, smiling a greeting. They had most likely been working on something in the kitchen. Mrs. Ellsworth was teaching them the fine art of homemaking.

“Is everything all right?” Mrs. Ellsworth added. Sarah saw the unspoken question in the older woman’s eyes. When Sarah was gone for a long time on a delivery, it usually meant something had gone wrong.

“Oh, yes,” Sarah assured her, still holding on to Catherine’s hands as she straightened. “A healthy baby boy. I stayed because there was some trouble in the family. A young girl went missing, and they all went to look for her, so there was no one to take care of the new mother.”

“They found the girl then?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

“No, they didn’t.”

“Was she a little girl?” Maeve asked, her young face clouded. She, too, had been a resident of the Prodigal Son Mission when Sarah recruited her. Her parents had put her out on the streets when they’d deemed her able to fend for herself. Sarah had never asked what she’d been forced to do to stay alive until she’d found the safety of the Mission.

Catherine squeezed Sarah’s hands, and Sarah looked down to see the concern in her eyes, too. Catherine was no more than five years old herself, but she’d also known the terror of being alone. It had made her mute.

“The girl is almost your age, Maeve,” Sarah said. “She’ll be sixteen next month.”

“Well, now, you can tell us all about it in a minute,” Mrs. Ellsworth said brusquely. “But first, come on into the kitchen where we can get some food into you. You look wrung out.”

“I am,” Sarah agreed and allowed Catherine to take her by the hand and lead her back the way they’d come, into the warm comfort of the kitchen.

They’d been making pastry. Several empty pie shells awaited filling, and flour and sticky dough covered the entire tabletop. Maeve quickly cleaned a spot at the table, and Catherine brushed flour off one of the chairs for Sarah to sit.

“I can scramble up some eggs, if that’s all right,” Mrs. Ellsworth was saying. “Not fancy, but it’s quick.”

“That’s fine. I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake,” Sarah said, sinking down into the chair Catherine had prepared for her. Catherine climbed up into her lap and laid her head against Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah held her close, reveling in the feel of her small body.

Mrs. Ellsworth started preparing the eggs while Maeve continued to clean off the table. She scrubbed a little harder than necessary, Sarah noted, and her face was fixed in a troubled frown.

“What is it, Maeve?” she asked.

The girl looked up, stopping her work for just a moment before returning to it with a vengeance. “I was just thinking about that girl. Why’d she run off, anyway? Did they beat her or something?”

“No, they didn’t beat her,” Sarah said. She couldn’t be sure, of course, but she remembered the way Minnie had held her daughter. She cherished the child. “It seemed like they treated her very well, in fact.”

“Then why’d she leave?” Maeve seemed actually angry at this unknown girl.

“Probably because her father wanted her to marry an older man,” Sarah said.

“Why? Did he owe him money or something?”

“Not that I know of, although he could have, I guess. Her mother seemed to think it was a good idea, though, and she loves the girl very much. The man makes a good living. She probably thought he’d be a good husband for her.”

Maeve’s frown deepened as she continued to concentrate on scrubbing the last bits of dough off the table.

What was she thinking? Sarah wondered. And why was she so angry?

Maeve muttered something under her breath.

“What was that?” Sarah asked.

Maeve looked up in surprise. “What?”

“You said something,” Sarah said, even though she knew Maeve hadn’t intended for her to hear. “I didn’t hear it.”

“I just…I said she was stupid,” she admitted reluctantly.

Sarah nodded. “Running away was a foolish thing to do. Dangerous, too.”

“You said her family was looking for her,” Maeve said.

“Yes, everyone was out, even the neighbors.”

Maeve shook her head. “They didn’t want her to leave. It don’t make sense.”

“Doesn’t,” Sarah corrected her.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Maeve repeated obediently. “She’s got a family what loves her and wants her, and she runs away because she don’t…doesn’t want to get married to some rich man? That’s just crazy.”

Sarah figured Maeve would have loved to find herself in a position like that. “I know. She isn’t the kind of girl who would know how to survive on her own, either. That’s why her parents are so frightened.”

Now Maeve’s frown turned thoughtful. “A girl like that…”

Sarah waited, but she didn’t go on. “What about a girl like that?” she prodded.

“She ain’t likely to go off alone, is she? I mean, really run away. She’s used to somebody taking care of her. She’d be too scared to be on her own.”

“That’s what her parents thought, too, but they checked with all her friends. She isn’t staying with any of them.”

“
Girl
friends,” Maeve said dismissively.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean her girl friends are probably just like her. They’d be afraid to hide her. She’d never go to them.”

Sarah was beginning to understand. “You’re right, her friends aren’t hiding her, and she’d be too scared to go off alone. You think she’s found someone else to take care of her, don’t you?”

“A man,” Maeve said with certainty. “You’ll see. She’s with some man.”

This was what Sarah had feared, of course, but perhaps it wasn’t quite as bad as she’d imagined. “Do you think it’s a man who cares about her?”

Maeve shrugged. “They always say that, don’t they?”

Sarah’s heart sank. Of course they did. Angel Lee might have run off with a man she loved, a man she thought loved her in return, but that didn’t mean he really did. He could still have sold her to a brothel or even to a rich man whose perversion ran to violating the innocent. Many young men in the city made a living doing just that. They were called “cadets.” “I wonder if her parents have considered the fact that she might have had an admirer.”