Murder on St. Nicholas Avenue (17 page)

“Mr. Decker's daughter is married to a
policeman
?”

She had a right to be surprised. Frank Malloy was pretty surprised himself. “He's not with the police anymore. He . . . he's done pretty well for himself.”

She thought that over for a minute. “Does he live on Bank Street?”

“Yes.” For a minute, he couldn't imagine how she knew.

“And that girl, Maeve, she works for him?”

So that was it. Mrs. Pollock had been to Malloy's house to pick up her trunk. “Yes.”

She nodded as if he'd confirmed something important. “The son-in-law is a private investigator, then.”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“The girl told me she works for a private investigator.”

Of course Maeve had said that. “I guess she does. Mr. Malloy, he helps people out when they need it.”

Her beautiful blue eyes went cold. “People like my mother.”

“Yes,” he said, uneasily.

“Well, you can tell this Mr. Malloy that I don't need help from him or anyone else, and I want all of you to leave me alone.”

T
he house had been dark for half an hour now. Gino had argued his case with Mrs. Pollock again, but she had been adamant that she didn't need a bodyguard. He could have forced her to accept his protection, but he didn't want to upset her any more, so he was just waiting for the right time to leave. He'd sent her and the female servants upstairs to their beds, with instructions to extinguish all the lights in hopes of discouraging the reporters. He and Eddie had waited downstairs, also in the dark. For understandable reasons, Eddie had refused to wait in the parlor, so he sat in a chair in the front hall while Gino positioned himself near a crack in the lace curtains on the parlor's front window, watching the people milling on the sidewalk.

Earlier, the crowd had contained a few women, the ones who typically reported on social events and fashion, but they had left at some point while Gino and Mrs. Pollock were eating
supper. As the night grew colder, the crowd grew smaller, and finally, the last of them pedaled off on their bicycles. He waited awhile, just to make sure nobody was planning to sneak back in hopes of scooping the other newspapers, but no one did.

“I think they're gone,” he called to Eddie, who appeared instantly in the doorway.

“Are you leaving now?”

He seemed awfully anxious for Gino to go. Gino figured Eddie was jealous of the attention he was getting from Mrs. Pollock, and he couldn't blame him. He felt sorry for the boy, knowing that when everything got sorted out, he and the other servants would most likely be moving on and he'd probably never see Una Pollock again. “Yeah, I guess it's time.” Gino went out into the hall, where Hattie had left his bag, and as he left the parlor, he remembered something.

“What happened to the rug?” The bloodstained rug had been rolled up in front of the door last night.

“Mrs. Pollock had me take it to the basement.”

That made sense. She wouldn't want it around to remind her. “Lock up behind me.”

“Don't you worry. I'll look after Mrs. Pollock,” the boy said.

Gino was sure of that. “Don't forget, if anything happens, send for Mr. Decker.”

“Missus won't like that.”

Gino had no answer for him. He stepped out onto the porch, bracing himself for the blast of cold, then waited to hear Eddie throw the bolt. Satisfied that he'd done all he could, Gino set off down the steps and down the street. No one accosted him or even seemed to be around. The only sound was his own shoes slapping against the pavement as he hurried to the El station. Too bad it was so late. He desperately needed to tell Maeve and the Deckers about Truett's visit, but it would have to wait until
morning. He only hoped Truett was spooked enough to stay away from the Pollock house until they'd had a chance to figure out what to do about him, because he didn't think for one second that Eddie would be able to handle him.

*   *   *

B
ecause it was Saturday, Maeve, Mrs. Malloy, and the children were still at breakfast when someone knocked on the door the next morning.

“That will be Gino,” Maeve told Mrs. Malloy, signing for Brian's benefit.

Both children wanted to jump up and run to the door, but Mrs. Malloy told them sternly to finish eating, and she went to answer it.

Maeve had wanted to jump up and run herself, so she was actually glad Mrs. Malloy had gone. No sense in giving Gino the impression she was anxious to see him, even if she was. She could hear his voice as he chatted with Mrs. Malloy on their way to the kitchen, and even though she couldn't understand the words, she knew he was charming her the way he always did.

“Good morning, Officer Donatelli,” Catherine sang out politely, just the way Maeve was teaching her to do.

“Good morning, Miss Catherine,” he replied, charming her as well. Really, it was disgusting.

“And good morning to you, Mr. Brian.” He ruffled the boy's hair, earning a grin and a flurry of signs that Mrs. Malloy interpreted as his greeting.

“Sit down,” Mrs. Malloy said. “I'll get you some breakfast.”

Maeve was certain Mrs. Pollock's cook wouldn't have sent him off without feeding him first, but she didn't say a word.

“Thank you, Mrs. Malloy,” he said, just like he was starving, and pulled out the chair at the end of the table, which just
happened to be at a right angle to Maeve's. “Good morning to you, Miss Smith,” he said with a twinkle in his dark eyes that almost softened her resolve not to completely melt.

“And how is Mrs. Pollock this fine morning?” Maeve asked.

“You wouldn't be jealous, would you?” he asked with a wicked grin.

Mrs. Malloy set a cup of coffee down in front of him and gave him a little pinch on the arm.

“Ow!”

“Don't tease the girl,” she said.

The children giggled until Mrs. Malloy shushed them, and Maeve didn't bother to hide her grin.

Effectively chastened, a more sober Gino turned back to Maeve and said, “I have no idea how she is because she shooed me off last night after the reporters gave up and went home.”

“Reporters?” Maeve said, gladly changing the subject.

“Oh yes. They showed up shortly after I got there last night. There was probably twenty of them, banging on the door and wanting to interview Mrs. Pollock.”

“That's disgraceful the way they bother people,” Mrs. Malloy murmured from where she was cooking Gino some eggs.

Maeve couldn't seem to work up any sympathy for Una Pollock this morning, though. “I'm guessing you protected her from them.” She didn't sound like she approved.

“I got them to stop pounding on the door,” he admitted with fake reluctance. “They almost caught Truett, though.”

“Truett was there?” she almost yelped.

“Oh yes. We were right. I think Truett was the one—”

“Here's your eggs,” Mrs. Malloy said, plopping a plate down in front of him. Maeve saw Mrs. Malloy had scrambled at least three eggs for him. Maeve hoped he was hungry. “Come along, children. Maeve and Officer Donatelli have business to discuss.”

Brian was protesting with flying fingers and Catherine
dragged her feet and pulled a miserable face to let them know how sad she was to leave. Neither tactic moved Mrs. Malloy, and soon Maeve and Gino were alone in the kitchen.

He was shoveling in the eggs as if he hadn't eaten in a week. “Didn't Mrs. Pollock feed you last night?”

He stopped long enough to give her a smirk. “I had supper with her in the dining room.”

Maeve could've kicked herself for even asking. “So what is it you think about Truett?”

He swallowed and took a sip of his coffee. “He was pretty mad when I got there. The maid said he'd been shouting at Mrs. Pollock. He claimed there were ‘valuable papers' missing, and he thought she knew where they were.”

“And you think the valuable papers are really the missing money.”

“What else could he mean? So Truett could be the one who broke into the Pollock house and that's how he knows the money is missing.”

“Except that the Deckers told him about the robbery, and that could be how he knows,” Maeve reminded him. “And I suppose poor Una had no idea the money was even there.”

“Truett didn't mention money when I was there, just ‘papers,' but she did say she didn't know anything about Pollock's business.”

“I guess she was crying and all hysterical.”

Gino started to smirk again but stopped when he saw her expression. “She was holding up pretty well when I got there.”

“I can't believe she's still pretending she didn't know about the money,” Maeve said in disgust.

“Don't forget, I don't know what she might've said to Truett before I got there. For all I know they started out with Truett telling her the money is missing and what did she do with it, and her saying she had no idea because she was in jail
when it all happened. But when I got there, Truett was very careful not to say exactly what the missing papers were, and he actually accused me of wanting to steal them myself.”

“Poor Gino,” she said, only half sarcastically.

“I don't think it was personal,” he said cheerfully. “He just hates all cops.”

“So I guess we need to talk to Mr. Truett.”

“I don't think it would be a good idea for me to question him. After last night, he'll be suspicious. But Mr. Decker could, I think.”

“He'll have a busy day. He and Mrs. Decker were going to visit the widow of the man who killed himself, and he was going to see that other fellow whose name he recognized, too.”

“That doesn't leave much for you to do today,” he said.

“Which will make Catherine happy. We haven't spent much time together lately. Oh, I know. I can take the children to see the Deckers this morning and tell them what you found out about Truett. Catherine and Brian love playing in the nursery there, and Mrs. Decker will be happy to see them. She doesn't have much to do today either.”

“What about Mrs. Malloy?”

“She deserves some time to herself. I think she's secretly making some Christmas gifts, so she'll be glad to be able to work on them without the children around.”

“Just don't go see Mrs. Pollock.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked in amazement.

“I don't know, but she told me last night that she doesn't need our help and she doesn't want us to bother her anymore.”

“That's pretty ungrateful.”

“I thought so, too.”

He was trying to look all innocent as he shoveled in the last of his eggs, but Maeve wasn't fooled. “What are you thinking?”

“About Mrs. Pollock? Are you sure you want to know?”

“Oh yes.”

He grinned at that. “Well, if I were a woman who was falsely accused of killing my husband and had been locked up in the Tombs and was going on trial for my life, I'd be grateful for all the help anybody wanted to give me.”

“And if I were a woman who really had killed her husband and people were trying to prove me innocent, I'd be grateful for that help, too,” she said.

“So why doesn't Mrs. Pollock want our help?”

“That's a very good question, Officer Donatelli. I think when we figure out the answer, we'll know a lot more about Pollock's murder than we do now.”

“But if Mrs. Pollock doesn't want us to help, why would we continue to work on her case?”

Maeve smiled sweetly. “Because we might find out that she's guilty.”

Gino pretended to be shocked. “Now I know just how much you don't like her.”

“Yes, you do. I know you have to go to work, so Catherine and Brian and I will go visit the Deckers and give Mr. Decker his additional assignment for the day.”

“He'll be happy, I'm sure. He really wanted to go to the Pollock house last night.”

“I doubt he'll be as happy to visit Truett as he would have been to visit Una, but at least he won't be sitting at home all day, wondering what's happening, like Mrs. Decker and me.”

“Poor Maeve,” he said. “You also don't have to arrest drunks all day, so count your blessings.”

*   *   *

E
lizabeth was thrilled to see Maeve and the children. Because Maeve had telephoned to let her know they were coming, she had already enlisted a maid to entertain the little
ones in the nursery for a while so she and Felix could get Maeve's report from Gino.

“So Gino thinks this Truett is the one who broke into the house,” Felix said when Maeve had finished.

“Yes, because he knew the money was missing,” Maeve said.

“But we told Mr. Truett about the robbery when he came here yesterday,” Elizabeth said. “Remember, he said he'd gone to see Mr. Pollock that morning and the servants told him Pollock was dead. He claimed that was the first he knew.”

“I do remember, and remember I thought he might've just been pretending to be surprised about the murder and the robbery so we wouldn't suspect him of anything.” Maeve was always so suspicious of people. Elizabeth wished the girl could be more trusting. “He's Pollock's partner, after all. He would've known the money was in the safe and not invested in Peru or wherever the railroad was supposed to be.”

“But how could he have known Mr. Pollock was dead before yesterday?” Elizabeth argued. “It wasn't in the newspaper until last night, and there still hasn't been a death notice.”

“He'd know if he was the one who killed Pollock,” her husband said.

“Or maybe he found out some other way,” Maeve said. “Mr. Malloy would tell us we need to talk to him and find out.” Elizabeth thought she was probably right.

Felix gave Maeve a small smile. “I'm sure he would. I think I can manage that after I call on Lawrence Zimmerman this morning.”

“Oh, Felix, do you really think you should?” Elizabeth said in alarm. “You were furious with me for meeting with Mr. Truett alone because he might be a murderer.”

“And you pointed out to me that whoever killed Pollock has no reason to harm you, so I will point out that he has no reason to harm me either.”

“But if he thinks that you suspect him—”

“He won't. I'm just going to ask him about the Panamanian project and see what he has to say. He seemed eager to explain it to me when he was here yesterday. He probably thinks he can get me to invest, too.”

“How will that help you figure out if he killed Pollock?” Maeve asked.

“If I'm considering investing in his project, I'll be concerned over Pollock's murder. I'm going to ask him who he thinks did it and why anyone would want to and see what he says. I'm also going to mention Oscar Norwalk's suicide and see if he's aware of it. That should give me the man's measure, at least.”

“Ask him why he thinks Una Pollock knows where the money is, too,” Maeve said, making Felix smile again. The girl had really taken a dislike to the widow Pollock.