Murder In Chelsea Part 13

"Brandt, that's your name. That's what you said. You have Catherine, and I know your name. It shouldn't be too hard to find her now."

"I don't have her anymore," Sarah said. "I sent her someplace safe."

"That's easy to say, isn't it? You won't mind if I come to your house and look anyway, will you?"

"Miss Hardy," Malloy said, startling both of them back to the present. "Did you forget that Anne Murphy was murdered?"

Her confidence vanished. Her gaze s.h.i.+fted from Malloy to Sarah and back to Malloy again, as if trying to judge which one was the more formidable opponent. "No, I didn't forget. How could I?"

"And don't you wonder who killed her?"

"What difference does it make who killed her? It's got nothing to do with me."

"Are you sure?"

The color had drained from her face, and she started twisting her hands again. "Why should it?"

Sarah wanted to slap her. "Because the reason Miss Murphy left Catherine at the Mission in the first place was because she was afraid someone would harm her."

"Who would want to hurt a child?" she asked.

"Maybe the same person you were afraid was going to hurt you when you left town a year ago," Malloy said.

She stared back at them for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what to say. For an actress, she wasn't very good at hiding her emotions, and Sarah could easily see how terrified she was, but not of them. "I don't know who you could mean. n.o.body ever wished me any harm."

"Then why did you run away?" Sarah asked.

"I didn't run away. Whoever told you a thing like that? I just got a chance to be in a play and I took it. I was tired of living in that old house and I was tired of Wilbanks telling me what to do all the time, so I left. I wanted to have some fun." She tried to smile, but it did not quite reach her eyes.

"And you left your child with Miss Murphy."

"She loves little Catherine," Emma said, then frowned. "I mean she loved her. Half the time, I think Catherine thought Annie was her mother." She smiled as if that were a joke, but n.o.body smiled back.

"Let me get this straight," Malloy said. "Miss Murphy thinks you left town because you thought you were in danger. Then she hides Catherine at the Mission because she thinks the child might be in danger. For nearly a year, she lives in the same boardinghouse where you and she had lived, and n.o.body bothers her. But then she gets a couple letters from you telling her you're going to meet up with her and the child, and then suddenly, somebody kills her. Why do you think that happened, Miss Hardy?"

"How should I know? I hadn't seen her for nearly a year. Anything could've happened. Maybe she offended somebody. Maybe she got in trouble with somebody."

"A dresser?" Sarah said, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "What could she have done to make someone want to kill her?"

"I don't know! I told you, I hadn't seen her for almost a year."

"Until you got back to New York and went looking for her. What did you say when she told you she'd lost Catherine?"

"I didn't say anything because I never saw Annie. This morning I went to the boardinghouse where she'd told me to meet her, but they said she wasn't there, so I come here to see if Mrs. Dugan knows where she is. She tells me Annie is dead and you've got Catherine. That's all I know!"

"I think you know at least one other thing," Malloy said.

"And what would that be?"

"Where Parnell Vaughn is."

"And what if I do?"

"Then you'd better tell me so I don't have to take you down to Police Headquarters and lock you up for the night."

"The devil, you say!"

"There's no need to swear, Miss Hardy. Just tell me where Vaughn is."

Now she really looked frightened. "What do you want with him? He doesn't have anything to do with any of this."

"I'd like to find that out for myself. Otherwise, I saw a beat cop on the corner. I'll just have him take you in and lock you up until I have time to get back there and ask you again. I'm pretty busy, so that won't be until tomorrow, maybe even the next day, so-"

"He's at the La Pierre Hotel. That's where we're staying." The look she gave Malloy could have drawn blood, but he merely smiled slightly.

"Thank you for your help, Miss Hardy."

"So what am I supposed to do about my daughter? When will I get her back?"

"I thought you didn't want her back," Malloy said.

"I never said that!"

"Oh, I guess you're right. You didn't say that. In fact, you're eager to get her back so you can sell her to her father."

She looked as if she wanted to scratch Malloy's eyes out, but Sarah had had enough of her theatrics. "Have you seen Mr. Wilbanks since you've gotten back to the city?"

"How could I? I only got back yesterday."

"Really? Where have you been for the past week?"

"The past week? What do you mean?"

"The week since your play closed in Philadelphia."

"How did you know that?"

Sarah gave up and turned to Malloy for a.s.sistance.

"We know your play closed over a week ago, Miss Hardy," he said. "I thought you were in a hurry to see your daughter, so why did it take you so long to come looking for her?"

"I . . . Parnell. That's it. He was sick. We had to stay in Philadelphia until he could travel. He was worn out from the tour. That's hard work, going from town to town for months on end, and Parnell doesn't have a strong const.i.tution."

Sarah wondered if Malloy could check on how long they'd been in the city. Certainly, the La Pierre Hotel could tell him when Vaughn and Emma had checked in.

"I'm going to pay Mr. Vaughn a visit," Malloy said. "The two of you can try to hide or even leave town if you want to, but if you do, you'll never see your daughter again. Oh, and did we mention to you that Mr. Wilbanks is dying?"

Plainly, she'd had no idea. "Dying? What do you mean, dying? He was perfectly fine the last time I saw him."

"That was a year ago," Sarah said. "A lot can happen, and Mr. Wilbanks only has a few months left."

"So if you hope to get anything out of him, you'll need to be quick," Malloy added with another grin.

"I don't believe you!"

"Why would we lie to you?" Malloy asked. "It's easy enough to check. Just go see him. I'm sure his son would be glad for you to visit him."

Once again, the color drained from her face, and Sarah thought they had found the person who had frightened Emma Hardy off in the first place. "Maybe I will," she said.

FRANK CHECKED HIS WATCH AS THEY LEFT THE BOARDINGHOUSE. "We still have a couple hours before we have to meet your parents. I'd like to see Parnell Vaughn before Emma has a chance to tell him what to say to us."

"That's probably a good idea. Do you know where this hotel is?"

"Yes, and it's not a place I can take you. I also want to see this Vaughn fellow alone."

"In case you need to frighten him," she said.

He saw no judgment in her eyes, but he still hated that she knew he sometimes had to use violence in his job. "I'll walk you out to Broadway so you can get a cab home."

They both knew a woman alone would have a difficult time hailing a cab, so she didn't make any silly protests.

"Your mother was right," she said as they walked. "Emma Hardy doesn't deserve Catherine. She didn't even deny that she was going to sell her to Wilbanks."

"There's a lot worse things she could have done with her, you know."

They walked a ways while she thought this over. "Can you find out how long she's been in the city?"

"You mean if she's been here long enough to have killed Anne Murphy? I'll check with the desk clerk, but we already know she was."

"We do?"

"Didn't you notice? She said Anne told her some rich woman had taken Catherine from the Mission."

"That's right, she did! And Anne didn't know that until just a few days before she died."

"Not long enough to have written Emma a letter, so that means Emma got to the city and went to see Anne, probably to collect Catherine so she could make her bargain with Wilbanks. Then Anne told her what happened to Catherine."

Sarah nodded. "She wouldn't have been happy to hear that either. If she lost Catherine, she didn't have any hold over Wilbanks. That might've made her angry enough to stab Anne."

"It's possible. If she did stab her, she probably realized her best bet was to pretend she was just going to see Anne for the first time today and didn't know she was dead."

"Which is exactly what she did by coming here to ask about her. What are you going to ask Vaughn about?"

"I'll start with when they got to the city and if he was with Emma when she went to see Anne Murphy. After that, it will depend."

"On what?"

"He's supposed to be a drunk. It will depend on if he's been drinking and how much."

"Will it be better if he is drunk or if he isn't?"

"I won't know that until I see him."

They'd reached Broadway, and Frank stepped into the street to hail a cab. As luck would have it, one stopped nearby to let off a pa.s.senger, and Malloy quickly secured it for Sarah, paying the driver after giving him her address and helping her inside.

"Try to eat something when you get home," he said.

"Try to eat something yourself. I don't even know if there's any food in my house, so don't wait until you get there."

"Mrs. Ellsworth will bring something over, I'm sure."

Sarah smiled. "She will if she sees you coming."

"If I'm late, start without me. We've got a lot to tell your parents, and you know most of it."

"I'll make my father wait until you're there to tell about his visit with Wilbanks."

He signaled the driver to go, and the aging vehicle with its sway-backed horse lurched into motion in an optimistic effort to join the steady flow of traffic.

Frank watched it for a few minutes, until she was well on her way. Then he turned south on Broadway and headed toward the lower part of the Lower East Side where the La Pierre Hotel housed those well-heeled enough to afford a real bed, however full of fleas or bedbugs, instead of the filthy wooden bunks and straw mattresses of a nickel-a-night flophouse.

The La Pierre was as bad as he remembered. At first he thought the front desk was deserted, until he noticed the soft snoring sounds. When he peered over, he saw the clerk curled up on the floor and fast asleep. With a grin, he started slapping the tap bell, sending up the kind of alarm that usually brought fire engines to the scene. The desk clerk awoke with a snort and jumped to his feet, looking around wildly to see what all the ruckus was about. When he saw Frank grinning at him, he grumbled, "What do you want?"

"I want to see your register, for starters." He pulled out his badge and let the clerk have a good look before pulling the large book over to him so he could skim the entries. He quickly found what he was looking for: Mr. and Mrs. Parnell Vaughn had checked in two days ago, the day before Anne Murphy was murdered. Even a fleabag place like this would expect a couple to pretend to be married. He checked the room number and headed for the stairs.

"What are you going to do?" the desk clerk called in alarm.

"I'm going to visit one of your guests."

"I don't want no trouble. We make our payments regular."

He meant bribes to the police department, and Frank was sure they did. A hotel like this would have a host of prost.i.tutes servicing the clientele. Police interference would be very bad for business. "If there's trouble, I'll take it out of here," he called back as he climbed the stairs.

At the end of the grimy hall, Frank found the room he was looking for and pounded on the door. When n.o.body answered, he called, "Vaughn, are you in there?"

When that brought no response, he tried the k.n.o.b and it turned. Well, if Vaughn wasn't here, he could at least have a look around. He pushed open the door, not sure what to expect.

What he didn't expect was to see Parnell Vaughn lying motionless on the bed.

7.