Murder In Chelsea Part 27

"Yes."

That was interesting, but he'd try to figure it out later. "Then I think it's best that he not go along. He may think he'd be a help in an emergency, but I doubt it. We also need to tell Catherine not to eat or drink anything while we're there."

"Oh, Malloy!" The blood drained from her face. "Do you really think . . ."

"And we shouldn't either," he added. "One of those people could be a killer, someone who didn't think anything of murdering two women. He drugged Parnell Vaughn and strangled Emma Hardy. Do you know how long it takes to strangle someone? A long time, and you have to look right into their face while you're doing it."

For a second he thought he'd gone too far, but she stiffened her shoulders. "You're right, of course. We can't take any chances, and we won't be safe until we leave that house."

They spent a few minutes discussing when they would meet. Then Frank said, "I'd better get going then. I want to speak with Parnell Vaughn before we go to see Wilbanks."

"Should I go with you?"

"To Police Headquarters?" he asked with a grin.

She smiled back. "I guess not. Still, I'm very anxious to hear what he has to say."

"Don't get your hopes up, Sarah. He's lied about a lot of other things. He'll probably lie about this, too."

"Yes, and it's hard to tell what he might think was in his best interest to say. What does he have to gain or lose either way?"

"I don't know. Maybe he thinks Wilbanks will give him something for keeping his mouth shut. It's hard to tell what a drunk will do. I've got to ask him, though, because if he admits it, that will mean Catherine is out of danger completely."

VAUGHN DIDN'T LOOK MUCH BETTER THAN THE LAST TIME he'd seen him. The cells at Headquarters were filthy and dangerous, and Vaughn seemed much the worse for wear when the officer brought him to the interrogation room. His face was gray, and he had the shakes pretty badly, as Frank had expected.

When they were alone, Frank pulled a small bottle of whiskey out of his pocket and set it on the table. Vaughn reached for it like a drowning man, but Frank s.n.a.t.c.hed it away.

"Not so fast. I need to ask you a few questions first."

"I already told you everything I know. I didn't kill Emma. I swear it." His eyes were leaking tears, but Frank couldn't tell if they were for Emma or because Frank wouldn't give him the bottle.

"Why didn't you tell me she was your wife?"

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What makes you say that?"

"I saw the marriage license. The two of you were together a long time."

Vaughn was staring at the bottle. "You said you had some questions."

"Were you married to Emma Hardy?"

He dashed at his watery eyes. "You know I was."

"Why did you keep it a secret?"

"We didn't."

Frank pretended he was getting up to leave.

"Wait! I . . . Emma used her maiden name because n.o.body wants to hire a married woman in the theater. People thought we were just lovers, so we let them think it."

"And did they think you were lovers when she took up with Wilbanks?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means why would a man let his wife become some other man's mistress?"

"I didn't know!"

"How could you not know?"

"We . . . we weren't living together then. We had a fight, and she left me."

"What did you fight about?"

"She . . . she thought I had another woman."

"Did you?"

"No! I never! Emma was jealous, though. She . . . Couldn't I have just a little sip? I can hardly think."

"In a minute. Why was Emma jealous?"

"I don't know. I never gave her any reason, but she always was. That time she got real mad and broke a bottle over my head. I had to go to the hospital, and she never came to see me or anything. When I got out, she'd moved into that boardinghouse she liked."

"Nell Dugan's?"

"Yeah, that's the one. She said she was going to divorce me. I knew she didn't have the money for that, so I figured I'd just wait her out. She'd left me before, but she always took me back."

"Only this time she got a better offer."

"She never had a man like that interested in her before. I mean you've always got the stage door Johnnies who hang around. The girls are pretty and some of them aren't any better than they have to be. Any fellow in an expensive suit with money to buy them dinner can have whatever he wants. Emma never had time for that kind, though, at least not until Wilbanks came along."

"And Wilbanks wasn't an ordinary Johnnie."

"No, he was rich, and he told Emma he could give her whatever she wanted."

"What did she want?"

"She wanted to be the star. She thought he'd finance a show for her. She wasn't going to spread her legs for a dinner, but for that . . . Well, she'd do anything for that."

"And why didn't he finance the show for her?"

"Because of the kid. She never expected that. We'd been married for three years by then, and nothing ever happened in all that time. She thought she couldn't have kids, and then a couple months with him-an old man like that!-and she's puking every morning."

"You saw this?"

"Well, not exactly. She was still living at the boardinghouse, but we'd see each other at the theater, and she told me things. I wanted her back, and I told her I did, but she says she's got to get rid of the kid first and then get Wilbanks to back the show for her. There'd be a part for me, she said. We'd be together again."

"But it didn't work out that way," Frank said, holding the bottle up for him to see.

Vaughn's eyes widened and he licked his lips. "He didn't want her to get rid of the kid. She never expected that either. Neither of us did. She tried everything, but he wouldn't budge. The best she could do was get him to promise he'd get her a show after the baby came."

"So he put her up in her own house. That must've been horrible for her."

"It was!" he said, obviously not noticing Frank's sarcastic tone. "She was miles away from the city with nothing to do. I'd go visit her when I could, but she hated it."

"You didn't hate it all that much, though, did you? She'd let you stay there for free and she'd give you money, too."

"Just a few dollars, from the household money, when I was between shows. It's not like he gave her anything for herself."

"And what did you think of the baby?"

"I didn't think anything of her. Anne took care of her. I hardly ever saw her. Please, just one sip."

Disgusted, Frank handed him the bottle and waited while he pulled the cork with trembling fingers and took a healthy swig. Vaughn set the bottle down carefully, bracing it with both hands while he waited for the liquor's warmth to seep into him. When he picked up the bottle again, Frank s.n.a.t.c.hed it away.

"Hey!" He was halfway across the table when Frank backhanded him down into his chair again.

He cursed in frustration, rubbing his face and glaring balefully at his tormentor. "What was that for?"

"To remind you who's in charge. You can have the rest of it when you tell me everything I want to know."

"I've already told you everything!"

"What do you remember about last night?"

Judging from the tears that flooded his eyes, he remembered that Emma was dead. "I loved her so much."

"Then help me figure out who killed her. What do you remember about the man who came to your room last night?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and clamped both hands on his head, as if trying to keep it from flying off. He sat like that for a few moments. "I've been trying to remember, but everything's so fuzzy, like it was a dream."

"What did he look like?"

"A swell."

"How do you know that?"

"Nice suit. Well spoken. Good manners."

"His name?"

"I don't know. I don't think I heard it, or if I did, I've forgotten. He said he was there to talk to her about Wilbanks. He had a deal for her, he said. She was smiling."

"Did she know him?"

"I . . . Maybe. I don't know. Emma, she might've been smiling because of the deal. Money always made her happy."

"How did she hope to make a deal when she didn't have the child?"

"He didn't talk about the child. He said . . . I remember now. He said he'd give her money just to go away."

"Did she believe him?"

"I don't know. I just remember she was smiling. And he said we should celebrate, and he pulled out the bottle."

"And you were willing to celebrate anything with a drink, weren't you?"

Vaughn's eyes narrowed with hatred. "I took what he offered, yes."

"Did Emma?"

"She didn't like to drink. She took a sip or two, I think."

Maybe enough to make her easier to kill, Frank thought. "Then what happened?"

"She . . ." He frowned, squinting with the effort. "I remember, she wasn't smiling anymore. I tried to ask her what was wrong, but I couldn't make my mouth move. Then I fell asleep, and the next thing I remember is being here with you slapping me around."

Frank sighed and handed him the bottle. He took another swig, then glared at Frank again. "Now what?"

"Now you're free to go."

"What?"

"You heard me. They're holding your belongings at your hotel. You can go back there if you want. I don't care."

"You're not going to arrest me?"

"I did arrest you. Now I'm letting you go."

"What about Emma? What about the man who killed her?"

"If you remember his name, let me know. Otherwise, we'll probably never find him."

"d.a.m.n."

"Yeah, well, better finish the bottle before you leave. Otherwise, somebody will take it away from you."

As Frank left the dingy little room, he heard Vaughn say, "Emma," on a choking sob. He supposed he should be glad someone was mourning Catherine's mother.

SARAH HAD GONE TO HER PARENTS' HOUSE HOURS BEFORE the time she'd agreed to meet Malloy there. She wanted to spend time with Catherine and to prepare her for what was coming. She didn't want her to be frightened, but she wanted her to be prepared. Of course, when she told Catherine that Mr. Malloy would be going with them, nothing else mattered.

Her father didn't usually go to his office on Sat.u.r.day anyway, so he'd been driving her mother to distraction all morning. Sarah had to inform him that Malloy felt he should not accompany them.