Murder In Chelsea Part 31

"I'm not interested in you," Frank said, although the thought that he might have put his hands on Sarah made him want to tear him limb from limb.

He must have sensed that urge because he swallowed nervously and looked questioningly at Klink.

"They say Udall is going to kill the little girl," Klink said.

"He never said nothing like that," the man protested.

"Of course he didn't," Klink said. "Tell them what happened."

"He said he needed to s.n.a.t.c.h this little girl."

"Who said it?" Frank said.

"Udall. That's what he said his name was."

"Go on."

"He said he was taking her back to her mother. n.o.body got hurt. We didn't hurt anybody. He said we shouldn't."

"You stole a cab?" Frank said.

"We used chloroform on the cabbie. Then we left it. It was just around the corner from where we took the little girl."

"I know. Then what?"

"We knocked out the driver, then the woman when she came out. He thought there might be a man, too, but there wasn't. That's why he needed three of us, he said." Frank winced at the memory. If he'd been with them . . . "He said to use it on the kid, too, in case she cried or something."

"How did you get away?"

"He'd rented a carriage."

"Where did you go?"

"We dropped him at a hotel with the kid. He said the mother was waiting for him there. Then we took the carriage back to where he rented it. That's all I know. n.o.body got hurt, I swear it."

"What hotel?"

He told them. The Belvue. A dump near the East River, the perfect place to dispose of a body. He'd wait until dark. They probably had only minutes now until the sun slipped away completely.

"Thank you, Mr. Klink," Hicks was saying as Frank threw open the office door and raced out to where the two patrolmen waited in the street. He pointed at one. "You, telephone the local station and have them send as many men as they can to meet me at the Hotel Belvue. If they see a man with a child, they're to hold him. You"-he pointed at the other one-"come with me."

They fairly ran through the crowded streets, dodging pedestrians and darting through the crush of horses and wagons at every intersection. With every step, the sun seemed to sink lower, the city to grow darker, dark enough to hide a man dropping a small bundle into the river. He hadn't prayed since the night Kathleen died. When G.o.d had taken his wife, he'd turned his back on all that, but he prayed now, silently and violently, begging for Catherine's young life. It hadn't worked before, but maybe this time . . .

He thought Hicks might be somewhere behind him, but he didn't need him anymore. He knew what to do now.

If only he wasn't too late.

The gaslights cast an eerie glow in front of the Hotel Belvue. An enormously fat officer strolled up just as they reached the front door.

"You Malloy?" he asked.

"Yes, wait here. If you see a man with a child-"

"I know, I know."

Frank just hoped this fellow wouldn't have to chase anyone. He strode inside the dimly lit lobby with the other patrolman at his heels. The desk clerk jumped to his feet, obviously alarmed by the sight of the uniform and perhaps also by the sight of Frank's expression.

"I don't want no trouble!" Hotel clerks never wanted any trouble.

"Do you have a guest with a child? A man. His name's Udall, but he might be using another one."

His eyes widened with alarm. "We don't allow that kind of thing here. We allow women but not children."

Frank grabbed a fistful of his s.h.i.+rtfront and dragged him halfway over the counter. "What room is he in?"

"Two-twelve," he croaked.

Frank shoved him away and started for the stairs, but the clerk said, "He ain't up there, though."

"Where is he?"

"How should I know? He left a few minutes ago."

"With the child?"

"I guess."

"What do you mean, you guess?"

"He had a bundle, like she was wrapped in a blanket. It's cold out, you know?"

Dear G.o.d. He didn't let himself think what that might mean.

Frank burst out the front door to find three more patrolmen had joined the fat one. "Follow me. He's probably heading for the river. When we get there, spread out and holler if you see anything."

They raced through the shadowy streets that pointed straight to where the sunlight had disappeared behind the horizon. The stench of the river grew stronger as the chill wind carried it to them. They reached the street where the last row of warehouses squatted at the edge of the island. The men fanned out, searching the shadows for a darker shadow. A few s.h.i.+ps lay docked farther down, but here the berths were empty. Frank scanned the skyline, willing his eyes to see in the dark, cursing Terrance Udall and praying for Catherine with alternating breaths.

"Here!" a voice called off to his left. He ran toward it. They all did.

Frank saw him then, a faintly darker silhouette standing at the edge of nothingness. His arms were empty, and Frank's heart lurched in his chest. He was too late.

"Udall!" he called.

The silhouette turned. "Who's there?"

"Malloy. Where is she?" He ran now, closing the distance between them as quickly as he could. Maybe he wasn't too late. If he'd just dropped her in, there was a chance. He could jump in the water and maybe . . .

"She's here," he said as Frank reached him, grabbing him by the lapels, ready to throw him in after her.

"Where did you drop her? Where is she?" He was already peering over the side, trying to see something, anything, in the inky blackness.

"She's here," he said again, his voice breaking as if he were weeping.

"She's here," one of the cops said. He'd knelt down.

That's when Frank saw it, the bundle lying at their feet. The bundle Udall had carried out of the hotel. The bundle that wasn't moving.

"What have you done to her?" Frank shouted.

"Nothing, I swear!"

The cop had unwrapped her and another struck a match. They all stared down at her sweet face, so pale and still in the flickering light.

"He's killed her," one of the cops said, and Frank drew back his fist to smash in Udall's face, but he started screaming.

"No, no! She's just sleeping, I swear. Look at her!"

Frank pushed him away and knelt down. More matches flared as the first went out.

"She's warm," the cop who'd unwrapped her said.

Frank laid his hand on her chest and thought he detected the slightest rise and fall. "Let's get her back to the hotel," he said and lifted her small body into his arms.

SARAH'S FATHER HAD BROUGHT HOME COPIES OF ALL THE newspapers he'd been able to find that carried the story of Catherine's kidnapping. The single sheet "Extra" editions had been produced by the smaller newspapers, which thrived on sensation. The hastily written stories varied in accuracy, but they all contained the important information: Terrance Udall had kidnapped a four-year-old girl whose life was in danger. A two-thousand-dollar reward was offered for information leading to her safe recovery.

"That Italian fellow suggested the 'safe recovery' part," her father explained. "Very intelligent young man."

"Gino is handsome, too, isn't he, Maeve?" her mother said.

Maeve very wisely shrugged and made no comment, and Sarah smiled in spite of herself.

"How did you figure out that this Udall was involved?" her father asked.

"Mr. Malloy did it," her mother said. "I must confess, it was amazing to watch him. I wish you could have seen it. First he accused Mr. Hicks."

"Hicks? What would he have to gain?"

"I think it must have been a ploy just to throw the others off." Her mother went on, enthusiastically describing the scene and her amazement at how Malloy had finally arrived at the correct conclusion.

"I'm sure he never thought for a moment that Ozzie had really killed Miss Hardy, but he even had me believing he did," she said.

"And Gilda was actually encouraging him to," Sarah added, remembering. "She would have let her own husband be arrested for a murder her lover committed."

"But it was Mrs. Brandt who figured out that Gilda was the one who'd killed Anne Murphy," Maeve said.

"Really?" Her father's admiration warmed her for the few seconds before the truth of their situation overwhelmed her again.

"Sarah, I wish you'd drink some sherry or at least some tea," her mother said, easily reading her thoughts. "You haven't had a bite to eat all day."

The thought of food revolted her, and Sarah wasn't sure she'd ever eat again if she had to live in a world without Catherine. "Maybe some tea," she said to please her mother, although she doubted she'd be able to swallow any.

Her mother got up to ring for the maid when her father said, "Was that the doorbell?"

No one wondered who could be calling at this hour. They ran out into the hallway. Sarah reached the stairs first and leaned over the railing just as the maid opened the door to admit Malloy. He carried something but she couldn't make out what it was.

She cried out and he looked up. For one second she was so very afraid . . .

Then he smiled. "She's all right."

Sarah flew down the stairs, Maeve and her parents close behind her.

"Catherine, wake up," Malloy said, shaking the bundle in his arms. "Your mama's here."

"Mama?" she said, her eyes fluttering open.

"Yes, my darling, I'm here!" Sarah s.n.a.t.c.hed the child from him, joy flooding her as she enfolded her in her arms. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"She's fine," Malloy said. "She slept through most of it."

"I'm hungry," Catherine said, making everyone laugh with relief.

"We'll get you something to eat right away," her mother said through her tears. "You can have anything you want."

"Why is everybody crying?" Catherine asked.

"Because we're so happy to see you," Maeve said, lovingly smoothing Catherine's ratty hair. Her beautiful dress was crushed and bedraggled, some of the bows missing and others untied.

"Where did you find her? What had he done with her?" Sarah asked Malloy, who stood back a bit from the group gathered around her. Even the maid was weeping, Sarah noticed.

"It doesn't matter now," he said. "We can talk about it later. I have to go down to Headquarters and question him."

"Can't it wait until morning?" Sarah asked, wanting to share her happiness with him.

"The sooner I can talk to him, the less time he'll have to make up some story to protect Gilda. I would've done it right away, but I wanted to bring Catherine to you first."

Tears flooded Sarah's eyes, and she reached out to him. "Thank you."

He took her hand for just an instant. "I have to go."

"You'll come tomorrow and tell us everything, won't you?"

"Yes."

"We should telephone Mr. Wilbanks," her mother said. "The poor man will want to know immediately."

"Michael Hicks went to tell him," Malloy said. He reached up and touched Catherine's cheek. "Good night, little girl."