Murder In Chelsea Part 5

"What happened last year, when they disappeared?"

Wilbanks frowned. "How do you know about that?"

"I'm investigating her murder. I've learned a little about her."

He didn't look like he believed that, but he said, "I really don't know what happened. I went out to visit one day, as I usually did, and they were gone."

"Miss Hardy didn't leave a note?"

"She didn't leave anything at all except the furniture, which I a.s.sume was too c.u.mbersome to carry away with her."

"Did you look for her?"

"Of course I looked for her! She had Catherine, and whatever my feelings for Emma, I love my daughter, Mr. Malloy. I would have moved heaven and earth to find her, but I had to settle for hiring a private investigator. He could find no trace of them, however."

Frank wondered how hard the fellow had tried, but he didn't want to upset Mr. Wilbanks again, so he didn't wonder it out loud. "Do you think she left because of the argument you had with her?"

Wilbanks gaped at him. "How do you know about that?"

"Just a.s.sume I know everything about your affair with Miss Hardy. What did you argue about?"

"I thought you knew everything."

"I want to compare your version with the one I heard."

Wilbanks snorted his disbelief. "I don't know whose version you heard, but I'm sure it was a lie. I asked Emma to marry me. That's what we quarreled about."

Frank blinked in surprise. He could usually tell a lie when he heard one, and this sounded like a whopper, but Wilbanks wasn't lying. Frank would've staked a month's pay on it. "First of all, I thought you were already married."

"I was. I was married when I met Emma, but my wife pa.s.sed away a little over a year ago. I was then free to marry whomever I chose, and I asked Emma to be my wife."

"And you're saying this is why you quarreled?"

"Yes. Emma did not want to marry me."

This made no sense at all. "Why on earth not?"

"You flatter me, Mr. Malloy, although I'm afraid you may a.s.sume my main attraction is my ability to support a family in a certain amount of luxury. Emma did not find that ability irresistible, however. By then, she'd returned to her career as an actress, if you can call it that. She was still a chorus girl and never likely to be anything more, but she liked being on the stage. She did not like being stuck at a house in the country with a young child, and she most definitely did not want to be stuck in a large house in the city with a young child and an aging husband, no matter how much money he might have."

Frank scratched his head in confusion. "She doesn't sound like she would've made a good wife, Mr. Wilbanks. Why were you so eager to marry her?"

"I wasn't."

Now he was really confused. "Then why did you ask her?"

"Because I wanted to legitimize my daughter's birth, Mr. Malloy. I wanted to raise her in respectability. I made a terrible mistake when I took up with Emma Hardy, but Catherine was an innocent and did not deserve to be tainted by my mistakes. Marrying her mother was the only way to give her the life I wanted for her."

"So you're saying that after she refused your marriage proposal, Miss Hardy packed up Catherine and Miss Murphy and disappeared."

"Shortly after that, yes."

"Did you tell her to get out if she wouldn't marry you?"

"Of course not. I still wanted to be able to see my daughter."

"If she wouldn't marry you, why not just take the child and cut Emma loose?"

"I might have done just that eventually. As I said, I wanted Catherine to be legitimate, and marrying Emma was the easiest way to do that, but my son-in-law was still investigating my other legal options when Emma disappeared. He's an attorney."

So far, Frank was pretty sure Wilbanks had been honest with him. Now it was time to test him. "Maybe your son had something to do with Emma leaving town."

"My son? What does Oswald have to do with this?"

"He went to see Miss Hardy shortly before she disappeared."

"That's impossible! He knew nothing about her."

"You're wrong about that. He visited her at least twice and frightened her pretty badly, from what I understand."

Wilbanks straightened in his chair, his eyes blazing. "Who are you getting your information from?"

"From Anne Murphy."

"You said she was already dead when you found her."

"She told her story to someone else the day before she died. Miss Murphy didn't know what pa.s.sed between Miss Hardy and your son, but it wasn't pleasant, and you said yourself, she left town shortly after that. Maybe he found out you wanted to marry her, and he didn't like the idea of sharing the family fortune with his father's mistress and b.a.s.t.a.r.d child. Maybe he threatened her."

He'd expected Wilbanks to explode at that, but to his surprise, he sank back into his chair and covered his face with both hands.

"Mr. Wilbanks? Are you all right?"

When he lowered his hands, his face was white, his eyes blazing. "I've told you everything I know about Anne Murphy, Mr. Malloy. Now when can I see Catherine?"

"That isn't my decision."

"Then whose decision is it? And don't toy with me. I can have your job."

"You wouldn't like my job, Mr. Wilbanks," Frank said, knowing he was foolish to taunt a man as powerful as Wilbanks but unwilling to be bullied all the same. "And I have to consider what's best for Catherine."

Wilbanks was furious, but he knew how to control it. His eyes narrowed. "You speak as if you care about her."

"I do. I've known her for almost a year."

"You said she lives with a family. Is it your family?"

Frank could only wish. "No, but I know them well."

"How did they get her?"

"When Miss Hardy and Miss Murphy ran away, they separated. Miss Murphy took Catherine, and Miss Hardy told her to hide and that she would contact her when it was safe."

"Safe from what?"

"She didn't tell Miss Murphy, but Miss Murphy thought she feared for her life. At any rate, Miss Murphy was afraid to keep Catherine with her in case whoever was after Miss Hardy were to find them, too. So she dropped Catherine off at a settlement house here in the city."

"Good G.o.d!"

"She thought Catherine would be safe there, and as it turned out, she was right. Eventually, one of the women who volunteer there took Catherine to live with her. The first anyone knew anything about Catherine's background was when Miss Murphy went to the settlement house the other day looking for her."

"And how did you get involved in all of this?"

"The matron at the settlement house refused to tell Miss Murphy where Catherine was. She wanted to check with Catherine's guardian first. The guardian asked me to speak with Miss Murphy and find out if she really did have a claim on the child. She cares for Catherine very much and has no intention of turning her over to a total stranger."

"I am not a total stranger, Mr. Malloy. I'm her father. This guardian, as you call her, can turn her over to me with a clear conscience."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Of course it's a good idea. She's my daughter!"

"Anne Murphy went looking for Catherine, and a few days later someone murdered her."

"That has nothing to do with Catherine."

"Are you sure? I'm not. And until I am, I'm not going to risk her life." Frank waited, watching Wilbanks's anger flare and then die as Frank's words sank in.

"Mr. Malloy, as you can see, I'm quite ill. My doctors give me a few months at the most. I want to spend them with my child, and I will do whatever is necessary to make that happen."

FRANK THOUGHT ABOUT STOPPING BY TO SEE SARAH. She'd be worried sick, but the news he had to give her would upset her even more, so he was in no hurry to deliver it. Besides, if he waited until this evening, Catherine would be asleep, and they'd be able to speak freely. He decided to find the address on the letters Emma Hardy had sent to Anne Murphy.

It was an old house just off Broadway. A wealthy family had built it long ago when this had been a fas.h.i.+onable part of town. Now it was a boardinghouse, like so many others in the city. A young woman answered his knock, striking a pose in the doorway. She looked him up and down and grinned a little too boldly to be a maid. "And what would you be wanting?"

"I'd like to speak to the landlady."

"Would you now? And what if the landlady is busy?"

"Then tell her Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy of the New York City Police is here to see her."

Her grin vanished. "What is it? What's happened?"

"I need to speak to the landlady."

She started away, then caught herself. "Come in," she called back and hurried down the hall toward the back of the house. Frank stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind him. The place looked like all the other boardinghouses he'd ever seen except this one seemed a little brighter somehow. Maybe it was the garish yellow wallpaper.

Two young women peered at him from the parlor.

"Are you a copper?" one asked.

"Detective sergeant."

They exchanged a knowing look. "Who're you here to pinch?" the other one asked.

"Who do you think?"

They grinned at that, flirting a little. They were bold, but not like wh.o.r.es. And their clothes were a little too flashy, but not that way. He couldn't put his finger on it at first, and then . . .

"Are you actresses?"

"Of course," the first one said, as if insulted he had to ask.

"Mrs. Dugan only rents to actresses."

"Chorus girls," an older woman said as she came down the hall toward him. "Get in the kitchen, you two, and help Maggie or there won't be no dinner tonight," she said to the girls, who hurried off.

"You must be Mrs. Dugan," Frank said.

She'd been a handsome woman in her youth, probably a chorus girl herself, and age had dimmed her only slightly. "Nell Dugan, and what would you be wanting with us, Mr. Detective Sergeant?"

"Can we talk in private?"

Alarm flickered over her face, but she said, "In here." She directed him to the parlor where the two girls had been and closed the door behind them. "Is one of my girls in trouble?"

"Do you know Emma Hardy?"

"Emma?" She looked relieved. She apparently had no love for Emma Hardy. "Is that who you're looking for?"

"You know her?"

"Yes, I know her. I know a lot of girls who work in the theater."

"You mostly rent to actresses? Chorus girls, I mean."

That made her grin. "Yes. I used to be in the chorus myself. Married an actor, which I don't ever recommend. He left me, like they all do, and when I got too old for the stage, I managed to get this house. The girls don't always pay their rent, but they keep me young. What do you want with Emma?"

Frank pulled two letters from his pocket. "She sent these to Anne Murphy at this address."

"Did she? I guess Anne did get some letters while she was here."

"She was living here, then?"

"For a few months. The better part of a year, I guess."

"When did she leave?"

"A couple weeks, maybe. I don't know. Time goes so fast nowadays. Oh, wait. She was here just the other day, to get her mail, she said. I thought it was a joke." Mrs. Dugan glanced at the letters. "Is she the one in trouble?"

"Anne Murphy is dead, Mrs. Dugan."