Murder In Chelsea Part 9

"Can you find this actress?"

"I'll certainly try. Do you think she's with one of my touring companies?"

"That's what I was told. Her name is Emma Hardy."

"Emma? Why didn't you say so? Of course, of course. She's touring with Saints and Sinners. That's the name of the show, you know, not a commentary on her traveling companions, although now that I think of it, it very well could be that, too." He chuckled at his own joke.

"Do you know where they are now?"

Nathan frowned. "I . . . Wait a minute. I think . . ." He shuffled through one of the many piles of papers on his desk and found the page he was looking for. "They finished up in Philadelphia a week ago."

"A week ago? Are you sure?"

"Yes, indeed. They should have been back in the city by now. I haven't heard from any of the actors yet. They usually try to get a show in town after being on the road. They hardly ever do, but they always try. It's no fun playing a different town every night for months at a time. I expect to see them straggle in next week, wanting to know what I've got for them. Say, I wonder why Emma hasn't gone to get her kid by now."

Frank was wondering the same thing. But maybe she had. Maybe she'd found Anne Murphy and gotten upset when she found out Anne had lost track of Catherine. "The, uh, the family had to move. Maybe she can't find them. Look, let me give you my card, and if she comes by looking for work, you can tell her I know where her daughter is."

Nathan took the card, although his expression said he was starting to doubt Frank's story. "Certainly, certainly, always happy to help the police."

Frank thanked him and started to leave, then pretended to remember something else. "Say, can you tell me if my old friend Parnell Vaughn was in the play with Emma?"

Nathan's placating smile vanished. "What do you want with him?"

"Nothing. Just thought I'd say h.e.l.lo."

But Nathan shook his head. "Parnell never made friends with no police detective. You might want to say a few things to him, but none of them would be 'h.e.l.lo.'"

Frank tried a placating smile of his own. "I know he's a troublemaker. I was just wondering if Emma had gotten shed of him yet."

"Not likely. Seems like he's got some kind of spell on that girl. Don't know how many people have told her to kick him out, but she says she loves him. Oh, he's a good enough actor when he's sober and even most of the time when he's drunk, but he's pretty worthless otherwise."

"So he was on tour with her?"

"He was with the company when they left here, and n.o.body ever wired for me to send a replacement. That's about all I can say."

That meant he was probably still with Emma, roaming the city somewhere, maybe in search of Catherine and maybe not, and maybe they'd found Anne Murphy and maybe not, and if they had found her, maybe one of them had stabbed her and maybe not.

But if they had stabbed her, Frank figured they weren't likely to contact him about finding Catherine. He thanked Mr. Nathan and left the dingy office in the rundown building and then stood on the sidewalk out front, considering what to do next.

If Emma and Vaughn had indeed found Anne Murphy, even if they weren't the ones who stabbed her, she might have confessed to leaving Catherine at the Mission. Would they go there looking for her? Frank pulled out his watch. He still had several hours until his meeting with Wilbanks's attorney. He should probably stop by the Mission and at least warn Mrs. Keller that Anne Murphy was dead and Catherine's mother might come looking for her. He didn't think she'd tell anyone where Catherine was, but one of the girls might. Of course, Catherine was no longer at Sarah's house, but Sarah was, and he didn't want them anywhere near her.

He headed back to Police Headquarters. The Mission was only a couple blocks from there. He had just turned onto Mulberry Street when he caught sight of a familiar figure half a block ahead of him. He quickened his pace, catching up to her with no trouble.

"Sarah," he said when he'd reached her.

She looked up in surprise. "Malloy, what are you doing here?"

He loved the way she said his name and the way she always smiled when she said it. "I could ask you the same question. I thought you were going home."

"I think that's what my father intended. Did you notice he gave everybody else a task to accomplish today but me?"

Malloy wasn't going to admit any such thing. "Did he?"

"Yes, I had to make one for myself."

"So you're going to the Mission."

"Of course. I suddenly realized that we should tell Mrs. Keller what we've learned in case someone else comes looking for Catherine. Were you going there, too?"

"Yes, I just found out that Emma Hardy does have a lover, a man named Parnell Vaughn."

"What a charming name. He must be an actor."

"He is, but just in case you're interested, I have it on good authority that actors make terrible husbands."

"I will certainly keep that in mind," she said with a grin.

It was good to see her smile, but her eyes were still shadowed with worry. He wished he didn't have to add to it. "I also found out that Emma and this Vaughn character were on tour, just like Anne Murphy thought, but the show ended in Philadelphia a week ago."

"A week ago? Then they could be in the city now."

"They could have been in the city six days ago. That's the main reason I was going to the Mission. I wanted to be sure everyone there knows not to tell anyone who you are or where you live."

Sarah smiled grimly. "If they haven't already."

5.

"DEAR ME, HOW HORRIBLE," MRS. KELLER SAID WHEN Sarah had told her about Anne Murphy's death. "Do you have any idea who could have done it?"

They were crowded into Mrs. Keller's tiny office in hopes of keeping the tragic news from being overheard and frightening the girls at the Mission.

"Not yet," Malloy said, "but we do know that Catherine's mother and her . . . uh . . ."

"Paramour," Sarah supplied.

Malloy flashed her a grateful look. ". . . her paramour have been in the city for nearly a week. We don't know if they saw Anne Murphy or know she brought Catherine here, but we wanted to warn you in case they show up."

"Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I'm so sorry this happened. And now that poor woman is dead."

"You don't need to apologize. It wasn't your fault, Mrs. Keller."

She didn't look convinced. "I want you to know that I spoke with all the girls to find out if anyone had been asking about Catherine. I didn't want to alarm them because if they thought they'd done something wrong, they might not want to admit it, so I just asked if anyone had come by when I wasn't here. I said I'd been expecting someone and didn't want to miss them. No one admitted to it, at least, and I think they would have. I gave them no reason to deny it."

"That was very wise of you, Mrs. Keller," Malloy said. "But now I think you'd better warn them, just in case."

"Of course. Perhaps you could speak to them yourself, Mr. Malloy. They hold you in very high regard, and I think your warning would carry more weight. It's almost time for them to come down to eat. You both are welcome to join us. I think the girls would enjoy that."

"Thank you," Sarah said. "That's a good idea."

Malloy didn't look like he thought it was a good idea. He didn't seem to enjoy being the center of attention of a bunch of giggling girls as much as Sarah enjoyed watching it. "I can't stay long. I have an appointment this afternoon," he said.

Mrs. Keller smiled knowingly at his flimsy excuse. "The girls will be heartbroken, I'm sure. I'll go let cook know you'll be joining us."

When they were alone, Sarah said, "Do you really have an appointment?"

He raised his eyebrows, as if he were offended that she doubted him. "Yes, I do."

"With who?"

"Wilbanks's lawyer wants to see me."

"Oh, dear."

"I know. He probably has some legal paper he thinks will force me to tell him where Catherine is."

"Thank heaven we took her to my parents. Where is his office?"

"I don't know. I'm supposed to meet him at his house."

"His house? That's strange."

"Wilbanks told me his son-in-law is an attorney. Maybe he's doing this because he's family."

"I'm going with you."

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm going with you."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I'm tired of sitting at home waiting for you to come and tell me what you did."

He looked like he sympathized, but he said, "Sarah, I can't let you put yourself in danger."

"How could I be in danger in an attorney's house?"

"I don't know. For all we know, the message is a fake and this Hicks fellow is the one who killed Miss Murphy. I'm not going to take you."

Sarah sighed. "Then I'll just have to follow you."

"No, you won't."

"Or I can look this fellow up in the City Directory. Hicks, you say? There can't be too many attorneys by that name."

Malloy looked like he might start shouting, but Mrs. Keller returned at that moment. "Cook is just putting out our dinner. I already told the girls you'd be joining us, and they're very excited."

FELIX DECKER HAD SPENT A PRODUCTIVE MORNING AT his club, learning almost everything he needed to learn about David Wilbanks. He knew his business dealings, his approximate net worth, his family connections, his social standing, and his tailor. Rumors abounded that his health was failing, and he had not been seen around town in weeks. Everyone believed his son, Oswald, would run through his fortune in less than five years after he died.

Decker located Wilbanks's address and took a cab to his house. The maid showed him to the small room where unexpected visitors were relegated until the servants could determine if they were welcome or not and then took his message to Wilbanks. As he had expected, Wilbanks did not keep him waiting long. The maid escorted him into the well-appointed parlor where a man about his own age sat in an overstuffed chair beside a roaring fire.

"Mr. Decker, welcome to my home. Forgive me for not getting up, but I have not been well."

Decker shook the man's hand and realized that Wilbanks had probably not exaggerated his illness to Malloy. The skin stretched tightly over his once-handsome face, and his sunken eyes held a resignation he had seen more than once in those whom doctors had failed to help.

"Thank you for seeing me," Decker said.

Wilbanks smiled slightly. "Did you really think I would refuse after you told me you wanted to discuss my daughter?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Please, sit down and tell me why you're here."

Decker took the nearest chair, although it was unnecessarily close to the fire. The room, he'd noticed, was too warm, but even still, Wilbanks wore a quilted dressing gown and had a lap robe thrown over his legs. He felt almost guilty taking advantage of a man so weak, but he wouldn't let that stop him. "I don't believe we've ever met, Mr. Wilbanks."

"No, but of course I know who you are. The only thing I don't know is why you've taken a sudden interest in me and my family affairs."

"Because they are also my family affairs."

Wilbanks considered this information for a moment. "I had a visitor yesterday who told me Catherine has been living with a family. Is it your family?"

"My daughter's."

"I see. Can you tell me how this came about?"

"Did Mr. Malloy tell you how the nursemaid dropped Catherine off at a settlement house here in the city?"

Wilbanks's pain-filled eyes widened. "Malloy? Does he work for you?"

"You flatter me, Mr. Wilbanks. Although I have some minor sources of influence in the city, I do not control the Police Department. Even if I did, I do not believe Mr. Malloy is controlled by anyone." Decker did not have to feign his annoyance at this fact.

"And yet he reports to you."

"As a favor only."

"He told me he knows the family who has Catherine. He knows your daughter?" His surprise that Decker's daughter would know a policeman was plain.

"My daughter has always been a bit rebellious. She married against my will, and she has a rather unconventional circle of friends."

"I should say. Malloy told me Catherine's guardian was a volunteer at the settlement house."

"That is how my daughter met her, yes. Catherine is much younger than the girls who usually go there. I believe their main purpose is to keep girls from turning to prost.i.tution out of desperation."

"Prost.i.tution!" Wilbanks nearly choked on the word, and he turned scarlet. For a second Decker feared he might keel over with apoplexy.