Murder in Chelsea (26 page)

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of the ladies, but I don’t think we’ll find him at his flat.”

“I know,” Frank said. “But we’ve got to start somewhere.”

“He couldn’t have done this alone.”

“No, he probably hired someone. That’s easy enough to do if you know the right people. Do you have any idea who it could have been?”

“Yes, I do.”

Frank gaped, but only for an instant. “Who?”

“He’s a client of mine. He, well, as soon as Mrs. Brandt said Terrance’s name, I remembered how friendly he’d been with Klink. And if I wanted to hire some kidnappers, I’d go to him myself.”

Frank decided not to tell Hicks his opinion of attorneys who did business with people like this Klink. “Then take me to him.”

Frank had kept a half-dozen officers with him in case he needed help. He sent two of them to Terrance Udall’s flat, just in case. He and Hicks took two more and headed downtown to visit the mysterious Mr. Klink.

14

“M
RS.
H
ICKS, WOULD YOU RING FOR THE MAID?
I
’D LIKE
to see if our coachman is recovered enough to take us home,” Sarah’s mother asked.

Sarah couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from Gilda Wilbanks. She stood ramrod straight with her back to them, feigning interest in something out in the street. She’d been standing like that the whole time Wilbanks had been visiting with Catherine. Had she somehow signaled the kidnappers? Of course she had. She’d planned everything.

“Shouldn’t someone tell Mr. Decker about this Udall character?” Maeve asked.

“Yes,” Sarah said, tearing her attention away from Gilda. “The newspapers need to say we’re searching for him as well.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Gilda said. “You’ll ruin him with your innuendos!”

“Good,” Lynne Hicks said. “Should I send one of the servants?”

“I’ll go,” Maeve said. “I need to do something, and a servant might not be able to get to him.”

“Oh, Maeve.” Sarah reached out and embraced her, hugging her fiercely. “Be careful.”

“We’ll find her, Mrs. Brandt,” she said, but it sounded more like a prayer than a promise.

* * *

I
T’S EARLY, BUT
I
THINK WE’RE MOST LIKELY TO FIND
Klink at his saloon,” Hicks said as they hurried down Avenue B in the heart of the German neighborhood known as
Kleindeutschland
. “As far as I know officially, you understand, Klink is a respectable businessman, but one hears rumors.”

“I don’t come to this part of the city much,” Frank said, “which means there’s not a lot of violence here.”

“That’s because men like Klink keep it out.”

Even though the winter sun hadn’t set yet, the bar was already crowded with workingmen enjoying a beer after their half day of work. They wouldn’t be drunk enough to be rowdy for a while, though, and they showed only the usual interest in the well-dressed attorney and his companion that strangers would elicit in any neighborhood bar. Frank had left the two uniformed patrolmen out in the street. No sense alarming anyone unnecessarily.

Hicks went straight to the bartender and asked for Klink. The bartender, a portly man in a stained apron, looked Frank over with a disapproving frown, then disappeared into the back. When he returned, he led them down a short hallway and into a cramped office, where a wily German fellow sat behind a cluttered desk. He didn’t stand up.

“Hicks, what are you doing here, and why have you brought a cop to my saloon?”

Hicks glanced at Frank in surprise. “How did you—”

“They always know,” Frank said. “I’m not here to cause you any trouble, Klink. We need your help.”

“I don’t help the police.”

“Not the police,” Hicks said. “My family. My . . . niece has been kidnapped.”

“She’s four years old,” Frank said.

This seemed to disturb Klink, but he said, “I don’t know anything about this.”

“Terrance Udall came to you for help,” Hicks said. “I don’t know what fairy tale he told you, but it was a lie.”

Klink smiled grimly. “If you don’t know what he told me, how do you know it was a lie?”

“Did he tell you he was going to murder the child?” Frank asked, glad to see Klink’s shock. “Because he is. She’s all that stands between him and inheriting a fortune.” It wasn’t quite true, but near enough, and it had the desired effect.

“Hicks, is this true?”

“He plans to kill her, yes,” Hicks said. “He already killed her mother.”

“What do you know about it and where can we find Udall?” Frank asked.

Klink rose and pushed past them to open the door. He hollered for Willy, and the bartender came running. Klink whispered something to him, and the man hurried off. Klink closed the door.

“He came to me,” he said, going back to his seat behind the desk. “Udall. He said you had a client who needed help. A woman. Her husband had thrown her out and taken her child. He was going to help her get the girl back. No one would be hurt, he said. I don’t kill children, Mr. Hicks. You did not need to bring the police.”

“Mr. Malloy is here as a friend of the family and because he can call upon the resources of the police department to find Catherine.”

They stared at each other for long moments, mistrustful and suspicious, waiting for whatever Klink was waiting for. Frank needed every ounce of his limited self-control to keep from diving across that desk and choking the information he needed out of Klink. The only thing stopping him was the certainty that Klink did not yet have that information.

Finally, someone tapped on the office door, and Klink said, “Come.”

The door opened to reveal a nondescript little man with a ferret face wearing workingman’s clothes. He hesitated when he saw the two strangers glaring at him.

“Come in, Erich, and close the door,” Klink said.

He did, never taking his eyes off Frank.

“Tell them what you did today,” Klink said.

“This one’s a copper,” he protested.

“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 snatch 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. Nobody 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. Nobody 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 God 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 shirtfront 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 God. 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 ships 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.

* * *

S
ARAH’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.