Murder on St. Nicholas Avenue (23 page)

“So it's settled. I'll start returning the investors' money as soon as I figure out how much each of them should receive.”

“What if one of them killed Pollock and Truett?” Gino asked.

“It's still their money. They can use it to pay for an attorney,” he added with an ironic smile.

“And what about Mr. Yorke?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“I can definitely go see him tomorrow,” Gino said.

“I'm glad we got all that settled,” Mr. Decker said, “but that's not the reason we asked you to come here this evening, of course.”

“What did Una's note say?” Maeve asked. She'd been dying of curiosity ever since Mrs. Malloy had given her the message, but the Deckers had distracted her.

“It was a telegram, actually, although I can't imagine how she got away to send it with the reporters on her doorstep.” Mrs. Decker handed it to Maeve.

“It's to
Mr.
Decker,” she noticed.

“I'm sure she felt he would be the most sympathetic to her plight,” Mrs. Decker said with just a hint of sarcasm.

“I can't help it. I was trained from birth to protect helpless females,” Mr. Decker replied with a glint in his eye.

“It's too bad you don't know any helpless females,” Maeve said, earning a grin from Mrs. Decker.

Gino had leaned over to read the message, too. “She wants you to come to the house, but she doesn't say why.”

“I think we can assume she thinks he can assist her in some way,” Mrs. Decker said. “She must be going crazy with her house surrounded by reporters all day.”

“But she told me she didn't want our help,” Gino said. “She didn't even want me in the house.”

“She doesn't need help from a poor Italian police officer,” Maeve said gently. “She does need help from a rich, middle-aged society gent.”

Gino's dark eyes widened with understanding. “I see!”

“We see as well,” Mrs. Decker said. “Which is why we're sending you to help her,
Gino.”

“I
t'll be midnight before we get there,” Maeve said. “I don't know why we had to take their carriage.”

Gino grinned in the darkness of the comfortable vehicle. When he was alone with Maeve, he didn't care how long it took to get there. “Are you in a hurry to see Mrs. Pollock?”

He couldn't see her expression, but he could imagine her adorable scowl. “No, but I thought you would be.”

“I can wait. Besides, Mr. Decker was right. Una Pollock is much more likely to open the door to us if we arrive in his carriage.”

“The newspapers will love it, too.”

“Yeah, they might put your picture on the front page this time. ‘Beautiful Irish Girl Rescues Widow.'”

“They'd never say that.”

“They said I was handsome,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but you really are handsome.”

Gino silently cursed the darkness that hid her expression. Did she really mean that or was she teasing him? When he was in Cuba, the men had spent a lot of time talking about the mysteries of women, and he'd thought he'd learned a lot. He couldn't remember anything that would help him now, though, so he had to rely on honesty. “And you really are beautiful.”

Had he stunned her speechless? She didn't reply for a full minute, and then she said, “More beautiful than Una Pollock?”

Gino didn't need anyone's advice to know the right answer to this question. “No.”

He waited for Maeve's gasp, then added, “She's just pretty. You're beautiful.”

If he'd expected Maeve to melt into his arms, he would have been disappointed. Luckily, he hadn't expected any such thing. “And you, Officer Donatelli, are full of malarkey.”

“I'm not an officer anymore,” he reminded her, happy to realize it no longer hurt to say so.

“But you aren't denying the malarkey?”

“I don't even know what that is.”

“Ask Mrs. Malloy.”

“Which one?” he teased.

“The old one. She'll be only too happy to explain,” she teased right back.

Gino settled back into the seat, glad Maeve couldn't see his expression, because he was grinning with satisfaction. For once he'd said exactly the right thing to her. She'd scoffed at his compliments, but she wasn't mad at him. This was definitely progress.

“What do you suppose she wants?” Maeve asked after a minute.

“Mrs. Pollock? Money, probably.”

“You think that's all?”

Gino considered. “What else could it be?”

“Pretty girls like Una Pollock are used to having men look after them.”

“Who looked after her before Pollock?” he asked.

“The man who owned the cigar store, for one. He rescued her from a factory, where she probably got the easiest jobs because the foreman there thought she was pretty. Before that, she probably got special treatment at school, and before that—”

“And how could you know all this?”

“Because I've seen it before.”

“Is this what happened to you? You got special treatment because you're so pretty?”

“I thought I was beautiful,” she said a little sharply.

“Beautiful, then. You got special treatment because you're beautiful?”

“No, I didn't, because I'm not pretty or beautiful. I'm just an ordinary girl with ugly red hair who got teased all the time. The teacher never picked me to pass out papers or clap the erasers.”

“Who wants to clap erasers? And your hair isn't ugly. Whoever said that is an idiot.”

“Anyway, Una is probably looking for a new man to take care of her, and Mr. Decker must seem like a good prospect.”

“But he's married.”

“Rich men can take care of more than one woman.”

Gino needed a minute to think about this. “You mean she wants to be his mistress?”

“I mean she'd probably do anything for a man who'd get her out of trouble. Why do you think Mrs. Decker sent us instead of him?”

“He didn't want to go either,” he reminded her.

“I know. I never liked Mr. Decker very much before, but now . . . Well, I think he really loves Mrs. Decker.”

“Just like Mr. Malloy loves Mrs. Brandt. And my father loves my mother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about how there are lots of men in this world who love their wives . . . In case you were wondering.”

Maeve would, of course, never admit if she'd given this matter any thought. “You're crazy.”

“Probably. I still think Una wants money.”

“Or a man who has it.”

“It's the same thing. So do you think she knew about the money in the safe?”

Maeve thought this over for a minute. “I can't believe she did.”

“Why not?”

“Because she wasn't upset at all when she found out she'd been robbed. If that was me, I would've been screaming bloody murder. Nobody acts calm if they've lost thirty-seven thousand dollars.”

“Yeah, Mr. Decker said she was mostly worried about the damaged chairs.”

“Which is why she couldn't possibly have known about it. And because she didn't know about the money, she's not wondering where it went or looking for it. Instead she decided she'd ask the richest man she knows for help.”

That made sense, except she wasn't getting the richest man she knew. She was getting Gino. “Why did you decide to come with me tonight?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

Ah, so Maeve didn't want to answer that question, which made Gino think he'd like her answer very much. “You know what I mean. Mrs. Decker said I should go and find out what she wants. You didn't need to come.”

“I just wanted to hear for myself what she has to say.”

“I would've told you tomorrow.”

She sighed in the darkness. “I thought you might need a chaperone.”

“You think I'm in danger from the lovely widow?” he asked in feigned amazement. “She can't be interested in me. I don't even have a job.”

“She doesn't know that. For all she knows, you're still working for the police.”

“Oh, and she'll think maybe I can do something for her.”

“I don't know what she thinks, but I told you, girls like that use people. Even Mrs. Malloy told me she's a sly one.”

“Mrs. Malloy thinks everybody is a sly one.”

“In Una's case, she's right.”

Gino thought this over and decided he liked her reasoning just fine. “Thank you for coming along to protect me, Miss Smith.”

This earned him a swat on the arm, which made him grin much more broadly than he would have dared if it hadn't been so dark in the carriage.

*   *   *

M
aeve couldn't believe how many reporters were standing on the sidewalk outside the Pollock house. “Don't they get cold?” she asked as the carriage pulled to a stop across the street.

“They're used to it, I guess. It's what they do.”

“But it's so late. I thought they'd be gone by now.”

“They're hoping something will happen, like one of the richest men in town driving up in his fancy carriage to pay the widow a visit.”

“Oh, that would make a good story for the front page. No wonder Mr. Decker didn't want to come.”

“They'll probably find out this is his carriage, so I guess I need to make sure they see my face and know I'm not him.”

“How would they find out it's his carriage?”

Gino sighed. “You don't have much experience with newspaper reporters, do you? As soon as they realize we're here to see Mrs. Pollock, they'll be climbing up to bribe the coachman, and if that fails, they'll probably follow us home.”

“I don't want them coming to the Malloy house!”

“Then we need to tell the coachman to let himself be bribed.” Gino reached up and knocked on the roof to let the driver know they were ready to get out.

“Don't forget your hat,” Maeve said, shoving the top hat into his hands.

He settled it on his head. “This is a really nice coat. I think I'll get one like it.”

Maeve snorted at the thought. They both knew the coat cost a small fortune. The Deckers had given them Mr. Decker's overcoat and hat and one of Mrs. Decker's coats and a fur muff to wear. They didn't care about fooling the reporters, but they were afraid Una wouldn't open the door if she knew who her visitors really were.

The carriage sagged as the coachman climbed down from his perch, then bounced back before the door swung open.

“You've had a busy day today, John,” Gino said to him as he adjusted his hat as low over his eyes as he could, and pulled his scarf up over his chin.

“These past few days is the most excitement I've had in a long time,” the driver replied, reaching up to help Gino out.

“They're going to offer you money to tell them who the coach belongs to, so go ahead and take it. Just don't tell them the truth. Tell them who I really am so Mr. Decker's name doesn't end up in the newspapers.”

“I'll do that,” he replied with a grin.

“Wait until I signal you,” Gino said over his shoulder, making Maeve groan. Did he think she'd forget?

Gino hesitated a moment, probably gathering his courage, then started across the street toward the mob of reporters who had been watching their arrival with great interest to see if they would turn into a possible story.

As soon as they realized Gino was heading toward them—and consequently toward the Pollock house—they all started shouting at once and surging at him. He ducked his head and barreled forward, shouldering the bolder ones aside when necessary. Maeve hoped she didn't have to fight her way through like that. She wasn't nearly as big as Gino.

The driver still stood holding the door open and ready to hand her out when the time came. “I'll come get you if they get too rough,” he whispered.

“Thanks.”

The gaslight from the streetlamps cast too many shadows to see exactly what was happening, but someone in a top hat had reached the top of the front steps and pounded on the front door. It opened immediately, so Una had obviously been watching.

“Now,” the driver said, taking her arm.

Maeve hopped out, snatched up her skirts, and ran across the street before the reporters realized she had even been in the coach. They were all looking up to where the man in the expensive overcoat and top hat stood before the open front door. He'd turned to look down at them, or so they thought. He was really looking to see where she was.

She managed to worm her way through to the bottom of the steps, earning some grunts of displeasure but no real notice until she started up the steps.

“Hey, who's that?” someone yelled.

Maeve didn't look back. Someone tried to grab her arm, but she shook them off, and then she was clear and Gino reached out his hand. She took it and he pulled her inside.

Hattie slammed the door on the surge of outraged reporters determined to find out who had just outsmarted them. Their furious roar made Maeve wince.

“Are you all right?” Gino asked.

“I'm fine.” She shook out her skirts and looked up to see Una Pollock standing in the parlor doorway. If the reporters had been furious, Una was enraged.

“What are you doing here, and where is Mr. Decker?” she demanded.

Gino swept off his tall hat and sketched her a little bow. “He couldn't come, so he sent us.”

Una gave a howl of rage, turned on her heel, and disappeared back into the parlor, slamming the door behind her.

“She's been upset,” Hattie said by way of apology. The poor woman looked like she hadn't slept much since Maeve had last seen her.

“I'm sure,” Maeve said. “It must be hard with those reporters out there all the time.”

“We can't even go out to get food,” Hattie said.

“I'll tell Mrs. Decker. She'll make sure you get some provisions,” Maeve said, removing Mrs. Decker's coat and handing it to Hattie.

Gino handed her his coat and hat, too, then eyed the parlor door warily. “Should we try to talk to her?”

“I don't think we have much choice if we want to find out why she needs help. Or is it just the food?” she asked Hattie.

“I don't know, miss. She got real upset this morning. She was screaming at poor Eddie something awful. Then she made me go out to send Mr. Decker the telegram. I had to walk for blocks, but they were still following me. I finally got on the El. They got on behind me, so I waited until it was starting to leave and then I jumped out. I could hear them shouting when the train pulled out, but I got away.”

“Oh, Hattie, that was very clever,” Maeve said.

“I don't know about that,” she said with a sigh. “I was thinking how easy it would be to just keep going and never come back here, like Jane did.”

“Jane? Did she leave?”

“Oh yes, miss. She left yesterday morning. Even before Mrs. Pollock come home. She must've packed up all her things and hid them out back somewhere when nobody was looking. I sent her out to the market that morning, and she never come back. We checked her room and it's cleaned out. But I couldn't leave Velvet and Eddie here alone, so after I sent the telegram, I come back. I was starting to think nobody got the message, though.”

“The Deckers were out all afternoon, so they didn't see it until late,” Maeve said, stretching the truth a bit. She looked at the parlor door again. “Do we dare go in there?”

“Oh, for pity's sake.” Gino strode over to the door like he was going to throw it open, but to Maeve's amusement, he stopped and knocked softly instead. “Mrs. Pollock? We're here to help you.”

Apparently, she didn't reply. He looked back to Maeve, shrugged, and opened the door. Maeve didn't think she would've been that brave. He did hesitate a moment, in case a vase came crashing, but when nothing happened, he pushed the door wider and stepped in.