Murder on St. Nicholas Avenue (9 page)

“Who is this ‘we'?”

“Me, of course. And Mr. Malloy's in-laws, and a policeman named—”

“Wait a minute. Who are these in-laws?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Felix Decker.”

“And who are they when they're at home?”

“They're society people, but—”

“Rich?”

“I suppose.”

Henry's frown frightened her. “Are you sure you aren't running a con?”

“No, I told you! The Deckers are just helping out because they're nice people. Well, Mrs. Decker is nice, and Mr. Decker likes to be in charge.”

“So who's paying my fee?”

Another question Maeve didn't particularly care to answer. “Mrs. Pollock is paying it herself. Her husband had some money that she inherited when he died.”

“How much money?”

“Enough. More than enough, actually.”

This pleased him. “And what do you mean she inherited it?”

“I mean he's dead and now it's hers.”

“And where is it?”

“In a safe place.”

Henry studied her for a long time, but she knew her face gave nothing away. “The old man trained you well, my girl.”

“Yes, he did. I thought Mrs. O'Neill gave you some money.”

“She gave me a retainer.”

“Then why are you worried?”

“I guess I'm not. And she's got money for bail?”

“Yes, she does. I just wanted you to know that we're trying to find out who really killed Pollock, and when we do, Mrs. Pollock will be off the hook. In the meantime, I know she'd like to be out of jail.”

“I'll see what I can do about that.”

“Good, and if you need anything, just let me know. Here's where I live.” She gave him one of Malloy's calling cards.

“That's not a very fancy address for a millionaire,” Henry observed.

“Mr. Malloy's not a very fancy man. There's something else I need to tell you about Una Pollock.”

Henry folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. “And what's that?”

“Pollock used to beat her.”

“Who told you this?”

“One of the maids. She said the servants heard an argument the day Pollock was killed, but they claim they didn't see anything. They thought it was Pollock shouting at his wife like he did when he was beating her up, so they went down to the kitchen and hid out until it was over.”

“And do you know for sure that this is true?”

“I don't know if it was true the servants heard shouting the day Pollock was killed, but I don't think they have a reason to lie about it. I do know that somebody was beating Una Pollock. I helped her change her clothes today at the jail and she's covered with bruises.”

“Maybe the killer beat her up.”

“Some of the bruises were new, but some were old and fading. Whoever beat her did it regularly.”

“Why didn't the police notice the bruises?”

“Because he never hit her anyplace where it would show, so they wouldn't have seen the marks.”

“This is all very interesting.”

“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “The question is, what do you want to do with that information?”

“I want to keep it to myself for the time being.”

“Because it gives her a reason to kill Pollock?”

“It would seem like that to most people, yes. I happen to
know from years of experience that these women hardly ever kill their husbands, though. Just the opposite. They spend their miserable lives trying desperately to please them and never succeeding and then mourning them when they do die. They hardly ever even try to defend themselves. You can't convince a jury of twelve good men the truth of that, though. They either believe the fellow beat his wife because she deserved it and don't consider the beating an excuse for killing him, or they think the woman made it up as an excuse for killing an upstanding pillar of the community. Either way, they find her guilty and send her off to prison for the rest of her life.”

“And if a man kills his wife when he's beating her?”

“Which is what usually happens, in my experience. Like as not, they'll decide he didn't mean to and let him off. Unless he did something unspeakable, like cut her up into little pieces and feed her to the dog, in which case they'll send him to Old Sparky. But not many men are that imaginative.”

“So I guess I shouldn't tell anyone about the bruises.”

“No, my dear, you shouldn't, but feel free to find out who really did kill Pollock, if you can. Even if Mrs. Pollock did it, it will be helpful to know how it came to pass so we can explain it in just the right way to the jury.”

Maeve frowned at that, but she said, “I'll do my best.”

G
ino was pleased to see Maeve open the door at the Malloy house that evening. Of course the children were with her, eager to see who their visitor was, and he had to greet them properly before he could turn his attention to her. But still, he'd been looking forward to seeing her all day.

After he'd done his duty with Brian and Catherine, Mrs. Malloy took them off, ordering Maeve to feed him.

“I just had supper at my mother's house,” he said. “I couldn't eat another bite.”

“Then let's go into the parlor. The children aren't allowed in there,” she added with a conspiratorial grin. She slid open the pocket doors to the large, elaborately furnished room. He'd expected it to be chilly, but then he remembered the house had central heating. “Did you have an interesting day?”

“No,” he said, watching her turn on the electric light. “Just
the usual shoplifters and drunks. Walking a beat is dull work when you've been a detective.”

“I had an interesting day.” She sat down on one of the sofas, and he sat down beside her.

“Tell me everything.”

She started with her visit to the Pollock house and the break-in.

“I hope you didn't tell any of the servants that you'd taken the money.”

“Of course not,” she said. “If they knew it was there, they must think the burglar got it. And he's the only one who knows he didn't, of course.”

“Why didn't they call in the police?”

“They're scared, and they're just servants. They don't think it's their place to make decisions like that.”

“The police should know, though, in case the person who broke in is the one who killed Pollock.”

She frowned at this. “They think they already know who killed Pollock, and they aren't going to change their minds unless we make them.”

He wanted to argue with her, but she was right. “All right. I guess that trunk in the hall is Mrs. Pollock's clothes.”

“Yes. I'm not sure what to do with it, but we should probably go see Mrs. O'Neill soon and she can decide. Maybe I should've asked Una when I saw her today, but I didn't think of it.”

“You saw Una? You went to the Tombs?” he asked in amazement.

“Of course. I packed up some of her clothes to take to her and pretended that's why I was visiting her. Can you believe it? She was hiding in her cell, all curled up on her bed, and still wearing the dress she had on when they found her. It was covered with blood.”

“You mean the police didn't take it for evidence?”

“Obviously not. I made her change into something clean, though.”

“What happened to the bloodstained dress?”

“I've got it. I'm not sure if it proves anything one way or the other, but I figured it should be someplace safe. But the best news is that I got Una to talk.”

“How did you do that?”

“She said I scared her, but I can't imagine I scared her any more than the police or the guards at the prison or even the other inmates. I think she was just waiting for the right person to talk to.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don't know, but have you ever seen anybody so scared they couldn't talk?”

Gino thought back to his limited experience in police work. “Once or twice, when something awful happened.”

“And how long did it last?”

“A few minutes or maybe even the better part of an hour.”

“But not days. They said she couldn't speak, but I think she just didn't know what to do so she kept her mouth shut.”

“That was probably a good idea, at least with the police.”

“Maybe, but she wouldn't talk to her lawyer either, so he didn't even try to get her out on bail.”

“Who's her lawyer?”

“Henry Nicholson.”

Impressed, Gino gave a low whistle. “He's the best defense attorney in the city. How did she get him?”

“I told her mother to hire him.”

“You did? How do you know about Henry Nicholson?”

“Everybody knows about him. Like you just said, he's the best defense attorney in the city,” she said, mocking him.

He decided not to point out that a nursemaid shouldn't
have any reason to be familiar with defense attorneys. Maeve had led an interesting life in the years before they'd met, though, and she plainly wasn't ready to share it with him yet. He was pretty sure she'd never needed Nicholson's services herself. At least he thought he was sure.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I asked him to get her out on bail.”

“Nicholson? Was he at the jail when you were there?”

“No, I went to his office after I saw Una.”

“You went to his
office
?”

“Of course. How else was I going to see him? Anyway, I wanted to ask him about something else, too, and he told me not to tell anyone, but I don't think he meant I shouldn't tell you and the Deckers. I did tell him we were trying to find out who really killed Pollock, and he said we should keep doing that.”

“How generous of him.”

She smiled at the bitterness in his tone. “You have to stop thinking like a policeman, Gino.”

“I
am
a policeman.”

“And so you hate Nicholson because he defends the people you arrest.”

“And he gets guilty people off.”

“Everyone in America is entitled to a legal defense.”

He knew Maeve hadn't just thought that up. That was what defense attorneys always said when they got a guilty person sprung from jail, so she'd heard it from one of them. Probably from Nicholson himself. Maybe it was good Gino didn't know much about Maeve's past. “So what did you find out that Nicholson told you to keep secret?”

Before she could reply, the doorbell rang.

Maeve jumped up to answer it. “That's probably the
Deckers. They telephoned to say they're coming over. They have something to tell us.”

The next few minutes were chaotic as the children had to greet the Deckers and the Deckers had to greet Gino and Mrs. Malloy had to insist they all needed coffee. Then she finally took the children off with her to make some.

“I'm glad you're here, my boy,” Mr. Decker said when they were back in the parlor and Maeve had closed the pocket doors behind them. “We're hoping you can help out at the Pollock house.”

“I'd be happy to, sir,” he said, a little disconcerted that Mr. Decker had a particular job for him.

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Decker said, taking one of the chairs while her husband took the one next to it. “We weren't expecting you to be here, but I'm delighted that you are. It will make everything much simpler.”

Maeve sat on the sofa and Gino happily sat next to her again.

“What will it make simpler?” he asked.

“The Pollock servants, you see,” Mr. Decker said.

“They're afraid to stay in the house because someone broke in last night and ransacked Pollock's office,” Mrs. Decker said.

“They want to quit, but they need references. Mrs. Decker promise to write them, but—”

“But we decided we shouldn't leave the house empty, in case someone comes by looking for Pollock or the money or something,” she said.

“So Mrs. Decker isn't going to give them their references—”

“Or their back pay,” she added.

“—until we're satisfied we can abandon the house. We don't think the servants will leave without their pay or their references—”

“But just in case they're too afraid to stay there alone, we were hoping you could spend your nights at the house, Gino.”

“To provide some protection,” Mr. Decker said.

Gino needed a minute for his brain to catch up with them, and when he looked at Maeve, she was smiling.

“That's a wonderful idea,” she said, “and while you're there, you can charm the maids into telling you all about the Pollocks.”

“How clever of you, Maeve,” Mrs. Decker said, also smiling.

“What do you mean, ‘charm the maids'?” Gino asked, not certain he liked this plan at all.

The two women exchanged a knowing glance that made Gino even more uncomfortable.

“Just be nice and chat them up,” Maeve said. “Pretend you're interested in them and listen to what they say. Ask questions.”

“That's what I'd normally do,” Gino protested.

“Of course it is, dear,” Mrs. Decker said. “And you can't help being charming.”

Was that true? Did Maeve think he was charming? He'd be sure to ask her that very thing the next time they were alone.

“Would you be willing to spend a few nights at the Pollock house to make the servants feel more secure?” Mr. Decker asked. “We'd pay you for your time, of course.”

“Out of Pollock's money,” Maeve added.

That didn't sound right to Gino. “What if that money belongs to someone else?”

“Of course it belongs to someone else,” Maeve said, “and they wouldn't be getting a single penny of it back if we'd let somebody steal it. They also wouldn't be getting all of it back ever, because Pollock already spent some of it. So if we spend a little more helping save his wife and finding out who really killed him, then they should be grateful to get anything at all instead of nothing.”

“How very sensible, Maeve,” Mrs. Decker said.

“Well, it doesn't matter if it's sensible or not, because you don't need to pay me,” Gino said. “None of you are getting paid.” While they were all gaping at him, he added, “Of course I'll stay at the house and question the maids. What should I tell them about the reference letters and their salaries?”

“Tell them we will have it for them in a few days,” Mrs. Decker said. “And if they have any concerns, they can come to me.”

“That should eliminate any complaints,” Mr. Decker said slyly.

“And another reason we're glad you're here, Gino,” Mrs. Decker said, “is because we had an interesting visitor today and we need to tell you both about him.”

“Somebody on Pollock's list?” Gino asked.

“We don't think so,” Mr. Decker said. “But we couldn't remember for sure. We need to make a copy of the list.”

“We should have thought of that before,” Maeve said. “I'll get the ledger and make a copy before you leave.”

“Two copies,” Gino said. “I may come across some of these people.”

“Good idea,” Mrs. Decker said.

“So who was your visitor?” Maeve asked.

“A Mr. Yorke, from Chicago,” Mrs. Decker said.

“Apparently, Pollock was in Chicago before he came here. Yorke says his sister was married to Pollock,” Mr. Decker said.

“
Was
married?” Maeve asked. “Why isn't she married to him anymore?”

“Because Pollock claims she's dead,” Mr. Decker said.

“But Mr. Yorke doesn't want to believe she is,” Mrs. Decker said. “Pollock claimed she died in childbirth over a year ago, but he never notified the family, it was never announced in the newspapers, and he wouldn't tell them where she's buried.”

“Do they think Pollock murdered her?” Maeve asked.

“Oh dear, no,” Mrs. Decker said. “They think he put her out, and she was too ashamed to come home.”

“You mean that's what they
hope
,” Gino said. Everyone turned to him in surprise. “As long as they don't know for sure that their loved one is dead, people will believe all kinds of things.”

“So you think she's dead?” Mr. Decker asked.

“I think there's a good chance. Maybe she did die the way he said and maybe he killed her. We don't really have any reason to think he did, but—”

“Yes, we do,” Maeve said. This time everyone turned to her. “It's what I was going to tell you just when the Deckers arrived,” she told him. “I found out from the maid today that Pollock used to beat Una.”

Mr. and Mrs. Decker were shocked, but hardly anything shocked Gino anymore. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I saw the bruises when I helped her change clothes today.”

“You saw her?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“Yes. I went to the Tombs after Mr. Decker brought me home.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were going to do this?” Mr. Decker asked.

“Because I was afraid you'd try to stop me. Then after I left Una at the Tombs, I went to see her lawyer.”

“Her lawyer? Whatever for?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“Because if Pollock was beating her, it was a reason for her to kill him.”

“And what did Nicholson say?” Gino asked.

“Who's Nicholson?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“Henry Nicholson, her attorney,” Maeve said.

“She hired that scoundrel?” Mr. Decker asked.

“Maeve told Mrs. O'Neill to go see him,” Gino explained, earning a black look from Maeve.

“Mr. Nicholson said not to tell anyone about the bruises,” Maeve said, still glaring, “but I thought all of you should know. It's important that it doesn't get out, but I knew I could trust you not to mention it to the press.”

“The press?” Mrs. Decker said. “What do they have to do with it?”

“Nothing yet,” Gino said, “but sooner or later they'll get wind of the case. Probably when Nicholson asks for a bail hearing.”

“The mere fact that Nicholson is involved will attract the press,” Mr. Decker said.

“Who is this Mr. Nicholson?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“I'll explain it to you later, my dear,” Mr. Decker said. “In the meantime, we have Mr. Yorke and his family to deal with.”

“I don't see why we have to deal with them at all,” Maeve said.

“But if we can help them find out what happened to Cecelia, shouldn't we do that?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“I doubt we can help with that,” Gino said. “It happened in Chicago, after all. But if we can show that Pollock's first wife disappeared under mysterious circumstances, we could make a case for self-defense if Una really did kill him.”