Murder in Murray Hill (Gaslight Mystery) (9 page)

“No, Mr. Livingston, please,” Sarah said. “Let Mr. Malloy worry about him. You’ll only be in the way.”

“Who are you?” he asked when he’d realized who was holding him.

“I’m Mrs. Brandt. I was assisting Mr. Malloy.”

“I know. I followed you here. Are you with the police?”

“No.” Even her old friend and well-known progressive Police Commissioner Theodore Roosevelt hadn’t allowed women to serve on the police force. “I’m Mr. Malloy’s fiancée.”

He turned to Maeve. “Is this the house?”

“That’s where he was going to take me, yes.”

Before either of them realized his intent, he’d broken free, bounded up the steps, and started pounding on the front door. “Open up! Open the door!”

This hadn’t been any part of their plan. Maeve was supposed to make a discreet escape without doing anything to arouse suspicion. All they wanted was to find out where this man lived. Sarah watched helplessly, wondering what she should do. Malloy would probably have told her to stop Livingston, but obviously that was no longer possible.

The door opened.

“Where is she? Where’s my Grace?” he demanded of the startled maid, then pushed past her before she could answer and ran into the house shouting his daughter’s name.

Sarah and Maeve hurried up the stairs.

“What’s going on?” the maid demanded. “Who are you? And who was that?” she added, gesturing to where Livingston had disappeared into the house.

“He’s looking for his daughter, who was kidnapped,” Sarah said. “He thinks she’s being held prisoner here.”

The maid didn’t look as shocked as Sarah might have expected. “Nobody’s being held prisoner here.”

“Who lives here?” Maeve asked.

The maid looked her up and down as if assessing her right to be there at all. “And who’s asking?”

Before Maeve could act on the fury that question engendered, Sarah quickly said, “We’re working with the police, and if you cooperate, you won’t get in any trouble.”

“I don’t have to worry about trouble. I haven’t done anything wrong,” the girl said, a little haughtily for Sarah’s taste.

“Then don’t start now. Who lives here with Mr. Pendergast?”

This surprised her. “Pendergast don’t live here.”

“Then who does?”

“Just Mr. Neth and me. That’s all.”

So his real name was Neth.

“Then why did he bring me here to meet his mother?” Maeve asked, showing the maid she wasn’t the only one who could be haughty.

Her eyes widened, and the color drained from her face. “He brought you
here
? Pendergast? Where is he?” She stuck her head out the door and looked anxiously up and down the street.

Sarah was beginning to reconsider their theories about Pendergast. “He ran away.”

She turned back to Maeve. “He brought you
here
to meet his mother?”

“That’s what he told me,” Maeve said. “Are you sure there’s no one else here? No young woman named Grace?”

“There’s no one,” she said faintly. “See for yourself.” She stood back so they could enter.

They stepped into the foyer. Sarah wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but the house was like a million others in the city. Furnished fashionably if not opulently, the home of a comfortable middle-class family. Or bachelor, if the maid could be believed.

“Mr. Livingston!” Sarah called.

A sound drew her attention, and she looked up to see Livingston stumbling down the stairs. He was sobbing uncontrollably.

She and Maeve rushed to help him before he fell.

“She’s gone,” he said brokenly. “My Grace is gone.”

“Have you searched the whole house?” Sarah asked as they helped him down the remaining stairs.

“Grace!” he called halfheartedly. “Grace, are you here? She’d come if she was here, wouldn’t she?” he asked.

“Maybe she’s locked in somewhere and can’t come,” Sarah said. “We need to make a systematic search. Do you have a telephone?” Sarah looked over to where the maid had been standing, but she was gone.

F
rank didn’t think he was that much older than Pendergast, but he wasn’t running for his life either. That was probably the reason he’d lost Pendergast after several blocks. Gasping for breath, Frank retraced his steps, trying to figure out where his quarry had turned off. He found an alley that Pendergast could have ducked down right after turning the corner, in the moment Frank had lost sight of him. But when he ran down it, he found it let out on the next block, and Pendergast wasn’t there either, at least not anymore. He could have gone anywhere, Frank knew.

Silently cursing, half-sick with fury, he made his way back to the house where he’d left Maeve and Sarah. Damn Livingston for ruining everything. Well, at least they knew where the man lived, and by now they may even have found Grace, if she was still alive to be found. They’d find Pendergast, too. If he owned a house or even just rented it, someone would know his true name. He couldn’t hide anymore.

Frank had expected to find Sarah and Maeve on the sidewalk in front of the house, although why he had, he couldn’t really say. In their place, he would have gone inside looking for Grace Livingston, and that was apparently what they had done. Oddly, they’d left the front door hanging wide open.

He stepped inside. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except for some white cloths lying in a heap by the door. “Sarah? Maeve?”

“Malloy, is that you?” Sarah called from above him. He looked up and saw her peering down the stairs from the floor above.

“Have you found her?”

“We haven’t found anything up here. See if there’s a cellar.”

Almost an hour later, they had searched every inch of the place only to find no Grace Livingston and no one else either.

“Does he live here alone?” he asked them. They’d found only one bedroom that appeared to be occupied.

“The maid said it was just the two of them,” Sarah said.

They’d gathered in the main parlor, a well-furnished room that had seen little use. Livingston sat on a horsehair chair, grim in his despair.

“What maid?” Frank asked.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. After you went after Pendergast, Mr. Livingston ran up and started pounding on the door, and a maid opened it.”

“She seemed really surprised when we told her Pendergast had brought me here,” Maeve said.

“She probably didn’t know that’s the name he uses when he’s on the prowl.”

“Oh, she recognized the name,” Sarah said. “That was the funny part. She knew who he was, and she said he doesn’t live here, so she was also surprised he’d brought Maeve here, to this house.”

“That’s right,” Maeve said. “She said the man who lives here is named Neth.”

Frank frowned. “So Neth isn’t Pendergast?”

“That seems to be the case,” Sarah said.

“So which one brought Maeve here?”

“We have no way of knowing.”

“Where’s this maid?”

“She disappeared when we weren’t looking,” Sarah said.

“Well, maybe not
disappeared
,” Maeve said. “She left her cap and apron on the floor, and I think she just ran out.”

Frank remembered the white cloths he’d seen by the front door. “You mean she ran away?”

“Wouldn’t you if a crazy man came pounding on your front door and accused you of kidnapping his daughter?” Maeve asked with a meaningful glance at the despairing Livingston.

“Joanna?” a male voice called from downstairs.

The three of them froze, eyes wide with surprise. Frank put his finger to his lips and pointed at Livingston. “Keep him quiet,” he whispered. Sarah went to him, touched her fingers to his mouth, and gave him a warning look.

“Joanna, where are you?”

“Answer him,” Frank whispered to Maeve.

“Here,” she called.

Frank stepped out of sight of the open parlor door and flattened himself against the wall.

They could hear the man running up the stairs. “You need to pack my things. I have to go away for a while.” He stopped at the top of the stairs, looking around. He was the one who had met Maeve in the park.

“In here,” Maeve called again.

“What’s going on?” He took a few hesitant steps toward the parlor door.

Maeve stepped forward so he could see her plainly.

“You! What are you doing here?” He started for her. “You little bitch, I ought to—”

As soon as he cleared the doorway, Frank tackled him. He fought like a tiger, but Livingston lunged up to help, and between the two of them, they got him pinned, helpless, on the floor.

“Get something to tie him up,” Frank said, and Sarah was there almost instantly with some tasseled ropes she’d ripped off the draperies.

In a matter of minutes they had him trussed and in a chair. He glared up at them, furious in his defeat. He looked even less prepossessing than he had in the park, with his hair hanging in his eyes, his collar coming loose, and his nice new suit all rumpled. “Where’s Joanna? What have you done with her?”

“Is that the maid? She ran off,” Frank said.

“She wouldn’t do that. She’d never leave me.” If they’d thought he was lacking confidence when he was in the park with Maeve, he was more than confident of this fact.

“Where’s my daughter?” Livingston demanded. “Where’s my Grace?”

“I don’t have your daughter. I don’t have anybody’s daughter. You can search the house and see for yourself.”

“We have, so we know you don’t keep them here. Are they with Pendergast? Is he the one who keeps them?”

For a second Neth’s very ordinary face registered alarm, but then it vanished. “Oh, you know his name from the letter.”

Frank exchanged a glance with Sarah, who took the hint. “We know it from Joanna, too. She said that’s where you take the girls.”

“You’re lying! I never take the girls at all!”

“Oh, so you do know about Pendergast and how he kidnaps unsuspecting young women?”

“No! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You might want to change your mind about that. I’m sure when we find Pendergast, he’s going to try to blame everything on you.”

“Where is she?” Livingston grabbed Neth by his lapels and half pulled him from the chair. “Just tell us where she is.”

“I’ll tell you.”

They all turned to the doorway. A young woman stood there. She wore a black maid’s dress without the cap and apron. For some reason Frank had the impression it was a costume, although that was ridiculous. Who would dress up like a maid if she wasn’t one?

“You must be Joanna,” Frank said.

“Joanna!” Neth cried as Livingston released him in disgust. “Help me! Get me out of here.”

She gave him a brief glance, then turned back to Frank. “If I tell you where Pendergast is, will you let him go?”

“After we get Pendergast.”

“What will you do with him in the meantime?”

Frank glanced at Neth, whose eyes were now wide with renewed terror. “Lock him up at Police Headquarters for a few hours.” The instant the words were out of his mouth, he realized that he no longer had the authority to lock anyone up. He only hoped whoever was on duty today would see the wisdom of it. “As soon as we find Pendergast, we’ll let him go.” Another promise he couldn’t keep and might not even want to.

“I’ll take you to him, then.”

“Joanna, no!” Neth cried, but she ignored him.

“Is that where we’ll find the girl?” Frank asked.

She shrugged. “If he has her.”

“You can’t betray him,” Neth said, obviously terrified.

She had no beauty to speak of, but for a maid, she had a strange dignity, Frank realized, and she gathered it about her now as she stared at Neth. “Why did you bring that girl here?” She gave Maeve a glance sharp enough to draw blood.

Neth’s anxious gaze darted around the room as if looking for an escape or at least an ally. When he found none, he turned back to Joanna. “He told me to. He said she was . . . special.”

“Huh,” Joanna said contemptuously and gazed around at their guests meaningfully. “He smelled trouble, and he wanted you to find it instead of him. Did he tell you to keep the girl for yourself?”

“I . . . No, of course not!” he said, desperate now and probably lying through his teeth.“She was for him, same as always.”

Her face tightened, as if she were in pain. She would know he was lying, and the knowledge wounded her. Frank pitied her for a moment. “Just give me Pendergast’s address. We’ll find him.”

“I don’t know the address, but I can take you there.”

“Good. Are you on the telephone? I need to call Police Headquarters,” Frank said.

She glared at Neth for one more moment. “Yes. I’ll show you.”

“Joanna, why are you doing this?” Neth looked as if he might weep.

“I’m doing it so you won’t go to jail, you fool. Now shut up before you get yourself into any more trouble.”

Frank exchanged a glance with Sarah, who looked as puzzled as he. Neither of them had ever heard a maid talk to her employer like that before. Apparently, things were not exactly as they seemed here in Mr. Neth’s home.

• • •

T
he wait for the police to arrive seemed interminable to Sarah, especially because Mr. Livingston kept wanting to leave Neth’s house to find his daughter. Malloy didn’t want to take a chance that Neth would escape or warn Pendergast so he could get away, though, so they waited. They were all relieved by the pounding on the door.

Malloy went to answer it, Sarah at his heels.

“Officer Donatelli,” she said as he entered, so happy to see him that she could have hugged him.

The handsome young man smiled, tipping his helmet. “Mrs. Brandt. What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” Malloy said for her. Two other beat cops followed Gino Donatelli inside. Sarah noticed they were staring at Malloy.

“He don’t look like a millionaire,” one of them said to the other.

Malloy glared at them both, which shut them up but didn’t stop them from staring.

“They only agreed to come because they wanted to see you,” Donatelli said. “You’re a seven-day wonder.”

Malloy looked like he might explode, but he said, “Did you bring a Black Maria?”

“Of course. Who is it we need to take in?”

“He’s upstairs.” Malloy briefly told them the story of the missing girl and their plan to follow Pendergast here to find her. “But this fellow isn’t Pendergast after all. His maid is going to take us to him. She says he’s the one who keeps the girls, and it’s only a few blocks from here.”

The other two officers were now staring at Malloy for a different reason. They were obviously as interested in this case as he was.

“We’ll load this fellow into the Maria, and one of you will take him back to Headquarters,” Donatelli said. “The other one will go with me and Mr. Malloy to pick up this Pendergast.”

But both of the others were shaking their heads. “You might need help with this Pendergast fellow. You don’t know what you’ll find there, and then you’ll just have to send for us to take him in anyway. Why don’t we go with you with the Maria?”

Malloy nodded. “Let’s get Neth.”

The other two officers followed Malloy upstairs while Donatelli waited with Sarah.

“I’m so glad you were on duty today,” she said. Gino Donatelli had proved himself useful in several of the cases she had helped Malloy solve.

“They always make the dagos work on Sunday.” As an Italian, Gino would be a minority on the mostly Irish police force.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said.

“I’m not. I might’ve missed this.”

She returned his boyish smile.

The two other officers came clumping down the stairs with Neth between them. They’d replaced the curtain ties with handcuffs.

“You can’t arrest me,” he was saying. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” one of them said, giving him a friendly shove that sent him stumbling down the last three steps.

Donatelli caught him and set him on his feet again.

Malloy was behind them with Joanna, and Maeve and Livingston brought up the rear.

Gino’s face brightened. “Miss Smith, I didn’t know you were still here.”

Maeve did not see fit to reply to this, although Sarah could tell she was pleased to be noticed.

Malloy turned to her. “Maeve, will you make sure Mr. Livingston goes straight home and wait with him there until I come?”

“I’m not going home,” Livingston said. “Not when Grace is so close.”

“Mr. Livingston, we know what we’re doing. Let us do it.”

“I know I ruined your plans earlier, but I won’t interfere this time, I swear. I’ll wait outside and stay out of your way, but I want to be there when you find her. I want to take her home.”

Sarah knew exactly how he felt. “Maeve and I will make sure he doesn’t interfere.”

“And who’s going to make sure you and Maeve don’t interfere?” Malloy asked in exasperation.

One of the officers holding Neth made a noise that might have been a smothered laugh. Malloy sighed. “All right. Put Neth into the Paddy wagon and let’s go.”

Malloy set out with Joanna, not waiting for the others. Gino easily caught up with them while his cohorts threw a protesting Neth into the Paddy wagon. One of them climbed up to drive while the other trailed after Malloy and the others on foot.

Sarah and Maeve fell in on either side of Livingston, who didn’t acknowledge them with so much as a glance.

Their odd procession was separated as oblivious pedestrians with their own destinations in mind failed to realize the two police officers and the other five oddly matched individuals belonged to the same group. Livingston set a brisk pace, determined not to lose them in the noisy streets. Behind them, lumbering along, came the large enclosed wagon known as a Black Maria, somehow managing to keep up in spite of the traffic.

Luckily, Joanna had not lied about the distance. They’d gone only half a dozen blocks when she stopped and pointed.

Malloy, Gino, and the other officer were discussing how best to approach the house when Sarah and her group reached them.

“What are you waiting for?” Livingston demanded.

Malloy gave him an impatient look. “If Pendergast suspects we’re onto him, he might kill Grace. Is that what you want?”