“And there was George, don’t forget,” Bertha reminded them. “He bought her that fancy hat.”
Hetty nodded grimly. “George liked her a lot. He got mad one night when she danced with somebody else.”
“What night was that?” Sarah asked, her interest quickened. “Was it near the time she died? Was it before or after he gave her the hat?”
“After, I think,” Bertha said, glancing at Lisle, who was frowning. Plainly, she didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken.
Sarah waited for her verdict. “Yes, it was after,” Lisle reluctantly recalled. “She was wearing the hat that night, I think. That’s what started the fuss. George thought she should only dance with him, but she was tired of him.”
“That’s right,” Hetty remembered. “She’d found somebody she liked better. He had more money to spend, too. He’d treated her to dinner at a real nice place, she said.”
The other girls nodded.
“And George was jealous,” Sarah guessed.
“I guess you could call it that,” Bertha allowed as the girls exchanged a look.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not like George was in love with her or anything,” Lisle explained. She sounded almost as if she were defending him. “He just… he wanted to…”
“She’d let him do it,” Hetty said baldly when Lisle couldn’t find the proper words. “He wanted to do it some more, but Gerda was finished with him once she got the hat.”
“Was Gerda fickle?” Sarah asked.
The girls gave her a blank stare, not understanding.
“Did she often change her mind about which man she liked best?” Sarah tried.
“She never liked any of them,” Bertha said. “Not really.”
Lisle nodded her agreement. “She never cared for anybody much. She just went with anyone who could show her some fun.”
“She liked a man who’d treat her,” Hetty added. “The more he’d spend on her, the better she liked him.”
“And she’d found someone more generous than George, so naturally, he was angry,” Sarah said. “Do you know George’s last name or where he lives?”
“He wouldn’t kill anyone,” Lisle said too quickly, and Sarah remembered that Lisle had also taken a gift from him. That meant she’d had a relationship with him, too. Did Lisle have tender feelings for him? If so, she’d better tread softly.
“I didn’t say I thought he was the killer,” Sarah said. “But maybe he would remember who the other man was or know his name. We need to question everyone who might know anything at all. It’s the only way we’ll find Gerda’s killer before he kills someone else.”
This sobered them instantly. After a moment Lisle said, “I never heard George’s last name.”
“I think he said Smith, but that’s probably a lie,” Hetty said. “Sometimes they don’t tell you their real names.”
Sarah could believe that. She wrote “George Smith” with a question mark. “What else do you know about him?”
“He sells ladies notions to the stores in town. Siegel-Cooper, Ehrichs, Simpson-Crawford, Adams & Co., and O’Neils,” Hetty said, naming all the big department stores on Sixth Avenue. “At least he claimed he did,” she added.
“He had nice things in his sample case, that’s certain,” Lisle said. Sarah thought she sounded wistful.
“Have you seen him lately?” Sarah asked.
The girls tried to remember. “I don’t think so,” Bertha finally decided. The others agreed.
“He ain’t been around since Gerda…” Lisle didn’t have to finish the thought.
“Please let me know if you see him in any of the dance halls, won’t you?” Sarah asked. “And it wouldn’t hurt to ask around and find out if anyone knows more about him.”
They looked grim now. Plainly, they didn’t relish the role of detective the way Sarah did.
“Do you know any of the other girls who were killed?” she asked. “Well enough to know who their male companions might have been?”
They considered.
“I used to see Luisa at the dances sometimes,” Hetty allowed.
The others weren’t sure. Obviously, they weren’t too interested in which other females attended the dances.
“Do you know any of their families?” Sarah asked. “Maybe you could introduce me.”
“Why would you want to meet them?” Lisle asked.
“To find out what men they knew in common.”
The girls looked at her pityingly. “Their families ain’t likely to know such a thing,” Lisle said. “You’d best ask their friends. Like us, that’s who’d know.”
They were right, of course.
“Do you know any of their friends, then?” she asked with a smile.
Two MORE DAYS passed before Malloy came in response to the note she’d sent him. She was sitting in her backyard, savoring the cooler evening breeze and feeling awful because she’d lost a baby that afternoon. The cord had been wrapped around his throat, and he’d suffocated before ever seeing the world. Sarah knew there was nothing she could have done, no way she could have known or prevented it from happening, but she still hated failure. The mother had been inconsolable. She’d lost another one before this, too, a baby born before its time and too small to live. She had placed all her hopes on this one since she’d managed to carry it to term. The babe had been perfectly formed, too. All his fingers and toes and a face like an angel. But dead. Sarah had tried every trick she knew to revive him, but to no avail.
When she heard someone knocking on her door, she rose wearily, praying it wasn’t someone summoning her to another birth. She didn’t think she could face another possible tragedy today. Which made her actually happy to see Malloy on her front stoop.
He looked as formidable as ever in his wrinkled suit and bowler hat. His shirt needed a fresh collar. She thought of her father, always impeccably dressed. Felix Decker considered himself a force in the city, a man to be reckoned with because he had money and power. Sarah imagined he wouldn’t last five minutes if Malloy decided to give him the third degree. The thought cheered her a little.
“Malloy, come in, and you’d better have some information. You kept me waiting long enough.”
“It’s always a pleasure to see you, too, Mrs. Brandt,” he replied, and she thought she caught a twinkle in his eye as he passed her.
“I hope you let Mrs. Elsworth see you coming in here,” she said, closing the door behind him. “She’s a great admirer of yours.”
“I doubt anybody comes in here without that old bat seeing them,” Malloy said sourly, removing his hat. His dark hair was mussed, and he made an attempt to smooth it with his fingers, making it worse.
“Let’s sit outside where it’s cooler,” she suggested. “I didn’t have a chance to get any lemons today, so all I’ve got to offer is water or coffee.”
“Water,” Malloy said, probably thinking as she did that it was too hot for coffee, even though a freak storm the day before had dropped the temperature sixteen degrees in just a short while.
When they were seated at the table on her back porch, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small notebook. Sarah already had her notes in front of her.
“These girls knew a lot of men,” he said.
“All we have to do is figure out which ones they all knew,” Sarah reminded him.
“Except they might not have known the man’s real name. Or maybe their friends didn’t know they’d met the fellow or-”
“Stop being so discouraging, Malloy! Just show me the names you’ve gotten.”
“I wouldn’t think I’d need to show you anything, Mrs. Brandt. You’ve probably done more investigating than I have on this case.”
