Murder on St. Mark’s place

She hesitated a moment, looking at George’s grimace of pain, but she apparently decided to obey him. She darted away. Frank figured Mrs. Brandt would catch her up and take care of her. At any rate, she was no longer his concern.

“Are you her father?” George said, his voice high with terror. “Stepfather, I mean. Look, it’s not what you think!”

“How do you know what I think?” Frank inquired genially as he smashed George’s face into the brick wall.

“Owww!” he cried, but he didn’t struggle. He had more sense than that. “She was willing!” he tried. “I didn’t force her. It was even her idea!”

“That’s not exactly what a father wants to hear, George,” Frank said. “Maybe you should try a different story.” He gave George’s arm a little pull.

“Owww! I didn’t mean no harm!”

“What did you mean, then, bringing a girl into an alley like that?” Frank asked, his voice still friendly, even if his actions were not. “Maybe you had something in mind. Like maybe you were going to start hitting her.”

“Hitting her?” he gasped in surprise. “Why would I do that?”

“Oh, maybe because you hate her. You hate all women, don’t you, George? You think they all deserve to die.”

“Die? What’re you talking about? Who are you?” he was starting to sound frantic now.

“I’m Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy of the New York City police, and I’m investigating the deaths of several young women in the city.”

“What do you want with me, then?” he asked, his words distorted because Frank was pressing his face a little harder into the bricks. And because he was terrified.

“Because you knew them. You knew all of them,” Frank said, exaggerating a bit for effect. “And we know you bought at least one of them a gift right before she died. Also very interesting, she was killed right after you got angry because she danced with someone else one night.”

“Who…? Gerda? Is that who you mean?” He sounded almost relieved. “You think I killed her?”

“The thought did cross my mind, especially after I heard you got into a fight with her over her seeing another man.”

“If that’s all you want, you can let me go.” He sounded relieved. “You don’t have to hurt me anymore. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Why don’t you get started, then, and when I’ve heard something I like, I’ll think about letting you go.” He gave George’s arm a little twist that made him shudder with pain.

“I did give her a hat,” he said quickly, his voice high again and much faster. He was in a hurry to get this over. “She and I… Well, she earned it, is all I can say. She liked pretty things and was willing to do whatever it took to get them.”

“It’s not very gentlemanly to talk about a lady like that, George,” he chastised him.

“Gerda was no lady,” he said. “You can ask anybody.”

“Maybe I will. So you bought her this hat, and then she found somebody with more brass and gave you the gate.”

“Made me mad!” George admitted. “One day she was my girl, and the next day she wouldn’t even dance with me. Said she found somebody could give her even nicer things. Showed me these red shoes he’d give her. They wasn’t even good quality! I know quality. That’s one thing I know. But she didn’t care. They was flashy. That’s all she cared about. She never cared a fig for me.”

“Did you care a fig for her?” Frank asked.

George didn’t want to answer that one until Frank gave him a little encouragement. “I liked her all right,” he admitted on a gasp of pain. “She was a lot of fun when she felt like it.”

“And when she didn’t feel like it anymore, you took her into an alley and beat her to death.”

“No! I never touched her! I never even saw her after that! She went off with some fellow, and I never saw her again. Nobody did. That’s the night she got killed.”

“Who was the fellow?”

“I don’t know. She never said his name.”

“What did he look like?”

“I never saw him!”

“And I suppose you can account for your whereabouts for the rest of that night.”

“I… I don’t… I stayed at the dance hall until it closed, I think. Then I went home.”

“Alone?”

“I think so. I can’t remember! I was mad at Gerda, and I drank too much.”

“So much you might not remember beating her to death?”

“No! I never touched her! I swear it!”

Frank released him with a disgusted shove. He fell against the wall, caught himself, and straightened slowly, rubbing his face and hugging his injured arm to him.

“I didn’t kill her. I swear it!” he tried.

“What about Eva Bower? I guess you didn’t kill her either.”

“Who?”

“Eva Bower. Her friends said you’d been paying her particular attention right before she turned up dead.”

“I don’t… Eva, you say?” He honestly didn’t remember.

“Her friends said you bought her a hat. I assume she earned it the same way Gerda did.”

“Eva?” he repeated, still trying to recall. “Oh, yeah, peacock feathers! She wanted one with peacock feathers! Now I remember. She was… Did you say she was dead?” He was incredulous.

“Yes, I did. She died the same way Gerda did. Last winter. Not too long after you bought her the hat with the peacock feathers.”

“I hadn’t seen her around, but I didn’t know anything had happened to her. Girls come and go, you see. They come to the dance halls for a while, until they get a steady fellow. Then they don’t need to go anymore. I thought she… I never heard about her being dead!” He sounded aggrieved.

“Well, she is. Just like Luisa Isenberg and Fredrika Lutz.”

“I don’t… no, wait, I remember Luisa. Big girl with yellow curls?”

Frank thought it a rather unflattering description, but he said, “That’s right.”

“She didn’t get a hat. Just some glass beads. She wouldn’t… Well, you know.”

Frank knew, but he didn’t say so. He was too disgusted.

“Did you say Luisa is dead, too?” George asked.

“Yeah, just like Fredrika. And what about Fredrika? What did she earn?”

George was still rubbing his face, and he paused, thinking. “I don’t remember her. Are you sure I knew her? What did she look like?”

“Maybe I could find out what kind of hat you bought her. Would that help?” Frank asked sarcastically.

His sarcasm was wasted. “I don’t think so. I don’t think I knew anybody named Fredrika. I would’ve remembered. My father’s name is Fredrick, you see, and it would’ve made an impression.”

Frank had to resist the urge to punch him just on general principles. He wouldn’t be of any use if he was unconscious. “How many girls have gotten hats from you, George?”

“I don’t keep a count,” he said, a little insulted.

“Maybe you should, since so many of them have turned up dead.”

“I never knew that Fredrika, so you can’t say I… Do you think I killed them all?” He was horrified. “Good God, what kind of a man do you think I am?”

“The kind who goes around seducing and abandoning as many young girls as he can find.”

“I don’t seduce them!” Now he was outraged. “Most of the time, they suggest it first! They know I’ll give them something nice. The hats are expensive. I get them at cost, but they don’t know that. It’s the only way they can get pretty things.”

“So they trade their virtue for a present.”

“It’s not like that! They… I never took a girl who was a virgin. They ain’t innocent, if that’s what you’re thinking.