watching him, which meant someone was very curious about the goings-on at the neighbors’ house. If that person was as nosy as Mrs. Ellsworth was about her neighbors, he could learn a lot about the Walcotts and their boarders.
The woman who opened the door had snow white hair and a round pleasant face. Her faded blue eyes glittered with delight at the sight of her visitor, and she clapped her hands together as she peered up at Frank.
“Are you from the police?” she asked breathlessly.
“Yes, ma’am, I am,” he said, removing his bowler hat and holding it in front of him respectfully. “Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions about your neighbors, Mrs…?”
“It’s Miss. Miss Edna Stone. Oh, my, no, I wouldn’t mind at all. I’m not sure I can help you in any way. I have no idea who killed that girl, you know. How could I? They said in the newspaper that she died in the Square. What a horrible thing.”
Frank nodded solemnly. “I was hoping you might have seen something that night. Maybe something you didn’t even realize was important at the time. Could I come in and speak with you about it?”
“Oh, gracious me, of course you may. Excuse the mess. I’ve been so upset about that poor girl’s death, I haven’t had a chance to tidy up.”
She escorted him into a parlor that was so spotlessly clean, even his mother couldn’t have found fault with it. He wondered what on earth she could do to tidy it up.
“Please sit down, Mr. Detective Sergeant. Would you like some coffee?”
Frank allowed that he would. If she gave him coffee, she’d settle in for a nice long visit. He really doubted she’d seen anything the night Anna Blake had died, but he was sure she could tell him a lot of gossip about her and the others in the house. He made himself comfortable and looked around the room while he waited. Miss Stone had doilies everywhere and almost as many knickknacks as his mother, but he didn’t see a speck of dust on anything. No photographs, either. Miss Stone might very well be alone in the world.
The old woman returned a few minutes later with two cups of coffee and a plate of cookies on a gleaming silver tray.
“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” he protested.
“No trouble at all,” she assured him, settling into her own chair and handing him one of the cups. “These cookies are probably stale. There’s no one here to eat them but me.”
The cookies were fresh and delicious. Frank ate two and complimented her on them before he asked his first question. “How long have you lived here, Miss Stone?”
“I’ve lived here all my life, Mr. Detective Sergeant. I was born in this house.”
Which meant she’d inherited it from her family, along with enough money to keep herself modestly even though she’d never married. How fortunate for her. Few women were so lucky.
“How long have the Walcotts lived next door?”
“Not quite a year now, I expect. They bought the place from Mr. Knight. His wife had died, and he was tired of living there all alone. At least that’s what Mrs. Walcott told me. Mr. Knight never even mentioned he was selling. Didn’t even say good-bye, either. Just up and left. Moved uptown, she said, into one of those fancy apartment buildings. I knew him forty years, and he didn’t say one word to me. Of course, he got funny after his wife died. Never was very sociable, and when she was gone, he just stayed inside most of the time. Didn’t even work in his garden anymore. Widowers get like that sometimes.”
“What do you know about the Walcotts?”
Miss Stone considered the question. “I’m trying to remember if she told me where they came from. Can’t say I recall, but they were thrilled with the house. Mr. Knight sold them most of his furniture, too, since he didn’t need it in his new place. Seems like she said her family left her a legacy or some such thing. That’s how they could buy the house.”
“When did they start taking in boarders?”
“Almost right away. Her husband couldn’t work, you know. Had some sort of nervous condition. So they needed the money.”
Frank almost smiled at the description of Mr. Walcott as nervous. “I thought she had a legacy.”
“She didn’t say, but it couldn’t have been much. Not enough to keep them, at least. She said she enjoyed having company in the house. They’d never been blessed with children, and she liked having other people around. Her husband liked to travel, so the boarders were company for her, as well as income.”
So far this story agreed mostly with the one Walcott had told him. “I understand that the two women who were living there lately had only been there a few months. Who lived there before?”
Miss Stone frowned as she tried to remember. “I don’t know all their names. One had red hair, I remember, and I’d swear it wasn’t natural. You know how you can just tell,” she added conspiratorially. “The way she carried herself, well, she didn’t seem quite respectable either, if you know what I mean. In my day, a young woman didn’t flaunt herself like that. But she didn’t stay long. Probably, the Walcotts agreed with me and turned her out. There was another one, Blevins or Cummings her name was. Something like that. Real pretty girl. She was there longer, but they told me she got married. I’m not surprised, as many men as came to call on her, she probably had her pick.”
“Do a lot of men come to the house?” Frank asked.
Miss Stone looked insulted. “It’s not that kind of a house, Mr. Detective Sergeant. I know the difference.”
“I didn’t mean to say it was. I just understood that the two women living there now also had several suitors each. I was wondering if you’d noticed that.”
A little mollified, she said, “I’m not one for minding my neighbors’ business, you understand, but I couldn’t help noticing that each girl seemed to have two or three different gentlemen who called on her. I don’t know how they kept them straight.”
“Or how they kept them from encountering each other,” Frank observed.
Miss Stone smiled her agreement. “The girls didn’t step out with their gentlemen, either, the way girls do nowadays. I don’t think it’s right, you understand. A young woman should never be alone in the company of a young man unless they’re engaged, and even then… But I suppose I’m hopelessly old-fashioned. Girls today, they do heaven knows what. Except these girls didn’t. The men would go inside to call on the girls, and then they’d leave alone. They never even took the girls for walks in the park or anything like that. They were very respectable.”
Frank could think of another explanation. If the men in question were married, they couldn’t take a chance of being seen in a public place. Liaisons like the ones Frank knew took place there-liaisons that resulted in pregnancy- also couldn’t happen in a public place.
“Did you ever speak with any of the boarders?” Frank asked.
“I don’t believe I did. Young women like that, they don’t have time for an old lady like me.”
“What about their gentleman friends?”
“Oh, gracious, no! They were always in too much of a hurry. Pulling their hats down over their eyes so they could pretend they didn’t see me and didn’t need to speak.”
Frank nodded his understanding. He suspected the men were actually trying to avoid being recognized, but he didn’t bother to explain that to Miss Stone. “Did you notice anything unusual the night Anna Blake was killed?”
She offered Frank the cookie plate while she tried to remember. He took two more.
“Of course, I didn’t know she was going to be murdered,” Miss Stone explained, “so I wasn’t paying particular attention, you understand.”
Frank nodded again as he chewed on a cookie.
“This probably has nothing at all to do with that poor girl’s death.”
Frank kept nodding and chewing.
“I have a difficult time sleeping. That happens when you get older. I was in bed, so I don’t know what time it might have been, although I know it was late, but I thought I heard someone opening the cellar door.”
“At the Walcott house?”
“I can’t be perfectly sure. I didn’t get up to look. Why should I? Only a busybody would be that curious. And the houses are so close together, it could have been the neighbor on the other side, for all I know. You see, I told you it probably didn’t have anything to do with the murder.”
Frank had to agree. Anna Blake wasn’t murdered in anyone’s cellar. “It does prove you’re observant and have a good memory,” Frank said to placate her. “Did you notice anything earlier in the evening? Do you remember which gentlemen came to call?”
