“Just until we are done with this investigation.” He slipped the note into his pocket. “The detective also mentioned they found a notice for a Chinese theater in young Gallagher’s possession. See the connections, Mrs. Stannert? Chinese theater—which has a strong musical component—musical warehouse for a store that employs a Chinaman for repairs and who is a musician himself…Yes, I heard the music when I came in last night to speak with you for the first time. I don’t believe in coincidences. I should mention as well that Mr. Hee was illegally employed by Mr. Donato in 1879, when there was a law on the books prohibiting such.”
“But it is certainly not illegal now!” Inez protested.
“It was then. No matter how you look at it, Mr. Donato was breaking the law, and I have to wonder why. I also wonder if it might have been a pressure point that young Gallagher could have used against Mr. Donato to press his suit.” De Bruijn added, “I’m not saying this to argue with you, Mrs. Stannert. It’s simply the facts.”
“Well, let me tell you what I heard when I went to talk with Mr. Broken-nose Sven Borg, the longshoreman who identified the body as being Jamie Monroe.” She ran through her morning’s exchange with him, ending with, “I believe there is a strong reason to look into Jamie’s employment at this particular establishment. We should ascertain the nature of the disagreement between him and the proprietor, Henderson. As well as any union connections.”
She hesitated, debating whether to disclose her connection to Patrick and the May sisters. She finally decided that full disclosure, or as near to it as she was willing to go, might take Patrick off de Bruijn’s list of suspects. “I know Patrick May, the young man you mentioned. I am underwriting his mother and aunt’s efforts to repair their laundry after a fire, and Patrick is a student of mine.” She tipped her head, indicating the lesson room behind the glass pane. “He is quite gifted.”
As she related all this, de Bruijn finally seemed to show a response, mostly by the ever-higher lifting of eyebrows and a tightening of the mouth.
Inez leaned forward. “Listen carefully to what he told me, and do not come to any judgment until you hear me through. Patrick told me straight out that he occasionally plays at the saloon late at night. His mother and aunt would not approve, so he has not told them. They think he is simply strolling about the wharves after dark. The night Jamie was murdered, Patrick was not at the saloon, but he did take a stroll. Down by the wharf where the hay is unloaded, he heard two men fighting. He did not see who it was, but retreated. He showed me where he heard the argument. It was amongst the stacked hay bales, which form something of a maze. He took me to the place, and I found this.” She gave the ring box to de Bruijn, who examined it, and passed it back to her.
“I am thinking,” Inez continued, “that perhaps Jamie bought a ring for Carmella. He was not paying his share of the rent, according to his roommate, so perhaps he used that money to help with the purchase. Given that note I gave you and certain remarks from Carmella, I do believe he meant to propose.”
“Despite her brother’s censure?”
“Young love,” said Inez, somewhat cynically.
“I see.” His eyes were now half-lidded, as he appeared to take that in.
She leaned back, thinking. Finally she said, “This is ridiculous. If we put together all of our suspicions, the list of suspects isn’t shrinking, it’s growing! And we have one day less to unravel the truth.” The knot in her stomach returned. She picked up her glass and finished it off. The liquor eased the anxiety, but not as much as she had hoped. “So, what now?”
“We should make a plan,” said de Bruijn, “one in which we will not be stumbling about and treading on each other’s toes.”
“Well, Mrs. Sweet is marching along to her own drummer. So I suppose we can leave Mr. Poole to her. Although, I am not certain I altogether trust that she will be giving ‘her all’ to uncovering the truth.” Inez eyed the brandy bottle, gave in, and poured another measure into her glass. She offered the bottle to de Bruijn before realizing he had not even touched what he had before him.
He covered the glass with his hand and shook his head. “Thank you, but no. When on the job, I do not drink. And for this particular case, I need all my wits about me.”
“I find my wits do not seem to mind a bit of aqua vitae, and indeed seem to perform better as a result.” She forced herself to not snap at him. “As for tomorrow, I shall visit the jewelers with this box and see if Jamie Monroe purchased a ring. If so, that should fix the place of death, and maybe provide a few other clues. I would also like to chase down the local labor activist Frank Roney and ask him a few questions. Oh, yes, and first thing in the morning, I hope to meet with all of Jamie Monroe’s friends and let them know of his passing.”
“Are you going to reveal that Jamie is actually Robert Gallagher?”
“I believe I shall simply say his family has claimed his remains and he will be buried Back East somewhere.” Her mouth dried, the lingering sweetness of brandy turned to dust. “In truth, I am not looking forward to telling them this. But perhaps one of them will have information that could prove useful.”
“I would like to be present when you tell them.”
“Absolutely not! Excuse me, but that is out of the question. With you there, they will be more inclined to hold their tongues.”
De Bruijn lowered his eyes again, obviously a
