“I shall keep your suggestion in mind,” said Inez. “I have one more question, about a different person. An Eli Greer.”
He blinked, looking a little unfocused without his spectacles. “He was the treasurer of the previous musicians union.”
“Yes, that’s right. I was wondering if you two ever crossed paths.”
“And what has this to do with Mr. Abbott or your inquiries?”
“Well,” she cast about for a reason, any reason, for her questions. “I understand the funds from the previous union disappeared and Mr. Greer with them. I imagine that left Mrs. Greer in a financially compromised situation. Was your association able to help her? Was Mr. Greer ever found? As an investigator, I have a professional curiosity in such matters.”
He settled his glasses back on his face. “If ‘finding the lost’ is your expertise, Mrs. de Bruijn, it is too bad for Mrs. Greer’s sake that you were not around in those earlier times. What you say is true. Mr. Greer, for all intents and purposes, disappeared without a trace. I did not know him, personally, but I did know Mrs. Greer, as she applied for relief to the association. However, since no one could say for certain whether her husband was alive or dead, we were not able to offer much in the way of assistance. Unfortunately.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“Not at all, Mrs. de Bruijn. As I said, it gladdens me to hear that Mr. Abbott, one of our less fortunate members, will be receiving some good news to brighten his day.”
Baumann’s last remarks only served to prick Inez’s conscience as she walked to the nearest corner and waited for the horsecar that would bring her closer to the center of town.
She debated. Talk to de Bruijn first? Or track down Mr. Abbott? With a start, she realized she had, for a little while, completely forgotten about Patrick May.
That decided it. A quick visit to de Bruijn. Perhaps, with his connections, he could call off the police hunt for the boy and save his frantic family much grief.
De Bruijn listened closely to Inez’s tale of the Mays and finally said, “I agree, the young man is not the murderer.”
Inez sat back with a sigh. “Good. I’m hoping you can convince Detective Lynch of the same.”
They sat in the parlor room of his suite, de Bruijn in an easy chair, Inez on a nearby settee. The heavy curtains were partly drawn away from the large bay window, allowing light to filter through the inner lace curtain.
“I am afraid you overestimate my influence,” said de Bruijn. “Finding the person who is responsible, or at least a more convincing suspect, is the only way we will be able to stop their search.” He shook his head, then winced, and touched the crown of his head gingerly. “Think, Mrs. Stannert. What kind of motive are we looking at here? Look at the brutality of the murder. One blow, two, would have sufficed to kill. Yet the killer went at him, again and again, past the point of reason or logic. I believe this was a crime of passion—unplanned, unpremeditated. I cannot see such a murder occurring over the loss of a job.”
Inez chewed her lip. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“You say you cannot imagine such a killing occurring over work. But Jamie, that is, young Gallagher, had just accepted a day job. Carmella told me he was planning on keeping the night one as well, counting on them both to make ends meet. Anyhow, this new position was one that another pianist, a colleague of his named Thomas Welles, had thought was promised to him. Welles has a family, a growing one. He is under a lot of pressure. He’s a moody sort, prone to dark turns of mind and seems to nurse grudges for a long time. He is still smarting over the loss of income from the collapse of the previous union. Might he have confronted Jamie?”
“Who has the most to gain with his death?” De Bruijn countered. “And what else was he up to his last few days? I can’t help but think this murder was impulsive, the violence taking him by surprise. What he was doing in those days before his death might well have set the wheels in motion.”
Inez pulled the list out of her purse. “I am following up on this list I told you about earlier, the one Jamie had hidden under his mattress. It appears to be names of previous union members, and perhaps the amounts of money owed to them after the union disbanded. There is only one name checked off, the first: Stephen Abbott. I know you think it a very long shot, but the list was apparently important enough to Jamie that he squirreled it away from casual eyes. It involved the unionization of musicians, and there were obviously some strange goings-on back then. In any case, I plan to go talk with Mr. Abbott as soon as I leave here.”
“I should go with you,” de Bruijn made as if to rise.
“Absolutely not. You are not fully recovered yet, certainly not enough for a carriage ride and an interview. I will let you know what happens. Besides, I’m guessing Mr. Abbott will be more inclined to confide in an attentive woman than a man who looks as if he recently lost a fight on the streets.”
De Bruijn settled back in his chair, resigned. “How did you find him?”
Inez debated, then decided she was done with prevaricating. “I went to visit the secretary of the Musical Protective Association. I pretended to be you, and the secretary gave me Abbott’s address.”
“You what?”
Inez pulled out de Bruijn’s card. “Wilhelmina de Bruijn, private investigator.”
De Bruijn frowned.
“Look at it this way, I simply acted as your proxy. If you were recovered, you would have been the one to visit him.”
“That I doubt,” grumbled de Bruijn. Almost as an afterthought,
