Tell Me Pretty Maiden Page 2

  I had just come to the conclusion that this was a foolish endeavor and that the numbness in my feet was a sign that frostbite was taking over when he came running down the stairs again. What’s more, he was carrying a large brown paper parcel this time. He walked briskly to the corner of Eighth Avenue and hailed a cab. I was now truly intrigued. I hadn’t heard of brothels making presents to their customers. I simply couldn’t guess what might be in the parcel and I had to know. Ignoring the warnings in my head, I went back to that doorway and made my way up those stairs.

  The staircase was poorly lit and there was peeling oilcloth on the stairs. I stumbled my way upward until I saw a line of light spilling from under a door. I drew level and listened. No sound of girlish laughter. No sound of female voices. Silence, in fact. Then I almost fell back down the stairs as I heard a noise I hadn’t expected. A loud mechanical clatter. Cautiously I pushed the door open to see an old man working away at a treadle sewing machine. On a table beside him were pattern pieces laid out on cloth. A dummy held a suit pinned to it. That was when I realized that Mr. Roth had just paid a visit to his tailor.

  I was trying to close the door silently again when the tailor looked up and saw me. “Get out of here, you no-good kid,” he shouted and made as if to throw his iron at the door.

  I fled. As I made my way back to the Sixth Avenue El I felt red-faced and foolish. Only I could have suspected drama in a simple visit to a tailor. It’s part of my Irish temperament, I’m afraid. We enjoy making great drama out of the most mundane events. My one relief was that I had told no one of my plans and so nobody knew about my silliness except me.

  I had been pretty much on my own for the past week or so. Daniel had spent Thanksgiving with his parents in Westchester County and had not yet returned, and my neighbors and good friends Elena Goldfarb and Augusta Mary Walcott, usually known by their irreverent nicknames Sid and Gus, respectively, had been invited to Vassar for a reunion with other girls of their graduating class. I had therefore welcomed this assignment. I wasn’t good at doing nothing and being alone. Sid and Gus had returned the night before but I gathered they had brought friends to stay and I hadn’t liked to interrupt. I had no idea when Daniel would come back. Maybe not for a while. If he had finally told his parents about his current unfortunate predicament, then maybe they had pressed him to stay out of town with them until the whole matter could be settled. It occurred to me that he could at least have written to let me know his plans. Men are always so bad at that kind of thing.

  I was just approaching the corner of Sixth when I saw a scuffle going on. A couple of my fellow street urchins were facing one another. One of them was a tall, skinny chap, about my own height, and he was facing a little runt half his size. But it was the runt who was obviously the attacker.

  “Go on, beat it. This is my spot,” he was shouting in his high, childish voice, “and if ya ain’t careful, I’ll fight ya for it.” He raised his hands in true prizefighting stance.

  I stopped to watch, not giving much for the little one’s chances. Instead the older boy shrugged. “Keep it. Ain’t no good anyway,” he said, then shouldered his broom and strolled away. There was something about the way he walked that made me follow him. It took me a good half-block before I realized what it was that had made me suspicious. He walked like a girl. Boys saunter. They plant down their feet carelessly. They kick at things. This one was treading carefully, taking small steps. I smiled knowingly to myself. It was no street urchin but another girl in disguise, like me.

  TWO

  Intrigued now, I fought my way through the crowd to catch up with her. Why another woman should want to dress up as a street urchin, I had no idea. The only other female detective I had met in New York City was Mrs. Goodwin, but she was employed by the police and wore a uniform. I was determined to keep this woman in sight until I could find a suitable opportunity to confront her. At least I didn’t have to worry about her fighting temperament.

  Then I heard the rumble of an approaching El train over our heads. The young woman suddenly dashed up the steps to a station platform. I went to follow her, but I didn’t have a ticket. She pushed through the barrier and onto the train while I was left fuming and waiting in line at the ticket booth. For the second time in one evening I was furious with myself. If she truly had been another woman detective, then maybe we could have worked together and helped each other on occasion. God knows how hard it is to survive as a woman in a man’s world and how lonely such a profession can be.

  My small back alley of a street called Patchin Place was in wintry darkness as I approached it, picking my way along the narrow trough that had been cleared through the snow. As I fished in my pocket for my front door key I realized I dreaded the prospect of an empty house on a cold dismal evening. I’m really not a creature designed for the solitary life at the best of times, and at this moment I longed for nothing more than a roaring fire, hot drink, and good company. I knew where I could find all of the above, but I hesitated to burst in on my neighbors so late in the evening, especially when they were entertaining friends whom I had not yet been invited to meet.

  For a long moment propriety battled with longing. Being of a Celtic disposition, of course longing won out. I picked my way across the street and knocked on their door. It was opened by Sid wearing her customary gentleman’s velvet smoking jacket, her Turkish cigarette in its long ebony holder resting gracefully between her fingers. She was the picture of bohemian elegance but she was eyeing me with horrified suspicion.

  “What do you want?” she demanded. “Go on. Clear off.”

  “Sid, it’s me. Molly,” I said.

  A surprised smile spread across her face. “Bless my soul, so it is. What on earth are you doing out this late, dressed in that extraordinary manner? No, don’t tell me. Gus will want to hear it too, and I know our guest will be thunderstruck to meet you.” She was already chuckling as she ushered me into the house and then threw open the drawing room door with a dramatic gesture.

  “Prepare to be astonished, Gus,” she said. “And as for you, Elizabeth, here is a street urchin hot on your tail.”

  I stepped into the delightful warmth of their drawing room. A big fire was blazing in the hearth. The heavy burgundy velvet drapes shut out the chilly night. A low table held a brandy decanter and steaming mugs as well as a copper bowl of figs, dates, and nuts. My friend Gus was sitting in the high-backed Queen Anne chair on one side of the fire, a beaded black shawl around her slender shoulders, while the person on the other side of the fire was my fellow urchin, whom I had lost on the train station. Her cap was now removed to reveal a fine head of dark hair. She had half risen from her seat and was eyeing me with fear.

  Gus recognized me immediately and came toward me, arms open. “Molly, my dearest, pray tell what is going on. Is this some festival we are missing? The night of the street urchins? Surely not the Holy Innocents?” She dragged me toward the fire. “Goodness, your hands are freezing. Sid has just made some toddy for Elizabeth. Sit here while I fetch you some.”

  I was firmly pushed into Gus’s seat by the fire and felt my hands and feet tingling back to life. My fellow urchin was eyeing me with interest as Gus returned with a steaming mug and thrust it into my hands. “Take a sip of that and then tell all,” she said.

  I sipped and felt a delicious glow spreading down through my body. “Holy mother, that feels good,” I said. “I thought I was about to lose my hands and feet to frostbite. What a ridiculous idea to dress up as a street urchin on a night like this.”

  “I came to that same conclusion myself,” the visitor they had addressed as Elizabeth said in a rich, cultured voice. “You must have had a very good reason for doing so.”

  “I was following a man into an unsavory area,” I said. “Women who loiter on the sidewalk are liable to be arrested for prostitution. Urchins are invisible and plentiful, especially since every crossing currently has a sweeper or two in attendance, as you’ve just found out.” I smiled at the woman wh
o threw back her head and laughed.

  “You saw me, did you? Dismissed by a pint-sized bully. What a humiliation. But he looked a tough little devil and I had no wish to take him on and come home with a split lip for my pains.”

  “So you were following a man, Molly,” Sid prompted.

  “Yes. I’ve been asked to check on the character and potential vices of a young man. I’m supposed to see if he’ll make a suitable husband.”

  “And he was venturing into a disreputable part of the city? Tut, tut.” Sid chuckled.

  “Only to visit his tailor as it turned out,” I admitted. “So far his behavior has been exemplary.”

  Their guest was looking at me with interest. “Do I take it that you are some kind of detective?”

  “I am,” I said.

  “A very good one too,” Gus added proudly. “I haven’t introduced you properly, have I? Molly Murphy, this is Elizabeth Cochran Seaman. Molly has solved all sorts of dangerous cases. You’ll find her a fellow adventuress with stories to tell almost as good as your own.”

  “Fascinating,” the woman said. “A woman detective. I don’t think I ever met one before.”

  “Are you not a detective yourself?” I asked. “What other reason could there be for skulking around dressed as a boy on such a cold, unpleasant night?”

  “I’m doing a little investigation of my own,” the woman said, smiling enigmatically. “Into the plight of newsboys.”

  Sid came over to perch on the arm of the woman’s chair. “This, my dear Molly, is none other than the famous Nelly Bly.”

  “But I thought you just introduced her as Elizabeth,” I said, and flushed at their laughter.

  “My sweet, Nelly Bly is her pseudonym,” Sid said. “Surely you must have heard of her. She is very famous.”

  “Infamous, rather, wouldn’t you say?” Nelly, or was it Elizabeth, chuckled.

  “I’m sorry. The name is familiar but I really don’t know . . . ,” I mumbled.

  “You have to remember that Molly has been in America less than two years,” Gus said, coming to put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Your most infamous exploits were all over by then, and perhaps news of them didn’t travel to Ireland.”

  “It may have reached Dublin,” I said, laughing too now, “but not the backwater where I lived. We got the news of Queen Victoria’s death two days late.”

  “Well, let me fill you in,” Sid said. “Elizabeth is a newspaper reporter. She specializes in exposing corruption, injustice, that dark underbelly of society that we should know about. She is worse than you at putting herself in harm’s way to achieve it, too.”

  “She got herself arrested so that she could report on conditions in a women’s prison,” Gus said, “and she went undercover in an insane asylum.”

  “From which they almost wouldn’t let me out,” Elizabeth added.

  “And didn’t you cause a ruckus in Mexico?”

  Elizabeth laughed out loud again. Truly she had a most infectious laugh. “I did indeed. I reported on the corruption surrounding their elections. I was lucky to have got out of that one alive.”

  “So what adventures have you undertaken recently?” I asked. “I’ve read the newspapers diligently since I came here and I don’t think I’ve noticed your name.”

  “My dear, I have been playing at being a staid married woman,” she said. “Only just recently it has begun to pall. And when I heard that the city newsboys were talking of forming a union, I thought what a good story it would make and resolved to look at their plight for myself. Hence the disguise.”

  Gus looked across at Sid. “Aren’t you pleased that all our friends have so much spunk?”

  “They wouldn’t stay our friends for long if they didn’t,” Sid said. “Life is too short to have boring friends. I must say it was delightful to discover that not all of our Vassar classmates had succumbed to matrimony and domestic drudgery.”

  “What about that girl who had gone up the Amazon?” Gus exclaimed. “Her description of anacondas made me long to see for myself. Should we take a trip to the Amazon, do you think, Sid dearest?”

  The fire and the hot toddy had brought back life to my hands and feet and I was feeling comfortable and drowsy. It occurred to me that conversations like this did not take place in many drawing rooms. Young women were supposed to swoon at the thought of a giant snake, not wish to rush up the Amazon to see one. I gazed at them fondly. Gus’s eye caught mine.

  “Molly, where are our manners? You look quite worn out. Have you been overdoing things while we’ve been away? Have you eaten tonight?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I said, not wanting to impose.

  “And has Daniel the Deceiver been treating you well during our absence?” Sid asked.

  “Daniel is still away, as far as I know,” I said. “I’ve not heard a peep from him since before Thanksgiving.”

  “Just like a man.” Elizabeth chuckled. “It never crosses their minds to think that we women might be worried and want to hear from them. But why would you want to hear from a deceiver, may I ask?”

  “That is all in the past,” I said, feeling my cheeks turning red at the thought of explaining this. “He is a reformed character. But Sid and Gus still insist on using the epithet.”

  “Because he still doesn’t treat Molly how she deserves to be treated,” Sid said. “Too self-centered by half.”

  “Aren’t all men?” Elizabeth said. “My husband is better than most but if he has a pet project then all else is shut from his mind. I once waited over an hour for him to pick me up from the station, because he was rearranging his stamp collection and had forgotten the time.”

  I decided that I should probably go home and let these old friends enjoy one another’s company. I rose to my feet. “If you ladies will excuse me,” I said. “It’s been a long day and I should get out of this ridiculous outfit.”

  Gus took my arm. “Molly, do stay and have a late supper with us,” she said. “Sid has found some lovely ripe cheeses and we’ve a bottle of claret we’re dying to try.”

  “It does sound tempting,” I said, “but I think I should go home and let old friends reminisce.”

  Nelly Bly also got up. “And I should also go and change before there is any talk of supper. I’ve been an urchin long enough today.” She held out her hand. “It was my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Murphy.”

  “Molly, please,” I said.

  “And I am Elizabeth. I prefer not to use my infamous nom de plume when I am not working.”

  Her handshake was firm, almost like a man’s.

  Gus held open the door for me. “Tomorrow you must come to dinner, or will you be out sleuthing again?”

  “I suppose I must, if I’m to do this job thoroughly,” I said, “although I rather think that the young man will turn out to be just as represented.”

  “Lunch then,” Sid said. “We won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled at them. “Then I definitely accept.”

  “Unless Daniel the Deceiver puts in an appearance,” Sid said dryly, “then we’ll be cast aside again, you mark my words.”

  “Absolutely not,” I said. “I am not a puppet on a string. I don’t jump to Daniel’s commands. And if he can’t be bothered to send me one note in over a week, then he can wait until I’m ready to see him.”

  “Well said, Molly,” Elizabeth applauded. “Spoken like a Vassar graduate. I take it you didn’t go to that esteemed institution?”

  “I went to no institution at all,” I said. “I was educated, to a certain extent, with the daughters of the local landowner, but then my mother died and I had to stay home to raise three young brothers. I’d have dearly loved to further my education, but it just wasn’t possible.”

  “There is always time,” Elizabeth said. “These two women possess an impressive library and a wealth of interesting and informed friends.”

  “I know,” I said. “I have taken full advantage of both. Now if you’
ll excuse me, I look forward to continuing this conversation tomorrow. Now I hear soap and a washcloth calling to remove this grime from my face.”

  I left them laughing merrily and closed the front door feeling in much better humor. I crossed Patchin Place and was about to put my key in the front door when I was grabbed violently from behind. My arm was wrenched behind my back as an elbow came around my throat.

  “Got you,” a voice hissed in my ear. “Don’t try to struggle or it will be the worse for you. I could snap your neck in a second it I wanted to.”

  THREE

  For a moment I was too terrified to move, and when I tried to struggle I found that my attacker had me in an impossible stranglehold; an arm crushed my windpipe so that I couldn’t even cry out.

  “Right. Let’s take a look at you,” the voice continued in low, threatening tones, and I was dragged backward to the lone street lamp. “Okay, who sent you? Who put you up to it, huh? Have the Hudson Dusters now got boys breaking into homes for them?”

  The iron grip on my neck was released just a fraction. My heart had started beating again and I recognized the voice.

  “Daniel,” I croaked, trying to turn my head toward him. “Daniel, let go of me. It’s me. Molly.”

  The hands let go of me as if I was burning.

  “Molly? Are you all right?”

  “I will be when I can talk again,” I whispered.

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” he said, then glared at me. “What in God’s name do you think you are doing? I thought I’d arrived just in time to nab a burglar.”

  “I’ve been out on a case,” I said. “The situation necessitated a disguise.”

  He turned me toward him, his big hands resting on my shoulders. “My dear girl, when will you give up this absurd notion and start living a safe and normal life?”

  “I have to earn a living,” I said evenly, although the closeness of his presence was unnerving.