It was wonderful to be in a place with clean sheets, a bathroom with hot water, and a mirror to fix my hair, even though there were texts all over the walls to remind me that vanity was a sin. I straightened my attire, washed out some smalls, and felt almost human by the time I went out again. I tried several more establishments, looking for work, but with no success. Reluctantly I decided to go to the fish market in the morning.
On the way to see Mr. Levy I came up with a crazy idea. I would ask him if he needed an assistant. I was quick. I learned fast and I liked him. I could also learn how to take pictures and maybe I could set up my own photography business some day. It was dark and cold and starting to rain by the time I walked back to Hester Street. The distance I had walked in the past few days must be equal to the whole of Ireland, from south to north.
There was no light shining through the blinds of Mr. Levy's establishment, but the door was slightly ajar. I reasoned he was probably working in a back room somewhere, developing those pictures he had taken today. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Mr. Levy? Are you here? It's Molly Murphy, come about the picture you took?"
There was a strong chemical smell about the place. I had only taken a couple of steps when my foot struck something. I bent to pick it up. It was a heavy square metal object and it took me a moment to realize it was a camera.
Something was wrong. Mr. Levy wouldn't leave his precious camera on the floor to be trodden on. I opened the door wide, to let in as much light as possible from the gas lamp outside. It shone on a place in utter disarray. Papers were strewn everywhere. Bottles lay smashed with their contents all over everything. And there was a dark shape sticking out from behind the counter. I stepped gingerly over the broken glass and debris and saw what it was. It was a man's leg.
"Mr. Levy!" I bent down to him. "Are you all right?"
As soon as I tried to move him I knew that he wasn't. Where I expected to feel the fabric of his coat, my hands touched something sticky. I recoiled in horror.
At that moment I heard footsteps and someone came in through the front door. I cowered behind the counter, holding in breath. I didn't know whether to call out for help or stay hidden. A torch was turned on and its beam strafed the signs of chaos before settling on me. The owner of the torch came closer.
"What has been going on here?" asked Daniel Sullivan's voice.
Eighteen
"Daniel--Captain Sullivan," I called. "Thank heavens it's you. How did you know?"
"I was checking out the list of photographers you left for me," he said. "What's happened?"
"Over here, behind the counter. It's Mr. Levy."
Glass crunched under his feet as he came toward me. His flashlight was blinding me and I put up my hand to shield my eyes.
He knelt down beside me.
"He's dead, I think," I said. "I can't move him and ..."
He was shining the flashlight on the hand I was holding over my face. As I lowered it I saw that it was covered in what had to be blood.
"Are you all right?" he asked sharply. "Me? Yes, I'm fine. I just got here. The door was open and he didn't answer."
Daniel got to his feet again. "In here Briggs, O'Hallaran," he snapped.
"Briggs, you get to HQ as quick as you can. Tell Sergeant O'ationeil there's been what looks like foul play and have him bring a backup team here. You, O'Hallaran, see if you can get us some light going, then keep the crowd away."
I got to my feet, too, feeling cold and shaky. I was about to hug my arms to myself when I remembered the blood on my hands. There was a hiss and a pop and the gas bracket on the wall glowed, throwing grotesque shadows over the chaos and illuminating the body enough for me to see the eyes open in horrified surprise and the big dark stain covering the front of his jacket.
"You're sure it's too late? He's already dead, is he?"
Daniel was looking at me, hard. "He's dead, all right. Whoever did it made damned sure of that."
"Poor man," I said. "He was so nice."
He had taken out a notebook. "So do you mind telling me exactly what you were doing here, alone with the body, in the dark?"
"I met him this afternoon. He invited me to his studio. He said he'd be back as soon as it got dark." The words were spilling out in a torrent. "The door wasn't shut properly but there was no light on. I thought he might be in the back somewhere, working on his pictures. I called out and then I kicked something." I stepped gingerly across the debris and pointed to it. "It was his camera. Then I knew that something had to be wrong. His camera was his livelihood. He'd never leave it on the floor."
"Why didn't you light the gas?"
"I couldn't find it. I--," I stammered. "I'm not used to these new-fangled inventions yet. We only have oil lamps and candles at home."
"So you went forward in the dark?"
"I opened the front door as wide as it would go so that some light came in. That's when I saw that the place was ransacked. And then I saw a leg sticking out. I came around the counter and I found him."
"You kept going into the room in the dark, even after you saw the man's leg?" He sounded incredulous. "Either you are very brave or very stupid, Mrs. O'Connor. I can't decide which. Did it not occur to you that you might have walked in on the killer and he might still be here, hiding in the
shadows?"
"I'm stupid, I suppose. It never crossed my mind. I only wanted to get to Mr. Levy and see if I could help. I thought for a moment he might have been taken ill and knocked things onto the floor when he fell."
Daniel Sullivan was staring hard at me. "It's amazing how people manage to get murdered whenever you're around and yet you have nothing to do with it."
"Wait a minute," I said, anger now competing with fear. "You don't mean to tell me you think I might have had something to do with this poor man's death?"
"I wish I had an instrument to see into your head," he said. "I don't want to think that you're lying to me, but you have to admit it doesn't look good for you. I catch you here with the man's blood all over you, in the dark."
"I've just told you what I was doing here," I said. "And why on earth would I have wanted him dead? He was the one person I wanted to see, the one man who could possibly have freed Michael. He said he had a group shot of the mayor's party. He was going to show it to me."
"And how exactly did you think this group shot would help you?"
"It might have showed me the real killer, of course," I retorted.
"The real killer?"
"Supposing someone in the mayor's party saw O'Malley and knew that he must not be allowed to come ashore. That person took a huge risk, did not ride back with the others, borrowed a guard's jacket and cap, sneaked in, and killed him during the night. And if nothing else proves it, then this surely does." I pointed down at Mr. Levy's body. "Somebody must have found out we were onto this. He hadn't thought about photographs before. Now he had to make sure that Mr. Levy's photographs were wrecked before I got here."
Daniel was still looking hard at me. "In which case you could be in a lot of danger yourself. You're looking at the actions of a very violent person, Mrs. O'Connor. Do you actually enjoy courting death? What can I say to make you realize that you have to stay out of police business?"
"I'm trying to help Michael," I said. "I'm trying to make you see the truth that you're too pigheaded to see for yourself."
"And in the process you've just wrecked a perfectly good crime scene with your blundering. You've probably trampled and contaminated any evidence in this room."
"No more than you have!" I said. "You did your own share of blundering. I heard you."
He looked at me for a long moment, then shook his head. "What am I going to do with you? You realize, of course, that I'm going to have to take you down to headquarters to get a statement. What can your family think about you being out playing detective all the time--it's not wholesome for a married woman."
I was just realizing something. If I didn't turn up for communal supper and prayers at the Bible hostel, I'd be thrown out come morning. And I certainly didn't want to waste more precious time looking for a place to stay. So I did what every self-respecting woman does in such situations--I fainted.
Looking back on it, I don't think the faint was all put on. The delayed shock and lack of good food suddenly overtook me. I think I really did lose consciousness. The next thing I knew I was sitting up on a chair with my head between my knees and a strong hand on the back of my neck. My first reaction was that the killer had got me, and I struggled to sit up.
"Just relax, Mrs. O'Connor. You'll be fine." The voice was Daniel Sullivan's. Which meant that the warm hand on my neck must also belong to him. He raised me to a sitting position. "All right now?"
I nodded. "I think so."
"You had a nasty shock." He was looking at me with the same tenderness I glimpsed that time in the police station hallway. "Look, you can't go on acting like this. I forbid you to do any more investigating without telling me first. Is that clear? If I have to have you locked up for your own good, I will. Now I'm going to have one of my men take you home and give your husband a good talking to. He should know that his wife is out wandering round a strange new city at all hours, taking terrible risks. Maybe he's the one who can get you to start acting sensibly and make you stay home with the little ones, where you belong."
Now it was all going to come out. Nuala would spill the beans if nobody else did. They
already had my address. I tried to come up with another glib lie, but none would come. To tell the truth, all I felt like doing was going somewhere warm and safe and curling into a little ball.
"All right," I said. "I've had enough of danger, believe me. And I haven't gone looking for it, whatever you may think. It's just sort of followed me. I'll go home and stay quiet. You have enough to go on now, anyway--find out who was in the mayor's party. Find out who didn't return with them. Match the fingerprints to something in this room."
"You're telling me my job again," he said, but he was grinning. "Although I rather fear that we're too late. Any useful evidence has been destroyed. If there was a group shot, the killer has done away with it."
More policemen had arrived on the scene. A crowd had assembled outside the door and there were angry murmurs. "I saw her the other day," I heard one of them saying to the arriving police. "She was hanging around the market on Hester Street."
"She was asking questions about poor Mr. Levy earlier today."
Daniel gave me an amused glance. "You're lucky I'm here, aren't you? You're the prime suspect in their eyes. You'd be facing a lynch mob." He took my arm and helped me to my feet. "Come on. I'll have my constable take you home now. Cherry Street, isn't it?"
"Look, Captain Sullivan," I took a deep breath. "I'm not living there. I--I moved out. I'm living in the ladies' hostel down by the Battery Park."
He moved closer to me, so that the other policemen couldn't overhear. "What happened?"
"Uh--things weren't going too well, between me and my husband."
He nodded with understanding. "It's not always easy after such a long separation, is it? People change over the years. I've seen it happen before."
I managed a small, suffering smile, thinking it better for once to be silent.
"And what about the children? Are they at the hostel with you?"
"They're staying for now with his cousin's family. It's better for them to be with a family while I find a place and work." These lies were becoming
positively stupid now. Stop before it's too late, Molly.
"And you? What will you do now?" "Find a job. Get on with my life. See how things turn out."
"On your own? Get on with life on your own?"
He sounded shocked, and I realized that it wasn't going to be easy to free myself of my mythical husband. A woman who left her husband and children would be frowned upon and considered loose. I needed to change the story.
"Very well, if you must know the whole story. I've discovered my husband has taken up with another woman. So the sooner I find a decent situation for myself and the children, the better."
He nodded. He was trying to look sympathetic and sad, but he wanted to grin. I can't tell you how much that lifted my spirits.
"I'd take you home myself," he said, "but I have work to do here."
"That's all right. I'll be sensible and go straight home, I promise."
He smiled. "I'm going to make sure of that. Take Mrs. O'Connor home, Constable. She's staying with the good ladies of the Bible Society. She surely can't come to any harm there."
I turned back to look as he ushered me out of the door. He was staring after me.
The constable ushered me through the crowd, who muttered and glared at me. Someone spat at my feet.
"I had nothing to do with it," I started to say, but the constable grabbed my arm and shoved me through the crowd. "Come along, ma'am. Better not say anything right now when they're riled."
He took me through backstreets and alleys until I saw the twinkle of bright lights ahead and realized where we were. "Oh, this is the Bowery, isn't it? Look, you don't have to come all the way with me. I'll be just fine from here." I was imagining the look on the receptionist woman's face if I arrived with a policeman holding my arm. She'd probably take me for drunk and disorderly.
"The captain told me to take you home," the constable insisted.
"It's only just down this street, isn't it?" I said. "And what could happen to me with all these people around?"
He was still looking worried. "Look, Constable," I said. "I'm staying with the Bible Society ladies. I'm afraid they'd get the wrong impression if a policeman brought me home my first night."