Victoria Thompson - Murder On Astor Place

Harvey frowned. “I’m the groom. Somebody had to keep an eye on her, in case anything happened.”

“And did something happen?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Frank had a feeling he knew very well. “Weren’t you afraid for her to be riding in her condition?”

“What condition was that?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.

Frank studied him for a long moment, waiting for some break that would reveal he was lying. But either he was the best liar Frank had ever encountered, or else he was truly ignorant.

“Alicia was with child.”

Harvey’s eyes widened with shock for a second before his face flooded with outrage. “You should burn in hell for telling such an ugly lie about that poor, sweet child! Maybe you are the police, but that don’t give you the right to speak ill of the dead nor to speak such filth about a girl you didn’t even know!”

“You don’t think it’s possible, then?” Frank asked, as if he really valued Harvey’s opinion.

“She weren’t no more’n a child herself!”

“She was sixteen,” Frank reminded him.

“Just turned! She wasn’t even in society yet! A girl like her didn’t even know any men!”

“She knew you.”

It took Harvey a moment to comprehend, and when he did, his face flushed scarlet.

“God damn you to hell!” He drew back his fist, but Frank had already thrown up his arms in defense before Harvey caught himself. As angry as he was, he hadn’t forgotten that Frank was a policeman. Even out here, that meant something.

Harvey dropped his hand, the fury still roiling in his eyes. “She was like a daughter to me! I taught her to ride her first pony, when she was so small her feet wouldn’t even reach the stirrups no matter how short I made them. I loved that child, and you think I could hurt her? You better take your filthy mouth and your filthy lies back to New York City with you.”

But Frank still had one ace left to play, one that should dampen Harvey’s indignation. “Don’t act so innocent with me, Harvey. I know you stole Alicia’s jewelry, and I know where you pawned it. The pawnbroker will identify you.”

The color left his face as rapidly as it had come, and the fury faded from his eyes, leaving only despair. “How’d you know?” he asked hoarsely.

“The scar on your jaw. The pawnbroker described you. It isn’t often he gets such quality merchandise, so he remembered you very well.”

“I never stole anything,” he said, trying for belligerence but falling somewhat short. “She give them to me. Asked could I sell them for her. She needed the money because she was running away. I had to help her, didn’t I? I couldn’t let her go off alone with no money. What would happen to her?”

Frank glared at him in contempt. “You say you loved her, and you still helped her run away from her family? What did you think would become of her, a girl alone like that? The money from her jewelry would be gone soon enough, and then how would she live?”

“I thought she’d come to her senses before the money ran out. Or her father would anyway.”

“Her father?”

“He was going to marry her off to some nob. Somebody she hated. She said she’d throw herself in the Sound before she’d do it. She meant it, too. She was young and a girl, but she could be just as bullheaded as her father. I couldn’t let her harm herself, could I? So I helped her run away. And I had to make sure she was safe, so I found her a place to live, and I sold the jewelry for her so she’d have money to live. I figured she wouldn’t stay long. She’d get scared before too long, and she’d want to come home, but maybe her father would back down first. Maybe he’d be willing to do anything to get her back. That’s what I figured, except…”

“Except what?” Frank prodded when he hesitated.

Harvey rubbed his work-roughened hands on his pant legs and studied the toes of his worn and muddy boots. When he looked up again, his eyes were full of pain again. “Except we didn’t figure out how she was going to get word to him or how she’d know if he’d really changed his mind. She couldn’t get in touch with him because he’d find her, and I couldn’t tell him I’d helped her get away or that I knew where she was.”

“Because you’d lose your job,” Frank guessed.

“I’d lose more than that. Mr. VanDamm, he’s a hard man. He has no pity in him, and he wouldn’t be kind to anybody who crossed him.”

Remembering VanDamm, Frank could believe this. Harvey would probably be right to fear for his very life if his employer found out he’d stolen his daughter. At least that’s how VanDamm would likely see it.

“You ain’t gonna tell him are you?” Harvey asked in sudden alarm, obviously having just realized what he had revealed to a perfect stranger.

“I don’t have any reason to. Yet. And unless you killed Alicia-”

“I’d never harm a hair on her head!” Harvey insisted. “And I was here when it happened. You can ask anybody.”

“Then you’ve got no reason to worry. But I’m curious about one thing. How did you get her away?”.

“By boat. I hired a fishing boat for the night. Sailed her over and took her to the rooming house I’d found. It was a respectable place. I thought…”

His voice broke, and he covered his face with his large hands.

“You thought she’d be safe there,” Frank suggested.

Harvey nodded, and his shoulders shook as he wept silently for a few moments. Frank didn’t want to watch, but he wasn’t quite finished. And a man in the throes of grief might reveal more than was prudent.

When Harvey had regained his composure, he wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeves and gave Frank a look that defied him to disapprove of the display of grief.

Frank was in no position to judge, so he simply said, “Alicia really was with child. She was about six months gone.”

Harvey was incredulous. “That just ain’t possible!”

“Apparently not. You got any idea who might’ve been responsible?”

Harvey shook his head, shattered.

“Could that’ve been why her father wanted her to marry?”

He shook his head again. “I don’t know,” he said helplessly. “She never said nothing about it to me.”

“Who was the man her father wanted her to marry? The one she was running away from?”

“She never said. It was like she couldn’t even bear to say his name. And it wasn’t my place to ask.”

Of course not, although Frank couldn’t help thinking how much easier it would have been if he had. He’d have to go back and talk to the housekeeper again. She’d know. Or maybe Lizzie would. Frank didn’t think Lizzie missed much, although she hadn’t known about Alicia’s pregnancy. Frank would have bet money on it. Mrs. Hightower knew, though. That’s why she’d kept the other servants away from Alicia, so they wouldn’t find out. She wouldn’t have been able to keep that secret forever, though.

“Detective?”

Frank looked up, startled out of his reverie.

“Do you know… are they going to bury her here?” His voice sounded small with grief, and Frank couldn’t help thinking how differently her family had responded to the news of her death. He’d seen much more true mourning from the hired help than from any of her so-called loved ones.

“I don’t know where they’re going to bury her,” Frank said.

Just one more thing he didn’t know, added to a very long list.

SARAH WAS SAMPLING the pot of stew she’d had simmering all afternoon when she heard the doorbell jangle. With a sigh of exasperation, she replaced the heavy lid on the big pot and carefully slid it to a cooler place on her coal stove. She wasn’t a very accomplished cook. Her early training had assumed she would have servants to handle those duties, and since Tom’s death, she hadn’t often been inspired to prepare anything fancier than the odd chop or steak. And it seemed that every time she did accomplish some culinary feat, as she just had with the stew, someone would decide to give birth before she had a chance to eat it.