Victoria Thompson - Murder on St. Mark’s place

Malloy didn’t like the suggestive tone of Dirk’s voice. Sarah could tell by the way his neck got red. But for once in his life he held his tongue, thank heaven.

“I’m afraid you might have the wrong idea, Dirk,” she hastened to explain. “Mr. Malloy and I are here on Coney Island for business.”

“Business?” He looked at Malloy again, as if trying to imagine what kind of business he might be in. “Police business, by any chance?”

Sarah was surprised he’d guessed so quickly, but Malloy wasn’t. The two men understood each other perfectly.

“Not all Irishmen are coppers,” Malloy reminded him.

“And not all coppers are Irishmen anymore, are they?” Dirk countered. “I heard my old friend Teddy has even hired some Jews to police our fair city. But no one would mistake you for one of them, Officer Malloy.”

“Detective Sergeant Malloy,” Malloy corrected him.

Dirk’s eyebrows rose, and Sarah thought he might have paled a bit, but perhaps she only imagined it. In any case, they were all distracted by the sudden appearance of the young lady Dirk had left standing nearby while he conversed with them.

“You promised me some ice cream!” she reminded him, shooting Sarah a look meant to freeze her blood. The girl was even younger than Sarah had thought, but her eyes were old with experience, just as Lisle’s were.

“So I did, my dear,” he said, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and patting it soothingly. “I’m afraid I must excuse myself now. Sarah, it was so nice to see you. Malloy, enjoy the ride.”

His smirk was knowing as he steered the girl away. Sarah turned on Malloy.

“That was a fine job,” she said as soon as Dirk was out of earshot.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about all that male posturing,” Sarah said furiously. “The two of you were like schoolboys, puffing out your chests and trying to see who could be King of the Mountain.”

“You’re crazy!”

“No, I’m angry!” she corrected him. “If you hadn’t insisted on taking offense, I might have gotten some information out of him.”

“Information about what?” he scoffed.

“About Coney Island and what goes on here. It’s obvious he comes here often.”

“Yes, and you know why he comes here, don’t you?”

“Of course. To meet shop girls.”

“He does more than meet them,” Malloy said, his expression hardening.

“I’m sure he does. He buys them treats and takes them on the rides, and they reward him with their favors. It’s the kind of exchange that goes on all over the city every day.”

“And maybe he even buys them things, like hats. Or red shoes.”

That silenced Sarah, but only for a moment. “Dirk isn’t a killer.”

“Why not? Because you know him?”

Sarah remembered she had known the killer of Alicia VanDamm, too, and it had been someone she had never suspected.

“All right, Malloy, you win. Dirk could be the killer just as easily as every other man here.”

“Maybe even more easily than some. He doesn’t have to come all the way out here for female companionship. And why would he dress like a dry-goods salesman and prowl around a place where he’ll probably never see anyone who knows him?”

“Because the female companionship of girls of his own class would be heavily chaperoned. A liaison with one of them would be impossible. He’s probably dressed the way he is so none of the girls will suspect he’s wealthy and try to blackmail him. And he certainly doesn’t want any of his friends to know how he satisfies his baser urges. Keeping a mistress would be perfectly acceptable in their eyes, but apparently, Dirk doesn’t want to go to the trouble.”

“Or the expense, maybe.”

Sarah shook her head. “He could keep a woman if that’s what he wanted. I’m sure his father would provide for him if he knew the alternative was to have him consorting with the trash he’d consider these girls to be.”

“Maybe this is his way of rebelling. Maybe he hopes you’ll go back and tell everyone you saw him here. Maybe he wants to embarrass his family.”

Sarah didn’t know what Dirk’s motives were, and she really didn’t care, but she did know she could learn a lot from him. But not when Malloy was around. She’d have to seek him out when she got back to the city.

“Well, Malloy, since you cost me a chance to find out something from Dirk, you have to take me on the Shoot-the-Chutes.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Or are you going to make me go alone?”

“What would you want to go on that thing for?” He stared at the contraption in horror as yet another boat came splashing down into the artificial lagoon.

“I want to find out everything I can about Gerda Reinhard’s last days, and on the last Sunday of her life, she rode on that ride. Now, are you coming or do I have to find another escort?”

He opened his mouth, ready with another argument, but Sarah beat him to it.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” she challenged.

Of course he was, but he’d die before he admitted it. Sarah knew that, and she managed not to grin with triumph when he grabbed her elbow and determinedly steered her toward the line of people waiting to board the boats.

He was muttering something under his breath, and Sarah chose not to hear. It was easier than getting into ah argument. She could sympathize with his fear of mechanical contraptions. She wasn’t overly fond of them herself, but she was terribly curious to learn what Dirk had meant about the thrills on the first part of the ride.

They waited the better part of half an hour before they were handed into a boat. Malloy nearly upset the thing when he climbed in beside her, but the water was so shallow that truly upsetting was actually impossible.

“Easy there, sir,” the young boy assisting them cautioned, helping Malloy sit down on the seat beside her. They were crowded in with their knees pressing against the people on the seat in front of them and the knees of those behind them pressing against their backs.

Malloy shot her a reproachful look, but she simply smiled serenely.

When everyone was seated, the boat started with a jerk, and Sarah realized it was being propelled by some sort of motorized pulley device. They glided down the chute, and the next thing they knew, their boat was swallowed up by a tunnel.

“So this is what he meant!” Sarah whispered to Malloy as the darkness enveloped them.

In the sudden silence of the tunnel, where they were shielded from the raucous noises of the rest of the park, they could hear the sounds of rustling clothing and provocative giggling and even the smack of lips as the other couples in the boat took advantage of the momentary privacy for some hasty petting.

“If that’s all you wanted to know, I could’ve told you,” Malloy said, the disgust evident in his voice. “We didn’t have to get on this cursed thing.”

“At least try to enjoy yourself, Malloy,” she chided.

Just then the couple in front of them nearly toppled into their laps, and by the time they were all untangled, amid much giggling and cursing, the boat was emerging into the daylight again.

The couples discreetly stopped kissing, but they kept their arms around each other as the boat began to travel upward at an increasingly steep angle.

“Oh, my,” Sarah said as the ground fell away and the boat seemed to be going almost straight up into the air.

“I tried to warn you,” Malloy reminded her as she instinctively clutched at his arm for support, but by then she was too distracted to take offense.

What had she been thinking? This was insane! She could be killed! She most certainly would be killed! This flimsy boat would never withstand the impact she knew it would take when it went plummeting down the chute to splash into the water below. Malloy was right, but she would never have the opportunity to tell him so because suddenly the whole world was tipping over, and they were going down and down and down, faster and faster, until a scream was literally ripped from her throat, and she thought her very heart must be torn out with it. And just when she thought she couldn’t bear it another second, the boat hit the water with an impact that sent them slamming into their seats. The spray of water showered them, and then it was over, and they were gliding safely, surely to the shore, where men with grappling hooks were waiting to pull the boat in so they could disembark.