Victoria Thompson - Murder on St. Mark’s place

“More likely I have forgotten how to conduct myself in polite company. Can you pretend this never happened?”

“Since you were so gracious as to bring me here today and to patiently endure my feeble attempts at playing detective, I can do nothing less.” Anything to get through this awkward moment.

“I will be eternally in your debt,” he said. He sounded sincere again. Perhaps he had practice at that, too. “I promise you I will behave myself for the remainder of the day. You need not fear a repeat of my boorishness ever again.”

“And you need not fear that I will stick you with a hat pin,” she replied archly.

“Oh, dear, I hadn’t expected such spirit from you, Sarah.” She heard amusement in his tone. “I must count myself lucky that I didn’t press my suit.”

“You must indeed.” There, at last the darkness was lifting. The opening of the tunnel had appeared and was drawing ever closer. Or rather they were drawing closer to it.

Sarah looked at Dirk in the growing light, judging his mood. He seemed perfectly composed, his features calm, his eyes expressionless. Whatever passion had possessed him in the tunnel had passed now. She only wished the words he’d said could pass as easily from her mind. He’d displayed a disturbing contempt for women, and she wondered how he had developed it. True, most men of his class believed women to be helpless creatures who weren’t very bright and had to be looked after by men. That was far different from the genuine disdain he had shown, though. He apparently believed women were liars and cheats, saying one thing and meaning another. That was sometimes true, of course. Occasionally, one had to conceal one’s genuine feelings or risk giving offense. But that wasn’t what he’d meant, she was sure.

She remembered how Malloy had taken an instant dislike to Dirk. She supposed he had much more practice than she at judging a man’s character. He’d seen what she hadn’t known to look for. She’d have to remember to take his assessments more seriously in the future.

As they emerged into the summer sunshine, Dirk smiled at her. She studied his face, noticing again the signs of dissipation. The puffiness around the eyes, the sagging along his jawline in spite of his relative youth. His eyes were carefully expressionless, or perhaps he had no expression to reveal.

“Can we still be friends, Sarah?” he asked, trying the boyish charm she found so unappealing.

“Of course. We’ve known each other since the nursery, after all.” A slight exaggeration, but what did that matter? She had no intention of ever purposely seeing him again once this day was finished. In the meantime, she would make what use of him she could.

As the boat reached the docking point, a young man caught it with a long, hooked pole and pulled it in. Dirk helped her disembark, taking her hand with just the right amount of pressure but assuming no other liberties.

Sarah felt relief. Perhaps they could get through the rest of the day without any more unpleasantness.

She began to believe it when he said, “I must confess, Sarah. I always was rather fond of you. You were the prettiest girl in our dancing class, but you never looked at me twice. I must have been remembering that and thinking that I could get you to notice me now.”

“I noticed you then, Dirk. It’s just that I didn’t like boys yet. And now… well, I think we’re much too different to suit, don’t you?”

His smile was strange. “Sometimes I think I’m too different to suit anyone.”

Sarah had no intention of exploring that subject with him. “Tell me, Dirk, are there shops around here where someone could buy articles of ladies’ clothing?”

“What types of articles?” he asked, his good humor returning instantly as he realized she was going to forgive him.

“Shoes.”

“Ah, let me guess. Red shoes in particular.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you really expect to have more success with that than you did with the photographer?”

“Hundreds of people get their photographs taken at the park, but I can’t believe that many women would buy red shoes. Surely, the sale would be a memorable one.”

Dirk sighed, but it was a patient sigh. “I’ll take you over to Surf Avenue. That’s where you’re most likely to find what you’re looking for.”

Surf Avenue was the main street in Coney Island, flanked on either side by the impressive hotels built for those with the time and money to spend more than one day at the shore. The crowds here were more sedate that the ones in the amusement park, although Sarah saw a few suspicious-looking couples in which the man was old enough to be the girl’s father but was showing her more than paternal affection.

“Do, uh, some men,” Sarah began, trying to phrase her question delicately, “take the girls they meet at the park to hotels here?”

“Why, Sarah,” he said. “How shocking of you to ask!”

“I’m sure it would take far more than that to shock you, Dirk,” she said. “Of course if your sensibilities are too offended, don’t feel obligated to reply.”

He conceded. “Although I would have no personal knowledge of such things,” he began, both of them knowing he was lying, “I have heard that some men, those whose tastes extend to the lower classes of women, will meet those women at the park and then take them to the hotels here for assignations. Of course,” he added with a sly grin, “many of the girls in question can’t be away from home overnight. Their families would never allow such inappropriate behavior.”

“So those are the virtuous ones,” she guessed.

“Heavens, no!” he said, taking perverse pleasure in telling her. “Those are the ones who do it standing up in a hallway or an alley.”

“Do what?” she asked, certain she must have misunderstood.

“Allow a gentleman to enjoy their favors,” he said brutally, leaving her with no room to misinterpret.

Sarah was appalled. “What kind of a man would do such a thing?”

“Any kind of man, if the girl is willing. I’m sure your Sergeant Malloy would confirm it.”

Sarah couldn’t imagine Malloy doing any such thing, any more than she could imagine discussing it with him in the first place. She was learning far more than she had wanted to know about the society of Coney Island, and more about Dirk Schyler than she wanted to know, too.

Fortunately, they were passing a shop window in which some ladies’ shoes were displayed. “Let’s try this place,” she suggested. She didn’t wait for Dirk’s reply.

A long time and several shops later Sarah was exhausted and discouraged. More shopkeepers than she cared to count had looked at her with contempt when she had asked to see a pair of red shoes. She couldn’t imagine that they believed she wanted to purchase anything like that, but apparently, they did. Unfortunately, none of them could oblige her.

They were coming abreast of the Elephant Hotel, and Sarah was just about to surrender her quest when Dirk said, “I think there are some shops in here.”

“Inside the Elephant? I thought it was a hotel.”

“They have a few rooms, but it’s mostly for people to come in and look around. There’s a vista room in the head and a diorama in one of the front legs. The other front leg is a cigar store, I think, and there are several shops inside the body.”

Sarah studied the curious edifice. Surely, it was the only one of its kind in the world, an enormous wooden elephant standing over a hundred feet high.

“What do you think, Sarah? Are you ready to see the elephant?” Dirk teased.

She supposed she was. She could use a vista right now, anyway.

They entered the Elephant through a spiral staircase in one of the creature’s hind legs. Their shoes clanked on the metal stairs, echoing hollowly in the building. The place was dim and stuffy. Inside the body was a little better, however. Windows opened to catch the sea breeze, which hardly ever ceased to blow, and people on holiday strolled through the various shops, looking for souvenirs of their visit.