Victoria Thompson - Murder on St. Mark’s place

“You sure he didn’t jump on purpose? A lot of them does, you know,” the man said by way of apology for asking.

“If he’d wanted to commit suicide, he hardly would’ve taken a lady up to accompany him, now would he?” Malloy pointed out.

“I suppose not,” the man allowed. “I just don’t want nobody telling the newspapers he jumped. It gives all the crazy ones ideas. Gives the park a bad name, too.”

“No one will say he jumped,” Sarah assured him.

The man sighed. “Is he your husband or something?”

“Just a family friend,” Sarah said. “I should go with him, though. Where are they taking him?”

“To a doctor down on Surf Avenue.”

“I’ll take her,” Malloy said. “How do we get there?”

The park manager had one of his men drive them in a park wagon. As they made their way through the crowded streets, Sarah thought of Dirk’s broken body being subjected to the jostling of a wagon ride, and winced. Malloy would say it was no more than he deserved, and Sarah knew he was probably right. Still, the thought of anyone suffering so horribly sickened her.

“What were you thinking to go up on the Ferris wheel with him?” Malloy demanded as the wagon jounced along. He sounded angry.

“I was thinking we would have a lovely ride,” she replied defensively. “He’d managed to convince me he was innocent, you see.”

“You confronted him?” Malloy was incredulous.

“I’m not sure you’d call it that, exactly. We were talking, and I let him know that all the murdered girls knew a man named Will and that we knew he was that man.”

“Did you think he’d just break down bawling and beg you to absolve him?” He was angry again.

“No,” she said, becoming annoyed. “I thought he’d get angry and betray himself.”

“But he didn’t.”

Sarah sighed over her own nalvete. “He was much too clever for me. He asked me the date of Gerda’s murder, and he had an alibi for it, one we could easily check.”

“You couldn’t have checked it if you were dead,” he pointed out. “Which is exactly what he had planned. Didn’t it ever occur to you that he was lying through his teeth just to get you to let down your guard?”

“Of course it didn’t, or I wouldn’t have gone on the Ferris wheel with him!” she snapped. It occurred to Sarah that they were probably giving the driver enough gossip for the rest of the season, but she couldn’t help that.

Malloy frowned inside the awful-looking beard. “But you did get him to confess, finally?”

“Yes, I think… I think he wanted to brag. He must have wanted someone to know about his successes, even if I’d only know for a few moments before he killed me. He said he’d killed the other girls. And Lisle. I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. But he swears he didn’t kill Gerda. That was the one he had the alibi for.”

“Probably he was lying. He knew that was the one you cared most about. He was just trying to torment you.”

“I cared about Lisle, too, but he readily confessed to killing her. No, I’m afraid he might be telling the truth. He said he was at a party with a group of men. They’ll be able to tell us if he was or not. Then we’ll know for sure.”

Malloy sighed his disgust. They rode in silence for another block before he said, “Are you going to be all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Malloy’s concern was gruff but sincere. It almost undid her. “He was going to throw me off the Ferris wheel, Malloy! In front of all those people.”

“He might’ve managed to convince everyone it was an accident, too. Nobody would believe he’d do something so brazen. Would your family have wanted an investigation?”

“Certainly not,” she said, knowing it was true. They would have mourned her for the rest of their lives, but they never would have been able to accept that her death had been anything but mischance. They wouldn’t be able to believe someone like Dirk, a gentleman of their own class, capable of a heinous crime. “And the worst part is, he would’ve been free to keep on killing.”

“Didn’t you tell him I was watching?” Malloy wasn’t going to let this alone.

“He… he thought I was lying.”

Mercifully, Malloy didn’t question her further on that point. She didn’t want to have to admit she’d let Dirk believe she was unprotected.

The wagon stopped in front of an unassuming house set back a little from the avenue. “This is where they took him,” the driver said. Was he looking at them strangely? Sarah wished she could say something to reassure him, but that wasn’t possible.

Malloy helped her down from the seat and slipped some coins to the driver, asking him to wait for them.

Inside they found the doctor looking grim. “You his family?”

“No, just… just a friend,” Sarah said, almost choking on the word.

“I’m sorry. Wasn’t anything I could do. He was near dead when he got here. I gave him something for the pain so he didn’t suffer too much at the end.”

Malloy made a rude noise, which the doctor obviously mistook for grief. He murmured some condolences, which Malloy ignored.

“What arrangements do you want to make for the body? It won’t keep long in this heat,” he added apologetically.

“I’ll inform his family when I get back to the city,” Sarah said. “I’m sure they’ll send for the body immediately. Can you keep it until then?”

A few moments later Sarah and Malloy were back in the waiting wagon. Malloy told the driver to take them to the trolley station. At Sarah’s questioning look, he said, “There’s nothing else we can do here, is there?”

She had to agree.

MALLOY HADN’T WANTED Sarah to visit Dirk’s family alone. He thought this was a police matter and that he should be the one to notify them. Sarah had argued that it wasn’t a police matter unless he was going to charge someone with murder, and since the suspect was dead, he wasn’t likely to do that. Sarah saw no need to blacken the name of the entire Schyler family by accusing their son of murder when he wasn’t able to defend himself. In fact, doing so would only bring down the very considerable wrath of that family and all their friends and relations. Malloy didn’t need that any more than Sarah did. Justice had been served with Dirk’s death, and they would have to be satisfied that they were the only ones who knew it.

Sarah still had one last duty to perform before she could be completely satisfied, however. Somehow she had to test Dirk’s alibi for Gerda’s murder. If Dirk hadn’t been guilty of that crime, then a killer was still on the loose.

The Schylers lived in one of the unpretentious brown-stone town houses a few blocks from her parents’ home. Outside, the homes were quietly elegant. The Dutch weren’t much for ostentatiously flaunting their wealth. Inside, however, the dwellings were as plain or elaborate as the occupants’ tastes-and fortunes-allowed. The Schylers, Sarah discovered when she was admitted to their home, were apparently still doing very well, indeed.

The marble floor shone brightly in the summer evening sunlight, and fresh flowers filled the Oriental vase that sat on the imported English table standing in the center of the entrance hall. The butler had looked at her queerly when he’d seen her standing on the front stoop. He’d have no idea who she was, of course, and her clothes marked her as distinctly middle class. Only her message-that she had some news about Dirk-had gained her admittance. She just hoped his parents recognized her name so she wouldn’t have to explain too much. She didn’t think she was up to any more fabrications today. She’d already composed enough lies to last her a lifetime.