Death in Saratoga Springs by Charles O'Brien

them untied me and removed the blindfold. We were parked on a side street near Union Square. The other man held a knife to my throat and said, ‘Go home. If you call out for help, we’ll kill you in the street.’ It was dark. I walked as fast as I could and am glad to be home.”
    She gazed at Pamela with a confused expression on her face. “Why did the men kidnap me?”
    Pamela briefly explained the search for Ruth Colt. “We think she was murdered. Her killer feared we might discover him and hired someone to take you as a hostage. He ordered us to end the investigation or you would be killed. We couldn’t risk your life, so we did as he said. Then he released you. We’re relieved to have you back safely.”
    While Pamela served hot chocolate and buttered bread, Francesca asked, “Couldn’t the police have arrested the killer?”
    Pamela hesitated to reply. She usually shielded Francesca from the seamy side of life—the girl already knew that only too well. Their conversations focused on schoolwork, music, and art.
    â€œIn a word, Francesca, the police work for him. That’s how business is sometimes done in New York these days. There’s talk of reform. I’m hopeful that things will get better, but not just yet.”
    â€œWhat am I to do?” she complained, stirring the chocolate. “Hide out here in the apartment all day and night?”
    â€œNo, you will go to school as usual. As a precaution, I’ll arrange for a companion to walk with you. Frankly, I think your kidnapper will keep his side of the bargain. He’s basically a businessman of sorts and needs to appear reliable.”
    Francesca seemed satisfied and drank her chocolate with relish. When they were clearing the table, she asked Pamela, “What shall I do during the summer? I really want to get away from New York.”
    â€œI’ve been thinking about that, Francesca. How would you like to work in Saratoga Springs at the Grand Union Hotel? You would be among rich, fashionable people and hear music all day long. My clients at St. Barnabas Mission, the Metzgers, recently got summer jobs there. The hotel is expecting a busy season, despite the country’s depression. Would you care to be a chambermaid?”
    Francesca’s eyes widened at the thought. “I’d love to.”
    â€œThen I’ll write to the management.”

C HAPTER 6
An Old Soldier
    Saratoga Springs, New York
Friday, July 6, 1894
    Â 
    F rancesca Ricci, now a chambermaid with a month’s experience at the Grand Union Hotel, knocked on the captain’s door. No response. She cautiously stepped into an entrance hall. “Anyone here?” she called out. Late in the afternoon, most guests would be in the dining room. It was a good time to empty wastebaskets and ashtrays, and air out the rooms before the guests returned. “Is that you, Francesca?” came a man’s deep voice from the bedroom.
    â€œYes,” she timidly replied. A frisson of fear shook her. She really wasn’t comfortable with Captain Crake. Some days he was a proper gentleman, other times he behaved more like the devil himself. Francesca was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was a sick old man with arthritis and other ailments, and obviously in pain.
    His beautiful young wife was more of an aggravation than a help to him. No wonder that he sought comfort with chambermaids. Most tried to avoid him. It fell to Francesca, the most recent among them, to clean his rooms. Early on, he had heard her sing. Francesca had made it clear that she would sing for him only if he’d keep his hands off her. As a pretty girl from Mulberry Bend in the slums of New York, she had learned how to protect herself. Crake seemed to respect her.
    â€œI was taking a nap,” Crake shouted through the door. “Do your work. I’ll come out when you’re ready to sing me a song.”
    Francesca loved