she said Emma Hardy wrote to her.” She turned to where Mrs. Dugan hovered at her elbow. “I didn’t believe her. I didn’t know Emma hardly at all, but I’d guess she never wrote a letter in her life. But sure enough, there was a letter here for her.”
“Do you remember what day this was?”
“I don’t know. A week or so ago, I think.”
“Did she say anything about the letter, what it said?”
Ingrid frowned. “No. She just tucked it in her pocket and then we talked a little.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Try. It could be important.”
Tears flooded her eyes again, but she took a minute to think. “I asked her what happened to the job she was getting out of town. She said it didn’t start yet, but she’d be going soon.”
“Did she say what the job was?” Frank asked.
“Said she’d be taking care of Emma Hardy’s little girl again. Emma had been on tour, you know,” she added, glancing at Mrs. Dugan as if for confirmation. “That’s why Anne came back here last year.”
“Anne left the city years ago to look after Emma Hardy and her kid,” Mrs. Dugan said. “But maybe you already knew that.”
“Did Emma Hardy live here, too?”
Mrs. Dugan frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You obviously know her. Did she ever live here?”
For some reason, she needed a few seconds to consider her reply. “Back before she had the baby, yes. Years ago, that was.”
“And had you seen her lately?”
Another hesitation. “Well, then she had a room here for a few years, for the times when she was in a show.”
“She did?” Ingrid asked.
“Hush, you don’t know anything about it.” Mrs. Dugan turned back to Frank. “Her gentleman friend paid me to keep one for her.” She didn’t look like she’d been too happy about that arrangement.
At least this part of the story made some sense. Emma Hardy and Anne Murphy had both lived in this rooming house, so they must have agreed Emma could contact Anne here. That would explain why the most recent letter to Anne was addressed here, even though Emma had instructed her to find another place to live. “Did Miss Murphy seem upset about anything when you saw her the other day?”
Ingrid thought about this for a moment. “No, she was real happy, in fact. Said she couldn’t wait to see the little girl again.”
“Did she say where the girl was?” Frank wondered what story she’d given out.
“She was with Emma.”
“Did she say that?”
Ingrid opened her mouth to reply, then hesitated. “I . . . I don’t know if she did or not. Maybe I just thought that’s where she was. But where else would she be?”
Where else, indeed. “Do you know of anybody who might want to harm Miss Murphy?”
Ingrid’s eyes flooded again. “I can’t believe she’s gone. No. No, I don’t know of a soul who’d want to hurt her. Do you really think it was somebody who knew her? Sometimes people get killed by strangers, you know. Lots of bad things happen in the city.”
Frank knew that very well. He wasn’t going to explain Anne Murphy’s death to them, though. They were upset enough. “Thank you for your help, Miss Cordova. If you think of anything else, let me know.” He gave Mrs. Dugan his card.
The sky was still light when he left the boardinghouse. The days were getting longer, and winter’s chill had left the air. These pleasant weeks between winter’s frigid blasts and summer’s searing heat were too few. Too bad he never had a chance to really enjoy them. He’d get something to eat, and then head over to Sarah’s house. He’d put off telling her about Anne Murphy long enough.
* * *
S ARAH AND M AEVE STILL SAT AT THE KITCHEN TABLE, trying to decide whether to go to bed or wait a little longer for Malloy, when they heard the knock. Hoping it wasn’t an expectant father come to summon her for a delivery, Sarah hurried to the front door.
“Malloy,” she said in relief. She took his coat and tried not
“Do you remember what day this was?”
“I don’t know. A week or so ago, I think.”
“Did she say anything about the letter, what it said?”
Ingrid frowned. “No. She just tucked it in her pocket and then we talked a little.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Try. It could be important.”
Tears flooded her eyes again, but she took a minute to think. “I asked her what happened to the job she was getting out of town. She said it didn’t start yet, but she’d be going soon.”
“Did she say what the job was?” Frank asked.
“Said she’d be taking care of Emma Hardy’s little girl again. Emma had been on tour, you know,” she added, glancing at Mrs. Dugan as if for confirmation. “That’s why Anne came back here last year.”
“Anne left the city years ago to look after Emma Hardy and her kid,” Mrs. Dugan said. “But maybe you already knew that.”
“Did Emma Hardy live here, too?”
Mrs. Dugan frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You obviously know her. Did she ever live here?”
For some reason, she needed a few seconds to consider her reply. “Back before she had the baby, yes. Years ago, that was.”
“And had you seen her lately?”
Another hesitation. “Well, then she had a room here for a few years, for the times when she was in a show.”
“She did?” Ingrid asked.
“Hush, you don’t know anything about it.” Mrs. Dugan turned back to Frank. “Her gentleman friend paid me to keep one for her.” She didn’t look like she’d been too happy about that arrangement.
At least this part of the story made some sense. Emma Hardy and Anne Murphy had both lived in this rooming house, so they must have agreed Emma could contact Anne here. That would explain why the most recent letter to Anne was addressed here, even though Emma had instructed her to find another place to live. “Did Miss Murphy seem upset about anything when you saw her the other day?”
Ingrid thought about this for a moment. “No, she was real happy, in fact. Said she couldn’t wait to see the little girl again.”
“Did she say where the girl was?” Frank wondered what story she’d given out.
“She was with Emma.”
“Did she say that?”
Ingrid opened her mouth to reply, then hesitated. “I . . . I don’t know if she did or not. Maybe I just thought that’s where she was. But where else would she be?”
Where else, indeed. “Do you know of anybody who might want to harm Miss Murphy?”
Ingrid’s eyes flooded again. “I can’t believe she’s gone. No. No, I don’t know of a soul who’d want to hurt her. Do you really think it was somebody who knew her? Sometimes people get killed by strangers, you know. Lots of bad things happen in the city.”
Frank knew that very well. He wasn’t going to explain Anne Murphy’s death to them, though. They were upset enough. “Thank you for your help, Miss Cordova. If you think of anything else, let me know.” He gave Mrs. Dugan his card.
The sky was still light when he left the boardinghouse. The days were getting longer, and winter’s chill had left the air. These pleasant weeks between winter’s frigid blasts and summer’s searing heat were too few. Too bad he never had a chance to really enjoy them. He’d get something to eat, and then head over to Sarah’s house. He’d put off telling her about Anne Murphy long enough.
* * *
S ARAH AND M AEVE STILL SAT AT THE KITCHEN TABLE, trying to decide whether to go to bed or wait a little longer for Malloy, when they heard the knock. Hoping it wasn’t an expectant father come to summon her for a delivery, Sarah hurried to the front door.
“Malloy,” she said in relief. She took his coat and tried not
Similar Books
