Murder on Madison Square, page 11
Sarah and Malloy found Ethel in the dining room. There was no sign of Pearl or Mr. Warren, and apparently, everyone else in attendance had expressed their condolences and gotten food and then gone off to eat it. Ethel was staring blindly at the buffet table as if uncertain of its purpose.
Sarah laid a comforting hand on Ethel’s arm and said, “Let me fix you a plate. You should eat something.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Ethel said, but Sarah had already picked up a plate. She chose a few light items, a roll and a slice of ham and a bit of this and that. The servants had placed the dining room chairs along the wall, and they were mostly empty now that people had finished eating and wandered out.
Sarah took Ethel’s arm and led her to one of the chairs, then sat down beside her. She was vaguely aware that Malloy was fixing himself a plate, or at least she thought that’s what he was doing, but while she was encouraging Ethel to eat, he brought the plate over and handed it to Sarah.
She smiled her gratitude and turned back to Ethel. “I’m glad you made an appointment with Mr. Bing’s attorney.”
“He said he’d been expecting my call. I hadn’t planned to take Nora and Pearl along, but perhaps that’s best.”
“Yes, it’s better if they hear everything directly from the attorney. They might not believe you, in any case.”
Sarah was happy to see Ethel absently take a bite of the roll and proceeded to set a good example by starting on her own lunch. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Sarah said, “Mr. Warren seems very interested in Pearl.”
Ethel smiled sadly. “Yes, but he’s wasting his time. She has no interest in him.”
“And yet she asked him to go with her to plan her father’s funeral.” Sarah decided not to mention having seen them virtually holding hands just now.
“Mr. Warren has been quite helpful since Mr. Bing died, but I’m afraid Pearl is simply taking advantage of his affection for her.”
“Why do you think Pearl doesn’t take him seriously as a suitor?”
Ethel shook her head. “She calls him a yokel behind his back. She and Mr. Bing would often make fun of him when he wasn’t around, too.”
Sarah wanted to be sure, though. “But perhaps Pearl was agreeing with her father just to keep the peace. Could she have secretly cared for him, and now that Mr. Bing is dead, she is free to show her real feelings?”
Ethel had taken another bite of her roll, and she considered the question as she chewed. “I don’t know. It’s possible, I guess. Pearl is a very secretive girl, at least around me. I’m not sure I know what she really thinks about anything or anyone.”
“Except maybe you and Carrie,” Sarah said with a sympathetic smile.
“Yes,” Ethel said sadly. “She has made that very clear.”
* * *
• • •
Gino’s new friend Tom was only too happy to take him out to the Bings’ garage, which was the converted stables behind the house. “Mr. Bing always said the best advertisement for an automobile was seeing one in person,” Tom explained as he led Gino inside. The garage was wired for electricity for charging the autos, so it also had electric lights that enabled Gino to clearly see the four autos parked there. “That’s why he had so many himself. He wanted them seen all over the city.”
“That sounds like a good strategy, but he’d need more than four driving around the city if he really wanted to be successful.”
Tom smiled knowingly. “I think you’re probably right.”
They paused for a moment to admire the autos. Two of them were small and open like a buggy, with just one seat to hold two people and a fold-up top in case of inclement weather. The only difference was that instead of traces for the horses, there was a small compartment in front to hold the battery. The others were larger and enclosed, like a carriage, with one outside seat for the driver. “I wonder which one he was driving the night he died,” Gino mused.
“I, uh, I wouldn’t know,” Tom said. “I usually saw him driving one of the two larger autos, though.”
“Then I guess the two smaller ones belong to his daughters.”
Tom did not express an opinion, so Gino started strolling around each of the vehicles, ostensibly admiring them but really looking for any signs of damage that would indicate that one of them had recently collided with its owner and crushed him to death. He wasn’t sure what that might look like, but anything out of the ordinary could be a clue.
Gino had a difficult time picturing a female easily climbing up to the driver’s seat of the two large vehicles. If Bing had been driving and gotten out for some reason, she would have had to manage her skirts and scramble up in a hurry. Unless, of course, she had been driving in the first place. Would Bing have allowed a female to drive him?
The two smaller vehicles were almost identical, although Gino felt certain their respective owners could tell them apart. Closer inspection, however, showed one had been more roughly used than the other. “Whoever drives this one isn’t very careful,” Gino said, gesturing to the nicks and small dents along the vehicle’s front panel that protected the batteries. Some looked fresh and others showed a bit of rust, indicating they’d been there awhile.
Tom studied the dents, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. “You’re right. That’s what comes from letting girls drive automobiles.”
Gino managed not to wince and wondered if he should warn Tom not to express such sentiments around Maeve, whose driving had once helped save Gino’s life. “Which girl drives this one?”
“I, uh, Carrie, I think,” Tom said uneasily. Gino remember the longing look Tom had given Carrie. He probably didn’t want to say anything bad about her.
And yes, it made sense that Carrie’s auto was dinged up, since Carrie was probably the more careless of the two. “Hey,” Gino said, “could some of these dents have come from hitting Mr. Bing?”
Tom looked up and he was definitely alarmed this time. “I . . . I don’t know. How could you tell?”
Gino had been wondering the same thing, but he was no expert. In fact, he wondered if there could even be an expert in such things. In spite of the number of pedestrians in New York and the abandon with which many people drove automobiles, very few people had been run over or even hit by one. “There might be a way to know,” Gino said. “I guess if somebody remembers which one of these he was driving that night, at least.”
Tom continued to stare at the many dents, but Gino had wandered over to the last vehicle.
This one was pristine, inside and out. Or almost pristine. Right in the middle of the front panel was a rather large dent just about where a man’s legs would be if he was standing in front of it.
* * *
• • •
Frank had felt a bit conspicuous in the funeral procession out to the cemetery. His was the only gasoline-powered vehicle in the line and therefore the noisiest by far. He pretended not to notice the pitying glances sent him by the various employees of Warren’s factory, although he did manage to feel superior to the mourners still driving wagons. He supposed the factory jobs didn’t pay enough for the workers to afford to buy an automobile.
The procession itself was rather unique. The hearse carrying the coffin was horse-drawn and splendid, with the horses prancing and the long black plumes affixed to their halters waving in the breeze. Behind the hearse was one of Bing’s autos, a large one with an enclosed passenger compartment and a high seat in front for the driver. Will Warren drove while Pearl and Nora rode inside in silent dignity.
Behind them came Ethel and Carrie, although Frank wondered why Pearl had allowed them in the procession at all, much less in such a place of honor. Maybe she was worried about what people would think, though, since everyone believed Ethel was the real widow. They rode in a small, open vehicle that held just the two of them, with Carrie driving. She seemed to have recovered from her onslaught of grief, although her young face was set grimly. Ethel had chosen to wear a veil, so whatever emotions she was feeling were hidden.
The graveside service was mercifully brief, and the mourners who had made the trip politely expressed their final regrets to Pearl and Ethel, which wasn’t as convenient as it should have been because they were standing as far apart as they could while still being in the vicinity of the grave. Thank heaven Sarah was with him, because Frank would have merely slunk away under the force of Pearl’s glare, but Sarah always knew what to say in social situations, even those as awkward as this one. She actually pretended not to notice Pearl’s irritation and simply said how sorry they were and moved on. Maeve and Gino, he noticed, didn’t approach Pearl at all.
When they turned to go back to their motorcar, Gino sidled up to Frank and said, “Take a look at Carrie’s auto.”
This wasn’t difficult because they had to pass it to reach their own.
When they arrived at their own motor, they paused to wait for the ladies, who would need their assistance getting in. “Carrie isn’t a very careful driver, is she?” Frank said.
“No, she isn’t.”
“Do you think those marks prove she’s the one who ran over Bing?”
“I would except that Pearl’s auto has a big dent in the front, too.”
“That’s unfortunate, but it really doesn’t matter. We just need to find out which one was involved in Bing’s death. The police will probably know.”
“Which I guess means one of us will have to go and ask them,” Gino said.
“Are you volunteering?”
Gino winced. “I guess I am.”
* * *
• • •
It appears no one really has an alibi,” Maeve surmised after everyone had shared what they had learned that day at the funeral. The children had been with Mrs. Malloy all day and demanded attention the moment they all had returned home, so they hadn’t had an opportunity to talk privately until Brian and Catherine were tucked in bed. Now the four of them were gathered in the parlor with Mrs. Malloy sitting off in the corner with her knitting. Sarah loved the way her mother-in-law pretended not to be interested in the discussions of their cases, but every now and then would add a bit of wisdom or insight.
“We aren’t sure about Pearl,” Sarah reminded them. “I don’t think we’ve asked her outright where she was.”
“But Ethel insisted at first that they were all at home and in bed by ten o’clock that night,” Maeve reminded her.
“I think she must have just been thinking about Carrie and herself and included Pearl out of . . . I don’t know, a sense of obligation or something.”
“An obligation to protect her from being charged with murder?” Malloy asked with some amusement.
Sarah shrugged. “Women are expected to protect their children. Perhaps it was instinctive to protect Pearl as well.”
“Regardless of why she lied about Pearl,” Maeve said impatiently, “we now know from Carrie that Pearl didn’t ever sit with them after supper and that she could have left the house without them knowing.”
“And if women protect their children,” Gino added, “Ethel might be lying about Carrie as well.”
“Carrie also couldn’t remember very much about that day, or so she claimed,” Maeve confirmed.
“Let’s think about this logically,” Malloy suggested. “We know that Bing spent the day at the show, and Carrie admits she went with him in the morning.”
“So how did they get there?” Sarah said. “Knowing Mr. Bing, he drove one of his automobiles.”
“Because he thought driving his auto around the city was good advertising,” Gino said.
“But which one?” Malloy asked.
No one answered.
“We don’t know the answer to that yet, and Gino is going to find out, so let’s move on,” he finally said.
“Carrie said she got bored or tired and came home in the afternoon,” Maeve said.
“And she either drove the auto or walked or took a cab or something,” Sarah said.
“Except if she took a cab, why didn’t she just say so?” Maeve said. “Instead, she claimed she walked.”
“It was a pleasant day, so she might have,” Sarah said.
“But would she?” Maeve challenged. “A young girl all alone?”
“And would Bing have allowed that?” Malloy asked. “Everyone says he was fond of Carrie, so presumably, he’d look after her safety, too.”
“But it wasn’t late at night, remember,” Sarah said. “She went home in the afternoon, in broad daylight. Maeve, would you have been afraid to walk alone in the city at that time of day?”
“Probably not, but why should she if she has an auto she can drive?”
“Because Bing needs it himself,” Gino said. “He’ll need it to drive home that night.”
“But he could take a cab home,” Malloy argued.
“Or someone could come back to get him at the end of the evening,” Mrs. Malloy said from her corner.
They all turned to look at her in surprise, but she didn’t even glance up.
“Who do you think would’ve gone to get him, Ma?” Malloy asked with genuine interest.
“How should I know? You’re the detectives.”
“She has us there,” Sarah said, earning a nod from Mother Malloy.
“Then who do we think went to get him?” Malloy asked.
“Carrie or Pearl,” Maeve said. “They each had their own autos, and they were both fond of him.”
“But Pearl was angry with him for lying to her about her mother being dead,” Malloy reminded her.
“All the more reason to go,” Maeve argued right back. “She’d have an opportunity to berate him in private.”
“And run over him if he made her too mad,” Gino added.
“Oh my, he’s right,” Maeve said in dismay. Gino gave her a beaming smile.
“But why would Carrie run over him?” Maeve asked. “I can see her being willing to drive to Madison Square Garden to fetch him, but why would she want to kill him?”
“Maybe it was an accident,” Sarah said.
“Then why run away and leave him to die?” Malloy asked.
“She’s young,” Gino said. “Maybe she panicked.”
No one was convinced.
“If she adored him, like everyone says, she’d try to get help,” Maeve said.
“What about Ethel?” Malloy asked. “Would she have gone to get him?”
“Probably,” Sarah said, “but she’s the one who hired us to find the killer. Why would she do that if she killed him?”
“That does seem to put her in the clear,” Gino said with a grin.
“And Nora can’t drive, so that puts her in the clear,” Malloy said.
“Even though she has the best reason we know of for wanting to murder him,” Maeve said. “Besides, even if she could drive, why would she be the one to fetch Bing?”
“To get him alone so she could kill him,” Mrs. Malloy said.
They all turned to her again.
“But if she can’t drive, she couldn’t have killed him,” Sarah pointed out.
Mrs. Malloy finally ceased her knitting and looked up. “How do you know she can’t drive?”
They all looked at one another in amazement.
“How do we know?” Maeve asked with a frown.
“Because she told us she couldn’t,” Sarah admitted.
“Actually, she didn’t even say she couldn’t. She said, ‘How would the likes of me learn to drive?’ ” Malloy said.
“And we just assumed the rest,” Sarah said, annoyed with herself.
“It’s also not hard to learn to drive an electric motor,” Maeve added. “You don’t even have to change gears.”
“And Pearl took Nora for a drive in her auto,” Gino said. “She might’ve explained the finer points to her, at least.”
“And whoever killed Bing didn’t really have to drive the auto,” Malloy pointed out. “They just had to somehow get him to stand in front of it and put it in motion.”
“So Nora might have done it,” Sarah said.
“And she has no alibi because she was alone at the hotel that night. Nobody would know if she was in her room or not,” Malloy said. “I think we need to pay the first Mrs. Bing a visit.”
VII
The next day, Gino arrived at the house in time for the noon meal, which was a big one on Sunday. Maeve teased him about missing Sunday dinner with his family, but he reminded her that he was there to help her entertain the children while Frank and Sarah paid a call on Nora Bing. It was the least they could do after Mrs. Malloy had watched them the previous day during the funeral. Since the weather was turning colder, they would be limited to a brisk walk outside followed by an afternoon of play in the nursery. Maeve apparently decided to be grateful so Gino wouldn’t regret his decision to help.
Malloy decided to drive the motorcar, so Sarah donned her duster and goggles and wrapped the length of tulle around her head to hold her hat on. She waited patiently while he cranked the motor to life and then they were on their way. For once she was glad he insisted on obeying the five-mile-per-hour speed limit since the weather was cold enough to be uncomfortable even at that speed.
The black wreath still adorned the Bings’ front door, and the maid who answered their knock seemed surprised to see visitors. “I don’t know if Mrs. Bing is at home,” she said. People who weren’t accepting visits would simply instruct their servants to say they weren’t at home.
Sarah handed the girl her card and said, “We would like to see Nora Bing, if she’s receiving.”
From the look of surprise on the girl’s face, Nora did not usually receive visitors at all. “Yes, ma’am.” She flitted away without even offering them a seat on the bench in the entryway.
“Do you think she’ll see us?” Malloy asked with a frown.
