Murder on Madison Square, page 18
Doyle scratched his head, but Frank guessed he wasn’t really confused. “Where were you, then, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I was at home. Mr. Bing didn’t think I did a good job of talking to potential customers, so he didn’t want me at the automobile show.”
“Were you alone?”
Warren glanced at Frank, and while his instinct still might be to protect Pearl’s good name, he couldn’t help the flush that crawled up his face. “Yes, I was alone.”
“That’s too bad. Prosperous young fellow like you should have a loyal wife to swear you were home all night,” Doyle said pleasantly. “Of course, I wouldn’t believe her, but you should still have one.”
Warren’s flush grew darker, but he bit back whatever he might have wanted to say.
“However, the reason I’m here today is because Mrs. Bing is now dead,” Doyle said when Warren remained silent. “I don’t suppose you have any idea who might’ve wanted her dead.”
“I don’t know that anyone did.”
“Well, we’re pretty sure somebody put arsenic into her bedtime libation, so it would appear that someone did.”
“Maybe she did it herself,” Will said.
Doyle seemed to consider that possibility for a moment, and Frank actually considered it. Could they have missed something? “Why would she do that?”
“Well, she came to New York to find Pearl and get revenge on her husband,” Warren said. “Pearl wasn’t very glad to see her and didn’t want a reunion with her mother, who turned out to be somewhat of a drudge.”
“That’s pretty mean, Mr. Warren,” Doyle said.
“I’m just telling you what Pearl thought, at least when Mrs. Bing first got here,” Warren said. “I think she was a bit embarrassed by her. Nora’s daughter didn’t want her, and her husband had married another woman, so she . . . she killed Bing.”
“Did Mrs. Bing know how to operate a motorcar, Mr. Warren?”
“It’s not difficult.” He glanced at Frank again. “I showed Mrs. Malloy how to drive one in just a few minutes.”
“Did somebody show Mrs. Bing how to operate one?”
“I don’t know, but Pearl might have. In any case, Nora probably ran over Mr. Bing, but then her conscience started to bother her, and she realized Bing hadn’t left her anything and Pearl didn’t want to acknowledge her, so she killed herself.”
It could be true, Frank had to admit. They had considered Nora a good prospect to be the killer. Still, others had a good reason for killing Bing, too, and Nora didn’t seem like the type to let her conscience bother her that much. “Tell Detective Sergeant Doyle how you could afford to buy yourself a house, Mr. Warren,” Frank said.
This time Warren’s face turned almost purple as he glared at Frank.
“Yes, Mr. Warren, do tell,” Doyle said.
It took Warren a few moments to find his voice. “As Mr. Malloy knows, I used the money Mr. Bing had invested in my automobile business.”
“Did Mr. Bing know that?” Doyle asked.
Warren looked like he could chew nails. “No.”
Doyle nodded sagely. “I’m guessing he wouldn’t have been too pleased if he found out, though.”
Warren didn’t bother to answer him.
“What could he have done if he did find out, Mr. Warren?” Doyle asked with interest.
Warren shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Asked for the money back, I assume.”
“Or taken the house?” Doyle guessed.
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask a lawyer.”
But Frank was nodding. “And your efforts to impress Miss Bing would have been for nothing.”
“Is that what the house was for?” Doyle asked. “To impress Miss Bing?”
Warren could hardly control himself now. Plainly, Miss Bing was his weak spot. “I won’t discuss Miss Bing with the likes of you.”
“The likes of me?” Doyle echoed in feigned amusement. “In that case, I guess I need to speak with Miss Bing myself.”
Before Warren could object to that, the maid tapped at the parlor door to tell them the men had arrived to take the body to the morgue. Doyle went to oversee the process, leaving Frank and Warren alone.
“Why can’t you just leave Miss Bing alone?” Warren demanded. “She’s suffered enough.”
“I would be glad to leave her and you both alone if you’d just tell me the truth about what happened the night Bing died.”
“I keep telling you, I don’t have any idea what happened.”
“Because you were at home,” Frank remembered. “Were you at home alone with Miss Bing that night?”
“If you expect me to slander Miss Bing to save myself, you’re crazy.”
“What about saving Miss Bing? She had reasons to be angry with her father as well.”
“You can’t prove she was at Madison Square that night either.”
“I can prove she wasn’t at home that night,” Frank lied, figuring he was probably right about Pearl being with Warren, “and if she wasn’t with you, where was she?”
Warren opened his mouth to protest, but Sarah came in the still-open door and distracted him. “Mr. Warren, Detective Sergeant Doyle asked me to tell you that he’s finished with you. You can return to your shop now.”
“But—”
“He’s going to question Miss Bing next, and you can’t be with her,” Sarah said as nicely as if she were apologizing to him.
“You can’t expect her to be alone in a room with two men,” Warren protested valiantly.
“I’ll sit with her,” Sarah said, exchanging a look with Frank, who nodded his approval.
“My wife will make sure no one offends her.”
Plainly, offending Miss Bing had not been Warren’s concern. “I’d like to speak with her before I go.”
Sarah glanced over her shoulder, and they all heard the tromp of feet as the men from the morgue carried their burden down the stairs. “I’ll go up for her as soon as . . .” She stepped into the room, out of the men’s way while the procession passed the doorway, and they all waited for the grim task to be completed.
Detective Sergeant Doyle was apparently bringing up the rear and when he reached the parlor door, he stuck his head in and said, “You can go back to your place of business, Mr. Warren. I’ll let you know if I need to question you again.”
“But I need to speak with Miss Bing.”
“Not before I do,” Doyle said cheerfully. “Do you need a maid to show you out?”
Warren sighed in defeat. “I can find my own way.”
He did, and when he was gone, Frank said, “Have you met my wife, Doyle?”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Malloy,” Doyle said. He knew better than to show Sarah any disrespect, but Frank could see he was actually impressed. Sarah knew how to be impressive.
“I’d like to sit in with Miss Bing when you question her, if you don’t mind,” she said, showing Doyle much more deference than Frank thought he deserved.
“Yes, I guess we must observe the proprieties,” Doyle said, plainly amused by that thought.
Sarah smiled. “I may also know some things you don’t, and I can help you get the truth out of her.”
Doyle widened his eyes, but he didn’t respond as most men would have, by dismissing such a claim out of hand. “I would appreciate your help.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said. “I’ll go fetch her, shall I?”
* * *
• • •
Sarah went up to Pearl’s room and knocked. Pearl came to open the door instead of just inviting her visitor in, peering out a crack before pulling the door completely open. “What do you want?”
“Detective Sergeant Doyle would like to speak with you now.”
Pearl sighed in dismay. “Must I?”
“Yes, I’m afraid you must. I’ll stay with you, though, so you don’t have to face him alone.”
“I’m not afraid of him,” she protested.
“Mr. Warren was concerned about the propriety of you being alone with a policeman, I think.”
She actually laughed at that. “He’s a fine one to be concerned about my good name. I don’t want him there, though.”
Now, wasn’t that interesting? “He’s gone back to his shop, I believe.”
“Thank heaven for that.”
Sarah wanted to ask why Pearl was so glad to see the last of Will Warren, but she bit her tongue and followed Pearl downstairs.
Sarah was glad to see Malloy had chosen to remain in the room for Pearl’s interview, although Pearl cast him a murderous glance before taking her seat on the chair opposite Doyle.
Doyle began with the usual questions about her name and her relationship to the dead woman.
“I understand you had been estranged from your mother for a number of years,” Doyle said.
“Not estranged. I thought she was dead,” Pearl said.
“Why did you think that?”
Pearl’s lips tightened and her hands closed into fists, but she managed to say, “My father told me she was.”
“Do you know why your father would tell you your mother was dead when she wasn’t?”
“I think . . . I think he wanted to get rid of her, and he left her behind when we moved on to a new town. By telling me she had died, he ensured I wouldn’t ever wonder why she didn’t join us or want to go back and look for her.”
“You must have been pretty angry at him when you found out he’d lied to you and she was still alive.”
“We had words, yes, but he . . .” She sighed with what might have been resignation. “. . . he explained that he wanted to get me away from her. She wasn’t a good influence and he wanted me to become a fine lady.”
“Did you agree that she wasn’t a good influence?” Sarah asked, earning a frown from Doyle, which she ignored.
Pearl turned to her impatiently. “You met her. She certainly isn’t a fine lady.”
Sarah noticed Pearl still spoke of Nora in the present tense. “But she is still your mother.”
Pearl chose not to reply to that and turned back to Doyle. “And before you ask, no, I did not want my mother to really be dead. For all her failings, she is still my mother.”
“Were you surprised when she moved in here?” Doyle asked.
“Not at all. I suggested it. She was my father’s lawful widow, after all, and she had every right to live in his house.”
“You were reconciled, then,” Doyle observed.
“As I said, we were never estranged in the first place. We were getting to know each other again, however, and I had no reason to want her dead. I’d just lost my father, and that was painful enough.”
“Were you and your father arguing over Nora the night before he died?” Sarah asked.
This time Doyle didn’t look annoyed, just interested, but Malloy actually gasped, although Sarah forced herself not to glance over at him. Pearl was the one who looked annoyed. “What makes you think I argued with my father?”
“Someone overheard you,” Sarah said. “Was your father upset that you had gone to see your mother?”
“If someone overheard us, then you probably already know what we argued about,” Pearl said in disgust.
“But I don’t,” Doyle said, “so why don’t you tell me?”
Pearl’s lips and fists tightened again, but she lifted her chin as if bracing for a fight. “He was encouraging me to marry.”
“He wanted you to marry Mr. Warren?” Doyle asked in apparent surprise. Indeed, Sarah had to agree Warren didn’t seem like an equal match for Pearl, regardless of the indications that she was seeing him secretly.
“I don’t think he particularly cared who I married. He just thought it was time some man took me off his hands now that he had a new family to think of.” She didn’t even try to hide her bitterness.
How horrible. Sarah couldn’t help feeling sympathy for a girl whose life had revolved around her father only to have him reject her when he took a new wife.
But was it the wife who had supplanted her? Ethel herself had said her marriage to Alvin had been loveless. Carrie was the one claiming to have taken Pearl’s place in his affections, and he had obviously doted on her, too.
“So, you had a good reason to be angry with your father,” Doyle was saying.
Pearl stiffened, but she said nothing, meeting Doyle’s gaze defiantly.
“Did you drive your automobile down to Madison Square that night and when he came over to meet you, knock him down and run him over?”
“I wasn’t there that night,” Pearl said.
“Where were you, then?” Doyle asked.
Pearl took a breath. “I was at home.”
“No, you weren’t,” Sarah said. “We know that.”
Pearl gave her a long, considering look. “I was with Mr. Warren.”
“At the automobile show?” Doyle asked eagerly.
Pearl’s gaze drifted back to him and she actually smiled. “No. I was with Mr. Warren at his home. Alone.”
Sarah almost sighed with relief, but she knew better than to show a reaction.
“Mr. Warren said he was home alone,” Doyle said.
Pearl shook her head at this. “What else would you expect a gentleman to say?”
“Why did you go to see Mr. Warren that night?” Sarah asked.
“Why do you think?” Pearl asked haughtily.
“Then you and Warren are lovers?” Doyle asked.
Pearl sighed in dismay at their naïveté.
“But you must have had a specific reason for going to see him that night,” Sarah said. “Your mother, who you’d thought was dead, had suddenly returned and was demanding your attention. You had discovered that the father to whom you were devoted had been lying to you for years. Then you’d quarreled with him because he wanted you to marry and leave his house. You must have been very upset.”
“Do you think I went to Will for comfort?” Pearl scoffed.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” Doyle said snidely.
“Mr. Warren was obviously correct in worrying about Miss Bing being alone with you,” Sarah said sharply, making Doyle flinch.
“My apologies, Miss Bing,” Doyle said with only slight reluctance. “But let me get this straight—you were with Mr. Warren at his house the night your father was killed.”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me when you arrived and when you left?”
“I usually wait until Ethel and Carrie have retired, around ten o’clock. Then I drive my auto to Will’s house. That night I believe I stayed until a little after one o’clock.”
“Usually? Does that mean you’ve been there before?” Doyle glanced at Sarah and was careful not to leer.
Pearl narrowed her eyes, but she said, “Yes. Several times.”
Doyle scratched his head, as if he were puzzled. “If your father wanted you to get married and he had no objection to Mr. Warren, why would you have to sneak out to meet him?”
“I have no intention of marrying Mr. Warren.”
Doyle blinked in surprise and Sarah had to admit she was probably blinking herself. She didn’t dare meet Malloy’s eye. She held her breath, hoping Doyle would ask the right question next. Fortunately, he did.
“If you aren’t going to marry Warren, why were you, uh, meeting him?”
“To make my father . . . notice.”
“Notice what? That you had a lover?” Doyle asked, not having to feign confusion now.
Pearl shook her head, obviously despairing of Doyle’s insight. “Yes.”
Sarah’s mind was racing. Pearl was sneaking out to meet Will Warren at his house, presumably so they could do what lovers did, but she had no intention of marrying him. She had taken a lover only to make her father pay attention to her because . . . Because why? Because she was jealous of her father’s attentions to Carrie? That seemed extreme and also rather childish. Surely, Pearl was beyond such pettiness, and why would she destroy her reputation for such a stupid reason? Besides, it had obviously been for nothing since her father apparently hadn’t cared.
Doyle cleared his throat as if to rid himself of his confusion. “So, you and Mr. Warren were together at his house the night your father was killed.”
“Yes. If you tell him that I have revealed it, he will confirm it, I’m sure. He has only been trying to protect my reputation, which is why he hasn’t admitted it before.”
“And I don’t suppose you had any reason to kill your mother,” Doyle said with obvious resignation.
“No reason at all. I had just found her again. We were planning to find a place of our own, so we didn’t have to rely on Ethel anymore.”
Sarah wondered how they were planning to pay for that, but she decided not to ask.
“If that is all, I’d like to return to my room,” Pearl said. “I just lost my mother, after all, and I’m quite distraught.”
“Sure. I’ll let you know if I have any more questions,” Doyle said, standing when Pearl did and watching with narrowed eyes as she left the room.
“What do you think?” Malloy asked.
Doyle shrugged. “One will lie and the other will swear to it. There’s no telling where they were the night Bing died.”
“Yeah,” Malloy said. “They could’ve been together at his house or one of them could’ve been off killing Bing and the other would say they were together.”
“Or,” Sarah said, “they could have both been at Madison Square killing Mr. Bing.”
Doyle gave Malloy a dark look. “I thought you were going to help me with this case.”
XI
Frank had thought they would finally get Pearl or Will to tell the truth, but now they were all more confused than ever. He turned to Sarah.
“How did you know Pearl and her father had argued?”
