Chapter 3
Phillip was up early and at Station House Five before he’d had a cup of coffee or a bite of bread, hoping to speak to Hendricks.
He sent a note to Hendricks inside the building with a young boy who carried messages back and forth between stations, asking him to meet him at Timothy’s apartment in half an hour.
Phillip was chatting with Timothy’s landlady when Hendricks showed up.
“That’s all right, Mrs. Kowalski,” Phillip said. “No need for you to climb the steps, and I’m sure you’re busy.”
“I am busy,” she said and turned the key over in her hand. “You’ll return it to me before you leave?”
“Of course,” Phillip said and took the key from her outstretched hand. “He doesn’t owe you any rent or anything, does he? I’ll pay the amount until this is straightened out.”
She shook her head. “No. Not necessary. I’m comfortable here, and I trust Timothy to be home soon.”
“It’s possible there will be some officers from the station Timothy is being held at, Station Ten, stopping by to see his rooms too. It would be much appreciated if you didn’t mention that I was here this morning.”
Mrs. Kowalski winked. “Don’t know a thing. Now go on with you while I get back to my housekeeping.”
Phillip and Hendricks passed her as she swept her steps clean. They climbed the staircase to the second floor and turned to the door on the left. Phillip opened it and stepped inside, Hendricks at his back.
“What the . . . ?”
Phillip looked around the usually neat but sparse room.
Every chair was overturned, as was the table.
The few pictures from the mantel were on the floor beside every dish and mug, broken to bits.
The bedroom was worse. The mattress had been shredded.
Straw and bedding lay in heaps on the floor, and every drawer in the dresser had been dumped and broken.
Phillip walked to the open window and looked out.
It would have been possible, he supposed, for someone to climb up or down the overhang roof with its low pitch.
He closed the window and slid the lock into place.
He and Hendricks sorted through the mess, looking for any clues as to who had done this damage and why.
But just as they were about to leave, Phillip picked up a book lying pages down on the floor.
It was the only book he’d seen, but he was not surprised as Timothy had never professed to be a reader.
Phillip flipped it over and realized whoever had broken into this apartment had found what they’d been looking for.
There was a section in the pages that had been cut out with a sharp edge, leaving a space about three inches square for whatever the owner wished to hide.
Phillip glanced at the spine. Prayers for the Holy Father.
A laugh bubbled up in Phillip’s chest as there was no one less religious than Timothy Sweitzinger. Hendricks walked over, glanced at the book, and looked at Phillip.
“Can’t imagine that book was his,” he said.
“True,” Phillip said and opened it, showing the hidden space within.
“Wonder what was in there?” Hendricks said.
“I’m guessing whatever it was, it was enough to get Timothy in a dead woman’s bed and to tear his apartment to shreds.”
“Could be. Certainly seems like it could all be related.”
“I want to talk to Mrs. Kowalski again,” Phillip said as they locked the apartment door behind them.
Hendricks left and turned his horse toward the station while Phillip knocked on the landlady’s door. “Mrs. Kowalski? Can I ask you a question?”
The door opened, and she waved him inside. “Have you eaten, Phillip? I have halupki just coming out.”
“Halupki?”
“Here. Sit,” she said and turned to the oven. She took a shallow bowl from a shelf and dipped a wooden spoon into the hot pan. She plopped the bowl in front of him and cut a wide piece of soft bread from a loaf. “Eat.”
Phillip had never been a man to skip a meal if at all possible, but he’d never eaten this before. The aroma was wonderful, and he dug into it with his spoon.
“Don’t know what this is, but it is delicious,” he said around a mouthful.
“Cabbage, beef, rice, and tomatoes from last spring’s garden. Tell your cook to come by and I’ll show her how to make them,” she said. “Now, what do you want to know?”
Phillip wiped his mouth with the length of toweling she handed him from where it lay near the oven. “You were out front this morning sweeping. Did you step away from your front door for a moment?”
Mrs. Kowalski crossed her arms and let out a low hum. “I did. I saw Mrs. Wozniak come out of her house, two doors down. Poor lady’s been sick for weeks. I came back here, dipped her a bowl of soup I had in the icebox, and took it to her. She was pale but up and around. Why?”
“Would you have left your front door open?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Hard to juggle the knob and a bowl of soup.”
“I think someone went up to his rooms while you delivered the soup. Picked the lock.”
“No,” she said. “Oh no. Was anything ruined?”
“It’s a bit of a mess but nothing that can’t be cleaned up.”
“I was only at the Wozniaks’ for a few minutes. I didn’t see anyone come out.”
“The window was open in his bedroom. I think whoever it was went out that way.”
Mrs. Kowalski was upset and frightened even as Phillip tried to calm her, but he did advise her to have her locks changed.
He handed her the key to Timothy’s room and told her he’d check back with her in a few days.
He made a mental note for Eliza to meet Mrs. Kowalski and learn how to make halupki.
Virginia stopped at Shellington early the next morning. She hadn’t seen her father in several days and missed the staff at her former home. Mr. Smith opened the door and smiled.
“Miss Wiest! So glad to see you! We’ve missed you and your smiling face,” he said and nodded to Mr. Turnbull. “Your father and Mrs. Wiest are breakfasting, and Mr. Crimlock has just taken the children to school.”
“It is good to see you too, Mr. Smith,” Virginia said.
“How are things coming at your new home? You’ve hired a butler?”
“I have. Mr. Oliver. He’s young but very thorough. He’ll never be you, though.” She touched his sleeve.
Smith blushed, a rare treat to see on a sixty-year-old man, Virginia thought.
“You are too kind,” he said softly.
“I’ll just join them for breakfast, then.” Virginia moved down the hallway, the asters and mums in great vases coloring the wide space. She opened the door to the small dining room used for family. “Father! Nancy! I’ve missed you both!”
“My darling girl.” Her father hurried to her from his chair. “Are you well? Is everything all right?”
Virginia kissed his cheek and went to the sideboard, stopping to drop a kiss on Nancy’s cheek. She filled her plate and let a smiling maid pour her a cup of tea.
“Everything is fine How are the newlyweds doing? Are Mark and Beth enjoying school?” she asked and looked up. Nancy was pale and clinging to her father’s hand, and he was staring at her as if he would slay a dragon to take away her cares. “What is it? Is everyone well?”
Nancy nodded and dabbed her eyes. “The children are fine.”
“Then what? You must tell me, please,” she said. “Father?”
He glanced at his wife, who gave a small nod. “Nancy’s family, the Alcotts, are coming this afternoon. Calling on us.”
“Oh,” Virginia said. “That is not terrible news, is it? Perhaps they are looking to reconcile.”
Nancy shook her head. “I doubt that.”
“Nancy believes they are coming here to somehow worm money from Wiest pockets. I told her that I have staved off many a fortune hunter and am not worried. But as you can see,” he said, “she is worried. I told her I’d cancel their visit without a second thought to relieve her worries.”
“Nancy, if you don’t want them here, tell Father. He will take care of it, and you will have no unpleasantness.”
“That would hardly be fair, would it? They are my relatives, after all.”
“Who will be calling?” Virginia asked.
“My mother and father, my brother, Morris, and a cousin, Bernard Alcott.”
“Four of them, then,” Virginia said. She sipped the last of her tea and stood. “I need to take care of a few things, and then I’ll return to greet our guests.”
“Better yet,” Wiest said.
“I don’t want to put you out, Virginia. You needn’t involve yourself for my sake. My mother can be . . . rude.”
“Of course I must be here. You are my family as much as they are yours.” She kissed her father’s cheek and tapped Nancy’s shoulder. “Wear green. It looks so lovely with your eyes.”
Phillip tracked down Rory Simmons midday at an Irish pub called Paddy’s.
He’d been looking for the man all morning and wasn’t convinced he wasn’t purposefully avoiding him.
But a tip from the Station Five messenger boy sent him to the red door he was now opening.
There was a man playing the piano and some men singing along with the tune he pounded out.
A tall man stood behind a large bar where men talked, shouted, and smoked cigars and pipes.
The noise was overwhelming, and the smoke was making his eyes burn.
He finally spotted his quarry in the corner with several other men, laughing at what one of them had said.
“Simmons?” Phillip shouted once he was beside the man in question.
The man turned and frowned. “What do you want, Brown? I’m off duty, can’t you see?”
“I know. Just a couple of questions. Can we step somewhere quieter?”
“Trying to free that murderer we’ve got locked in Station Ten? Sweitzinger is going to swing!” a man said and slammed his thick-bottomed mug down on the bar.
“You from Ten?” Phillip asked.
“Yeah. What of it?” another said.
“Just wondering what kind of station it is over there,” Phillip said, knowing he was tempting the gods. “You like to see a fellow officer in a cell?”
“What are you saying?” a man shouted and shouldered his way to Phillip’s face. “Who in the hell do you think you are coming in here and saying that shite? He was in a bed covered in a woman’s blood, the knife still sticking out of the poor woman’s chest.”
“Just wondering if any of you imagined that what looked obvious was not true?”
“The dead woman? Or the knife?”
There were more rumblings in his direction, and he glanced at Simmons. The man grabbed his arm. “Come outside before they beat the life out of you.”
Phillip gladly went, not really looking for a fight but frustrated enough not to turn down a good drubbing. “You and Sweitzinger were watching for a thief the night before this went down?”
“Yeah. That’s right. Jenkins is his name. He sells to Bruner, the fence. His warehouse is across the basin.”
“So you’re trying to catch Jenkins and Bruner together?”
“Something like that.”
“Did Sweitzinger say anything about anyone he was going to meet? Any plans?”
“We don’t socialize. Don’t talk about personal stuff.”
Phillip tilted his head and stared. “You got a complaint about Timothy?”
“No more than anyone else,” Simmons said. “Got to go. Be wise to get out of here fast once I go in.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Phillip said. Clearly, he wouldn’t get any more information from Simmons, and he didn’t have time to waste trying to convince him to talk about his arguments with Timothy.
Phillip walked away from Paddy’s door, past a few storefronts, and found a small space between buildings to squeeze into.
He didn’t wait long for the red door to open and several men to spill out onto the street.
They looked up and down the street, talking loudly and making comments that would scorch a man’s ears if he had any sensibility.
Phillip didn’t, however, and would gladly trade barbs with them, but he didn’t wish for death.
As he waited, a few went back through the red door, and three waved a goodbye and set off at a trot.
There were two left, and both were walking his way, calling his name and talking trash on Timothy.
Phillip wasn’t going to let unfounded rumors about Timothy be spread. He stepped out just as they approached.
“Hello, fellows,” he said.
The tallest of the two made a grab for him, and Phillip let his back be pulled against the man’s chest. The short one with an extra pound or two around the middle stepped up and started swinging.
Phillip’s arms were locked, but his feet weren’t.
He pushed back against the tall man, picked up both feet and slamming the fat one in the chest. The man dropped to his knees, gasping for breath, while Phillip crouched as much as possible and leaned forward, bringing the tall man over his head. He landed on his back with a thump.
“Why don’t you two boys get yourselves home? It’s late, you’re drunk, and you likely have an early shift.” Phillip stepped over both men, the tall one still gasping. He smiled as he headed away and wiped the spot of blood from his lip, evidence that the fat one had found his target, once at least.