Chapter 7
Phillip waited impatiently for Virginia to come out of Station Ten.
He was slouched low in the seat of the carriage and nearly tumbled onto the floor when Turnbull started up the horses toward the door of the station.
He leaned back against the seat and peered out the window.
A uniformed man held the station door for her as she stepped outside.
He felt Turnbull jump down from his seat and set the steps for her to climb inside.
She was wearing a dark dress with a long black jacket with wide sleeves, a small black hat perched on her upswept hair, its netting pulled over her face.
“That is not a very nice place,” she said once she was seated and flipped the netting away from her face. “I understand it’s not supposed to be, but they had no reason to be short-tempered with me. I’m not a criminal.”
He smiled at her. “Police stations aren’t known for being welcoming.”
Virginia laughed lightly. “Of course not. I shouldn’t expect a welcoming committee, should I?”
“No. You shouldn’t. Not everyone is as glad to see you as I am.” She blushed, which made her look prettier, if that was possible. “What did you find out?”
“He looks terrible,” she said. “He’s pale and nervous, nothing like the usually confident and cheerful man I’ve known.”
“He’s in jail on murder charges, and he doesn’t remember enough to declare his innocence.”
She pulled out his notes. “He remembers getting that note that said Wash/East 9 but doesn’t remember who gave it to him.
It wasn’t his writing, he said. That book you found in his rooms?
He said he hid something in it years ago but it had been a decade or more since the last time he opened it or put something in it. ”
“Dead ends.”
“He did tell me to tell you that the case he was working on was ‘off the books.’ Whatever that means.”
“It means he was looking into something that wasn’t an official inquiry with the police.”
“So someone came to him with a problem, like they do to you sometimes, and he worked on it when he was off duty?”
“Exactly. Did he say what the case was about?”
“Yes. He said he was looking for a young woman who had disappeared. Her family was trying to find her with no success. He was afraid she’d been abducted to be sold into slavery! How horrible he made it sound for these victims.”
“Does he remember her name?”
“Nora. Nora Button. She is thirteen years old.”
Phillip sat back in his seat. “Button? Josephine’s sister?” he whispered.
Virginia nodded. “Yes. He remembered he met with Josephine once and got a picture someone had drawn of Nora but has no idea what happened to it.”
“Anything else?”
“I assured him you were doing everything possible to clear his name. We had to whisper, as there was a guard nearby, who watched us.”
“Do you think the guard believed you were his fiancée?”
“I don’t know, but I did reach up and give him a kiss and patted his cheek. I know the guard watched that.”
“You kissed him?”
“I had to make it look real. Who would believe a grieving fiancée would visit her beloved wallowing in prison without giving him a peck on the cheek? Don’t you agree?”
“I suppose you’re right, but I’ll tell you, Virginia, I don’t like the idea of you kissing anyone but me. I just don’t like it,” he said, on his dignity.
Virginia smiled at him in a way that made him believe she was pleased with what he’d said.
Turnbull stopped the carriage on Bond Street near Millie’s Restaurant. Phillip turned to Virginia and kissed her lips.
“Are you better now?” she asked with a wry smile.
“I am, as a matter of fact.” He opened the door, jumped down to the street, and nodded at Turnbull. He watched Virginia as she waved a goodbye from the window.
Millie’s was located in the front room of her house.
She cooked the breakfast meals in her kitchen and had one or two items ready to serve at noontime, like soup or fried oysters.
A young girl was busy telling two men what was available for their lunch where they sat at a table on the closed in-porch while Phillip slipped down the hallway to where a woman stirred a huge pot on the stove, her back to the doorway.
“They want the oysters on bread or the soup, Sally?”
“Don’t know yet, Millie. Don’t think they’ve ordered.”
She turned quickly from the stove, holding the long thick paddle she’d been using to stir. “Brown! What are you doing back here? Get out of my kitchen!”
“Calm down, Millie. Just want to ask you a question or two.”
“You and your police friends ain’t friends of mine unless they’re handing over their coin.”
“How is Joe? I heard he’s out.”
“He’s fine, with no help from anyone but hisself. They wasted five years of his life.”
Joe Montgomery was a petty thief and terrible gambler who’d run through the money his father had left him and probably never took a step in this kitchen without nicking the money box.
It would have been for the best for him if he stayed in jail until the man he owed a vast amount of money to finally died.
“Maybe I feel the same about Sweitzinger. He didn’t kill anybody. I’m just trying to find out who set him up. Do you want another innocent man to go to jail?”
The young serving girl, Sally, came into the kitchen, ignoring Phillip as she did.
“Two oysters and two bowls,” she said and poured coffee from a pot on the hub into two china mugs.
The girl left with the coffee while Millie piled fried oysters on two pieces of soft bread spread with relish and wrapped them in paper.
She dipped soup into two chipped bowls. He looked up when he realized he was staring at the tray of food and his stomach was growling.
Millie shook her head, spread relish on a piece of bread, added three fried oysters, and handed the sandwich to him. “Sweitzinger was here that day. That day he stabbed that poor woman.”
“He didn’t stab anyone. He doesn’t have any idea how he got in that bed.”
“’Course that’s what he says.”
“If someone was trying to stab you, Millie, wouldn’t you fight?”
“Surely, I’d . . .”
“You kick and claw and scratch and punch, anything to save yourself,” he said.
“Well, yeah . . .”
“Then why didn’t the Button woman have any marks on her hands or feet? Why didn’t Sweitzinger have not one cut or bruise on him?”
“Not one?” Millie asked and then turned to stir her soup. “Don’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense because he didn’t kill her. Do you remember what time he was here last week? Did Sweitzinger talk to anyone else?”
Sally walked into the kitchen and picked up the tray. “He ate his sandwich and left. Gave me a nickel for bringing it.”
Phillip turned to the young girl. “And he didn’t talk to anyone else?”
“Nope. Not unless I was in the kitchen. But it wasn’t a busy day. I remember because I like to serve him. He smells good.”
Millie laughed. “You’re too young to be sniffing a man.”
“I’ll tell him you said that, Sally,” Phillip said with a smile and tossed her a coin. He dropped another coin on the table and carried his sandwich with him down the hallway, out the door and into the sunlight.
“I thought Miss Hopsfelter was a friend of yours, Virginia,” Nancy said as they traveled to the Hopsfelter home for afternoon tea after having stopped to pick up Gertrude Miller.
“Edwina is an acquaintance more than a friend. We know each other from many years in the same social circle. But a friend? No, not really,” Virginia said.
Gertrude sat across from them. “Be very careful of what you tell Edwina, Nancy. She’s a viper.”
Virginia laughed. “Now, Gertrude. That is hardly fair. She isn’t someone who inspires trust, you’re right, but I don’t see her as particularly evil.”
“Just telling you what I think,” Gertrude said. “As you can tell, Nancy, I’m not near as nice or forgiving as Virginia.”
They pulled under the portico of the Hopsfelter home, and a servant opened the door and helped them all out of the carriage. Mary Hernsdown was just walking to the door when she spied them.
“Thank goodness you are here. All of you. I dread going in there alone,” she said.
“I fear my acceptance to Miss Hopsfelter’s invitation is not an occasion to look forward to for any of you. Although I am glad you’ve all accompanied me. Such a comfort to be among friends,” Nancy said.
“Now you’ve shamed me with your kindness, Mrs. Wiest,” Gertrude said and slipped her arm through Nancy’s. “We shall face this storm together!”
They all laughed, as Virginia was sure Gertrude had intended.
They were greeted by Edwina, her mother, and her aunt and escorted to a sofa and chair in the middle of the gathering of women.
The previous occupants stood as if on cue, and Virginia imagined that was exactly what had happened, as Virginia, Nancy, Gertrude, and Mary took their places.
“Mrs. Wiest, is it?” a woman in a nearby chair said, tilting her head back as if to better look down her nose at Nancy. “Your mother and I have been friends for years. It is unfortunate you deserted your family and were lost to Baltimore society, but it appears you may have regained your footing.”
Virginia was just about to speak when Nancy laid a hand on hers.
“Mrs. Cartwright?” she asked, and the woman nodded.
“I did not desert my family. They deserted me. But I’ll never regret the time I had with Mr. Shugars, God rest his soul, or our two wonderful children.
Never one regret, regardless of how difficult my circumstances turned out to be.
And now I’ve been fortunate to find love a second time in my life.
I consider myself very blessed to have the love and respect of Alistair Wiest. A fine, wonderful man who has embraced my children. ”
Virginia could see that Mary was dabbing her eye, as were a few others, and all were listening to Nancy’s soft voice. Her stepmother needed little help, it seemed, once she was back to herself.
“Well,” Mrs. Cartwright said and laid a hand on her bosom.
Nancy smiled at the woman. “Do you know what those wonderful-looking cookies are on that tray near you? The smell is delicious.”
And with that, the women began to talk amongst themselves, and a maid came by serving tea. Virginia had worried needlessly.
Phillip went back to Wolfe Street, hoping to clear his head and think about a way forward. When he opened the door, he heard Miriam’s shrill voice. He closed his eyes but could not allow Sarah to face her alone.
“Hello, Miriam, and congratulations!” he said when he joined the two women in the sitting room.
“Oh! Our Phillip!” she said and jumped up from her seat. “Give your aunt a peck on the cheek now. We’re family!”
He could see Sarah over Miriam’s shoulder rolling her eyes as he gave his uncle’s bride-to-be a kiss.
“Come sit down, Phillip,” Miriam said. “I wanted to let you know we’ve bought the Sheffield house. I’m meeting Patrick at the bank to get the money to pay them. I think I have a buyer for my place too. I’m so excited I could just scream!”
“We’re very glad for you, Miriam. Aren’t we, Sarah?”
“Oh yes. Very glad. We love Uncle Patrick and are sure the two of you will be very happy.”
He suspected Sarah was gritting her teeth, even knowing she told the truth. Both of them loved Patrick dearly and wanted him to be happy. “Have you set a date for the wedding?” he asked.
“Two Saturdays from now in the morning,” she said and stood. “I must hurry along now to get to the bank for our appointment.”
“Let me know if there’s anything we can do,” Sarah said as she stood.
“There is one thing, Sarah, dear. I’m going to Dolly’s to have a dress made. Will you come with me if you are not working that day? I don’t have any daughters to help me, and my brother only has sons. Would you mind?”
“No. I wouldn’t mind at all. I only work occasionally at Dolly’s, but I’ll be happy to go with you whenever you want.”
Miriam kissed both of her cheeks. “Thank you! I’ll send a note with my plans.”
Sarah and Phillip watched her hurry out of the sitting room and out the front door.
“She seems genuinely excited to be getting married,” Sarah said.
“Patrick too. I wonder if he wanted to do this before and waited because of us.”
“I wondered the same thing,” Sarah said. “As much as she irritates me, I’m going to do my best to get along with her. If she makes uncle happy, then I’ll do whatever is necessary.”
“Agreed.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Sarah reached into her pocket. “A young man, long hair and rather disheveled, brought a message for you earlier. Here it is.”
Phillip took the note and opened it. It was from Martha Scovil, Josephine Button’s landlady. The disheveled boy must be the one he’d met the day he went to Josephine’s rooms.
Mr. Brown, I found the note that Josephine gave me when she went to visit her sisters.
The address is 15 German Street, number 3 on the second floor.
I think there’s an aunt who takes care of them, if I remember right.
I’ve boxed up Josephine’s things. Maybe you can let me know if I should send them to her sisters.
I have no idea how old they are. I feel terrible about Josephine’s death.
She was such a lovely girl. Thank you for looking into it. M. Scovil
“Sisters? There are more than Nora?”
“What are you talking about?” Sarah asked.
“I’ve got to go. Right now.”