Chapter 13 #2
The following morning Phillip set off to the area near the hospital.
He thought about stopping to see Martha Scovil, Josephine Button’s landlady, but he didn’t quite trust her son to not report his inquiry.
He got off the streetcar and thought seriously, for the second time recently, that he better think about getting a horse, or at least start saving toward one.
There was a small livery near Wolfe Street that would work to stable the animal at night.
He’d have to find out how much that service cost. But he was spending quite a bit on the streetcar and was at the mercy of their schedules.
“Hello there!” Phillip said to a woman hanging clothes on a line. “I’m looking for an office with the name Gordon or Gardner. Do you have any idea where that is?”
“The lawyer?” the woman asked.
Phillip nodded. “Do you know where it is?”
“Down this street, turn right. It’s a block away.”
Phillip thanked her and took off at a trot.
It felt as though he was finally making some progress.
He found the prosperous-looking brick building among some stores and places of commerce as the neighborhood transitioned from homes to businesses.
A brass plate said Douglas Gordon, Attorney.
He walked up the three steps and into the building, where a woman sat a desk.
“Hello. May I help you?” she said.
“Yes. I’d like to speak to Mr. Gordon.”
The woman smiled up at him and rose from her seat. “Let me see if he’s in.”
Phillip sat down on one of the tufted chairs near the door but did not have to wait long.
The woman came out and signaled for him to follow.
She showed him into a large office with a woman behind a massive desk, two oil lamps near her writing area, as well as gas lamps on the walls.
She stood when he came in and picked up a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
“May I help you, sir?”
“I was hoping to speak with Mr. Douglas Gordon. I’m sorry to take your time,” he said and turned to the door.
“My father has been dead for ten years. I took over his practice. I’m Isabella Gordon. My law degree is from Philadelphia College. Is there something I can do for you?”
“My name is Phillip Brown. I’m trying to clear my friend, who’s been accused of murder.”
“And your friend needs a lawyer?”
Phillip shook his head. “No. Well, maybe he does if this goes to trial before I can prove his innocence.”
“Did someone recommend my practice to you”
“No. One of your employees was involved.”
“One of my employees? In this murder? Whoever would that be?”
“Do you employ Bess Turner and Josephine Button?”
“Yes, but Miss Button is out of town right now.”
“Is that what Miss Turner told you?”
Miss Gordon sat down in the chair behind her, picked up a pen from her desk, and adjusted her glasses. “I don’t really have time to play word games with you, Mr. Brown. Jeannie will see you out,” she said as the first woman stood in the doorway to the office.
“Right this way, sir,” she said.
“Please, miss. I needed to understand what you knew and didn’t know before I told you all. Can I have just a few more private minutes?”
Miss Gordon nodded at the woman in the doorway. “What are you not telling me, Mr. Brown. I’m very busy.”
“Josephine Button is dead.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Josephine Button is dead. Stabbed to death in a bed in rooms rented by Bess Turner. She was in the bed with a police officer, my longtime friend, Timothy Sweitzinger. He didn’t do this. He doesn’t even remember how he got there. Was it Miss Turner who told you that Miss Button was out of town?”
She blinked several times and glanced around the room. “Yes. I just asked her the other day when she thought Josephine would return. It’s been several weeks. She said there was a problem with one of Josephine’s sisters and that she would be back to work soon.”
“There is a problem with her sisters. I believe that was why she was murdered. She’d hired my friend Sweitzinger to investigate what happened to Nora Button, thirteen years old, who has gone missing.
Now the youngest girl, Fanny, is missing too.
I’m trying to clear my friend’s name, but I’d also like to rescue those two girls if they’re not dead. ”
“Good Lord. Josephine was a diligent and meticulous worker. I had high hopes for her. I know she was saving to move to a bigger apartment so she could bring her sisters to live with her.”
“I need to speak to Bess Turner.”
“Yes. I can see why,” she said and stood. She opened her door and spoke to Jeannie. “Bess should be in tomorrow.”
“I don’t really want to wait that long.”
Miss Gordon stared at him. “You don’t really think I’ll give you the address of her residence, do you?”
“I was hoping you would.”
“The problem is, I don’t know you. You could be lying about everything you’ve said.”
“I’m not lying. Speak to anyone at Station Five.
Sweitzinger is an officer there. They’ve turned over the investigation to another station so that there’s no appearance of preference.
Speak to the coroner, William Welch, from down near the basin.
He examined Miss Button’s body. I saw the slit where the knife went into her chest and the marks the hilt made on her skin.
I saw the room where it happened, the mattress brown with her blood. ”
“I will check into all of this myself,” Gordon said.
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Miss Turner I was here. There’s already a policeman dead. I’m fairly certain whoever killed Miss Button viewed the officer as a loose end to be silenced. If Bessie Turner shares that I was here asking questions, you and your staff could be in danger.”
“You’re quite serious,” she said. “How did you become involved to this degree other than concern about your friend?”
Phillip shrugged. “I help others on occasion when the authorities dismiss their concerns.”
“Poor and middle-class people?”
“Yes.”
“Where could I locate you if I needed to?” she asked.
“I’m at 159 Wolfe Street. I need that address.”
“Give me a few hours, Mr. Brown. I intend to check your story first. My employees deserve my discretion.”
“Josephine Button didn’t deserve to die.”
Gordon arched a brow. “Jeannie. Please see Mr. Brown out.”