Chapter 14 #2
When she and Nancy had spoken after the meeting, after having received written pledges from all but one of the attendees, Nancy had wiped her eyes again.
“I know that woman is a criminal—Alistair has spoken of it—and that she and her people are dangerous,” Nancy had whispered, even though they’d stood alone in the meeting room. “It’s no wonder, though, is it?”
Virginia felt the same. She sat by the window in her small parlor thinking about happenstance and courage and how those two things set a path that Irene Littleman could not vary from.
Even knowing that something good could have just as well happened to her and her sisters did not change or mitigate the unfortunate things that actually did happen to that small, very young, and quite solitary family.
Virginia rarely needed validation to do the right thing in the face of hurt or discomfort or even danger, but who was to say what a person would do or become with a childhood so marked by loss and hopelessness?
She shook her head, trying to shake off the malaise that had followed her home after the meeting, and looked up when she heard Mr. Oliver open the front door and then heard Phillip Brown’s voice.
She stood as he entered the room and she went directly to him, knowing it was not particularly ladylike or maybe even what the gentleman preferred.
But she was wrong to doubt him. He opened his arms and she went to him, laying her head on his chest and feeling his arms close around her.
“What is it, Virginia?” he whispered against her hair.
“I know I shouldn’t feel sorry for a person who is a criminal, but I can’t help it.”
“It was a powerful story she told today.”
Virginia nodded and stepped away, embarrassed now by her boldness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so forward. Allow me to have some coffee brought . . .”
Phillip closed the distance between them and caught her chin with his finger, tilting it up and holding her gaze. “Virginia. I was moved by Mrs. Littleman’s story too, even knowing what she is capable of. If it were up to me, I’d have my arms around you always, whether tragedy or triumph.”
“I feel the same, Phillip.”
He kissed her forehead. “One of these days, when I have Timothy out of jail and those two little girls found, you and I should have a serious talk. About the future.”
“Our future?”
“Yes. Our future.” He smiled. “I was hoping to speak to Mr. Turnbull if he’s about today.”
“Of course. He’s feeling fine now, and I imagine he’s in the stables brushing down Bessie, our carriage horse.”
“That’s what I need to talk to him about. Horses.”
Phillip took a streetcar to Wolfe Street, thinking it may not be too long until he had his own transportation in the way of a horse.
Turnbull would attend the auctions and find him a horse that wasn’t more than he could afford and up to carrying his weight long distances.
He also insisted on giving Phillip some riding and grooming lessons.
He jumped off the streetcar and was whistling as he went down the block, thinking about a horse and a future with Virginia Wiest.
When he rounded the corner, he saw Danny Hendricks running up the street from the other direction.
“Hendricks! What is it?” Phillip shouted.
Hendricks bent over at his waist, trying to catch his breath. “A witness. There’s a witness now.”
“What? What witness?”
“Hiram Moulder,” he said when he straightened. “He says he saw Sweitzinger stab the Button woman.”
“How is that possible? The door to the apartment was locked and busted open by Youngman when he heard Timothy screaming.”
“Don’t know. Just know that Moulder looks like he got roughed up pretty good. Told Captain Bender that he fell down some steps.”
“Hell. He didn’t fall down any steps. We both know that. Frank!” Phillip said. “I’ve got to find Moulder’s boy. He could be in danger.”
“Unless they already took him and threatened Hiram with the boy’s safety.”
“I’d be surprised if Frank Moulder let himself be caught. At least I hope he hasn’t. He’s a clever kid.”
“Hope so.”
“Where do they have Hiram?”
“Took his statement and let him go home.”
“They’ll be watching him, I’m guessing.”
Hendricks nodded. “Have to go.”
Phillip hurried the rest of the way home and found Willis Shoeman in the hallway, the rifle in his hands. “What’s going on?” he asked as Willis lowered the weapon.
“There’s a boy in the kitchen with Eliza, says you told him to come here if there was trouble.”
“Frank Moulder. Thanks, Willis. Go on home and get some sleep.”
Frank was on a stool pulled up to Eliza’s big cutting-board table. He had a napkin tied around his neck and was making quick work of bread and butter and a bowl of oyster stew. He jumped off his stool when he saw Phillip.
“Mister! Mister! They took my pa. They took him!”
Phillip knelt down on his haunches. “I heard, Frank. Can you tell me what you saw and heard?”
“I was sleeping when I heard the door open and my pa arguing with somebody. I peeked through where there’s a gap in the wall, and they hit him!
They hit him hard and kept hitting him. Then one of them said, ‘Where’s that boy of yours?
’ I grabbed my poke like you told me and snuck out the way I always do.
Had to wait in the hedges for a bit and then I took off for here: 159 Wolfe Street. I done right, didn’t I?”
“You did exactly what I told you to. You did fine.”
“What are we going to do?” he asked, and a tear slipped down his cheek. He rubbed it away with his sleeve.
“You’re going to stay here with Eliza and Jenny. I’m going to go talk to your pa.”
“Better wait ‘til dark.”
“I will,” he said and turned to Eliza. “Has Uncle stopped by yet?”
“No. But he should be here anytime.”
Phillip waited for Patrick to come down the alleyway and went to meet him before he was in the house. He told him all he knew. “I’ve got to find out who threatened Moulder.”
“I s’pose we’re going to do this at night.”
Phillip nodded. “I’ve got to find out how to get into the house without the watchers seeing me, but I still would like you to be there.”
“I’ll be down here around midnight,” Patrick said and turned to go. “Sad thing, dragging a newly married man away from his bride’s bed. Sad thing.”
Phillip laughed, as his uncle had intended. He went back in the house to get Frank Moulder to tell him where his secret holes were.
Phillip pulled on dark clothes and tucked a knife in his boot and a few in his jacket pockets.
Uncle Patrick was on the back stoop when Phillip opened the door, and the two men went down the alley behind Wolfe and crossed over to the alley behind Eastern Street.
They did not see anyone watching the Moulder house, but that did not mean they weren’t there.
Patrick tucked himself behind some overgrown hedges once they arrived at the corner of the property and found a spot where there was no light from a streetlamp.
Phillip continued down the alley, checking for watchers.
He circled back and walked past the outhouse to the door at the back of the Moulder house.
He waited for movement from a tenant or others, but seeing none, he crawled to the broken board beside the steps.
Frank had told him to move aside the board until he found an old coal chute door that wasn’t used any longer since the house had been split into apartments. He squeezed through, barely catching himself before hitting the stone floor. A door at the top of a ladder creaked open.
“Frankie? Is that you, boy?”
“Frankie is safe, Mr. Moulder. It’s Phillip Brown. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Brown? What are you doing here?”
“Can I come up, Hiram?” Phillip climbed the ladder to the trapdoor and pulled himself through.
Moulder was leaning against the wall, legs sprawled in front of him and breathing heavy. “Frankie is safe?”
Phillip nodded. “Probably best I don’t tell you where. How bad are you hurt?”
“Bad enough.”
“When have you eaten last?”
“Don’t know.” Moulder closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side. “So thirsty. They broke my water jug and took everything from my cupboards.”
“Who did this to you?”
Moulder swallowed. “Norris and another man.”
“They made you go to the police and tell them you saw the murder?”
“Knocked me around first when I said I wouldn’t do it. Said they’d take Frankie and sell him to some brothel. For men who like little . . .” Tears rolled down Moulder’s face.
“I’ll never let that happen. Never. Frankie is safe, and he always will be. Doesn’t matter what happens to either of us.”
Moulder opened his eyes. “Don’t think I have long, if’n they come back or I just quit breathing. I didn’t see no murder. I was given some coins to leave the door open for Youngman. That’s all I knew. I didn’t know what they’d do. Kill that woman. Terrible.”
“I’ll be back in an hour or so with water and something to eat. Get a doctor here first thing in the morning.”
“Tell Frank I love him. Tell him I’m going to see his mother.”
“Hang on, Moulder. I’ll be back.”
Phillip scuttled back down the ladder and pulled himself through the coal chute.
He started down the alley at a trot and was soon joined by Uncle Patrick.
Back at the Wolfe Street house, he filled a jar with water, grabbed sliced bread and a piece of cheese, wrapped it in one Eliza’s dish towels, and headed back out, Patrick at his heels.
It had been no more than an hour since he’d promised Moulder the water, but it was still too late. He closed the man’s eyes and made his way home.