Part 32 (2/2)
Hamish smiled. ”I dinna' mean exactly that, sir.”
Josh took a moment, then caught on. ”You've got the Brooklyn clerk on our payroll as well?”
”It was Mrs. Turner's idea, sir. A wee notion she had when it began to appear the bridge might after all be finished.”
”Thank you, Tess. That's beautifully pressed. Now hang it away. I don't know when I shall wear it next.”
”What about that Metropolitan Opera I read about?” Tess carried the magnolia-colored evening dress to the clothes closet Mr. Turner had built right in to each of the bedrooms so no wardrobe was necessary. It was to her one of the most marvelous of the wonders of Park Avenue. ”They sing songs where no one understands the words and no one can sing along. But folks get all dressed up to go and listen.”
”Yes, they've a new building on Thirty-Ninth and Broadway. It's meant to be quite grand. But I don't think I could convince Mr. Turner to take me to the opera. Perhaps I shall ask Mr. Ganz to be my escort. He's from Germany, isn't he? I believe they enjoy opera in Germany.”
”Not Germany, Austria. It's different. Like my third husband, the MacLachlan. He got devilish upset when anyone said England and meant Scotland. That's how Sol Ganz is about mixing up Austria and Germany.”
”My word, Tess, I'd no idea you knew so much about Mr. Ganz. And you're as red as Mrs. Hannity's raspberry jam. Here, sit down.”
”No need for that.” Tess used her ap.r.o.n to fan her flushed face. ”It's warm in here, that's all.”
”Well, sit down anyway. Tell me how you know Mr. Ganz is from Austria.”
”It was his wife, Mrs. Turner. Esther Cohen when I knew her first. She was a milliner ahead of she married Sol Ganz. Made me my hat.”
”Did she! Mr. Ganz's wife. He speaks of her with great fondness. How did she die?”
”Consumption. Took her when she was still just a girl. Such a pity. And them never having no children or nothing. I always thought he'd marry again but-What is it, Mrs. Turner? You've gone all over pale. Oh dear, I shouldn't have said . . . I didn't mean to . . .”
”I'm fine, Tess. And thank you for pressing the gown and telling me about Mrs. Ganz. Now you'd best go back to the kitchen. I'm sure Mrs. Hannity wants you for something.”
Josh's office continued to be a movable feast. For the past month it had been located in the first of his buildings, in flat Two B in the St. Nicholas on East Sixty-Third Street. At just before lunchtime Mollie knew there was no guarantee she'd find him there, but it was the best chance and she took it.
She didn't bother with the elevator, instead climbed the stairs, knocked on the door, and opened it without waiting for a reply. ”Hamish, is Mr. Turner here. I need-”
”Right here, my dear.” Josh appeared in the doorway of one of the bedrooms. ”What is it?” Then, seeing the look of her, ”Hamish, perhaps you'd like to go off to lunch.”
”Och, I'm away just now, Mr. Turner,” tipping his hat to Mollie as he left.
”Now,” Josh said, ”sit down and tell me what it is that couldn't wait until I came home.”
”It's about Sol Ganz,” she said. ”I've discovered the most remarkable thing.”
”If it's about Tess, I'm afraid I know.”
”You know that Mr. Ganz's wife was the milliner who made Tess's hat?”
Josh shook his head and cursed himself for jumping to conclusions. ”I'm sorry. I'm apparently on the wrong trail. But surely you've not come here to talk about Tess's hat?”
”Not exactly. But it does have a bearing on the matter. Tess just told me that Esther Cohen the milliner was her friend, and Esther married Sol Ganz. But when Mrs. Ganz was still very young the poor thing got consumption and died. The remarkable part of Tess's story, however, is that the Ganzes never had any children. And Mr. Ganz never remarried. Do you see?”
”No, forgive me, I do not.” Perhaps, Josh thought, because he was concentrating so hard on Clifford and Lupo. ”Look, can you just say exactly what it is that's troubling you? I'm not doing well with guessing.”
”I don't mean for you to guess. I'm referring to what happened after I was abducted, when you confronted Mr. Ganz. You told me you asked him why he was mixed up with such sordid people as Tony Lupo. Do you remember?”
”I suppose I do. Words to that effect at any rate. As I recall, I pointed out he didn't live in luxury and he said-” Josh broke off, then spoke with conviction. ”Ganz said, 'I've got grandchildren.' With one of those dismissive shrugs to which he's p.r.o.ne.”
”Exactly. But he has none, Josh. Mrs. Ganz died never having given her husband a child. Tess told me so. Then she got all fl.u.s.tered because I looked shocked. I imagine she thought it was down to her having spoken of childlessness. Of course, that wasn't it. I just realized quite suddenly that Mr. Ganz had lied. Perhaps it isn't important, but it doesn't seem logical, Josh. Why tell an untruth then, at the same moment he was offering you a million-dollar loan and trying to convince you he was a worthy business a.s.sociate? And why a lie that has so little actual bearing on business?”
”I don't know. About Tess, did you tell her what was in your mind?”
”No, of course not. It's none of her affair. Why would you think-”
He was wondering if Tess would have thought it necessary to immediately run downtown and report the morning's conversation to Ganz, but this didn't seem the time to say so. Josh waved a dismissive hand. ”I'll explain later.” He would too. Should have told Mollie about Tess and Mr. Ganz years ago, he realized. But it wasn't his first priority now. ”I've just remembered your Aunt Eileen telling me Ganz told her the same thing. Something about sometimes bending the law for the sake of his grandchildren.”
Josh got up, motioning her to stay where she was, and went into his private office, returning moments later with a paper Mollie at once recognized as a deed. ”Hamish got this a couple of days ago. From the Brooklyn City Hall property clerk. Whom you've apparently been bribing for the past year, so he's inclined to give Hamish whatever he asks for without making him wait weeks or months or plow through tons of illegible records.”
Mollie showed no remorse. ”It's not bribery. Just good business. Auntie Eileen taught me the importance of looking after those who can look after you.” He'd handed her the deed, meanwhile, and she was quickly scanning it. ”A house on Water Street in Brooklyn. Owned by-”
”Trenton Clifford,” Josh finished for her.
”I thought he disappeared years ago. Probably went back to the South you said.”
”Yes, around the time you were kidnapped. Frankie Miller couldn't find him anywhere and Zac and I presumed he'd gone back to Virginia since Reconstruction had just ended and there were business opportunities. But the other night, after the electrification ceremony, DuVal Jones came to see me. He lives in this building you may recall.”
”One D. Yes, of course. Why did he bother coming all the way uptown to Ninety-Second if he could see you here?”
”I don't know. I'm unsure of any of his motives. But according to Mr. Jones, Clifford and Lupo are a team-which I suspected from the first-and right now they again present some sort of danger to me. And there,” he pointed to the deed she still held, ”Jones said, is where Clifford can be found.”
”Josh, you won't do anything foolish. You can't pit yourself against-” Mollie broke off. She knew her glance had dropped to his peg. She wanted to bite off her tongue, but it was too late.
”I can't take on the likes of Clifford and Lupo with one leg,” he said grimly. ”You needn't remind me. I know.”
”Josh, I did not mean-”
He put both hands on her shoulders and leaned in and kissed her forehead. ”I know you didn't. And you mustn't worry. I've no intention of being foolish. That's what Frankie Miller and his men are for. Now go back home and leave this all to me. And thank you for the very useful information.”
She was on her way out of the building just as a small and very pretty woman was on her way in. Blonde and pink and dimpled, Mollie noted, dressed in ice-blue silk and feathers and ribbons. The sort Auntie Eileen always called a mantrap. And somehow familiar.
The woman seemed to share that impression. She paused. Mollie offered a polite nod. The blonde returned the courtesy. Neither spoke, but both wore looks that said, I think I know you. And the blonde-natural, Mollie decided, or at least only a touch of help from the peroxide bottle-seemed somehow agitated.
Mollie's first thought was that perhaps, once upon a long ago, the woman had worked at Brannigan's. Some of the prettiest had become respectable despite that. If so, running into someone who knew about one's past would certainly be unnerving.
The woman turned away, walked down the hall as far as the door to One D, then produced a key. Mollie clapped a hand to her cheek. Of course! Amanda Jones, wife of DuVal Jones. They met the day Mollie went to Bowling Green to tell the wives about the St. Nicholas flats. That's what a wife and mother's supposed to be. The angel of the hearth. How could she have forgotten?
The woman turned the key, then paused before opening her door and looked back at Mollie, who guiltily dropped her hand to her side. A moment more, then the angel disappeared.
It was like a jigsaw puzzle. Josh had all the pieces, but he could not put them together. He sat for a time in the inner office he'd made from Two D's larger bedroom, writing the names on a series of pieces of paper: Jones, Lupo, Clifford, and Ganz. He kept pus.h.i.+ng them into different configurations, but the pattern did not become clear.
Lupo and Clifford he could dismiss as men with no honor and their eye always on the main chance. It was obvious now that Clifford had sent him into the world of Manhattan real estate as a stalking horse. When he'd come up a winner Clifford wanted his reward and used his cohort Lupo to try and get it. They shared other schemes as well. Witness the attempt to involve Zac in the building of an underground railway. So it was logical they would work together on the business of undermining Joshua Turner. Ganz had also confessed to working with Tony Lupo on occasion. But his motives were a good deal murkier, and made more so by what Mollie had just reported.
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