I put on my straw hat and out I went, traveling reluctantly back to Elizabeth Street and just praying that I didn’t run into Daniel. I was trying to think if I knew any attorneys. One had been retained for Daniel once when he had been wrongly arrested and thrown into the Tombs. But he hadn’t managed to have Daniel released and Daniel was a well-respected person. How much more difficult would it be for a Chinese man? I wondered if they had lawyers within their community. If only I had someone to ask—then, of course, I realized that I did know somebody. Mrs. Chiu would be able to help me.
Yesterday’s storm had passed, leaving steaming puddles in the gutters. The sun was beating down from a bright blue sky and the day promised to be a scorcher. Jefferson Market and then Washington Square seemed unnaturally quiet and empty and it took me a moment to realize that it was Labor Day. Other people would be taking picnics to Central Park or heading for the thrills of the new Luna Park on Coney Island. Nobody except for policemen and people like me would choose to stay in the heat of the city. I thought wistfully for a moment about Westchester County. Daniel’s mother would surely have a picnic or a croquet game arranged for us. And there would be ice cream and polite conversation. All so safe and civilized. At this moment it did seem infinitely preferable to the distasteful task ahead of me.
I stood outside the Sixth Precinct police station on Elizabeth Street and collected myself before I dared to enter. I wasn’t doing anything wrong or stupid, I told myself. I was just finding out whether Frederick was still in jail or had been found innocent and released. Any normal citizen could do the same.
I went in through the glass-fronted door and up to the counter. The same young policeman was on duty.
“I remember you,” he said. “You were here the other day asking about something, then you ran off before I could come back with an answer for you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I had to leave in a hurry the other day. I was late for an appointment. Today I just came to find out whether a man called Frederick Lee was being held in one of the jail cells and whether he has actually been charged with the murder of the Chinaman Lee Sing Tai.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” the young constable said. “He wasn’t brought here, I can tell you. But I heard all about the dead Chinaman. Our men had to guard the body. They said he fell off a rooftop—looked pretty gruesome. Said it turned their stomachs.”
“Who would know about Frederick Lee?” I asked.
“Well, it’s Captain Kear who’s in charge here,” he said. “I think he’s in his office. I’ll go get him for you.”
I started to say, “No, that’s all right,” but I was too late. He moved swiftly and I heard the captain’s name echoing down a tiled hallway. Almost immediately the captain himself appeared, in braces and rolled-up shirt sleeves, and looked surprised to see me.
“Miss Murphy. What can I do for you?”
“I came to inquire about Frederick Lee,” I said. “I wondered if you had officially arrested him and whether he’s being held in jail?”
A big smile crossed Kear’s face. “So Sullivan is sending you to do his dirty work now, is he? Pretends he’s not trying to step on my toes and get involved in my case, so he sends his sweetie to soften me up instead.”
“Absolutely not,” I said angrily. “Captain Sullivan has no idea that I have come to you. It’s just that I met Frederick Lee a couple of times and I found him a thoroughly nice and decent young man. So I just wanted to find out if he was being treated fairly and whether a lawyer had been engaged to represent him.”
“It’s actually none of your business,” he said, “but if it satisfies you, Frederick Lee is being held in the Tombs until we determine his role in the murder of Lee Sing Tai.”
“Has he engaged the services of a lawyer?”
“I wouldn’t know that.”
“So you’ve dumped him in jail without anyone to advise him.” I could feel my hackles rising. “What evidence do you have against him?”
“Motive,” he said. “Dismissed from his job the day before. Got too friendly with the master’s new bride.”
“And did anyone see him entering or leaving the Lee residence that night?”
“Of course not. I thought we’d already established that he came across from the next roof.”
“Then why did none of his footprints show up there?”
“Who says they didn’t? He’s half European, isn’t it? What’s to stop him from wearing those hobnailed boots to throw us off the scent?”
“Have you found whether he owns such a pair of boots?”
He looked at me scornfully. “He’d have ditched them, wouldn’t he?”
“So you actually have no evidence against him,” I insisted. “He’s in jail because he seems like a good candidate whose arrest would satisfy everyone.”
“We’re waiting until the bride shows up,” Kear said. “She can’t have gotten too far. We’ll find her, and then when we have them together, we’ll get to the truth.”
“And if the murderer was someone else?” I asked. “What about Bobby Lee? Shouldn’t you be looking into him and his relationship with his father?”