“What is it, Miss Murphy? I'm busy.”
“I was wondering if you'd traced Paddy Riley's next of kin yet? I'm cleaning up the place today, and just in case I come across any little trinkets the family might like to have…”
Did I see those pale eyes flicker at the mention of trinkets? “If you happen to come across something you think might be valuable, Miss Murphy, you can bring it to me. I'll make sure it's passed along to the appropriate person—should one come forth.”
“So you've not located any kin as yet?”
“Unless he left behind family in Ireland when he came here.”
“He came from England,” I said. “From London. Didn't you pick up the accent? He might have been born in Ireland but he was raised a Cockney.”
“Ah. So that accounts for it. I always wondered about him.”
“And he was left an orphan at a young age.”
“It seems that he told you his entire life history,” Wolski said. “He didn't perhaps confide in you who might have wanted him dead?”
“When it came to business, he shut up like a clam,” I said. “I have no idea who wanted him dead. I'd rather hoped you might have found that out by now.”
“We're asking around,” he said. “If it was one of the gangs, they'll probably let us know eventually.” The eyes turned to me again. It was rather like being stared at by a snake. “I wouldn't have thought Paddy was the kind of man who owned‘trinkets.’ What sort of thing were you thinking of?”
“He had a pocket watch,” I said. “You probably found it. And he had that little camera. I can't seem to find that anywhere.”
“Really?”
“I wondered if the police had taken it to get the film developed as evidence. It could be important, I'd imagine.”
“We found no camera.”
I couldn't tell from his face whether he was lying or whether the murderer had walked off with the camera. I tried to remember if he had anything in his hand when he leaped out of the window. One hand had been employed to hit me, of course. Had he bulging pockets in his jacket, or a bag over his back? My fleeting impression was of slim and lithe. No bulges. But of course I couldn't be sure. I was seeing stars at the time.
“Thank you for your time.” I bobbed a small bow. “I won't be troubling you again, unless I come up with something important.”
Did he look disappointed as I made my exit—as if he could somehow sense those dollars hiding under my skirt?
So it looked as if I was going to be custodian of the fortune after all. I didn't want the worry of carrying it around all the time, so I popped into the public convenience in Washington Square Park, removed the money from my skirt, then went up the steps of the first grandlooking bank I encountered, past the uniformed doormen, across the marble floor. It was like walking into Buckingham Palace. I was conscious of stares, and realized that I was the only woman in the place.
The clerk behind the grille was a snooty young man with slicked-down hair and a perfect mustache. “You want to open an account with us?” A most supercilious smile. “I hardly think—”
“What's the matter, isn't my money good enough for you?” I produced the wad of notes. “Because if not, let me know. There are plenty of other banks in this city that would just love to have me as a customer.”
I noticed the clerk's Adam's apple going up and down nervously. “Forgive me, madam. Your appearance is deceiving. I thought that—”
“I'm a woman of commerce,” I said, glad that I would soon be dressing the part, if my costume was ready today, as promised. “It's the business money that I'll be banking here.”
“What kind of business, may I ask?” The Adam's apple danced again.
What did he think I was—a woman of the streets? “A respectable business,” I replied. “And a flourishing business.”
He looked curious but said no more as he counted the notes. “I make it eight hundred and fifty dollars,” he said. “Does that agree with your count?”