“But I’m also here for another reason.” I looked around again, then moved closer to them. “The English girl called Kathy you heard me asking about earlier. I have been asked to trace such a girl by her family in Ireland. This Kathy sounds very much like the Katherine I was asked to find.”
“I don’t think anyone knows where she is now,” Nell said. “She came to meetings for several weeks and seemed fired up with enthusiasm. We were hopeful that she would be a real force for change because she was so articulate and unafraid to speak her mind. Then one week she didn’t come.”
“I’m afraid I might know where she is now,” I said. “A body, resembling her description, was pulled from the East River.”
“Oh no. A victim of foul play?” she asked.
“The police are of the opinion that this girl took her own life.”
Nell shook her head. “Then it is not the same person. Kathy would not have given in to despair any more than you or I would have done.”
“My feelings exactly,” I said. “I never met her, but the face in the photograph I have is not of a weak character.”
“You have a photograph? Then I can verify that it is the same person.”
“I don’t have it with me,” I said. “And I don’t know if there is any point in taking this matter any further. If she is dead, then I can’t bring her back to life again.”
“But if she is dead, then someone is responsible and should be brought to justice,” Nell said.
It was strange to hear my own sentiments echoed back to me. “I agree. But I am not the police. I have so little to go on and no way of investigating further.”
“You could be of help, Nell,” Jacob said. He turned to me. “Nell is a reporter by profession. She writes articles for the major newspapers to expose the corruption and abuse in this city. She has made some useful contacts in many strata of this city. And this is just the sort of challenge you enjoy, is it not, Nell?”
I sensed that Nell was not really inclined to put herself out on my behalf, that she still had not warmed to me, but that she didn’t want to turn me down in front of Jacob. “I suppose I might be of some help, it is true,” she said.
“Splendid.” Jacob smiled at me again. “Then why don’t we continue this conversation at another time? Where do you live, Miss Murphy?”
“Patchin Place.”
Finally Nell looked interested. “Patchin Place. How extraordinary. I have friends there. Do you know two delightful women called—”
“Sid and Gus?” I asked. “I lived with them until a week ago. Now I have taken up residence across the street.”
“What an amazing coincidence. I should most like to renew their acquaintance,” she said. “Tomorrow then?”
I shook my head. “You forget. I am employed in a sweatshop from dawn until night and have little energy for good conversation afterward. How about Saturday night? I don’t have to rise early on Sunday morning.”
“Saturday it is then.”
“Am I to be included in the invitation?” Jacob asked. “Perhaps I may also be of use in your inquiry.”
“Of course you are most welcome, Mr. Singer.”
He bowed again. “I shall look forward to it then.”
“Miss Blankenship? Could you come over here for moment? Bella has a question for you.” One of the girls approached Nell hesitantly.
“Of course,” Nell said. “Excuse me.”
I was left alone with Jacob Singer. “Have you had a cup of tea, Miss Murphy? Or one of these cookies?” He held out the tray to me. I took one.
“I’ve never been known to turn down a cookie,” I said. “Or a biscuit as we say in Ireland, where they were luxuries reserved for special occasions.”
“One of the best things about America, wouldn’t you say? We didn’t even have such luxuries at home in Russia. Sugar was kept hidden away in a little wooden box for special occasions.”
His eyes, ringed by those wire spectacles, lit up with amusement. Such a pleasant face. Quite a handsome face too.
“I am very glad that you’ll be joining us,” he said. “As you can see, we need all the help we can get.”
“Are you involved in the garment industry yourself, Mr. Singer?” I asked.
“He is involved in no particular industry,” Nell said, coming back to join us and slipping an arm through his. “He is a professional rabble-rouser.”
Jacob Singer laughed. “I am employed by the United Hebrew Trades to help fledgling unions get off the ground. I was active in the Bund before I left Russia, so I have experience in civil disobedience to share. But you must excuse me, you probably have not even heard of the Bund.”
“Oh but I have,” I said. “Rose’s brother was a member. He was executed.”
Jacob nodded. “An all too common fate, I’m afraid. That or Siberia, which was often a death sentence in itself. I had to flee for my life when they came for us. I escaped by swimming across an ice-filled river. Not a pleasant experience, I can assure you.”
“How terrible. I’ve heard so many tragic stories.”