Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #7)

“I hope so,” I whispered as I stood alone in my dark hallway. Then I saw my gloomy face in the mirror. No use in standing around moping. At least I had one case I could conclude successfully. I spruced myself up, put on my long woolen cape, and headed uptown to the apartment of the Mendelbaums on the Upper West Side.

I was greeted by a prim maid and shown into the front hall while she went to announce my arrival. I could tell instantly that my timing had been bad. I could hear the chink of dishes and the sound of luncheon conversation coming from a door on my right. After a short wait Mrs. Mendelbaum appeared, wiping her hands on her napkin.

“Miss Murphy,” she said, looking a little flustered. “How nice of you to call. Unfortunately, I am currently entertaining guests to luncheon.” She shot a worried glance toward the dining room.

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized the time,” I said. “I should call back later, when your guests have gone.”

“That might be better,” she said, “Unless you would care to join us? We’re already halfway through the main course, though.”

“No, thank you. I don’t think that would be appropriate, or fair to your guests,” I said. “Should I return in an hour or so?”

“Very good,” she said. “That would be an excellent idea.”

She looked much relieved as she headed back into the dining room and I made for the front door. I spent an hour kicking my heels in a ladies’ tea room on Amsterdam Avenue, where I suspected the cheese sandwich had been on display in the window for several days, then returned to the Mendelbaums’ apartment building.

“Mrs. Mendelbaum is expecting me,” I said to the maid this time. “She asked me to return in an hour and I have done so.”

“Very good, miss. Come this way then.” She took me down the hall to the doorway past the dining room and ushered me inside. “Miss Murphy has returned as requested, madam.”

I stepped into a warm sitting room and was surprised to find that Mrs. Mendelbaum was not alone. She jumped to her feet as I came in.

“Oh, Miss Murphy. So soon? I’m sorry but my luncheon guests haven’t all departed yet.”

I wasn’t going to disappear again. It was a long trip for me to the Upper West Side.

A young woman who had been sitting on a sofa also got to her feet. “We were just leaving, weren’t we, Leon?”

I looked at the young man whose hand she was tugging to pull him up from the sofa. It was Mr. Roth.

“There’s no rush, Lanie,” he said. “Let us digest our luncheon, for goodness sake.”

Mrs. Mendelbaum’s eyes darted from Mr. Roth to me. “Miss Murphy, may I present my daughter Lanie and her betrothed, Mr. Leon Roth.”

“How do you do,” I said and politely shook hands.

“I suggest you two go on your walk, if you’re going,” Mrs. Mendelbaum said. “You know how early it gets dark at this time of year.”

“Yes, I am determined to walk to the park and back,” Lanie said. “Come, Leon.”

He got up, unwillingly, and followed her from the room.

Mrs. Mendelbaum’s gaze turned to an elderly woman. “And you, Mama. Isn’t it time for you nap?”

“I can tell when I’m not wanted,” the old woman said, rising from her chair with difficulty and shuffling out of the door.

Mrs. Mendelbaum and I stood facing each other in awkward silence.

“Please take a seat, Miss Murphy,” she said at last. “It was good of you to come.”

“Rather awkward under the circumstances,” I said. “I see you have already made up your minds about the suitability of Mr. Roth as a husband for your daughter. You didn’t need my help after all.”

“It was our daughter who rushed things along, Miss Murphy. She took one look at the young man and fell hopelessly in love. She is an impulsive girl, and she has her father wrapped around her little finger. He doesn’t deny her anything she wants.”

“I wish you could have waited until I submitted my report,” I said, “because I believe I have uncovered some not-so-savory details about Mr. Roth.”

“Oh dear. How vexing.” She glanced at the door as her daughter’s high-pitched laugh echoed down the hallway, followed by the slamming of the front door.

“They’ve gone,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Now please feel free to speak. You do not think it wise that Lanie should proceed with this engagement?”

“I don’t, Mrs. Mendelbaum.” I leaned closer to her. “I followed Mr. Roth for several days and I am disappointed to report that his moral character is not all that it should be.”

“Mercy me,” she said. “What can you mean?”

“I mean that he hangs around stage doors and picks up chorus girls.”

She put her hand to her impressive bosom and started to chuckle. “Is that all? Surely every young man in New York has had a yen for chorus girls at some time or other. It’s a natural part of growing up, Miss Murphy.”

“But I heard rumors that he does not treat them well. That he is—well, rather rough with them. That he makes strange demands of them.”

“What kind of demands?”