“Miss Murphy,” he said, addressing the tall girl. Her hair was light brown and not so much curly as wild and frizzy.
She’d made an effort to pin it up neatly, but it was defiantly springing loose every which way. She’d be a handsome girl if she didn’t look like somebody was holding a knife to her throat at the moment. “Nainsi’s mother said you were good friends with her.”
Brigit nodded uncertainly.
“Did the rest of you know her, too?”
The other girls nodded reluctantly.
“You don’t have to be afraid. I’m trying to learn more about her so I can figure out who killed her.”
“Wasn’t it one of the Ruoccos?” the shortest girl asked.
Frank dearly hoped not, but he said, “I don’t know who it was yet. That’s why I’m trying to learn more about her—
and her friends.”
“Didn’t none of us kill her,” Brigit cried in alarm. “Why would we?”
“I didn’t think you did. I’m more interested in finding out about her . . . gentlemen friends.”
One of the girls snickered, then slapped a hand over her mouth.
Brigit glared at her, but the girl said, “Wasn’t none of them gentlemen.”
“But she did meet men at the dance houses,” Frank said.
“Well, sure, that’s why we go there,” Brigit said before any of the others could speak. “We all meet men there. That’s who we dance with.”
Frank knew the men would also treat them to drinks and cigarettes and even buy them gifts, in exchange for favors promised or actually delivered. “Did she have any special men that she met outside the dance house?”
“Antonio Ruocco,” the short girl said, making the rest of them giggle.
“This would’ve been several months before she met Antonio,” Frank pressed. “Last spring or summer.”
The girls exchanged puzzled looks. “That’s when she met Antonio,” Brigit said. “I don’t know when exactly, but it was early spring. The weather was just getting warm.”
“That’s right,” another girl agreed. “She’d just started wearing that straw hat. We told her it caught his eye.”
Brigit nodded. “She told us all about him, and he was her only special fellow all summer long. Some of the places, they don’t let the Italian boys in, so she’d go out with us, then slip away and meet him someplace.”
According to what Sarah had told him, that didn’t make any sense. He’d have to question Antonio and find out the truth. “When she found out about the baby,” Frank said,
“she must’ve talked to you about it.”
The girls looked a little embarrassed to be discussing such a delicate subject.
“She was real scared, and she cried all the time, even at work,” the short girl offered.
“Who wouldn’t be scared?” Brigit snapped. “She was scared at first, but we all told her not to be a goose. Tell him and make him marry her, we said. When she finally told him about the baby, he did, too, even though his mother didn’t like it.”
“Her mother didn’t like it either,” one of the other girls said.
“Who cares?” Brigit asked angrily. “They was in love.
That’s what matters.”
That wasn’t the picture Frank had of the union, but he didn’t want to distract the girls. “Could I speak with Miss Murphy alone for a minute?” he asked the others.
They couldn’t dare deny him, but they moved away with obvious reluctance and only far enough to give the illusion that they weren’t trying to listen in.
“Miss Murphy,” Frank said, still trying not to frighten her. It was a wasted effort, though. His mere presence was terrifying. “Mrs. O’Hara said she told you about Nainsi’s baby being born that night when you were coming home from work.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” she confirmed, puzzled by the question.
“Who did you tell?”
“Who . . . ? What do you mean?” she hedged.
“I mean, who did you tell that Nainsi’s baby was born?”
he said impatiently.
“I . . . The girls,” she said, gesturing to the group hover-ing nearby.
“Anybody else?”
Now Brigit looked truly frightened. She glanced toward the front of the room where Keith still stood, watching and glowering.
“Please, mister, I’ll lose my job. I gotta get back to work.”
The bell hadn’t rung yet, but Frank didn’t point that out. Plainly, she knew something she didn’t want to say in front of Keith.
“Go, then,” he said, and she scurried away, back to her seat.
He’d have to find Brigit someplace else and get the answer to his question, although he already knew it. For some reason, she’d told Richard Keith directly about the baby’s birth. But if Keith couldn’t possibly be the baby’s father, as he claimed, why would he have been interested?
*
*
*
When the baby started fussing again, Mrs. Ruocco took him downstairs while Sarah fixed a bottle in the kitchen, so his crying wouldn’t disturb Maria. By the time the bottle was ready, he was screaming lustily. Luckily, the luncheon diners were all gone, except for a few elderly men still gossiping over their grappa. The screaming had driven Joe, Antonio, and Valentina away. For some reason, however, Lorenzo stayed, even though the baby’s cries obviously distressed him.
Breathing a silent prayer, Sarah accepted the baby from Mrs. Ruocco and sat down to feed him the goat’s milk. The baby took the nipple and suckled greedily. Milk leaked out the sides of his mouth, and he choked a little until he got the rhythm. His mouth working mechanically, he finally settled down, his little fists clenched tightly against his cheeks, his eyes squeezed shut in bliss.
“He seems to like it,” Lorenzo observed hopefully, but he was wringing his hands.
“He like milk,” Mrs. Ruocco said dismissively. “He know nothing.”
“We’ll have to wait to see if it agrees with him,” Sarah concurred.
Lorenzo sighed and kept wringing his hands.
“Mrs. Brandt, you must eat,” Mrs. Ruocco said, pulling an apron down from a hook on the wall and tying it on. “I will cook.” Sarah knew better than to protest. Besides, she really was hungry.
The baby fell into a contented sleep when the bottle was almost empty, and by then Mrs. Ruocco had prepared a plate of spaghetti for Sarah. Mrs. Ruocco took the baby up to his cradle while Sarah ate the delicious meal. Lorenzo had followed his mother out of the kitchen, leaving Sarah alone, so when she was finished, she went back upstairs.
She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay without wearing out her welcome. If the goat’s milk agreed with the baby, they wouldn’t need her anymore, so this might be her last chance to learn anything of interest. The third floor was quiet. She found the baby sleeping peacefully in Joe and Maria’s bedroom, and no one was in the parlor. Perhaps Mrs. Ruocco had gone down to the second floor where her bedroom must be. The family probably had another sitting room down there as well. Counting up the members of the family, Sarah realized Lorenzo’s bedroom must also be on the second floor. Of course, any of them could have slipped into Nainsi’s room and smothered her in the night. It was a silent crime. Or anyone could have come up the back stairs from the street below and no one would have heard, either.
Sarah was standing in the hallway, considering all the possibilities when a door opened behind her. She turned to see Maria emerge from Valentina’s bedroom. Her hair was mussed and her face puffy from sleep.
“Mrs. Brandt,” she said in alarm. “Is something wrong?
Is the baby all right?”
“He’s fine. He woke up, and we fed him some goat’s milk, and now he’s sleeping peacefully again.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” she asked in dismay. “I would have helped you.”
“Mrs. Ruocco helped me,” Sarah reported with a smile.