Murder in Hell's Kitchen by Lee Harris Read Free Book Online Page A

were forever protesting.
    MacHovec said he was trying to find someone at the post office who would look up Worthman’s forwarding address, and he would keep at it. If he had no luck, he would call in a favor from a postal inspector he knew. He also said the super got cold feet after Soderberg died and quit his job but returned, humbled, about six weeks later, having used up his savings. He was still on the job.
    The landlord’s office was on the ground floor of a large, prewar apartment house on West Eighty-sixth Street, half a block from Riverside Drive. Jane and Defino tinned their way onto the subway—showed their shields— getting there about two-fifteen. The building was a couple of blocks from Jane’s apartment and of the same vintage. The West Side was increasingly divided between sixty- and seventy-year-old buildings and brand-new ones, but this block of Eighty-sixth was solidly old, tough as a fortress.
    â€œI guess I expected Detective Bracken,” Stabile said after they had introduced themselves. “I thought he was working on this case.”
    â€œHe was,” Jane said, “and he’s still the detective in charge, but we’re reinvestigating the case.”
    â€œReally. I see.” His welcoming smile faded to nervousness. “Why this case? Aren’t they satisfied that it was some mugger off the street?”
    â€œWe’re just trying to put a name to him, Mr. Stabile. And we have a few questions.”
    â€œAnything at all.” He opened his hands in a gesture of complicity. “Can I give you some coffee?”
    Jane turned it down as Defino accepted. The secretary brought a cup for him.
    â€œWe understand that Mr. Soderberg had a fatal accident. Can you tell us about that?”
    â€œMr. Soderberg,” Stabile said, looking confused. “I thought you were here on the Quill case.”
    â€œWe are. But we’re interested in the death of Mr. Soderberg as well.”
    â€œI see.” He looked very unhappy. “It was horrible,” Stabile said, his forehead forming furrows. “He fell down the stairs.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œIn my building.” His eyes darted from one detective to the other.
    â€œWhere was he found?” Jane asked.
    â€œOn the second floor at the bottom of the stairs.”
    â€œAnd who found him?”
    â€œI believe Miss Rawls did, when she came home. It was a terrible shock.”
    Defino was shaking his head. “Soderberg lived on two, isn’t that right?”
    â€œThat’s correct, apartment two B.”
    â€œThen what was he doing falling down the stairs from the third floor?”
    â€œI couldn’t tell you, Detective. He must have gone upstairs for something.”
    Defino’s skepticism was all over his face. “Did you tell Detective Bracken about this?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI didn’t think it was necessary. It had nothing to do with . . . anything.”
    â€œWasn’t Mr. Soderberg the one who found Arlen Quill’s body?”
    â€œI believe so, yes. I think that’s what I heard.”
    â€œAnd it didn’t strike you as strange that the person who found the body had this kind of accident?”
    â€œI never connected the two.” Stabile looked very troubled. “It happened almost a year later, and I had a building full of frightened people. The others moved out, you know. They’re gone. It took me a while to rent out those apartments. Miss Rawls moved out before the end of that month. She’d been there for years. Years,” he said again. “There was a lot of income involved in that building.”
    â€œWas there a police investigation of that accident?” Jane asked.
    â€œI don’t know. I couldn’t tell you. Miss Rawls called for an ambulance. They came and took him away.”
    â€œWas he still alive then?”
    â€œI don’t know. She must have thought so, if