Murder in Murray Hill (Gaslight Mystery) by Victoria Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

“My poor Grace.”
    “I have a plan to catch him,” Frank explained before Livingston could fall into complete despair. “I’ve had a letter written to him that I hope will draw his interest, and when he arranges to meet with the young woman who wrote it, we’ll follow him back to wherever he takes her.”
    Hope bloomed again in Livingston’s red-rimmed eyes. “Do you think it will work?”
    “It has to. I’m going to take the letter over to the newspaper office this morning. Then we’ll have to wait for him to answer. That may take some time.”
    “And Grace may come home before that.”
    Frank thought that unlikely, but he said, “Yes, she might. But even if she does, we’ll go ahead with our plan. We need to stop him.”
    “Yes, of course. We can’t let him continue to prey on innocent girls, can we?”
    “No, we can’t. If you hear from Grace, send me word at Police Headquarters. I’ll let you know if we hear from this Milo.”
    A few minutes later, Frank made his escape. He hated giving Mr. Livingston false hope, but whatever happened, he’d need time to grow accustomed to it. Even if Frank managed to rescue the girl, she’d never be the same. No woman ever was after something like that.
    On that thought, he headed down the street toward the El. He’d drop the letter off at the newspaper, then stop by the park to see if anyone there this morning remembered seeing Grace Livingston.
    Apparently, not many people got up early to place advertisements in the newspaper, Frank observed, walking straight up to the counter, where only one lone customer conferred with a clerk. The other clerks were working at the desks lined up behind the counter, and only one looked up when he rapped on the counter to get their attention.
    “It’s the copper,” the clerk said, springing to his feet and hurrying over. The others followed, coming close so they wouldn’t miss a word. “Did you find him yet?”
    “Is your boss in?”
    “Mr. Snodgrass!” the clerk called, and the prim little man emerged from an office located back behind the desks. “That copper is back.”
    Frank resisted the urge to grab the fellow by the lapels and teach him some manners.
    “May I help you?” Snodgrass asked a little breathlessly. “Have you found him yet?”
    “No, and I’ll never find him if this is how your people are going to act when he shows up.” Frank gestured to the gaggle of clerks unabashedly listening to every word.
    “Get back to work,” Snodgrass snapped, sending them scurrying to their desks again. “I apologize, Mr. Malloy.”
    “You’ll have to do more than that. A young woman’s life is at stake here, maybe more than one. If your clerks let Pendergast know somebody is looking for him, we’ll never see him or the girl again.”
    “They won’t say a word to him, I promise you,” Snodgrass said, his face flushing with outrage.
    “They don’t have to say a word. All they have to do is stare at him the way they’re staring at me right now.”
    Snodgrass jerked his head around and caught them all hastily getting back to work. “I will make sure that—”
    “Don’t bother. I want to speak to whoever is in charge.”
    “I’m the editor of the advertising—”
    “No, I mean who’s in charge of the whole paper. Is Pulitzer in?”
    “Good heavens, you can’t expect to—”
    “I can expect to have your job if you don’t let me speak to somebody in charge.” The threat was meaningless, but Snodgrass had no way of knowing that.
    A few minutes and several whispered conversations later, Frank was escorted to a plush office on one of the upper floors of the enormous building. The office was so far from the presses in the basement, he couldn’t even feel their rumble anymore.
    “Now what’s this they’re telling me about a woman being kidnapped?” the well-dressed man behind the huge, shiny desk demanded. It wasn’t Pulitzer, who was in Europe, but one of his underlings, Brisbane.
    Frank told him