“No,” wept Cissie, “I didn’t leave it at school.”
Her father was relentless, and in a few minutes he had the truth. He knew about Mrs. Rutledge’s purse, he knew about the exchange of Cissie’s camera for Charlene’s silence.
“Don’t tell Mrs. Rutledge,” sobbed Cissie. “Oh, please, Daddy, don’t tell Mrs. Rutledge.”
“You’ve got to tell her, Cissie,” said her father. “You’ve got to talk to Mrs. Rutledge if we’re going to do something about that nasty little blackmailer.”
“Blackmailed?”
“Your charming friend, what’s her name? Charlene.”
“Oh, but Daddy, you can’t. You just can’t.”
“Can’t I? We’ll see about that.”
Cissie trembled at what might happen, but she felt better. Her father was on her side.
Chapter 28
But as nothing remains hidden from God, so this black deed also was to come to light.
The Brothers Grimm, “The Singing Bone”
Sergeant Kennebunk could not get permission to go to Albany. Homer Kelly refused to take the time to go to Albany. Mary fumed and fussed, but she went by train to Albany, and took a cab from the station to the Regency Hotel.
In fact, Mary was pleased to see Homer take an interest at last in the disappearance of her missing friend Pearl, wife of the abominable Frederick Small and once the golden-haired darling of her seminar on women poets. Something terrible had happened to Pearl: And she wasn’t the first of Small’s vanished wives. In the Bluebeard story there was a room crammed with their dead bodies. They hung on hooks around the wall, their clotted blood pooling on the floor. Mary was grimly determined to find the room and the wives and the reason for the disappearance of Pearl Small.
But when she walked into the lobby of the hotel she burst out laughing. It had been decorated by a comedian in the style of the 1930s. The leather chairs had a zooming shape, the sofas were outrageously overstuffed. There were designer bellboys too, tall good-looking kids in pleated black trousers, white shirts, and wire-framed glasses, their hair combed straight back. They strode about the lobby carrying gorgeous pieces of luggage—pigskin and gleaming saddle leather—probably stage props, decided Mary.
Sergeant Kennebunk had typed up an official introduction and faxed it to Mary from the Southtown Pharmacy. When she presented it to the clerk at the registration desk, he cooperated at once.
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Kelly, he called to say you were coming.” The clerk was a dapper young man in a jacket with enormous padded shoulders. “What can I do for you?”
Mary showed him the newspaper image of Pearl Small. “I understand she was registered in this hotel for a few days last week. Can you tell me if this is the same woman?”
The clerk studied the picture and shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say. She was very attractive, with long blond hair.”
Mary opened her mouth to ask if the woman had the air of a fairy princess, then decided against it. “Might I see the room, number 609?”
“Certainly.” The clerk dinged a little bell and raised a white-gloved hand. At once a dashing bellboy appeared at Mary’s side. “Please escort Mrs. Kelly to Room 609.”
The bellboy grinned at Mary and led the way to the elevator. I can find my own way perfectly well, thought Mary, but as the bellboy pushed the button for the sixth floor, she felt for her billfold and extracted a dollar.
“This way,” he said graciously, leading the way down the hall. “Uh-oh.” Outside the open door of Room 609 stood a cart laden with cleaning equipment and linen. “Could you please remove this stuff and do another room?” he said grandly to the chambermaid, who was reaching into the cart for a set of sheets.
The chambermaid was a cheerful-looking woman with golden-brown skin and chubby cheeks. “Sure thing,” she said, putting back the sheets.
“No, wait,” said Mary impulsively. She turned to the bellboy, thrust the dollar at him, and said, “Thank you. That’s fine.”
He looked surprised, glanced at the dollar, which was apparently inadequate, took it, and vanished with a toss of his cowlick.
Mary turned gratefully to the chambermaid and stretched out her hand. “Good afternoon. My name’s Mary Kelly. I’m from Boston.”
The chambermaid beamed at her and shook hands. “Just call me Molly.”
“Molly—?”
“Marshall.”
“Go right ahead with what you’re doing, Mrs. Marshall. I’m not staying in the hotel. I’m here to ask questions about a missing woman named Pearl Small, who stayed in this room a few days ago. I’m on assignment from the police department of Southtown, Massachusetts.”