Murder She Encountered Read online

  Kaminsky stopped abruptly and Elizabeth nearly ran into him.

  “You’ve got a point there, Biz. How, indeed.”

  They continued walking, but suddenly Elizabeth grabbed Kaminsky’s arm. “How about that?” She pointed to a canvas cart on wheels that was filled to the brim with trash and was being pushed by a young man in coveralls with a broom over his shoulder.

  “Brains,” Kaminsky tapped his own head. “I always knew you had brains, Biz. I think you’re on to something. So the killer was a trash collector.”

  Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Not necessarily. Couldn’t he have borrowed one of those carts?”

  Kaminsky grinned. “You mean stolen?”

  “Okay. If you say so.”

  “I do. Now we need to see if any trash collector’s cart went missing last night.” Kaminsky paused to light a cigarette. “I think the first place we should look is the DuPont exhibit where Flo Grimm worked demonstrating the strength of that new hose you dames are so excited about.”

  They made their way back to the DuPont building where Kaminsky dropped his cigarette on the pavement and ground it out under his foot.

  The building was full with a number of people jostling for position in the exhibit room where the nylon demonstration was taking place. Elizabeth and Kaminsky made their way along the curving hallways. They passed a number of people but hadn’t yet encountered a trash collector or maintenance worker. They were about to give up when they turned a corner and came upon an empty trash cart half filled with garbage.

  Kaminsky looked around. “I wonder where the trash collector has gone? And if he’s coming back any time soon.”

  Suddenly they heard whistling, and a man came down the corridor carrying a metal garbage can.

  “Looks like we’re in luck,” Kaminsky said to Elizabeth. He pulled out his press card and held it out. “Daily Trumpet,” he said.

  The man looked startled. He wasn’t particularly tall but was broad shouldered with a bushy handlebar mustache that was waxed to a point on the ends.

  He pointed to himself. “Me?” He had a heavy Italian accent. “The boss—he’s in his office. You want to talk to him?”

  Kaminsky shook his head. “No, actually we wanted to talk to you.”

  “I don’t know anything.” The man’s face had gone pale.

  Kaminsky held up a placating hand. “We only want to ask you a few questions.” He smiled broadly to show he meant no harm.

  The man’s shoulders relaxed slightly and his hands unclenched.

  “What’s your name?” Kaminsky said.

  “Guido,” he replied. “Guido Esposito.”

  “Guido,” Kaminsky said. “Were you here yesterday?”

  Guido looked wary again. He nodded his head yes.

  “Then you probably know a young woman was found dead in the pool at the Aquacade.”

  Guido nodded again.

  “Did you know her?”

  Guido smoothed his mustache with his index finger.

  “I know she worked here. That’s all.” His glance darted from Kaminsky to Elizabeth and back again.

  “We think she might have been killed here,” Kaminsky said. “And then the killer transported her to the Aquacade where she was found. We figure the killer needed something to get her there. He couldn’t exactly carry her all that way.”

  A look of comprehension dawned on Guido’s face.

  “Night before last I went out to have a smoke. When I came back, my cart was gone.” He gestured toward the cart next to him. “I looked everywhere for it, but someone had taken it.” He shrugged. “I wondered why anyone would want to steal a cart full of garbage.”

  “I can think of one reason,” Kaminsky said. “To transport a body.”

  Chapter 5

  “Let’s go find Dotty Howard. I want to talk to her again,” Kaminsky said as they watched Guido push his trash cart down the hall.

  “I thought I caught a glimpse of her in the exhibition hall doing a demonstration,” Elizabeth said.

  “Let’s wait for her outside the hall then.”

  The demonstration ended just as they got to the entrance to the exhibit hall. People rushed out, anxious to move on to the next exciting display or demonstration.

  Dotty was standing on the stage and it was apparent by the look on her face that she saw Kaminsky and Elizabeth over the heads of the crowd pushing toward the door. She looked panicked.

  “She’s going to try to dodge us,” Kaminsky said. “Come on.”

  They began elbowing their way through the crowd toward the front of the hall. Dotty made a last effort to escape, but Kaminsky was already calling her name.

  She turned around reluctantly.

  “Yeah? I told you everything I know yesterday,” she said sullenly.

  “And we appreciate it,” Kaminsky said smoothly. “We only have a few more questions, if you don’t mind?”

  “Fine. But can we go outside? I’m dying for a smoke, not to mention a breath of fresh air.”

  A blast of warm, humid air hit them as they left the building.

  “I should have applied for a job at the Carrier exhibit,” Dotty said. “It’s air conditioned.” She undid the top two buttons of her blouse, exposing more than a hint of cleavage. She fanned herself with her hand.

  “You don’t say,” Kaminsky said.

  “It’s heavenly,” Dotty said. “Someday all buildings will be air conditioned. Can you imagine that? Frankly, I can’t wait.” She brushed a curl of dark hair off her cheek where the breeze had blown it. “Say, I could sure do with a cold drink.” She looked around. “There’s a Coca-Cola stand over there.” She gestured behind her.

  Elizabeth and Kaminsky followed her over to the bright red cart with COCA-COLA written on the side in white script.

  The salesgirl looked at them and raised her eyebrows. “Three?”

  Elizabeth and Kaminsky glanced at each other and shook their heads.

  “Just one, I guess,” Dotty said. She handed the salesgirl a nickel. The woman popped the top off the bottle and handed it to Dotty. It immediately began to drip with condensation, the water running down Dotty’s forearm.

  Dotty held the bottle to her mouth, tilted it, and took a long swallow. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sighed with satisfaction.

  Kaminsky pulled out his pack of Camels and held them out toward her. “Care for one?”

  Dotty flicked him a look. “Don’t mind if I do.” She took a cigarette, put it between her lips, and leaned forward for Kaminsky to light it. She sucked on the cigarette greedily, her crimson lipstick leaving a bright red stain on the end, then turned her head and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

  When she turned back toward Elizabeth and Kaminsky, her eyes were sad and her lips downturned.

  “I still can’t believe Flo is gone,” she said, sniffing loudly.

  “It must be a terrible shock,” Elizabeth said.

  Dotty nodded. “All of us,” she waved a hand toward the DuPont building, “were real broken up about it. Even Lou.”

  “Your manager?”

  “Yes. And my fiancé.” Her face turned slightly pink. “We’re engaged.” She held up her hand so they could admire the diamond ring on her left hand.

  “You mentioned something about Flo having a boyfriend,” Kaminsky said.

  “Yeah. Earl. Earl Miller.”

  “Had they been going out long?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Was there an old boyfriend, maybe? Someone who might be angry that he’d been jilted?”

  “No.” Dotty took the last drag from her cigarette, dropped it to the ground, and extinguished it with the toe of her shoe. “There was someone, though. Only not a boyfriend. He had a thing for Flo, but she wouldn’t give him th
e time of day. She said it was creepy the way he would stare at her and always seemed to be around when she came in to work in the morning and when she left at night. One time he tried to follow her to the subway.”

  “Did that spook her?”

  “Sure. She told me she asked one of the other girls to walk with her.”

  “Who was this fellow? Do you know?”

  “Not really. I’ve seen him around. He works at the fair. I think he sells hot dogs.” Dotty took a long draft of her Coca-Cola. “You don’t think he had anything to do with Flo’s murder, do you?”

  “The police took someone away in handcuffs yesterday.” Elizabeth described the young man.

  Dotty sputtered and choked on her soda. “That’s him. That’s the guy that’s been pestering poor Flo.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “If I’d have known he was dangerous, I’d have told Flo to report him.”

  “You had no way of telling,” Elizabeth said soothingly.

  “He looked harmless to me,” Dotty said. “I didn’t see why Flo was so scared of him. Although I had to admit it was kind of creepy the way he followed her around. But I didn’t think he meant anything by it. If I had known…poor Flo.”

  Dotty burst into tears.

  “Is everything okay?”

  A woman came up to them and put a hand on Dotty’s shoulder. She was quite tall and very thin, giving her an angular appearance. Her light brown hair was pulled up into a French twist with a froth of curly bangs on her forehead.

  She looked Elizabeth and Kaminsky up and down as if they were specimens under a microscope.

  Kaminsky waved his press pass under her nose. “Daily Trumpet.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow but held out her hand.

  “June Davis.”

  She shook Kaminsky’s hand then grasped Elizabeth’s. Her handshake was very firm and Elizabeth nearly winced.

  Meanwhile, Dotty had continued to sniffle and dab at her eyes.

  “Why don’t you go powder your nose,” June said staring pointedly at Kaminsky.

  Dotty took a shuddering breath. “Okay.” She turned on her heel and half walked, half ran back to the entrance to the DuPont building.

  “She seems quite shook up over Flo Grimm’s death,” Kaminsky said, sliding his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and holding them out toward June.

  She shook her head. “So it is Flo then. The woman who was killed, I mean.”

  “Yes. Her mother made a positive identification this morning.”

  June shuddered. “How absolutely dreadful.”

  “We didn’t mean to upset Dotty,” Elizabeth said.

  “Dotty? Upset?” June tossed her head. “The only thing that upsets Dotty is being out of the limelight. Although I don’t suppose she’d want to be the star in this particular production, seeing as how it’s a corpse. I have to hand it to her—she’s quite the actress.”

  “You don’t think she’s sincere?” Kaminsky said, scratching the back of his neck.

  “About as sincere as a counterfeit coin.”

  “Did she and Flo not get along?”

  June stuck her hands in her pockets. “They got along as well as Dotty got along with anyone in a skirt. Dotty’s one of those gals who only has time for men. And preferably men who can get her somewhere.”

  “Where is she looking to go?” Kaminsky said, pulling out his cigarettes.

  “Out of a life of drudgery playing tug-of-war with a pair of ladies’ hose, I suppose.” June gave a half smile.

  “So there was no ill will between Dotty and Flo?” Kaminsky said.

  June hesitated. “No.”

  * * *

  —

  “She’s lying,” Kaminsky said as soon as June had walked away. “Did you notice the way she hesitated before saying there was no ill will between Dotty and Flo? She’s hiding something.”

  “Maybe if we talk to one of the other girls who work at the exhibit,” Elizabeth suggested.

  “Good idea.” Kaminsky turned around and shielded his eyes with his hand. “Looks like that gal over there might be on her lunch break.”

  He pointed to a petite dark-haired girl leaving the DuPont Pavilion with a paper lunch bag in her hand. She appeared to be headed toward an empty bench situated in the bit of shade cast by the building.

  She was taking a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper out of the bag when Elizabeth and Kaminsky reached her.

  She must have thought they wanted to join her on the bench because she quickly scooted toward one end.

  Kaminsky flashed his press pass. “Daily Trumpet. I hope you don’t mind if we ask you a few questions.”

  The girl smiled, showing deep dimples in her cheeks. “And I hope you don’t mind if I eat my lunch. We don’t get much of a break, and I’m starving.” She pulled an apple from her bag and then began unwrapping her sandwich.

  Kaminsky introduced Elizabeth and himself.

  “Myrna Jankovich. Pleased to meet you,” she said. “Are you doing one of those articles where you have lots of quotes from people at the fair? You know—what their favorite exhibit is and how many times they’ve been. The Herald Tribune ran one just like it last week.”

  Kaminsky cleared his throat. “Not exactly. This is about the woman who was murdered—Florence Grimm. She worked at the DuPont exhibit. I assume that’s where you work.”

  Myrna’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, yes,” she said. “You must think I’m terrible. It’s not that I’ve forgotten about poor Flo. It’s only that I am trying not to think about it. It’s so terribly upsetting, isn’t it?” She put her sandwich down on the paper bag she’d spread out on the bench beside her as if she’d lost her appetite.

  “It is dreadful,” Elizabeth said. “But we want justice for Flo, and I’m sure you do, too. That’s why we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Of course.” Myrna ran a finger under her eyes to wipe away the tears that had formed there.

  “What was your impression of Flo?” Kaminsky said. He put one foot on the bench and balanced his notepad on his knee.

  “Impression? Gee, I don’t know. She was nice enough, I guess. Sort of quiet, if you know what I mean. I gather things were rough for her at home, but she didn’t let it get her down.”

  “Rough?” Kaminsky’s bushy eyebrows rose. “How so?”

  Myrna shrugged. “I think her mother drank. And she didn’t like her stepfather Clyde all that much.”

  “How did she get along with the other girls here?”

  Myrna hesitated. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Even Dotty?” Elizabeth said.

  Myrna fiddled with her paper lunch bag. “Flo and Dotty got along okay. Except for that one time, but Flo said it was simply a misunderstanding.”

  “They had a fight?” Kaminsky looked up from his notepad.

  “Yes. And it was a real doozy. Everyone heard them.”

  Elizabeth and Kaminsky exchanged a glance. Elizabeth knew what he was thinking—they were right—June had been lying.

  “Do you know what they were fighting about?”

  “I only heard a bit of it, but I think it was about Lou—Lou Vitale.”

  “He’s the fellow who’s engaged to Dotty Howard, isn’t he?” Kaminsky said.

  “Yes. And Dotty took it into her head that Flo was flirting with Lou—that she was after him for herself.”

  “Was she?” Elizabeth said.

  Myrna shook her head. “No, it was all a mistake. It’s like this, see.” She leaned forward eagerly. “We all knew that Lou had taken a shine to Flo on account of his giving her the job when he’d already hired that other girl.”

  “Other girl?” Elizabeth said.

  “Yeah. Her name was Shirley. She wasn’t nearly as attractive as Flo, so when Flo
showed up asking if there were any jobs available, Lou told the other girl to take a hike and he hired Flo instead.” Myrna took a bite of her apple.

  “Do you have any idea what happened to this Shirley?” Kaminsky ran a finger around his collar.

  “I think she got a job somewhere else at the fair. Someone said she’s working in the kitchen at the Ballantine Three Ring Inn.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not a very glamorous job. Not that playing tug-of-war with a pair of stockings is all that glamorous.”

  “So she must have been pretty mad that Flo had taken the job here at DuPont away from her.”

  Myrna titled her head to one side. “I don’t know. Maybe. I think she was glad to have work—any work.”

  “Still. To lose a plum job like this.” Kaminsky gestured toward the DuPont building.

  Myrna looked at her watch and gave a little cry. “Oh my heavens, look at the time. I’d better get going.”

  She put her apple core and her sandwich wrappings inside the paper bag and crumpled it up.

  “Just one more thing,” Kaminsky said, holding up his pencil.

  “Dotty told us that Flo had a boyfriend named Earl Miller. Says he worked in a bank. You don’t happen to know where, do you?”

  “Sure.” Myrna stood up and brushed some crumbs off her skirt. “He works at the Chemical Bank and Trust Company in Manhattan on the corner of Broadway and Cortlandt Street. I have a savings account there.” She made a face. “Not that there’s all that much left over to save after paying the bills.”

  Myrna waved over her shoulder as she walked away.

  Elizabeth frowned.

  “What are you thinking?” Kaminsky said.

  “I’m wondering if that girl—Shirley—was mad enough about losing the job to Flo to commit murder.”

  “You know what, Biz? So am I.”

  Chapter 6

  “I’m starved, how about you?” Kaminsky began walking toward a blue-and-yellow hot dog cart near World’s Fair Boulevard.

  Elizabeth suddenly realized she was hungry. She slipped a finger into the waistband of her trousers. Had she lost weight? There were days when she was so engrossed in her work that she forgot to eat her lunch. Mrs. Murphy looked terribly concerned whenever Elizabeth returned home with her sandwich still in her lunch bag.