“Aww, look at the two of you,” Lottie said cheerfully. “Why, you’re almost like legitimate partners.

  “Almost,” Ava said. Then, to Frank, she said: “You do the driving, I’ll do the talking.”

  “If you think it’s wise…sure. Let’s go.”

  They both gave their thanks to Lottie as they headed out. They rushed up the stairs as Ava did her best to explain her new theory and line of thought to Frank. Just like last time, she made no mention of going to see Willie Snide.

  “I was thinking of the vagrant-type we saw on the street, being harassed by those rich men. I was so blinded by the anger over the men thinking they were better than him that I didn’t even question why the man was there in the first place.”

  “I did,” Frank said. “I figured he was just on Fifth Avenue trying to find a job. Something demeaning like washing cars or shining shoes. It’s not too uncommon. Based on what we saw, though, I think it takes a special kind of bravery.”

  They’d made it out to the street now, and Ava saw that Frank had opted to park the patrol car they’d been using directly on the street. They clambored in and Ava was a little shocked by how natural it already felt. She was equally surprised by how fluidly Frank started the engine and weaved flawlessly out into the street. Suddenly, and with just the smallest bit of sorrow, she wondered if Clarence had ever had the privilege of driving a car while on patrol. If he had, he’d never mentioned it to her or Jeffrey—and it seemed like the sort of thing he would have surely told Jeffrey about.

  “Maybe it doesn’t even have to be a vagrant or anyone poor, just wandering around Fifth Avenue,” she said. “I’m trying to think of someone that seemed like they might belong but simply didn’t. Like the man we rescued from being harassed by those rich men. He wasn’t causing any real trouble, but he just didn’t seem to fit.”

  “Do you really think George Pickett is going to talk to you again after lodging yet another complaint?”

  “If he wants to find out who killed his daughter, he’s going to have to.”

  “I’ll stress that after today, someone new will be assigned to the case,” Frank said. “I’m sure he’d love that but when I express that whoever comes on to replace us is going to have to start from the beginning, I think that’ll do it.”

  Ava leaned forward in her seat, as if willing the car to go faster. She was beginning to appreciate every instance when she and Frank seemed to be connecting. It was already a drastic change from just a few short weeks ago when Minard had decided to pair them together. She wasn’t quite sure which part of their journey had helped to show her that she was capable of doing this job (and doing it well) but she was grateful for it.

  They pulled up along a surprisingly empty curb in front of the Pickett home just ten minutes later. Ava didn’t hesitate in the slightest when she knocked on the door. She rapped loudly, hoping to translate some urgency into it. The door was answered almost right away. When poor, poor Evelyn saw them, she shook her head in dismay.

  “I’m not trying to get in trouble with the law or nothing, but I don’t know if I should let you two in here.”

  “It’s urgent, Evelyn,” Ava said.

  “Is it, really? Mr. Pickett is awful mad, and—”

  Ava stepped forward, pushing the door open wider. Evelyn, still holding on to it, staggered back a bit. She lowered her head, stepped behind the door as they entered, and didn’t say another word. Ava didn’t bother asking where George was. She could hear his voice coming from down the large hallway to her right—in the direction of his office.

  She and Frank headed in that direction, side by side. Ava was very aware that they were technically intruding and that it would almost certainly result in yet another complaint called in to Minard. But she was shocked to find that she didn’t care; she was more concerned with finding Penny’s killer. It was a strange feeling, not being too concerned with the fate of her own career. It made her appreciate that risks and decisions had to be made to effectively do this job. It made her respect Frank even more, and it have her a whole new level of appreciation for what Clarence had dealt with.

  She could sense Frank moving in a way to cut her off at the office door, so she sped up a bit. She wanted to be the one to knock, to let George Pickett know she could not be intimidated so easily. She knocked on the door, though it was already open, and then stepped inside.

  George was sitting behind his desk, speaking to a man that was situated on the opposite side. When George saw Ava standing in his doorway, he looked confused at first but anger quickly dissolved it away. He got to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at her as if he were holding a gun.

  “Get the hell out of my house! How many complaints do I need to make?”

  “We understand your complaints,” Ava said. “But I think you should know that we have a promising lead.” She realized this was a bit of an overstatement, but he didn’t need to know that. “If you could answer just a few questions, we could—”

  “See this man right here?” George said, redirecting his finger to the man sitting at his desk. “This is the director of the funeral home that will be handling Penny’s funeral service. I can’t even get through this meeting without the two of you interfering! Now, if I—”

  “Sir, do you want to find you daughter’s killer?” Ava asked.

  “Of course I want to! How dare you even think I—”

  “Is it going to be the absolute worst thing if a woman detective plays a part in finding her? Because if so, keep playing it like this. Your complaints have resulted in this being the final day Detective Wimbly and I are able to search for your daughter. And if we’re taken off the case, you’ll get another detective to help. But that means you’ll start all over, from the first step. And it’s quite clear you don’t like being interrupted. So I suggest you take the time out of your day to hear us out and answer our questions. I can also tell you that the longer the killer is out there, the better chance he has of getting away with it.” She took a breath, surprised at how calm she was after having said it all. “Now…would you please take five minutes to answer our questions?”

  The funeral director looked as if he’d been pinned to his chair, looking back and forth between the detectives and George Pickett. George, meanwhile, looked like he may have been shot in the chest. He was immobile, his mouth gaping open. It was abundantly clear that he was not used to being talked to in such a way.

  “What questions do you have?” he asked. His voice was soft and constrained. It made Ava think he may have responded differently if there wasn’t a third party in the room.

  “In the day or so leading up to the day of the party and Penny’s death, can you think of anyone you may have seen out on the streets or even milling about your house? Someone that just didn’t seem to fit into the picture? Someone that didn’t belong there?”

  “Well, as you very well know, and as I have told you countless times, we had many people in and out of the house, people helping prepare for the festivities. So, there’s no way I can answer that.”

  “Get the party out of your mind,” Frank said, speaking just as calmly as Ava. “Think of anyone you may have seen or even interacted with in the days leading up to it.”

  George started to think a bit deeper. Ava could see the shift in him as he finally made the painstaking decision to actually cooperate with the police. Slowly, something like acknowledgement dawned in his eyes. He stepped around the desk, nodding slowly but still looking off into the distance like he was drawing a memory out of hiding.

  “I’ll be damned,” he whispered. “Now that I think of it, I did have words with a man out on the street. This was just as the Duvalls were arriving. I met them out on the porch to have a word with them about the party—a bit of news about some surprises that I didn’t want Penny to know about. There was a man out on the street, a black man who very clearly did not belong there. Maybe an immigrant as far as I know. He simply did not know his place. I did my best to usher him away and—”

  “Was he causing a disturbance?” Ava asked.

  “Disturbing all the fine folk on this street, yes.”

  “By just being there?” Ava managed to catch herself before she went off on a rant. “Were tense words exchanged?”

  “Yes. I told him to get back to where he came from. That he had no place on this street, and we didn’t want any trouble. And he thought it fit to backtalk me. Can you believe it? Said he was welcome to walk wherever he damn well pleased. But by then, like I said, the Duvalls were here. When it was both Mack and I there to scare him off, he went running. But he was griping the whole way, talking to us over his shoulder and all.”

  “And that was the end of it?” Frank asked.

  “Yes. But a damper on the evening, that’s for sure. But just for a bit. I nearly called the constable but in the end, we just laughed it off.” He chewed on this for a moment and then added: “I hadn’t even given it a second thought until this very moment.”

  “Could you tell us what he looked like?” Frank asked.

  Ava knew what was going to come next and prepared herself for it. Apparently, when it came to people of ethnic origin, George Pickett thought he was worlds better than they were. It did not just stop with women or people that did not make as much money as he did.

  “Like I said, he was black and derelict. What else do you need to know?”

  The sheer racism and classism on display was enough to make Ava’s stomach turn. Still, she soldiered on. “Would you say he spoke back to you in a threatening manner?”

  “No more so than a man you may cross over a bit of poker, really. He was angry, yes. But I don’t think he was angry enough to have truly come at me for a fight.”

  Ava nodded, somewhat surprised that George Pickett wasn’t already set on trying to pin his daughter’s murder on an African American man that he clearly felt vastly superior to. And as much as she hated to give him any sort of push to start thinking in that direction, Ava knew she also could not be naïve enough to completely discount the possibility that this man—or even the vagrant she and Frank had seen, or any others like them—may be responsible for Penny’s death. It made her think of the fire escape again. Yes, she’d looked it over but the sudden commotion from the street had sidetracked her. And if she was going to give serious consideration to a potential killer coming in from off the streets, the fire escape looked like the only clear route to get into Penny’s bedroom unseen.

  “Thank you for your time,” Ava said.

  “You…you only have until the end of the day?” It was the most vulnerable Ava had heard the man since the first time she met him. That, to Ava, was saying a lot given that he’d recently lost his daughter.

  “Yes. But that means we still have serval hours.” What she did not say was that it would only take a single telephone call to the precinct to fix that. Instead, she headed for the door, anxious to give the fire escape another look.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Ava knew to pull hard on the ladder this time so she didn’t spare any effort. She could tell Frank wanted to pull it down for her, but chose to let her have at it. It seemed he was getting to understand her more and more by the second. He did cut in front of her to climb the old iron ladder first, though. She gave him some space and followed behind him. When she neared the top, Frank offered his hand and pulled her up onto the platform. It seemed to sway the slightest little bit as they walked across it.

  They walked to the window and found it locked tightly. There were no obvious signs of forced entry. It also looked very clean, no doubt having been wiped down by Evelyn sometime recently.

  “Yeah, no one broke into this window,” Frank said.

  Ava nodded absently, her eyes already focused on something else. At the right end of the iron platform, there was a thin ledge that ran between Penny’s bedroom window and the next. The fire escape walkway didn’t quite make it all the way to the other window, but the ledge did. The ledge was purely decorative, a flat slab on concrete that descended down into the side of the building in a decorative slant. The ledge itself looked to be about eight inches wide, with the slant running down about a foot or so before it was buried into the brick and wood of the house itself.

  “What about that window?” Ava asked, pointing to the window at the other end of the ledge.

  “What about it?” Frank asked. “No one could get to that without a ladder down below. And if you—”

  He stopped here, noticing where she was looking. He joined her at the edge of the platform and shook his head. “No way. No one would be crazy enough to walk across that thing. Especially not at night.” He looked down and sighed. “You’re talking about at least a twenty-five foot drop.”

  “The ledge is wide enough, I think,” Ava said. She looked at the ledge, then the window once more. Before she was truly aware of what she was doing, she raised her right leg and carried it over the fire escape railing.

  “Gold, what the hell are you doing?” Frank said.

  “I’m going over there to check that window.”

  “I can’t let you do that! That’s insane!”

  Ava threw her other leg over and carefully perched on the very edge of the platform. “I fear if you try to stop me now, I may fall.”

  “You crazy dame! I won’t be responsible for this! If you fall…”

  “If I fall, you’ll no longer be saddled with a crazy dame for a partner. Now be quiet so I can concentrate.”

  She did her best not to look down as she stepped over empty air and onto the ledge. She knew she had small feet; it was something Clarence had teased her about repeatedly. And now finally, those small feet were going to come in handy. With one foot on the ledge, she reached out and placed her hand against the rough brick that made up the exterior along the back of the Pickett house. Pivoting her weight, she then carried the left foot over. With her entire body now on the ledge, she leaned as tightly against the wall as she could. Her entire foot nearly fit on the ledge, with only the very end of her heel hanging off. She grinned nervously as she tried to imagine herself doing this in heels, but as it was, her Oxfords seemed to handle this risk nicely.

  “Jesus wept,” Frank said from the platform. “For goodness sake, be careful.”

  “For goodness sake, hush!”

  He did, but she could feel his eyes on her and that was somehow just as bad. She did her best to shut him out, leaning ever so slightly forward as she slid her feet along the ledge. It was slow going but she made the first several feet with no problem. She figured if she was a big bosomed broad—perhaps like Frances—there was no way she’d be able to do his. If the ledge were just two inches shorter, she would have likely already fallen. But of course, that was no way to think. She looked down, barely able to move her head without her forehead striking the brick She looked to her feet, to the small piece of the ledge, and continued sliding along.

  She was nearly at the end of the ledge when someone on the other side of the house shouted out. It was a shout of joy, of a man running into an acquaintance, but Ava did not realize it right away. All she knew was that it was an unexpected sound, and her body reacted as such. Her hands came off the wall ever so slightly, and her knees buckled just a bit.

  Ava felt herself starting to fall backwards. Her heart leaped in her chest and her guts seemed to think she was already plummeting to the Picketts’ back lot twenty-five feet below. But her eyes still saw the brick in front of her, focusing and redirecting her panicked brain. Slowly, she leaned forward. For a split second, she knew she was wavering between leaning back to the brick or letting gravity claim her.

  She placed one hand on the brick again and the rest of her body seemed to follow that small action. When she was centered again and no longer felt like her heart was going to leap out of her mouth, she inched those last few steps. At the end of the ledge, she looked to the right and saw that the window was installed just like Penny’s; there was the slightest of indentations, giving her about six inches more than the ledge. As she found herself stepping out over open air once more, she could not help but wonder: Why didn’t the bastards that built this place just have the fire escape go all the way along the back?

  When she was standing on the window’s larger ledge, she had to bend down just the slightest bit. This wasn’t quite as dangerous as being out on the ledge because she simply had to lean forward. And if she leaned forward too far, she’d simply slam into the window. And boy howdy, wouldn’t George Pickett love that?

  She did have to press her forehead against the glass to check to see if the window was locked. She put both hands on either side of the frame and pushed upward. The window slid without any problem. She moved her hands to the bottom of the window, making sure she didn’t fall backwards. It took a bit of creative bending, but she was then able to step into the room.

  Ava found herself standing in a room that was just a bit smaller than Penny’s. A bed sat in the center of the far wall, perfectly made and untouched. A small dresser sat along the wall to the left. Ava checked the drawers and found only a spare change of sheets. With the lack of clothes in the drawers and the pristine nature of the bed, she assumed this was a guest room. She recalled the closed door inside, just beside Penny’s bedroom.

  The room itself seemed innocent enough. But for that window to offer such easy access, it suddenly became very interesting in terms of the case. If someone were determined enough, they could certainly have taken it upon themselves to inch along that ledge to find a way in.

  “Gold?” Frank called from outside. “What did you find?”

  “One second,” she called, still looking around the room. The only other thing to investigate was a small closet on the right wall. She walked over to it and wasn’t surprised to find it empty. What she was surprised to find, though, was that there was no wall in the back of it. Instead, it was blocked off by a series of shoes on the floor and several hanging dresses and gowns—all of which she had seen before.

 

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