two people at all times. If he had left, we would have seen him."
"Well, I mustn't sit here sulking," Auntie Lil decided. She'd slip away and phone Detective Santos. Perhaps he had found out where The Eagle had gone. Besides, soon it would be time to do the dishes and she had to draw the line somewhere.
The old women watched her go with impassive eyes. They did not speak until she was well out the door.
Auntie Lil had lied. She waited in the doorway opposite to see where the old actresses went. You could never be sure, she reasoned to herself. Better to suspect than to be sorry. It was not difficult for Auntie Lil to follow Adelle's crowd; they were too intent on assuming their disguises to pay her much attention. She trailed along behind them, shamelessly eavesdropping. It appeared that Adelle had a tiny apartment on Fiftieth Street and that the women were headed there to resume their bag lady roles. They chatted like a crowd of showgirls on the way to a performance. It disturbed Auntie Lil that Eva was not among them. She did not trust these streets.
The group headed north up Eighth Avenue and Auntie Lil turned west, satisfied they were doing as they'd promised. She wanted time to think about what she had seen that morning at St. Barnabas. She walked toward the Hudson River, where the huge cruise liners stood berthed at massive docks just a few blocks south from the pier where she had taken Theodore. Not many cargo ships pulled in these days; newer ports on Staten Island and Brooklyn made the trip to midtown Manhattan unnecessary. But the big passenger lines still liked the cachet of boarding their guests in sight of the Manhattan skyline. As Auntie Lil drew nearer, she heard a deep, mournful bellow. One of the passenger ships was pulling free from the dock and sounding its horn in celebration. She was just in time to watch it back slowly into the center of the river and head ponderously down the Hudson toward the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, where it would continue out to sea. The bulk of the boat was incredible. Even the water seemed to strain under its weight.
A cruise leaving in midweek would have few passengers and, indeed, the dock was cleared of any goodbye visitors within minutes. They walked quickly to their cars, anxious to leave the desolate riverfront and get on with their lives. Soon, Auntie Lil was left alone on a small concrete sidewalk that ran between the docks. She stared down at the murky greenish black waters of the Hudson, her mind still on St. Barnabas.
Why would Fran have quit? And did it have anything to do with Timmy's visit to Father Stebbins? Why would the old priest bother to lie about that visit? What could he be hiding? Surely it was no crime to help a young runaway in need of guidance. And the young boy might have nothing to do with Emily's death; their friendship could be a sad coincidence. Just another blow to Timmy's self-esteem.
Her mind wandered to the old actresses. It was a good thing she was allowed back at St. Barnabas, where she could keep a closer eye on the group. Could they know more than they were saying? She would not put it past Adelle to try to solve the murder on her own. Although gracious and charming, the woman clearly hated to share the spotlight with anyone. And wasn't it curious that Eva was missing? Maybe the others had teased her too much at last, or blamed her for Emily's death. Or, conversely, maybe she was just too busy redeeming herself by tailing residents of Emily's building to even stop to eat.
And what about that building? How could any trace of Emily disappear so quickly? Who was living in her apartment now, and why? Was it The Eagle? Did the killer have the audacity to move into his victim's very home? Yet Detective Santos had said that a young blonde woman lived in the apartment. And surely the police would have done a thorough job once they took the trouble to show up. She remembered she had not yet found out the results of the detective's latest search for The Eagle, and made a mental note to call Santos.
Was it possible that the entire building was participating in some sort of conspiracy? Surely not. What kind of trouble could an old woman like Emily