explained, at least, why we were told nothing before Dr. Fields’s message reached us near five o’clock.
Maud returned with two cups of hot tea and a plate of warm apple scones. After Mrs. Wingate murmured her thanks, I said, “Mrs. Muncie, before you leave, I have something to ask you.”
She turned and stared, hands on hips, as I helped myself to a scone. “I’ve already told the policeman who interviewed me everything. Tuesday was my shopping day. I wasn’t here.”
“I understand,” I said, my tone placating, “but my question is about Stella. Were you friendly with her?”
Maud grunted in reply. “I work here. I don’t talk much with the others, if that’s what you’re asking. Stella was a bit of a girl, but she did her part. I had no complaints about her.” She rearranged her apron, implying she was ready to return to work.
“What I’m asking is whether there is any place you can think of where Stella may have gone? Any friends she may have sought out?”
“I wouldn’t know about that, Detective. Like I told the other policeman who came, I don’t go in for small talk. Stella was a nice enough girl. But I can’t say more than that.”
“And you, Mrs. Wingate?” I asked, cradling my cup of warm tea in my hands. There was enough chill in the air that its warmth felt comforting.
After Maud returned to the house, Mrs. Wingate was quiet for some time. Then she said, “You might check Stella’s whereabouts with a woman named Mamie Durant on West Thirty-eighth Street.”
“Mamie Durant.” I repeated the name, almost to myself, as I tried to place where I had heard the name before. “Isn’t she—” I articulated the question a split second before the thought fully crystallized in my mind.
“Yes,” Virginia Wingate interrupted, seeming to intuit what I was thinking. Her watery blue eyes did not falter as they met my own. “She owns and manages a high-class gentleman’s club, catering to wealthy clients.”
I could only stare at her, dumbfounded. The club run by Mamie Durant was not the sort of place a well-bred lady like Mrs. Wingate would ordinarily know about, much less mention in polite conversation. Gentleman’s club was a fine euphemism, but what went on there was prostitution—plain and simple. And Mrs. Wingate had broached the subject as matter-of-factly as though she were talking about a popular ladies’ tearoom.
“How do you know Mamie Durant? Or rather, how does Stella—?” In my attempts to be discreet with Mrs. Wingate, I could not pose the question. The right words simply did not exist.
She cut me off calmly, amused by my embarrassment. “Mamie Durant was Stella’s previous employer. She provided an excellent reference to the organization that found Stella for me. You see, she fully supported Stella in making a fresh start.”
I was shocked to find her so unemotional about the subject—one which ladies of her social class did not discuss and usually pretended did not exist. I stammered lamely, “Does Miss Abigail know about Stella’s background?”
“Of course she does not,” Mrs. Wingate said, sitting up straighter. “No one here does.” She took a sip of her tea before continuing. “Stella became quite ill during her last months at Mamie Durant’s, and when she recovered, she began to do the laundry and light house keeping there. Mamie herself apparently told her if she was happy enough with that sort of work, she should find respectable quarters to do it in. Housemaids in private homes often find husbands and marry; those in gentlemen’s clubs do not.”
“You said an organization placed her with you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she confirmed with a nod, “it was one of those ladies’ home committees in the city. A friend involved with their work sent Stella to me for an interview, knowing my views were liberal enough to take her.” She smiled slightly. “Plus, I have no husband or sons in my household to worry about.” After another moment, she shrugged. “It was really quite simple. She wanted a fresh start; I decided to give it to her.”
I knew many people who would have given her a dozen reasons why it was a bad idea, but clearly Mrs. Wingate had considered such concerns unimportant.
“Thank you,” I said, “you have been very helpful. If you think of anything else that may be important, will you let me know?”
“Of course,” she said, rising to say good-bye. “I know where to find you. And do”—her voice caught—“do try your best to find her. I should like