In the Shadow of Gotham - By Stefanie Pintoff Page 0,83
when I saw a carpetbag stuffed full of things. I opened it and right on top was a woman’s handbag. So I got curious to see what was in it.”
He looked at us, clearly wondering if we were going to question him further about this admission. I understood immediately and made a calculated decision to let it pass. The man had no doubt hoped to find money in the handbag; that was why he had examined it more closely. I did not ask whether he had found anything; I’d rather he responded to more important questions.
“Go on,” I said.
“I noticed the handbag had a peculiar stain.” He paused, then continued, “And that made me look to see what else was with it. I saw the lead pipe, inside the hat, wadded up in some woman’s petticoat with dried blood all over it. That was then I realized the stain was also blood. That got me spooked, so I called the police.”
“And the rest of the clothes?”
He shook his head. “You can take a look. It’s all in there. I didn’t touch nothing else. After I saw all that blood on the lady’s petticoat, I got scared maybe there was a dead body here somewhere. So I called the police, and they sorted through the rest of the stuff.”
“Everything is this way?” Alistair asked.
“Yeah, in the incinerator room.” Will gestured toward the stairs behind him to our left.
I motioned to Alistair to wait. “And do you recall exactly where you found the carpetbag?” I scanned the length of the train yard. It was massive.
“See those six cans lined up against the eastern side wall over there? It came from one of them,” Will said. “I’ve still gotta do those others”—he pointed to the opposite side of the yard—“once you guys finish with me.”
I nodded. “Did you happen to notice anyone in this area behaving strangely, in the last few days?”
Will looked at me blankly. “Whaddya mean, behaving strangely?”
I tried to be more specific. “Did you see anyone who looked like he didn’t belong? Perhaps in an area where strangers don’t normally venture?”
He cackled, showing us a mouth riddled with missing teeth. “There’s strange people here every day, mister. Men with suits inspecting this or that rail, talking about building plans. And the men working construction get paid by the day. Sometimes they’re here, sometimes not—depends how much they need the money that day. It’s backbreaking work, it is. Lucky it’s not my job.”
“Any other janitors with you out here?” I asked.
“Nah, just me.” He grinned. “There are others inside the terminal, but out here, it’s all just a big trash heap anyways. I only gotta take care of what trash makes its way into those cans. The rest takes care of itself.”
We thanked him, and before he returned to his work, he again pointed us in the direction of the incinerator room. It was a relatively small room, and it seemed even smaller because of the large trash bags that lined each wall from floor to ceiling. The incinerator itself was merely a small opening in a brick wall, covered at the moment by an iron door. There was a rusted metal table to the back where the suspicious clothing lay, guarded loosely by a policeman with instructions to return the materials to his precinct captain once we had taken a look.
“Sir, you’re the detective Mulvaney sent?” After I nodded, he ushered us into the room. “Please disregard my own things over there,” he said, pointing to a coat, hat, and scarf at the far end of the table. “Had to take them off. It’s beastly hot down here.” Beads of perspiration dripped down his face, even though now he wore only his shirt.
“True enough,” I said, as we all removed our own coats. “Let’s make this quick.” Alistair and Isabella offered no objection.
The carpetbag itself was on the far left end. A leaf pattern of reds and oranges must have once been visible, but it was now worn and covered with soot. I examined it and noticed nothing unusual.
Isabella approached the table, as well, and we watched as she gently fingered each item of clothing. She picked up the handbag that had attracted Porter’s attention. “Could this have have been Sarah’s?” She gingerly lifted it. It was flat and black, obviously well-worn; the thick black straps showed signs of previous repair. Her fingers grasped the small gold fastener to open it.
“Ma’am, we put the contents from inside it over here,”