Unseemly Honeymoon

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Concordia and David went their separate ways the next afternoon, he for Shanley’s and she for the Macy’s ladies’ lunchroom. Despite it being a short ride along the Sixth Avenue elevated line, David hailed her a taxicab.

“You know I’ve taken the elevated to Macy’s before,” Concordia protested, as a cab pulled to the curb. “It’s in the heart of the Ladies’ Mile shopping district and quite safe.”

His dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “No doubt, my dear. You are simply humoring a protective husband.” In the shadow of the carriage door, he leaned down to place a warm kiss upon her forehead before handing her in.

Concordia gave a contented sigh. She could get used to humoring her husband.

The vehicle crept along the avenue in stop-and-start increments as pedestrians and bicyclists breezed past. It certainly would have been quicker to take the elevated train to traverse six blocks in this lunch hour traffic, but at least it gave her time to think about Miss Lester. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the cushions.

What sort of problem would have the girl in such a panic that she would contact her former teacher for help? Victoria Lester was an intelligent, hard-working, sensible girl, not given to impulsive action. Concordia hoped the issue didn’t involve a young man. Even after years of teaching and chaperoning female students, she didn’t consider herself equipped to give advice in that area.

The second-floor ladies’ lunchroom at Macy’s was bustling at this hour, and the throng of chattering women stretched beyond the red-velvet rope line. Concordia shouldered her way through the crowded foyer and recognized the slender, brown-haired, square-shouldered young lady at the front of the line, shifting from foot to foot and gripping her scuffed clutch purse tightly. Miss Lester seemed thinner than she remembered. The shadows beneath her eyes hinted at a recent spate of sleepless nights.

Her forehead smoothed in relief as Concordia approached. “Thank heaven you’ve come.” Her thinned lips barely curved in a smile.

“Of course I would come,” Concordia said. “It is good to see you, dear. We miss you at the school. I hope you will return to finish your degree at some point.”

The girl leaned closer and whispered, “I’ve had some opportunities here and there to make money, in addition to my regular job. I’ve been saving it all so I can come back.”

“Most commendable. Perhaps we can also inquire about a scholarship when you are ready,” Concordia said cautiously. She didn’t want to hold out false hope.

Miss Lester met the eye of the waitress approaching them with menus. “We’re ready, Millie. Definitely not the lunch counter. Someplace quieter, if you can manage it.”

Concordia and Miss Lester followed the waitress to a secluded corner table beside a window, partly screened by a potted palm. “You know the waitress?”

Miss Lester nodded as Millie handed them their menus and filled their water glasses. “She’s a good egg.” She glanced up at her friend. “Perfect, thank you.”

Millie smiled. “You’re welcome, dear. I’ll be back soon to take your order.”

Concordia wasted no time after she left. “All right then, Miss Lester, why don’t you tell me what the problem is.”

The girl twisted the napkin in her lap. “I’m sorry to have troubled you on your honeymoon, Miss W—uh, Mrs. Bradley. I’m at my wits’ end.”

“I’m happy to do what I can, though I am surprised you wouldn’t turn to your grandfather for help.”

“I—I would rather he not know. He has been through so much lately. Mother’s death has been hard on him.” She hesitated, then took the plunge. “You know I have a job as a switchboard girl for the New York Telephone Company?”

Concordia nodded.

“Well, during an afternoon shift, I overheard a conversation—” She broke off as a group of matrons brushed past their table.

Concordia shifted impatiently after they passed. “What about?”

Miss Lester looked from side to side then dropped her voice to a whisper. “Murder.”

Concordia’s mouth hung open for a moment. “You’re sure?”

The girl nodded. “I heard him plain.”

“Him? Who?”

“I don’t know. The call I connected came from the lunchroom of a private club. It could have been any of the patrons.”

“Who makes such a call in a restaurant?” Concordia asked.

Miss Lester shrugged. “I didn’t hear any background noise. The instrument itself was probably in a booth or an alcove.”

“When was this?”

Miss Lester sighed. “Last Monday. The twenty-sixth. I’d just started my shift, and it was hectic. The girl who was supposed to work the panel next to mine had been dismissed, so I had charge of both until they arranged for her replacement. Several calls were coming in at once. I thought I had disconnected my headset from the call, but I was mistaken. That’s how…I overheard it.” She hesitated as if to say more.

“What exactly did he say?” Concordia prompted.

Miss Lester closed her eyes briefly in concentration. “He said, ‘He didn’t die. I don’t know if I have it in me to try again.’”

Concordia suppressed a shiver. “Who was he talking to?”

“A woman.”

“Which woman? Couldn’t you tell by the line you’d connected him to?”

She flushed and dropped her eyes. “It all happened so fast. It took me a minute to realize what I was hearing, you see. By that point, my supervisor was standing right over my shoulder. He must have suspected I was listening in. I—I panicked and disconnected, and then he started questioning me so sharply—while I was still trying to connect other lines—that by the time he’d moved away, the number had gone clean out of my head. All I can remember was it was an exchange in the Bronx.”

Concordia could sympathize. It is not every day that one hears talk of murder. And then to be berated by a strict supervisor…little wonder the girl had been flustered. “What about the man?”

“I told you, I don’t know who he is.”

“He didn’t identify himself to her? She did not refer to him by name?”

“No. It could have been anyone at the club.”

Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. “You know the name of the club, at least?”

She nodded. “The Stock Exchange Luncheon Club.”

Concordia frowned. “I’m unfamiliar with it.”

“Naturally, I have never been there myself, but from what I understand, it’s a restaurant where brokers from the New York Stock Exchange meet for lunch.” Miss Lester looked up as Millie approached their table.

“Have you decided?” The waitress pulled out her pad.

Concordia glanced at the menu. “I’ll have the tomato bisque.”

Miss Lester passed over her menu without looking at it. “Just some tea, Millie. I’m not very hungry.”

Millie frowned as she turned away.

“I admit, that’s a most distressing thing to overhear,” Concordia murmured. “How did the woman at the other end respond?”

Miss Lester looked up with anguished eyes. “That was the worst of all. She said, ‘You must persist. With the suffering he has brought upon us, he has had it coming for a long time.’”

Concordia grimaced. “How horrible.”

“So, what do we do?”

“We?” Concordia asked dryly.

Miss Lester blushed. “All right, then—what should I do?”

“There is only one thing to do, dear. Go to the police. Tell them what you know and leave it to them. They are the experts in dealing with such matters.” Concordia suppressed a sigh. How many times had she not taken her own advice? Well, those days were over.

The young lady shook her head vigorously. “Impossible.”

“Why?”

“For one, I doubt they will believe me. Only wealthy, well-respected investment brokers are admitted to the Luncheon Club. Who would take the word of a switchboard girl over someone like that?”

“It cannot do any harm to at least report it,” Concordia objected.

Miss Lester sniffed as she fished out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “I can’t risk losing my position. We need the money.”

“Would that really happen? After all, you over-listened by accident.”

“You don’t know how strict our supervisor is. Only yesterday, he fired a switchboard girl for leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. Making public the fact that a telephone operator eavesdropped on a private conversation involving a rich businessman is sure to get the entire office in trouble, not just me. People are nervous enough that we might be listening in on their calls. This would confirm it.”

“I see your point,” Concordia said. “Well, then, I believe we are back to doing nothing.”

Miss Lester narrowed her eyes. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Mrs. Bradley, but I had hoped you could come up with a better solution than that. After all, I know you encountered several such problems and intervened when bringing in the police was not sufficient. You did not simply sit back and do nothing.”

Concordia felt her cheeks flush. “Those were entirely different circumstances, Miss Lester, and in retrospect I am not entirely sure I followed the most prudent course.”

The girl gaped in astonishment. Finally, she recovered her voice. “I never thought I would hear you say that. Where would Maisie Lovelace or Dean Maynard be if you had not stepped in last year? Marriage seems to have changed you.”

“There is no call for impertinence,” Concordia snapped. She gathered her belongings and put several bills on the table. “I must go.”

Miss Lester face contorted in distress. “Please,” she croaked. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend you. Please, stay.”

Concordia gave a sigh and sat back down. “I know you are under a great deal of strain.” And maybe, just maybe, the idea of marriage changing her had touched a tender spot.

Miss Lester leaned forward. “I have to do something. Perhaps I could send an anonymous note to the police, telling them what I know but not how I found out?”

Concordia shook her head. “I doubt that would be enough for them to conduct a serious investigation. An anonymous note could be explained away as spite. You would need to give the police more information, such as the name of the man who made the threat and, most importantly, the name of his intended victim.”

Miss Lester sat up straighter. “You’re right. I will have to learn more.”

Concordia grimaced. That was not what she meant, at all. “No, no, Miss Lester, you are not to involve yourself further, you understand? It is too dangerous.”

The girl raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Besides,” Concordia went on, hoping she was playing her final trump card, “you don’t want to risk your position at the telephone company, do you?”

Miss Lester sighed. “I suppose not.”