AUGUST 1952
“So the girl was from New York City.” Jack eyeballed himself in La Belle Dame’s window as he set his hat on just so.
“The dress was from New York.” Harry couldn’t tease the kid about his vanity—he himself had mastered the art of casually dropping his hat over his bald spot. “Lots of people come and go from the city. I visit there once a month.”
“Really?” Jack looked impressed. “I’ve never been. I mean, when I was in the air force, I transited through New York. But I didn’t see anything except Port Authority.” He frowned. “I’ve never really been anywhere other than Texas for basic training and upstate.”
Harry patted his shoulder. “You’ve been here, and you’ve been paying attention. That’s good enough.” He left his jacket slung over his arm as they began walking toward the car. “Okay, she was wearing a pricey dress from a New York City department store. What do you think might explain that?”
“You mean, other than she comes from the city and has money?”
“That’s one possibility. Can you think of any others?”
Jack stepped around a sticky mess on the sidewalk where somebody had dropped an ice-cream cone. “Sure, she’s local and her family’s rich enough for her to shop for her clothes in New York.”
“But there’s been no missing persons report in our area.”
Jack frowned. “She’s visiting? Like one of the summer residents at Lake George or up in the mountains?”
“Again, no missing persons report. And what’s-his-name, Detective Carruthers’s partner, was right when he said she looked Italian or Franco. I don’t know of any of that type with summer homes in these parts.”
Jack nodded toward a young couple walking on the other side of the street, the girl in a fresh dress and the boy looking like a hood in jeans and a rolled-sleeve shirt. “What if she was from the city and sneaking around with a guy her parents didn’t know about? I can imagine her telling her folks she’s going up to Lake George with her friends Patty and Mary Lou, but really she’s there with the boyfriend.”
“Which means Mom and Pop might not be expecting to hear from her for a while. Good thought. What other possibilities?”
“Someone who could afford a hundred-dollar dress brought her here, or met her here.”
Harry nodded. “I wouldn’t dismiss the first idea, but I think the second is more likely.”
“But if she wasn’t a local with someone who’d notice she was missing, we’re back to prostitutes and—” Jack broke off and snatched the hat from his head. “Margy!”
In front of them, a woman had just exited a shop door and was trying to tug on her gloves while juggling two large carrier bags. The bags weren’t the only thing that was large—she was well along with child. She smiled at Jack, and Harry could see why the kid seemed dumbstruck. She was as cute as a Kewpie doll; tiny chin, rosy round cheeks, dimples, and a cloud of dark curls.
“Jack! I haven’t seen you in I can’t remember when!” From the way Jack was staring at her stomach, Harry guessed it had been at least four or five months. She finally got the gloves on and extended her hand. “Chief McNeil. I know you, but you don’t know me. I’m Margy Van Alstyne.”
He shook her hand. “Young Edward Van Alstyne’s wife?”
“No, I’m married to his cousin, Walter.”
Ah. Walt Van Alstyne. One of those golden boys who went off to fight and never seemed to get over it come peacetime. His officers had had Walt sleeping it off in the drunk tank a few times. Had trouble keeping a job, too, although if his wife was filling up shopping bags at a pricey Glens Falls store, he must be doing better.
“May I?” Harry asked, reaching toward the bags. Jack’s paralysis broke and he darted forward, snatching them out of Mrs. Van Alstyne’s hands.
She blinked. “Thank you, Jack. How have you been? What are you doing here?”
“We’re working on a—”
Harry cut the boy off. “I’m helping Jack with some shopping. Giving him a mature point of view.”
Mrs. Van Alstyne dimpled again. “I don’t know if he needs that. Jack was born mature. He was voted ‘Most Studious’ for our class yearbook.”
Harry smiled. “Can we walk you to your car, Mrs. Van Alstyne?”
“Thank you, yes. I’m just a couple blocks down the street.” She nodded toward the bags that Jack held against his chest, like a doorman who needed one hand free. “My mother suggested finishing the layette shopping earlier rather than later, but she probably didn’t mean to do it on a ninety-degree afternoon.”
Harry gestured her forward. Jack crowded in on the other side of her, causing a shopper walking in the opposite direction to swerve aside and give him a filthy look.
“Sooner rather than later?” Jack waved at her very obvious belly. “You look like you’re ready right now!”
Mrs. Van Alstyne blushed, and Harry glared at the kid. There were some things polite people didn’t discuss right out on the street.
“Really, Jack.” She set one hand atop her stomach. “If you must know, I’m due in mid-November.”
“I’m sorry. I was just so…”
“Surprised?” She smiled. “I don’t blame you.” She turned toward Harry. “Walt and I have been married four years now, and this will be our first.”
“Congratulations.” Harry held out a hand to help her off the curb. “You must be excited.”
“Oh, I am, I really am! And Walt is over the moon.”
“I bet,” Jack said. Harry glared at him again while handing Mrs. Van Alstyne up onto the next sidewalk.
“Oh, it’s much better in the shade, isn’t it?” She pointed to a worse-for-the-wear Chrysler parked beneath one of the Norway maples that lined the street. “That’s mine.” She opened the latch on her purse and handed Harry the keys.
He unlocked the car, leaving the driver’s side door open to air it out. Jack put the bags on the passenger seat before turning to Mrs. Van Alstyne. “Margy, I apologize. In my, umm, surprise, I forgot my manners.”
“Oh, Jack.” She took both his hands. “It’s my fault, too, for falling out of touch. Tell you what, why don’t you ask Dorothy Ketchem out for Saturday next and the two of you come to our place for dinner and bridge?” She looked at him seriously. “You know she’s sweet on you.”
“I know.” He nodded his head. “Okay. Let’s do that.”
She smiled. “Friends?”
“Friends.”
She kissed his cheek. Harry helped her into the driver’s seat—no graceful way to do that when a lady was as far gone as she was—and she rolled down the window, waving at them as she drove away.
“Friend of yours,” Harry observed.
“Yeah.” Jack shook himself like a wet dog. “Chief, there’s a possibility we haven’t considered. The dead girl wasn’t wearing a ring, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t married. If she was, and her husband was the one responsible for dumping her, that would explain why there’s no missing persons report.”
Harry nodded as he watched Mrs. Van Alstyne’s car disappear down the street. “That’s a thought, Jack. That’s a thought.”