Free Murder in Hell's Kitchen by Lee Harris Page B

the tenants. It was a lopsided picture, with four occupied apartments on the left side and only two on the right. There was no apartment on the right side of the ground floor, and only Soderberg and Quill had lived on that side. The sketch didn’t provide any insights, so she pushed it aside, leaving it where she could look at it, and called Laura Thorne, Arlen Quill’s ex-wife.
    â€œThis is Laura Thorne,” a pleasant voice answered.
    â€œMrs. Thorne, this is Det. Jane Bauer. I have some questions to ask you about Arlen Quill. We’re reinvestigating his murder.”
    â€œI told the police everything I knew when it happened. That was a long time ago.” The voice turned less pleasant.
    â€œI’m sure you did, but I’d like to talk to you myself. Can I stop over this morning?”
    â€œI’m very busy this morning. Perhaps we could look at a day next week.”
    â€œNext week is pretty far away. Suppose we try for lunch hour today?”
    Laura Thorne exhaled in resignation. “Twelve-fifteen,” she said. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby of my office building. I assume you know where that is.”
    Jane read off the address. It was a large building on the west side of Sixth Avenue.
    â€œFine. I’m wearing a black coat with a red silk scarf.”
    â€œI’ll see you at twelve-fifteen.”
    Defino relinquished the typewriter, and Jane typed up a Five on Catherine Phelps. When she was finished, she called the Tulsa number Miss Phelps had given her. The woman who answered had a sweet southern voice.
    â€œI’d like to speak to Margaret Rawls,” Jane said.
    â€œWho is this, please?”
    â€œThis is Det. Jane Bauer of the New York City Police Department. It’s not an emergency. There’s nothing to be concerned about. I need some information from Miss Rawls.”
    â€œI’m Miss Rawls’s sister. I’m afraid my sister passed away, Detective.”
    And stopped sending Christmas cards to Catherine Phelps. “I’m sorry to hear that. Can you tell me the circumstances of her death?”
    â€œMay I inquire why you are asking these questions?”
    â€œWe’re reinvestigating the murder in the building your sister lived in. It seems a strange coincidence that she died, as well as the man whose body she found.”
    â€œWell, then. Margaret died in a traffic accident. She was hit by a car. It was a hit-and-run. She never had a chance.” The voice choked up slightly.
    â€œI see. And when did this happen?”
    â€œAbout . . . it must be nearly three years now.”
    Jane was aware that Defino had stopped what he was doing and was watching her, listening to her responses. So was MacHovec.
    â€œMa’am, did your sister ever talk to you about the murder in the building she lived in in New York?”
    â€œShe talked about it a lot. It was the reason she left New York and came home. She’d lived there for a long time but that murder unnerved her. And then what happened afterward.”
    â€œWhat are you referring to?”
    â€œShe came home one day and found the body of a neighbor lying on the floor in the hallway. She moved out that night.”
    â€œI spoke to Miss Catherine Phelps this morning,” Jane said.
    â€œYes, she’s the one Margaret moved in with for a while. She’s a good woman and a good friend. I’m afraid I never really informed her of Margaret’s death.”
    â€œMa’am, could you tell me your name, please?”
    â€œYes, of course. I’m Nancy Hopkins.”
    â€œMrs. Hopkins, did your sister tell you anything about the third death in the building she lived in?”
    â€œThat would be Henry. She said he fell down some stairs. That’s all I can remember about the accident, but what was so terrible for her was that she knew him.”
    â€œShe knew him?” Jane said.
    â€œYes. She told me all this when she came back.