Elizabeth glanced at the nurse, but her expression was placid. She shook her finger at Kaminsky and tut-tutted softly.

  “It’s for your own good, Mr. Kaminsky.” She cocked her head to one side. “We do want to get well, don’t we?”

  Kaminsky’s scowl deepened. “We want a cigarette.”

  The nurse barely blinked.

  “Have you seen the doctor?” Elizabeth said. “Has he said what’s wrong with you?”

  “It seems Mr. Kaminsky has contracted a bad case of bronchitis,” the nurse said, smiling indulgently at Kaminsky. “Doctor says he needs plenty of rest.”

  “How long do I have to stay in this place?”

  “Doctor says at least overnight. Then we’ll see. Bronchitis can take a serious turn in someone your age.” The nurse began to turn toward the door. “Now, is there anything else you need? A nice cold glass of apple juice, perhaps?”

  “How about a beer?” Kaminsky said with a mischievous grin.

  “Oh, Mr. Kaminsky,” the nurse said, patting him on the knee. “You are a card.”

  “You’ve got to get me out of here, Biz,” Kaminsky said when the nurse had left. “I can’t stand it. Besides, we’ve got work to do.”

  “You heard what the nurse said.” Elizabeth patted Kaminsky on the knee much as the nurse had done. “You need to rest.”

  Chapter 16

  Elizabeth felt bad about leaving Kaminsky, but she knew that the hospital was the best place for him. He’d at least get a decent dinner tonight—from the things he’d told her, she suspected his dinner, more often than not, was another shot of Schenley’s and spaghetti out of a can.

  She’d promised to visit him first thing in the morning before he was discharged. She’d told him not to get his hopes up—the doctor might want to keep him longer. But he’d insisted he’d be right as rain after a good night’s sleep.

  Mrs. Murphy was preparing dinner when Elizabeth arrived home. Delicious smells emanated from the kitchen—she thought she detected the delectable odor of chicken roasting. She hoped Mrs. Murphy would make perfection salad—it was a favorite of hers.

  Elizabeth was heading to her room when Helen came out of hers.

  “Elizabeth, darling, you must come see the adorable hat your friend Irene made for me. She really is quite talented.”

  She linked her arm through Elizabeth’s and led her into the master bedroom. A hatbox with Madame Louise scrawled across the top in gold letters was sitting on Helen’s vanity.

  Elizabeth perched on the edge of one of the twin beds.

  “Don’t wrinkle the spread, darling,” Helen said, as she opened the box and lifted out a hat.

  “That’s lovely,” Elizabeth said.

  Helen stooped down to look in the mirror as she perched the frothy pink confection on the top of her head. She spun around with a triumphant air.

  “What do you think?”

  “It suits you.”

  The hat really was quite charming. Elizabeth thought she might ask Irene to make her something new, too, but then she remembered she was saving her money for her own apartment. The thought gave her mixed feelings—a sensation of excitement at having her own two rooms but also a feeling of sadness that her days of frivolous purchases were coming to an end.

  “You really think so?” Helen pirouetted to look in the mirror again. “I’m planning to wear it to the gala cocktail party fundraiser for the hospital’s Sunshine Club.” She peered at Elizabeth as she took off the hat. “What are you wearing? Are you going to get something new? I saw some darling dresses at Madame Louise’s.”

  “Gala?” Elizabeth searched her mind trying to remember when she’d agreed to go to this fundraiser. She came up empty-handed. “I’m afraid I don’t remember—”

  “Of course, you remember, darling. We’re all going—except for Rose, of course. She’s still too young. But even James is coming with us. I’m on the committee. We have to go.”

  Elizabeth stifled a groan. She had no desire to attend this gala.

  “Who are you bringing?” Helen said. She replaced the hat in the box and put on the lid. “Have you decided? Now that you and Phillips are apparently no more.” She made an exaggerated sad face.

  “Bringing?” Now Elizabeth was being seized by actual panic.

  “Yes.” Helen picked up a silver-backed brush and began pulling it through her hair.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

  Helen paused with her hairbrush poised over her head. “You know, it might not be a bad idea if you go by yourself after all. You’ll have a much better chance of meeting someone. Surely there will be plenty of appropriate young men in attendance.”

  She’d walked right into Helen’s trap, Elizabeth realized. Her mother would now be relentless about introducing her to what she considered appropriate young men.

  An outrageous thought crossed her mind, but she dismissed it out of hand. It was a terrible idea. Surely it would backfire. Her parents would be horrified.

  But the possibility continued to tantalize her. She’d have to think about it some more.

  She was leaving Helen’s bedroom when she ran into James who was heading into his own room. He’d just arrived home from the office and was still in his pin-striped suit, although he’d loosened his tie and had his jacket hung over his shoulder from his finger and his shirtsleeves rolled up. He smiled when he saw Elizabeth.

  James had always been her baby brother and always would be—even now that he was almost in his twenties. She’d been barely more than a baby herself when he was born, but she’d developed strong maternal and protective feelings toward him almost immediately. She doubted that would ever change.

  “Mother says you’re going to the cocktail gala for the hospital’s Sunshine Club.”

  James grunted. “I didn’t want to, but you know Mother. Once she’s made up her mind, there’s no putting her off the rails.”

  Elizabeth followed James into his room where his twin bed was covered with a plaid spread and a blue pennant with Yale written on it hung over the headboard.

  James pulled his tie off and tossed it on the bed along with his jacket.

  “Are you bringing Cecilia to the party?” Elizabeth said. “I enjoyed meeting her.” Actually she hadn’t been all that impressed when Cecilia had come to dinner, but she held her tongue.

  James scowled. “No.” He turned his back to Elizabeth as he hung up his suit jacket.

  “But I thought surely you’d—”

  James sat on the edge of his bed. “Cecilia and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” James gave a pained smile.

  “What happened? Do you want to talk about it?”

  James sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

  “I liked Cecilia—she was fun. And pretty. But we didn’t see eye to eye on some things. Important things.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s the war in Europe,” James said simply. “She doesn’t think we should get involved. She said it would ruin things and our lives would change.” He bit his lip. “But there are terrible, horrible things going on overseas. I’ve been reading about them in the paper.” He clenched his fists. “I wish I could go and fight that bastard Hitler.”

  “No!” Elizabeth cried, dropping to her knees beside the bed and taking James’s hands in hers. “You won’t have to fight. I’m sure it will all be over soon. President Roosevelt will make sure of that.”

  “I don’t know. Hitler isn’t stopping. He’s already invaded Czechoslovakia and Austria and they say he is looking to Poland next.”

  Elizabeth shivered. She’d heard two of the reporters talking about it at work. She couldn’t bear the thought that if the war continued, American soldiers might be sent to fight.

  “Let’s not think about that right now.” Elizabeth smiled at James. “Besides, I think I hear Mother calling us for dinner.”

  * * *

  —

  The telephone rang while Elizabeth, Helen, and Rose were seated at the breakfast table. George and James had already left for an early morning meeting at the office.

  Jones stood in the doorway to the dining room. “It’s Mr. Adams for you, madam,” he said to Helen.

  Helen left the table and went out to the foyer where the telephone stood on a small table next to the coat closet. She wasn’t gone long.

  “That was your father,” she said to Elizabeth. “He’s forgotten some important papers on his desk in his study. Could you take them down to him on your way to work? I’d send Jones, but I need him here to oversee the painters who will be working in the powder room. I’m having it done in the most delightful color. It’s called Belvedere Cream. It has the slightest touch of pink in it and is simply marvelous.”

  “Certainly,” Elizabeth said. It would mean going all the way downtown and then back up again to see Kaminsky at the hospital, but she didn’t want to disappoint her father.

  “I’m terribly excited,” Rose said, sprinkling a handful of raisins on her oatmeal. “After our tennis lesson, Virginia and I are going horseback riding in Central Park.”

  “Do be careful, dear. Eleanor said her daughter Brenda rented a horse from one of those stables and it was the most stubborn thing. It stopped right in the middle of the road, and nothing Brenda did could persuade it to get moving again.”

  Helen turned to Elizabeth. “You’re awfully quiet this morning, Elizabeth,” she said as she took a sip of her coffee.

  “Oh.” Elizabeth tapped the top of her soft-boiled egg with her spoon. “I suppose I am.”

  “Is there something in particular on your mind?” Helen picked up her spoon and began easing out a section of her grapefruit.

  “Not really. No,” Elizabeth said.

  Although there was something on her mind. She was thinking about the Sunshine Club gala and the plan that had hatched in her mind last evening. The more she thought about it—the more determined she became to do it.

  She would ask Marino to go with her.

  * * *

  —

  Elizabeth decided to treat herself to a taxi to Cortlandt Street where her father and brother worked. Jones had put her father’s papers in a large manila envelope for her, and Elizabeth kept it on her lap for fear of accidentally leaving it in the taxi.

  She gave the taxi driver the address of her father’s office and leaned back in her seat.

  “Say, did you see they let that fellow go?” the taxi driver said. “The one who killed that dame out at the World’s Fair, I mean.”

  Elizabeth made a noncommittal noise.

  “Shame about what happened to her. I can’t believe they let that guy go and they don’t have anyone else on the hook for the murder.”

  Elizabeth made another noncommittal noise.

  “Who would of thought you could get yourself killed at the World’s Fair? Save your money. That’s what I tell people. It isn’t worth it. Right?” He twisted around in his seat to look at Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth was grateful when they pulled up in front of her father’s office building.

  He was still in his meeting, but Miss Warren, his secretary, was at her desk. Elizabeth left the papers with her and made her way back downstairs and out of the building.

  She was about to hail another taxi and even had her hand up when she noticed a man entering the Chemical Bank and Trust Company next door. She realized with a start that it was Lou Vitale. He was carrying a carpetbag and walking briskly.

  Elizabeth dropped her arm and on an impulse, decided to follow him.

  Vitale entered the bank, and Elizabeth was not far behind him. He walked over to a customer service desk and spoke briefly with the young man sitting behind it. He, in turn, opened an index card–sized box on his desk, flipped through it, and pulled out a card. He handed it to Vitale.

  Vitale bent over the desk as he signed the card then handed it back to the clerk. The clerk retrieved a key from a filing cabinet and motioned for Vitale to follow him. Elizabeth moved closer so she could see what they were doing.

  Vitale followed the clerk into the enormous vault at the back of the bank. Elizabeth pretended to fiddle with a deposit slip while she watched. The clerk inserted two keys into one of the safe-deposit box doors then pulled out a metal box and handed it to Vitale. He nodded and returned to his desk.

  Vitale took the box into a room adjoining the vault. Elizabeth could no longer see what he was doing. She stayed where she was, pretending to be filling out forms. She glanced at the row of tellers, wondering if she’d see Earl. She looked up and down the row carefully but didn’t see him. Perhaps he was taking his break.

  She bent her head over her deposit slip again, and when she looked up, Vitale was in the vault again where he returned the safe-deposit box to its place, closed the door, and turned the key. He looked around briefly then began to walk toward the exit of the bank.

  Elizabeth noticed that the carpetbag he was carrying was no longer as plump as it had been when he’d arrived. Obviously he’d transferred its contents to the safe-deposit box.

  She wasn’t sure what exactly Vitale was up to, but she certainly found it curious.

  * * *

  —

  Kaminsky was sitting up in bed with the remains of a breakfast tray pushed to one side when Elizabeth got to the hospital. His coffee cup was empty, but his bowl of Cream of Wheat looked untouched. His face was bristly with gray stubble and his hair stood on end, but Elizabeth thought he looked better than he had the day before.

  The room was stuffy, despite the open window, and smelled of cigarette smoke.

  Elizabeth stopped in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

  “Have you been smoking?”

  A guilty look settled on Kaminsky’s face.

  “Only one or two.”

  “You heard what the doctor said. Don’t you want to get better?”

  “I’m getting old, Biz,” Kaminsky growled. “I’m not going to live forever.”

  “Nonsense. You’re not at all old. Besides, what would I do without you?” She was surprised to note the slight catch in her voice.

  “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me, Biz. I might cry.” Kaminsky gave a laugh that quickly turned into a coughing spell.

  Elizabeth poured a glass of water and handed it to him.

  “From the sound of that cough, I doubt the doctor is planning on releasing you today.”

  Kaminsky held up a hand. “Tomorrow. He told me it would be tomorrow,” he said when he’d stopped coughing. “Then I’ll be back in the newsroom the day after.”

  Elizabeth stared openmouthed at Kaminsky. She began shaking her head slowly.

  “The doctor has ordered you to rest. You can’t go back to work yet.”

  “I have rested.” Kaminsky gestured toward the bed. “That’s what I’m doing right now.”

  He began to reach for his cigarettes, but when he saw Elizabeth staring at him in disbelief, he stopped. A strange look came over his face.

  “You’re going to have to be my eyes and ears and legs, Biz. Otherwise some young whippersnapper is going to come along and snatch my job away from me.”

  “I doubt that would happen.”

  “No one is irreplaceable.” Kaminsky grinned. “Although I agree I come close. The others can’t hold a candle to me.”

  Elizabeth pulled the wooden chair in the corner closer to the bed and sat down.

  “Let me tell you what I saw this morning,” she said.

  Kaminsky sat up a bit straighter on his pillows. “Get my pad and pencil. It’s over there on that shelf.”

  Elizabeth found the pad and pencil and handed it to him. He looked at her eagerly.

  She explained about having to drop some papers off for her father.

  “His office is right next door to the Chemical Bank and Trust.”

  “Where Earl works?”

  “Yes. Although I didn’t see him there today.” Elizabeth scooted her chair a little closer to the bed. “But I did see Lou Vitale. He went into the bank carrying a carpetbag.” She held up her hands to demonstrate the size of the bag. “He has a safe-deposit box there. I saw him go into the vault where the boxes are located, but I couldn’t see anything else, unfortunately.”

  Elizabeth paused until the sound of Kaminsky’s pencil scratching across the paper stopped.

  “When he came out of the vault, the bag he was carrying looked a lot emptier.”

  Kaminsky rubbed his chin. “Sounds like he’d brought something he wanted to put into his safe-deposit box. Cash is the first thing that comes to mind. It seems the most likely.”

  “But why a safe-deposit box? Why not deposit it into his account?”

  “Most likely because he got the money illegally. He doesn’t dare deposit it in the bank where it would be reported to the Internal Revenue Service.” Kaminsky reached for the glass of water and took a sip. “I thought he was bent the minute I laid eyes on him. I didn’t like the looks of the fellow. I thought he was smarmy. The question now is—what is he up to?”

  “What if I talk to Earl and see if he knows anything?” Elizabeth said. “He works at the bank after all.”

  Kaminsky pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Biz. We don’t know that Earl isn’t the killer. It could be dangerous.”

  Now that she’d had the idea, Elizabeth was determined.

  “Nonsense. I won’t do anything silly, like accost Earl in some dark alley—I’ll talk to him when there are plenty of people around. “I’ll be perfectly safe.”