“Not more trouble, miss, I hope?” He brought up his nightstick to touch his helmet to me.
“Not at all, officer. The man, Paddy, you called him, hasn't appeared today. I was wondering if you knew where I could find him.”
“And what would you be needing to find him for, I'd like to know, miss? Not to lodge a complaint, I hope. I did tell you he was harmless.”
I leaned closer. “I understand he is a private investigator.”
The constable glanced around worriedly, as if I had given out this information to the world and not just to him. “You're not thinking of making trouble for him, miss? I swear to God the man wasn't doing any harm.”
“I might have work for him.” I gave him something close to a wink. This was an outright lie, but I'd become so good at lying recently that it seemed a shame to let the skill get rusty.
He leaned closer to me now. His breath smelled of onions and I wondered if he'd had them for breakfast. “If Paddy doesn't want to be found, then nobody's going to find him, although I believe he operates out of a place on lower Fifth Avenue.”
“Fifth Avenue!” I had been here long enough to know that Fifth Avenue was the haunt of swells.
“A man in his job needs an address where the clients won't be afraid to visit him, doesn't he?” the constable said. “But in truth Paddy's on the lower part of it—the part that's seen better days.” He stared out across the street. “Of course I remember it when Fifth Avenue was Fifth Avenue, right down to Washington Square. Only the real nobs lived there.”
“You wouldn't happen to know where on Fifth Avenue?” I asked hopefully. The day was heating up by the minute and I, of course, had come out without my hat again.
He shook his head. “That's not part of my beat, miss. Below Fourteenth, anyway.”
“Thank you, officer. You've been very helpful,” I said.
“Always glad to send business in Paddy's direction,” he said. “Tell him Constable Hanna sends his regards.”
I was glad that Fifth Avenue wasn't too far away. I'd already worn out one pair of soles in this city and it was always a big decision whether to squander five cents on the trolley or the elevated railway when the distances were great and the weather was too hot for walking. I continued down Fourth Avenue until I reached Union Square and then intended to cut across on Fourteenth Street. I was only halfway across the street when I realized I had made a bad decision. With its bell clanging furiously, a trolley car bore down on me, coming at a speed I had thought impossible for trolley cars. I had to pick up my skirts and sprint for it as the trolley swung around the sharp curve. I glimpsed the startled faces of its passengers as it passed me with inches to spare. When I reached the sidewalk and stood catching my breath, I heard laughter and spun around. A group of men was sitting outside Brubacker's Cafe and they were obviously enjoying themselves at my expense.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” I muttered, giving those men a haughty stare.
“My, but you're fleet of foot, young lady. We were wagering two to one that you wouldn't make it,” one of them called to me, an inane grin on his unshaven face.
“You must have a death wish, young lady,” another, more sympathetic-looking man said. “Only fools or those who are tired of this life cross at Dead Man's Curve.”
“Dead Man's Curve?” I wondered if they were pulling my leg.
“The trolleys have to speed up around the curve because they lose the cable if they don't. I reckon there's a near miss here every day …”
“And a fatality every week,” the annoying man added.
“And you sit here making bets on it?” I snapped. “Have you nothing better to do with your lives?” Then I stalked on with my head held high.
As I turned onto Fifth Avenue and saw it stretching ahead of me with the arch on Washington Square just a mirage in the heat haze, I realized what a task I had set myself. I couldn't possibly check every building for seven or eight blocks. Even if Paddy had a brass plate outside his front door, I didn't know his last name, so that wasn't going to help me much. I walked slowly down the first block, examining the buildings on either side of me. They were big and imposing. If Constable Hanna thought that lower Fifth Avenue had seen better days, then the better days must have been grand indeed. These were still clearly the homes of the well-to-do. There were carriages with uniformed coachmen waiting outside and even a couple of automobiles. Surely Paddy wouldn't be found in one of these houses?