Murder on Madison Square by Victoria Thompson

Author:Victoria Thompson [Thompson, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

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Tom Yingling looked up in surprise when Gino called his name as he made his way down the sidewalk after leaving work. They’d exchanged a greeting that morning, when Gino had arrived at Will Warren’s garage, and Tom would no doubt be wondering why Gino was back again.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Gino asked with a friendly smile.

“How can I say no to that?” Tom replied. “There’s a bar just around the corner.”

This was something you could claim for most streets in New York. Gino fell in beside Tom as they worked their way through the growing crowds of pedestrians trudging home—or someplace else—after a day of labor.

“What brings you back here?” Tom asked, plainly suspicious.

“I found out something interesting today about Mr. Bing’s death, and I wanted to ask you about it.”

For some reason, Tom looked alarmed at this. “Ask me? I don’t know nothing about his death.”

“Not about his death exactly,” Gino hastily explained. “In fact, I just need to know more about Mr. Warren.”

Tom was really alarmed now. They’d reached the saloon, but he stopped in front and made no move to go inside. “Why do you need to know anything about Mr. Warren—or Mr. Bing’s death, come to that?”

Gino tried his friendly smile again. “Because I’m a private detective and I’m investigating Mr. Bing’s death for his wife.”

Plainly, this was not good news to Tom. “I should’ve known. I saw you talking to that other detective in the shop this morning. He was in before, asking questions and getting Mr. Warren all mad.”

“We’re just trying to find out who killed Mr. Bing,” Gino said. “I can’t imagine why Mr. Warren would be angry about that.”

Tom obviously could and shared his feelings, but he must also understand that refusing to cooperate would look bad for him. “I don’t know what I can tell you.”

“Then let me buy you a drink, and if you can’t answer my questions, it’s my loss.”

Tom just grunted, but apparently it was in agreement because he continued on into the saloon. The place was rapidly filling up with men seeking refreshment after a hard day’s work, so it took a while at the bar before they got served.

Gino suggested they find a place to sit, so they carried their tall beer glasses to a scarred table and scavenged two empty chairs.

“How long have you worked for Mr. Warren?” Gino asked when he’d given Tom time to take a few gulps from his glass.

“A little over a year. He hired me right after he set up the shop.”

“Did you already know something about building automobiles?”

“No. Who does? I was good with my hands, though. Didn’t take any time at all for me to learn. Mr. Lane was a good teacher.”

“Were Mr. Lane and Mr. Warren good friends?”

“Not friends. Mr. Warren is the boss, and he makes sure we remember it.”

“That must’ve been hard for Mr. Lane. He would have been a lot older than Warren.”

“He couldn’t design autos like Mr.

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