Murder on Amsterdam Avenue (15 page)

“He might have been, had he taken any interest in the running of the hospital. I'm afraid the only time I saw him exert himself was when he was being of service to Miss Adderly and her family.”

“And of course he had to bribe the doctor to get him to certify her sane enough to be released,” Frank guessed.

Dent stiffened, obviously insulted. “I told you, we are very progressive here. In the old days, the physicians might have taken a bribe to get someone admitted to the hospital who wasn't insane, someone their friends or family wanted taken out of the way for some reason, but that would never happen now.”

“Did that happen a lot?”

“More often than anyone would like to think. Immigrants were often judged insane simply because they didn't speak English and couldn't understand what people were saying to them. Other people might be ill with a disease that caused them to have seizures or behave oddly. They would be locked away for years and receive no treatment for what was really wrong with them. Some of them did eventually go insane, as you can imagine.”

“But that doesn't happen anymore?”

“Not here, Mr. Malloy. We also are usually very careful about who we discharge. We don't want any of our patients to harm themselves or others after they leave here.”

“Was this Miss Adderly someone who might do that?”

“She was quite despondent when she arrived. As I recall, her family was afraid she might take her own life, but after only a few weeks here, she improved quite a bit, although not completely.”

“Is she capable of hurting someone else?”

“If provoked, perhaps. Any of us would do that and not be judged insane.”

This was very true. “So what was the danger of taking her back home if the family wasn't worried about her embarrassing them?”

“There was always the chance that she would fall into despair again. We don't know her circumstances, but whatever her life had been before, it would probably be the same once she returned home. If she wasn't strong enough to cope . . . well, I'm sure you see the problem.”

Frank did see the problem. “Might she blame Charles Oakes for sending her back home when she wasn't ready?”

Dr. Dent didn't like this one bit. “I hope you aren't accusing this poor woman of murdering Charles Oakes.”

“I'm not accusing anybody of anything, but you're the one who said your patients might hurt somebody else if provoked.”

“I said anyone might do that, sane or insane.”

“So you're saying Miss Adderly might possibly have been angry with Charles Oakes and been provoked enough to poison him.”

“I'm not saying anything of the kind, Mr. Malloy, and now I'm going to have to ask you to leave my office.”

C
atherine's happy squeals told Sarah that Malloy had returned home. She had left Maeve and Mrs. Malloy in charge of the workmen at the new house while she and her mother visited Mrs. Peabody. By the time Sarah returned from the visit, Mrs. Malloy had started supper, so they'd decided to eat together that evening.

Sarah found Malloy and Gino in the front hall being greeted by Catherine and Brian. Maeve, Sarah noticed, was hanging back in the doorway to Mrs. Malloy's parlor, although she was smiling. Gino was smiling back.

“Did you have a productive day?” Sarah asked when the children had been properly greeted.

“We had a busy one, but I don't know how much we learned that will really help us,” Malloy said.

“Mother came by earlier and convinced me to go with her
to see a friend of hers, a Mrs. Peabody, who told us some very interesting things about the Oakes family.”

Malloy glanced up at the ceiling with a frown. They could hear the muffled sound of hammering from above. “You left them alone?”

“I left Maeve and Catherine in charge.”

“I made sure they didn't slack off,” Maeve assured him.

“I'm sure you did,” Malloy said. He turned to Sarah. “Is your mother still here?”

“No, she and Father had an engagement this evening, so she couldn't stay. She's very anxious to find out how things are going, though, so I'm sure she'll be on my doorstep first thing tomorrow.”

“And meanwhile, we need a quiet place to talk,” Malloy said, glancing at the ceiling again.

“We put the front parlor to rights this afternoon,” Maeve said, pointing to the door across the hall from the rooms that were Mrs. Malloy's. “Mrs. Ellsworth helped me.”

“It looks very nice,” Sarah confirmed. “They arranged the new furniture and dusted everything.”

Malloy glanced meaningfully at the children. Maeve said, “I'll take them. Let's go see what Mrs. Malloy is making for supper,” she said, signing to Brian who nodded eagerly in return. He and Catherine darted away, down the hall to the kitchen, but Maeve lingered a moment longer, exchanging another glance with Gino. “You must be thirsty. Should I bring you some lemonade?”

“That would be lovely,” Sarah said, then gestured to the parlor door. “Shall we?”

“After you, Mrs. Brandt,” Malloy said with a grin.

Sarah led them into the front room that they would use to entertain guests after they were married. Maeve and Mrs. Ellsworth had done a fine job of arranging the new furniture.
A gold velvet sofa and several upholstered chairs were grouped around the fireplace, and several small tables sat conveniently nearby. Lace curtains hung over the windows, filtering the late afternoon sunlight that gave the room a golden glow.

“This is nice,” Gino said.

“It is nice,” Malloy said, looking around. “I'm starting to think this house might really be livable someday.”

“Someday soon, I hope,” Sarah said.

Malloy gave a long-suffering sigh, and Sarah bit back a grin.

He joined her on the sofa, leaving Gino his choice of the chairs. “Why don't you tell us what you and your mother found out today?”

“You already knew that Jenny Oakes is originally from Georgia.”

“Yes, and that she grew up on a plantation and owned slaves. One of those slaves works in her house.”

“Really? I didn't know she brought anyone with her when she came North.”

“She didn't. This woman spent the last thirty or so years trying to find her. She finally got to New York a couple years ago, but she still didn't find Jenny until recently.”

Sarah frowned. “That's a long time to be looking for someone.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Was Jenny happy to see her?”

“Not very, but she did tell us about her. Daisy is her name. She's about Jenny's age, so they probably grew up together.”

Sarah tried to imagine what that must have been like for both girls, one rich and privileged, the other her property with no rights at all. “Is this Daisy angry that Jenny left her behind all those years ago?”

Malloy glanced at Gino, who said, “She didn't act like it, but maybe that's because she was so scared of me.”

“Scared of you?” Sarah scoffed. “What did you do to the poor woman?”

“Nothing. I wasn't even being mean.”

“He couldn't be,” Malloy said with a grin. “The butler wouldn't leave her alone with him.”

“You let the butler stay when you questioned her?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“She was so scared, she was shaking, so Zeller wanted to stay. I figured she'd feel better if he was there, but I didn't realize he's sweet on her.”

“Sweet on her,” Sarah echoed in delight. “This is very interesting!”

“Yes, it is,” Malloy agreed. “Especially when I found out that this Daisy was alone with Charles Oakes the night he died, and she was the one who gave him the poisoned milk.”

“Do you think she put the poison in it?”

Malloy turned to Gino. “Tell her what you found out about the milk.”

“The milk had been delivered that morning. Several other people drank some of it, both before and after Charles died.”

“So the crock wasn't poisoned,” Sarah said.

“Right. The cook heated the milk for Charles, then gave it to one of the maids, Patsy, to take upstairs. She said no one else touched it until she handed it to Daisy.”

“And nobody else was in the room with her and Charles from then until the poison started to take effect and he got really sick.”

“Did the cook or this Patsy have anything against Charles?” Sarah asked.

“According to them and everybody else, they adored him,” Gino said.

“So you think Daisy is the one who poisoned him?” Sarah asked.

“Gino doesn't think so,” Malloy said.

“She doesn't act like a killer,” Gino said. “And besides, they all told us that they don't keep any arsenic in the house.”

“Mrs. Oakes, the oldest one, told me the same thing,” Malloy confirmed. “She's got this strange fear of poisons and doesn't allow it.”

“So someone would've had to get the arsenic deliberately and secretly,” Sarah said. “But if nobody had a reason to kill Charles . . .”

“Tell her about Daisy,” Malloy said to Gino.

“What about her?” Sarah asked.

“I don't think she told me everything that happened that night.”

“He didn't want to push her too hard with Zeller in the room,” Malloy said.

“So she's hiding something, and she did have a good reason to kill Charles,” Sarah said.

“If she was after revenge, she did,” Malloy said. “She didn't have an easy time of it after Jenny left her behind. Maybe she was planning to get even with her old mistress, and she decided that killing her only son would be a good way to do that.”

“But wouldn't Jenny have suspected she was out for revenge when she arrived here after all that time?”

“Would you have?” Malloy asked her.

Sarah had to think about that. “I can't speak for Jenny, but I think I would've felt very guilty when Daisy showed up on my doorstep after so many years. I would've tried to make it up to her by giving her a job and a home, just like Jenny did. I think I also would've expected Daisy to be grateful for my kindness. Remember, Daisy was her slave. Why would either of them think Daisy should have gone North with Jenny in the first place or that she deserved the kind of good fortune Jenny had when she married Gerald?”

“But why would she have spent thirty years looking for Jenny if she didn't think Jenny owed her something?” Gino asked.

“Did she really spend thirty years looking for her?” Sarah asked.

“Now that you mention it, I'm not sure she did,” Malloy said. “Jenny said Daisy ended up in North Carolina after the war was over. She got married and lived there until her husband died. Then she came to New York to find Jenny.”

“So she was only looking for her for a few years. I wonder what took her so long after she got to the city.”

“She said she didn't expect it to be so hard to find her. She seemed to think that she could come to New York and ask around and someone would know where Jenny lived,” Gino said.

“Oh my, she must have been shocked when she found out how many people live in the city.”

“She was, and I gathered that she can't read, so she wouldn't've thought to look in the city directory or anything like that. She said her pastor saw a story in the newspaper about Charles being appointed to his job at the hospital, and he remembered that was the name of the family she'd been looking for.”

“How lucky for her.”

“And maybe unlucky for Charles,” Malloy said.

“But Gino doesn't think she did it, even though she was the only one in the room with him.”

“Let's not forget he wasn't in that room alone with her or even in his house the
first two times
he got sick,” Gino said.

The parlor door opened, and Maeve came in carrying a tray with four glasses on it. Sarah jumped up to help her. Between the two of them, they served the men and themselves. Sarah didn't remark on the fact that Maeve had brought a glass for herself so she could stay with them.

“Mrs. Malloy is watching the children,” she explained before anyone could ask her. “What did I miss?”

Sarah brought her up to date.

“What did you think about Mrs. Peabody's gossip?” Maeve asked the men when Sarah was finished.

“What gossip?” Malloy asked.

“The gossip I was going to tell you when you told me I should start, but then you distracted me by telling me about Daisy.”

“Well, tell us now.”

Sarah told them what Prudence Oakes had told Mrs. Peabody about her daughter-in-law and her fears that Jenny had tricked Gerald into marriage and that Charles wasn't even Gerald's son.

“What made her think Jenny had lied about her background?” Malloy asked.

“Mrs. Peabody didn't give us any details, but I gathered that Prudence thought Jenny lacked some of the social skills that a young woman with her background should have.”

“But didn't she grow up on a farm?” Gino asked.

“A plantation,” Malloy said.

“But that's just a big farm, isn't it? Maybe she didn't go to school. Maybe they do things different in the South,” he argued.

“That might be true, Gino,” Sarah said, “but families who have a lot of money hire tutors for their children if they can't go to school, and I guess manners are the same no matter where you live. But maybe Prudence was so determined to hate Jenny that she exaggerated her faults or made them up entirely. Jenny was very young when she came here and probably terrified. If she was awkward and shy and made mistakes, I don't think anyone could criticize her.”

“Her mother-in-law did,” Maeve said.

No one had an answer for that.

“What about the story about Charles not being Gerald's son?” Malloy said after a moment. “Do you think there could be any truth to it?”

“Anything is possible, but if Gerald believed he was, that's all that mattered,” Sarah said. “Unless you think Gerald poisoned Charles.”

“Since Gerald is the one who hired me to find the killer, that doesn't seem likely,” Malloy said. “So we're back where we started.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Sarah said. “Charles apparently spent a lot of time at his club, time when other people thought he was at the hospital working.”

“Oh yes, we found that out, too,” Malloy said. “We went to the hospital this afternoon and talked to the superintendent there, a Dr. Dent. You remember the woman who fainted at the funeral? She was a patient there.”

“At the Asylum?” Maeve asked. “I knew there was something funny about her.”

“Something more than funny,” Malloy said. “It looks like that Adderly fellow, the one who took her away from the funeral, is the one who got Charles his job there. All he wanted in return was for Charles to get her released.”

“Why did he want that?” Sarah asked.

“So far, we don't know. She's related to him in some way, too, but I don't know how.”

“But if he wanted her released, couldn't he just have asked for them to release her?” Sarah asked.

“I don't know,” Malloy said. “Can you do that?”

“I think so. There's probably some kind of legal proceeding, but I'm sure you can,” Sarah said. “So why would he go to all that trouble to have Charles do it?”

“Going to court is a lot of trouble, too,” Malloy said. “And a lot more public. And wouldn't he have to prove she was sane?”

“I'm not sure, but I'm guessing he wouldn't have been able to prove it.”

“No, he wouldn't have.”

“All right, I'll agree that Adderly might've had good reasons not to go to court, but how could he be sure Charles would do this favor for him? And how could he be sure he could even get Charles the job in the first place?”

“I guess I'll have to ask Mr. Adderly all those questions when I go to see him tomorrow,” Malloy said.

“And what can I do to help?” Sarah asked.

Malloy smiled. “You can visit this Daisy and find out what she's hiding and if she's still mad that Jenny left her behind.”

•   •   •

S
ince the next morning was Sunday, Sarah waited until midafternoon to visit the Oakes house again. The maid told her that the family wasn't receiving, but Sarah explained she was there to see Daisy.

“She's not here, miss.”

“What do you mean, she's not here?” Servants were virtual prisoners in the houses where they worked, usually getting only one afternoon a month off in addition to being allowed to attend church on Sunday morning.

“I mean she's not back from her church yet.”