Murder on Amsterdam Avenue (18 page)

After supper, Malloy and Gino walked Sarah, Maeve, and Catherine down the street to Sarah's house. Gino very gallantly
offered to help Maeve put Catherine to bed, leaving Frank and Sarah alone.

As Sarah put some coffee on to boil, Malloy sat at her kitchen table and told her what he'd learned at the Adderly house.

“So you think it's possible that Ella Adderly poisoned Charles?”

“She had just as much of a chance as anyone else the first time, but I just can't figure out how he got poisoned when he was away from his house the second time and then again when he was in it that evening. None of the people who could have done it in one place could have done it in the other. It doesn't make sense.”

“It has to make sense, because it happened. We're just missing something.”

He sighed. “I'm sure we are.”

“I'd completely forgotten to tell you about Charles's drinking. Mrs. Peabody said he often had to be escorted home from his club because he was too drunk to go by himself.”

“Lots of young men drink a lot.”

“I suppose that's true. Still, you should find Mrs. Peabody's nephew. Maybe he knows where else Charles was on the day he first got poisoned.”

“If there's no arsenic in Adderly's liquor, I'll do that. Are you going to go back to see Daisy tomorrow?”

“I might as well, since you're pretty sure they're not going to find arsenic in Adderly's liquor. You've got me curious about Ella Adderly, though. Why do you think her cousin had Charles release her from the hospital?”

“I've been thinking about that,” Malloy said. “She inherited a lot of money when her parents died. What would happen to it if she was insane?”

The coffee had started to boil, so Sarah got up and poured
them each a cup. “I'm not sure, but I don't think she'd be allowed to control it if she was judged insane. I think . . . I'm trying to remember if I ever heard about a situation like that. I do know that if the child isn't of age when they inherit, the court would appoint a guardian.”

“So Adderly could've gotten himself appointed as her guardian, and that would've given him control of her money.”

“Which sounds like the easiest thing,” Sarah said, “but maybe he couldn't count on being named her guardian. Maybe there's something in his past or something in his present that made him suspect he wouldn't be chosen.”

“So if he couldn't get appointed as her guardian, what else could he do?”

Sarah considered this for a moment. “We know he could have probably gotten her released from the hospital if he'd wanted to go to court, but that wouldn't get her declared sane because anybody who talked to her would know she wasn't. And if she wasn't sane, she'd still need a guardian. So instead he got Charles to say she was cured and release her.”

“And now, in the eyes of the law at least, she's not insane anymore.”

Sarah could see it all. “But we know she is insane and easily manipulated by her cousin.”

“So he can get her to sign everything over to him or at least control of everything over to him, and it would be perfectly legal, since Charles and the doctor said she was sane.”

“That's horrible! He's going to take everything she has and leave her with nothing, and then he'll probably put her in some charity hospital and leave her there to rot.”

“Unless she poisons him,” Malloy said with a grin. “Did I mention that her parents both got very sick at the same time and died?”

“Good heavens!”

“Yes, good heavens. So maybe Adderly is right to be worried. I hope he has a terrible night, at least, wondering if Ella put arsenic in his whiskey.”

“Serves him right. But if she didn't poison Charles, can we do something to help protect her from Adderly?”

“I'll look into it . . .
if
she didn't poison Charles.”

They sipped their coffee for a moment in silence. Then Sarah said, “Is our house ever going to be finished?”

“Some days I think so, and other days I don't.”

“Don't say that! It has to be finished soon.”

“We could get married anyway,” he pointed out hopefully. “We're going all the way to Europe on our honeymoon. Maybe it'll be finished by the time we get back.”

“And would you leave Maeve and your mother in charge of the work while we're gone?”

He sighed in defeat. “I'll speak to the workmen tomorrow.”

•   •   •

S
arah and the girls were cleaning up the breakfast dishes when their neighbor Mrs. Ellsworth knocked on the door. She had brought them some muffins as an excuse to check on the progress with the new house. Mrs. Ellsworth had always found that minding other people's business was much more interesting than minding her own.

“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, you mustn't give up hope,” she said after Sarah had given her the discouraging report Malloy had delivered last night. “I broke a needle last night when I was mending Nelson's shirt. That always means a wedding will happen very soon.”

“You've been seeing wedding omens for years,” Maeve reminded her.

“Well, some of them I made up,” Mrs. Ellsworth said without the slightest hint of guilt, “but this one is genuine.”

“Maybe the wedding will be Nelson's,” Sarah suggested. Mrs. Ellsworth's son had been keeping company with a young lady for several months.

“I keep hoping, but Nelson doesn't want to rush things, while I'm sure Mr. Malloy would be happy to.”

Sarah thought so, too, but she said, “The girls and I can't move in until the house is ready. It's bad enough the poor Malloy family has to put up with the mess.”

“Then you must hurry the workmen along, because September is the best month for you to marry, unless you want to wait until November.”

“Why is that, Mrs. Ellsworth?” Maeve asked with feigned innocence, knowing how much Sarah hated for her to encourage their neighbor's superstitions.

“Because, as the rhyme says, ‘Married in September's golden glow, smooth and serene your life will go. Married when leaves in October thin, toil and hardship for you begin.'”

“Oh my, I had no idea,” Maeve said, ignoring Sarah's frown. “But maybe they want to wait for November for better fortune. What does that bring?”

“‘Married in veils of November mist, fortune your wedding ring has kissed.'”

“And what about December—” Maeve started, but Sarah interrupted her.

“We aren't waiting until December. Now I'm sorry, but I have an errand to run. I'll probably be back by noon, but if Malloy needs someone to watch the house before I get back, I know I can trust you to do that.”

“Oh yes, we'd be happy to,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “The parlor looks very nice, doesn't it?”

“Yes, it does,” Sarah said. “Thank you so much for helping Maeve. Maybe we should put you in charge of the workmen.”

Mrs. Ellsworth smiled. “I'm always happy to help.”

•   •   •

T
he maid at the Oakes house was expecting her. “Mrs. Gerald told me to take you right up as soon as you arrived, Mrs. Brandt.”

Sarah frowned. She hoped Jenny didn't intend to monitor her conversation with Daisy or, worse yet, refuse to allow her to speak with her at all.

The maid took her to the rear parlor, the room the family used as the center of their activities. Jenny waited there for her, standing in the middle of the room, her hands clutched tightly in front of her. She didn't smile or offer a single word of greeting, and as soon as the maid closed the door behind her, she said, “Daisy didn't come home last night.”

“Not at all?” Sarah asked stupidly, too stunned to really comprehend.

“I've sent Zeller out to see if he can find her.”

“Just this morning? Weren't you worried when she didn't come back yesterday?”

“Not particularly. She knew I wouldn't mind if she was late yesterday. She was very upset about Charles's death, and she was looking forward to seeing her minister. I thought . . . Well, it doesn't matter what I thought.”

“But surely you were concerned when she didn't come in by evening.”

Jenny turned away and walked to the window, although Sarah didn't think she was even aware of it. “I'm not concerned about her safety, if that's what you're asking.”

Sarah needed a minute to figure out what she was saying. “You think she's run away.”

“Zeller said she was very frightened when that young man questioned her.”

“But she doesn't have anything to worry about if she's innocent.”

Jenny gave her a pitying look. “If you're colored, you always have something to be worried about. Whether you're innocent or not, you'll probably be blamed.”

“Did she think she'd be blamed for Charles's death?”

“Of course she did. She was alone with him for several hours right before he died and she's colored. Who else would be blamed?”

“The real killer, of course.”

Jenny laughed mirthlessly. “Nothing in Daisy's experience would lead her to believe that, Mrs. Brandt. In this city, the police routinely beat and arrest young colored men for the crime of being jobless and having nothing better to do than sit on their own front stoops. Any colored woman walking on a city street is assumed to be a prostitute and may be arrested on the spot. Add to all that the fact that Charles's wife has told everyone who will listen that Daisy poisoned him, and Daisy has every reason to expect that your Mr. Malloy will take her away in chains.”

“Did she tell you this?”

“Of course not, but when she didn't come back, I wasn't surprised.”

“But you've sent someone to look for her.”

“I have to find out what's become of her. She's my . . . Well, she doesn't belong to me, but I still feel responsible for her.”

Sarah wondered if all slave owners had felt the same sense of responsibility for their slaves. Surely not, but it was nice that Jenny did, at least.

“If your man finds her, what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you plan to bring her back?”

“Force her, you mean? She's not a slave anymore. She's free to leave here if she wants.”

“If she's innocent.”

Sarah watched the color drain from Jenny's face. “Do you really think she killed Charles?”

“I don't know, but running away makes her look guilty, doesn't it?”

Jenny had no answer for that.

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither willing to discuss the suspicion Sarah had raised. Then someone knocked on the parlor door.

“Come,” Jenny called.

Zeller stepped into the room. He was ashen, and he looked somehow shrunken since the last time Sarah had seen him just the day before.

Jenny hurried to him. “Zeller, what is it?”

“It's Daisy, ma'am,” he said, his voice oddly hoarse.

“What is it? What's happened?”

“She . . . she's dead.”

•   •   •

“W
e're working as fast as we can, Mr. Malloy, but you know the trouble we had with the bathtub, and then there was the paneling that Mrs. Brandt wanted that didn't come, and now—”

“I know all that,” Frank said, “but you must be almost finished by now.”

“I wouldn't like to promise anything. We're still waiting for some things to come in, and one of the men hurt his back and . . .”

Frank didn't really listen to the rest. He knew exactly how to get a criminal to confess, and how to encourage him if he
hesitated with a touch of the third degree, but he had no idea how to put the fear of God into these workmen. They knew he was rich, thanks to the newspaper stories about him, so they were probably stretching the job out so they could charge him more. He was pretty sure rich people didn't use the third degree on people who worked for them, though.

Finally, someone knocked on the front door, so Frank had an excuse to send him back to work while he dealt with his visitor. Only when he heard the knock again did he remember he'd meant to mention the doorbell again.

Gino greeted him much too happily for so early in the morning. “Where are we going today?”

“I've got to sit here and make sure the workmen keep working.”

Gino could obviously tell from Frank's expression that he didn't think this was at all funny, so he didn't make a joke. “Well, I can do something. Will Wesley have finished the tests on the liquor, do you think?”

“We should give him until this afternoon, at least.”

Gino sighed. “Who else would you like to talk to? Or is there anything you need to find out?”

“Are you hungry?”

Gino blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Are you hungry? There's biscuits left from breakfast, and most of a cake that Mrs. Ellsworth and the girls baked.”

“The one we had last night?” Gino asked hopefully.

“Yes.” Frank led him into the kitchen. Eating would give him something to do. Frank cut him a large slice of the cake and poured him what was left of the breakfast coffee.

For a few blissful minutes, he didn't ask Frank a single question. Then he finished the cake. “I was thinking we should find this Mrs. Peabody's nephew. That Percy fellow, what's his name? He's probably at the club where Charles
was a member. He might know where Charles was when he got sick.”

“That's a good idea. How are you going to get into the club?”

“I'll knock on the door and they'll open it.”

“Are you a member?”

“Of course not.”

“Then they won't let you in. That's the whole purpose of these clubs, to keep out the riffraff.”

“But they'll have to let me in.”

“Why?”

Gino opened his mouth, probably to remind Frank that they wouldn't dare defy the New York City Police, but no words came out because before he could speak, he had obviously remembered that neither one of them worked for the New York City Police anymore. He closed his mouth with a snap. “Do we know where Percy lives?”