Murder on Amsterdam Avenue (28 page)

He looked up at them with pain-filled eyes. “Daisy didn't do it on purpose. She couldn't have known about the poison.”

“We don't think she did,” Sarah said, which wasn't exactly the truth.

“Now where was the flask from the night Charles died until you put it away?” Frank asked.

“In Daisy's room.”

Frank exchanged a puzzled look with Sarah.

“Why was the flask in her room?” she asked.

“It wasn't. I mean . . . It was in the pocket of Mr. Charles's suit jacket. After she . . . Well, I didn't trust the other girls to go through her things, so I did that myself. I found the jacket there. I couldn't imagine why she'd taken it to her room, but then I noticed one of the buttons was loose. She'd probably taken it to mend, and then . . . Well, I can't know for certain, of course, but I imagine she realized there was no reason to mend it with him dead, so . . . You have to understand how much she loved him.”

“
Loved
him?” Frank echoed incredulously.

“He was her nephew, you understand. She'd lost everyone she'd ever loved, so when she found him and he was such a kind young man . . .”

Frank glanced at Sarah and saw his own confusion mirrored on her face.

“Zeller,” she said gently, “Was Daisy bitter about the way her sister had left her behind all those years ago?”

“I . . . I'm not sure you'd say she was bitter. They were both so young, and from what Daisy told me, Mrs. Gerald had promised to send for her. Neither one of them knew how hard that would be, with the war and then after, with things so unsettled. Daisy had gone with the Union army, and Mrs. Gerald wouldn't've had any idea where to look for her after the war was over. Then when Daisy came to the city and she had so much trouble finding Mrs. Gerald . . . Well, I think she understood.”

“Was Mrs. Gerald happy to see her?” Sarah asked.

“I think she was,” Zeller said. “I'll never forget that first day Daisy came here, asking to see Mrs. Oakes. Patsy came to get me, to ask if she really should tell Mrs. Gerald that
some colored woman was here claiming to know her from back in Georgia. Mrs. Gerald was surprised, as you can imagine, but when she saw Daisy, she threw her arms around her, and they both started crying. She sent me out right away, but they sat together for hours. When she finally rang for me again, she told me Daisy would be staying and she'd be Mrs. Gerald's personal maid.”

Just because Jenny was glad to see Daisy didn't mean Daisy didn't want revenge, Frank thought, but he could see this cleared both women in Sarah's mind. They hadn't gotten all the information they needed from Zeller, though.

“So when you found the suit jacket in Daisy's room, with the flask in the pocket . . . ?”

“Yes. That's when I was feeling so low, thinking about Mr. Charles and now Daisy, and when I found the flask, I thought I'd drink a little toast to them or something.”

“You're lucky there was only a little bit left.”

Zeller nodded forlornly.

“Zeller,” Sarah said, “who knew you'd found Charles's flask?”

“What do you mean, who knew?”

“Someone washed it out after you'd put it back in his dressing room,” Frank said. “Probably the same person who put the poison in it in the first place.”

“And the killer wouldn't have known where it was from the night Charles died until you found it in Daisy's room,” Sarah said, her arched eyebrow silently reminding him that if Daisy had been the killer, she would have washed the flask out at once since she was the only one who knew where it was. “Who knew you'd found it?”

“I . . . I don't know. I don't remember mentioning it to anyone. Who would care?”

“The killer,” Frank said. “Was Mrs. Charles in her bedroom when you put the jacket away?”

“No, of course not. I would never have disturbed her.”

“And you didn't mention that you'd been in there?”

“No, although . . . I did ask Mr. Gerald if I should see about packing away Mr. Charles's things. I didn't know Mrs. Charles would be leaving, you see, and I thought it might distress her to see them still there.”

“What did he say?” Sarah asked.

“He said to wait awhile. He said Mrs. Gerald might want to go through his things, and she wasn't ready to do that just yet.”

“Did any of the servants know you'd put the flask back in his room?” Sarah asked. Frank could hear the urgency in her tone. Someone must have known because the killer found out somehow.

“I don't know why they would, but maybe . . . I'll ask them.”

Frank was thinking he'd ask them himself when the parlor door opened and Gerald Oakes walked in. He seemed older than he had yesterday, as if his son's death was aging him years with each day that passed.

Zeller jumped to his feet, horrified at being caught sitting in the presence of guests. He started sputtering an apology, but Gerald waved it away. “Do you have any news for me, Malloy?”

“Not yet,” Frank said. He didn't add that the more information they collected, the farther from a solution they seemed to get.

“How is your wife doing?” Sarah asked.

“I have no idea. She retired to her room last evening, and I haven't seen her since.”

Another rich couple with separate bedrooms. Frank would never understand it.

“I may have upset her by talking about Charles yesterday,” Sarah said.

“Jenny isn't usually prone to the vapors, though,” Gerald said, walking over to the sideboard where the liquor decanters sat.

Zeller cleared his throat. “If you're finished with me, Mr. Malloy, I have work to do.”

“Yes, thank you, Zeller. If you think of anything else, please let me know.”

He nodded and hurried out.

“May I get you something? Coffee or tea?” Gerald asked, returning with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

“No, thank you,” Sarah said. Frank caught her frowning her disapproval, although Gerald didn't seem to notice. “I understand Hannah is still here.”

“Yes, she ranted and wept, but I told her I wasn't going to get the carriage out for her until this morning. Do you think she's the one who killed Charles?” He looked almost hopeful.

“We don't know yet,” Frank said.

“Mr. Oakes,” Sarah said, “did you know that Daisy had been a slave on Jenny's plantation?”

“What?” Gerald seemed genuinely confused, and Frank wondered if he could be drunk already.

“Jenny and Daisy grew up on the plantation together.” Frank noticed Sarah wasn't mentioning the possibility that they were sisters. “In fact, Daisy had come to New York looking for Jenny. She thought Jenny would take care of her, I think.”

Gerald seemed to be giving the matter some thought, and Sarah let him think. “Now that you say it, I do remember Jenny mentioning that one of her father's slaves had shown
up looking for a place. And you say that was Daisy? The one who just died?”

Frank remembered Jenny's claim that Gerald couldn't even tell the Negro maids apart. What would he do if he found out Jenny was a Negro, too?

“That's right,” Sarah said.

“Do you think that had something to do with Charles's death? But how could it?”

A tap on the door saved them from replying. Zeller stepped in. “I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but I thought you'd want to know. Mrs. Gerald seems to be missing.”

“Jenny?” Gerald asked in that puzzled way that made Frank sure he was drunk. “What do you mean, she's missing?”

“Patsy went into her room to wake her, but she wasn't there, and her bed hasn't been slept in.”

“That's impossible. She must be here somewhere.”

“Patsy and the other girls have looked all over the house, but they haven't found her.”

Frank exchanged a glance with Sarah. Could they have been wrong about her? Could Jenny have killed Daisy after all? Had she run away to escape punishment?

“Could she have gone out somewhere?” Sarah asked.

“Not this early,” Zeller said.

“But you said her bed hadn't been slept in. Maybe she went out last night.”

“Surely someone would have seen her.”

“And where could she have been all night?” Gerald asked with growing alarm.

“Can you take me to her room?” Sarah asked.

“I'll have one of the maids show you up,” Zeller said, stepping out to fetch one.

Frank pulled her aside. “What are you thinking?”

“I'll check to see if she took anything with her or packed
a bag, but I can't imagine she'd run away. Even if she did kill Daisy, it was because Daisy had killed Charles, and Gerald would never allow her to be punished for it.”

“You're right, but where could she be?” Society matrons didn't just vanish.

Patsy came in and escorted Sarah upstairs. Jenny's bedroom door stood open, and Zeller was right, her bed was still neatly made. She checked the dressing room and found it just as tidy. “Is anything missing?” she asked Patsy.

“What do you mean?”

“A suitcase or some kind of bag? Any of her clothes?”

“Do you think she went on a trip someplace without telling anybody?” she asked doubtfully.

“I'm just trying to think of any possible explanation.”

But when Patsy finished her search, she said, “Nothing's missing except the clothes she was wearing yesterday.”

“When you say you looked all over the house, did you check the servants' rooms?”

“Why would she be up there?”

“I don't know, but she's not anyplace she's supposed to be, so it won't hurt to look, will it?”

“No, ma'am.”

Sarah followed Patsy upstairs and they peered into every one of the rooms. Sarah had harbored some hope that they might find her in Daisy's old room. Maybe she'd gone there to mourn her sister and fallen asleep, but that room stood empty, the bed stripped and the mattress rolled up. Jenny wasn't in any of the other rooms either.

“Did you check with Mrs. Charles? Maybe she knows something.”

Patsy's eyes widened in alarm. “We don't disturb Mrs. Charles until she rings for us, ma'am.”

So Hannah was truly the harridan she appeared to be.
“I'm not afraid to disturb her. Maybe Mrs. Gerald went to help her pack.”

Patsy's horrified expression told Sarah she didn't believe that for a moment, and of course Sarah didn't believe it either, but if Jenny had thought Hannah killed Charles, she might have gone to her room last night and taken some vengeance. Since they had exhausted all the logical explanations for Jenny's disappearance, the real reason must be something they would never have considered.

Patsy took Sarah to the door of Hannah's bedroom, but she stopped there.

“I wouldn't want to be the one to wake her,” Patsy whispered.

“Then walk down the hallway, out of sight. I'll go in by myself,” Sarah said.

She waited until Patsy was gone. Then she tapped on the door and opened it without waiting for a reply. Hannah was sleeping soundly and hadn't even moved. Sarah made a quick sweep of the room, then checked the two adjoining dressing rooms without success. When Hannah still hadn't stirred, Sarah crept over to make sure she was breathing.

She was. She also looked absolutely lovely with her face relaxed in sleep. No wonder Charles had married her. Sarah fervently hoped she'd marry some wastrel who would make her as miserable as she made other people.

As soon as Sarah closed the door behind her, Patsy reappeared and hurried toward her.

“Is there any place you haven't looked? Anyone you haven't asked besides Mrs. Charles?”

Patsy shrugged. “Old Mrs. Oakes. I didn't want to bother her, and what would Mrs. Gerald be doing in her room anyway?”

What, indeed, but it wouldn't hurt to look. “Which room is it?”

Patsy led her down the hallway to the very end. She apparently wasn't as terrified of the old woman as she was of Hannah. She knocked loudly. “Mrs. Oakes? Are you awake?”

They waited, but heard nothing.

“She's a little hard of hearing,” Patsy explained. She tried again, and when she still got no reply, she smiled apologetically and tried the door. “That's funny,” she said when it didn't open. “She never locks it.”

Sarah stepped up and pounded much more loudly. “Mrs. Oakes, are you in there? Are you all right?”

They still heard nothing, but Sarah had noticed a familiar odor. Just a whiff, probably coming from under the door, but she knew only too well what it meant. “Do you have a key?”

“Mr. Zeller does.”

“Go get him.”

•   •   •

F
rank paced the parlor while Gerald sipped his morning whiskey, as if fortifying himself for some dreadful news. Frank figured he was wise to do so. Whatever they found out this morning was going to be awful.

A tap on the door announced Zeller's return. “Mr. Malloy, that young man—” he began, but Gino pushed his way into the room before he could finish.

“Mr. Malloy, I found out who bought the arsenic. You won't believe it when I tell you!”

“Who was it?” Frank asked.

Gino opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Patsy rushed in behind him. “Mr. Zeller, come quick. We can't rouse Mrs. Oakes and her door is locked.”

Zeller gave Oakes a questioning glance, but Gerald waved him on. “Go with her.”

Zeller hurried out behind her, and Malloy followed with Gino behind him and Gerald trailing them all.

•   •   •

A
fter Patsy left, Sarah kept knocking and calling, until Hannah came stumbling out of her room, still tying the sash of her robe.

“What on earth is going on?” she demanded. “Mrs. Brandt, is that you?”

“I'm sorry I woke you,” Sarah lied. “But Mrs. Oakes isn't answering and her door is locked.”