Murder on Amsterdam Avenue (30 page)

“What about the candy?” Malloy asked.

“Gerald had given his mother a box of Valentine candy, too, so she used the empty box. Mrs. Oakes bought some chocolates and cut them open and mixed the arsenic with the filling. She thought Daisy might figure out that the poison was in the flask and guess she was behind it.”

“But why did she kill Charles in the first place?” Gino asked.

What could she tell him that would make sense? “After Daisy came, Charles figured out that she and his mother were half sisters. He told Hannah, which is why she moved him
to the dressing room. Old Mrs. Oakes found out, probably from Hannah, and she decided to kill Charles so he wouldn't tell anyone else. I guess she didn't want her society friends to find out.”

“Would people have really cared?” Gino asked.

“Many of them would,” Sarah said. “I guess she didn't want to take the chance.”

“Her own grandson? Just to keep a secret like that?” Gino asked incredulously.

“She never believed Charles was really her grandson,” Sarah said. “I think . . . She must have been getting senile or something. I don't think we'll ever be able to understand why she did it.”

Malloy came over and put his arm around her. “Are you all right?”

Sarah shuddered. “I will be. What is Gerald going to do?”

“He told the maids to wash the old woman and burn the bedclothes. They're going to put her in her clean bed and say they found her like that and she must've died in her sleep.”

“I can't believe it!”

“Someone in this house killed three people to prevent a scandal and almost killed a few more. Why wouldn't they burn a couple sheets to prevent one now?”

“Can he really forgive Jenny for killing his mother?”

“The woman killed his son,” Malloy said.

Suddenly, Sarah felt unutterably weary. “Can we go home?”

“We certainly can.”

“What about Gerald and Jenny?”

“If they need us, they know where to find us. Let's go.”

•   •   •

S
arah's mother had shown up on her doorstep early that evening. Word of Mrs. Oakes's sudden death had
reached her, and she couldn't wait until morning for the details.

“Why couldn't you have told me yourself,” her mother scolded her as they sat at her kitchen table. “I had to hear it from strangers!”

“Did an actual
stranger
tell you Mrs. Oakes died?” Sarah asked skeptically.

“Well, no. It was one of my oldest friends, but still . . . I'm your mother, Sarah. You must remember where your loyalties lie. Now tell me the whole story.”

Sarah couldn't tell her the whole story, so she told the version she'd given Gino, with one small alteration they had decided to make.

“We assume she couldn't live with what she'd done, so she killed herself. They found her dead in her bed this morning.”

“How horrible!” her mother exclaimed. “Poor Gerald. She couldn't have been in her right mind.”

“I'm sure you're right,” Sarah lied. The fact that she'd given the druggist a false name when she bought the arsenic proved she knew exactly what she was doing. But she wouldn't mention that to her mother.

“I'm sure Gerald and Jenny are grateful to Mr. Malloy for figuring out what happened.”

Sarah wasn't too sure about that, but she said, “He was glad to help, although I wish we'd found out Charles died from a tragic accident.”

“Gerald never would have needed Mr. Malloy if he thought that,” her mother pointed out.

Maeve came into the kitchen and sat down next to Sarah at the table. “Catherine is asleep,” she reported.

“Are you going to go over to the house again tomorrow to help Malloy with the workmen?” Sarah teased.

But instead of making a face, as Sarah expected, Maeve said, “Didn't he tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Oh, I guess he hasn't had a chance yet because he got home so late. Did you know he went to see an attorney after he brought you home?”

“An attorney?” her mother echoed. “Whatever for?”

“He went to see the attorney who used to be Ella Adderly's guardian. He wanted to make sure someone knew that her cousin was trying to take advantage of her and steal her fortune.”

“That was very nice of him,” her mother said.

“Yes, it was, but I still want to know what Malloy hasn't told me yet,” she reminded Maeve.

“Maybe I should let him break the news.”

“What news?” Sarah's mother said, her lovely eyes lighting with curiosity.

“Yes, what news?” Sarah pressed.

Maeve gave them a smug smile, and for a minute Sarah was afraid she might have to beat it out of the girl, but finally she said, “The house is finished.”

“What do you mean, the house is finished?” Sarah asked.

“Just that. I think the workmen were just dragging things out so they could charge Mr. Malloy more money. He told me he suspected that's what they were doing, and so I asked the foreman to walk me through the house and show me what they still needed to do. He's really a terrible liar.”

“He lied to you?” Sarah's mother said. “Right to your face?”

Maeve shrugged. “He thought I was some idiot girl who didn't know anything.”

“What do you know about construction?” Sarah asked.

“Nothing, but I know what houses are supposed to look like, and I know a lie when I hear one. I had a nice little talk
with the man about how angry Mr. Malloy might be if he knew he was being swindled, and he decided they'd done all they could. Then they packed up and left.”

“Maeve, that's wonderful!” Sarah said.

“And if the house is finished, that means you and Mr. Malloy can be married,” her mother said.

For a moment, Sarah couldn't get her breath.

Married.

Everything seemed to be happening so fast, which was ridiculous because for weeks they'd been complaining about how slowly things were going. And, of course, they'd waited for years, never even suspecting they might ever get to this place in their lives. But now, suddenly, there were no more barriers.

“Sarah?” her mother said. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course. I just . . . We need to make some plans.”

“Indeed we do. I'm thinking we only need a week to arrange the wedding breakfast. You'll have it at our house, of course. You'll want to be married from your parents' house.”

“Mother, there's something we need to discuss.”

“What's that, dear?”

“We . . . Malloy is Catholic.”

“Mr. Malloy might argue with you on that,” Maeve said with a knowing smile.

“He might,” Sarah said. “He hasn't been to church in years, so he doesn't really care, but his mother is definitely Catholic. Unless we're married in that church, she won't consider us legally married.”

Her mother considered this for a long moment. “I don't suppose it matters what church you get married in.” Sarah could hear the disappointment in her voice, though. She was most certainly planning to have her own minister marry them at her house.

“But you're not a Catholic, Mrs. Brandt,” Maeve said. “Will they even let you get married in their church?”

“Actually, no. We'll have to get married in the rectory. That's the house where the priests live, I'm told.”

Her mother frowned. “That doesn't sound very big.”

“I don't know how big it is, but we were planning just to have our witnesses with us, and maybe Mrs. Malloy.”

“But what about your other guests?”

“We aren't having many, and they'll all be invited to the breakfast. We would be very happy if you planned that for us.”

“We can certainly do that,” her mother said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

“I know,” Maeve said with another smug smile. “Why don't you get married twice?”

“Twice?” her mother echoed, obviously intrigued.

“Yes. Get married by the priest with your witnesses, then have another wedding at your mother's house with all your guests.”

“Aren't there laws about getting married twice?” her mother asked.

“Only if you marry different people,” Maeve said, grinning. “What do you think, Mrs. Brandt?”

Sarah could see one possible obstacle. “I think we'll have to ask Malloy if he's willing to go through that twice.”

“He'll do anything you want him to,” Maeve said with more confidence than Sarah felt.

“What a wonderful plan, Maeve! Who are you going to ask to stand up with you?” her mother asked.

Sarah had been waiting, not quite ready to believe it was really going to happen, but now she thought it was finally safe to say the words. “Maeve, I was hoping you would be my maid of honor.”

Maeve gaped at her so long, Sarah was afraid she was going to say no. Then she burst into tears. The next thing she knew, Sarah was crying and so was her mother, and that was how Malloy found them when he came over for his nightly visit.

They tried to explain that they were crying happy tears, but he didn't look like he really believed it.

“Gino didn't cry at all when I asked him to stand up with us,” he reported.

•   •   •

T
he morning of the weddings dawned bright and cool. Felix Decker sent his carriage to carry his daughter, Maeve, and Mrs. Malloy to the rectory for the Catholic ceremony. Frank and Gino took a cab so the groom wouldn't see the bride before the wedding, because Mrs. Ellsworth had warned them sternly more than once how much bad luck that would bring.

“Are you nervous, Mr. Malloy?” Gino asked as the cab wound its painfully slow way through the city streets.

“No, I'm terrified,” he replied, wishing he was exaggerating. What in God's name had ever made him think he deserved a woman like Sarah Brandt?

“What do you have to be scared of? Mrs. Brandt is beautiful and smart and a real lady.”

“That's what I'm scared of.”

Gino only needed a minute to figure it out. “Oh, because you're”—he gestured vaguely—“not like her.”

“No, I'm not.”

“But you're rich now. Maybe richer than her father, even.” Gino smoothed the lapel of the tailor-made suit Frank had bought him for the wedding.

“Money doesn't make you a gentleman.”

“You're right. I've met a lot of rich men who were bums.”

Frank looked at Gino in amazement at his insight. “So have I.”

“And I don't think Mrs. Brandt would marry a bum.”

Frank felt the knot of fear in his chest loosen just a bit. “You're right, Gino. She wouldn't.”

“Now tell me again what I'm supposed to do, because I really am terrified. I've never been a best man before.”

•   •   •

T
he ceremony at the rectory had been mercifully brief. The priest had explained during their earlier meeting that because Sarah wasn't Catholic and they couldn't hold the service in the sanctuary, he could dispense with a lot of the rituals. Even without them, Sarah thought the ceremony was beautiful. She remembered making those same vows when she married Tom Brandt, but she hadn't really understood what they meant then. Now she did. When she looked into Malloy's dark eyes as he slipped the ring on her finger, she knew he did as well.

Afterward they all rode together to the Deckers' house in the carriage. Malloy held her hand, and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. Sarah knew she looked beautiful. Maeve had told her often enough this morning when they were getting dressed. Her mother's dressmaker had followed Sarah's instructions perfectly, designing her an elegant gown of robin's egg blue silk taffeta trimmed in lace. She'd wanted something much simpler, of course, but Maeve had reminded her that both Sarah and her sister had eloped and Mrs. Decker had only this one chance left to see one of her daughters married in style. At least she'd been able to forgo a long train, since she wouldn't be walking down any aisles.

“That's a pretty dress, Mrs. Malloy,” Gino was saying to
Malloy's mother. It was, too. Sarah's mother's dressmaker had convinced her that dove gray was the perfect color for a woman emerging from mourning after twenty years. She'd trimmed it with black braid stitched into swirls around the bottom of the skirt and the front of the jacket. Her hat sported an ostrich feather dyed to match the dress.

Mrs. Malloy looked up at Gino in surprise. “Why, thank you, young man.”

“I don't think I've ever seen you in anything but black, Ma,” Malloy said.

“Mrs. Brandt thought it would be all right,” she said primly.

Sarah smiled at Malloy's astonished look. He was still getting used to Sarah and his mother being friends.

“You can't call her Mrs. Brandt anymore,” Maeve said with a teasing grin. “She's Mrs. Malloy now, too.”

“Are you going to call each other Mrs. Malloy?” Gino asked with a teasing grin of his own. “That'll be confusing.”

“I've asked her to start calling me Sarah,” Sarah reminded her.

“And she can call me Mother Malloy,” Mrs. Malloy said, successfully shocking her son all over again.

When they arrived at the Deckers' house, Sarah's parents met them at the door. Sarah's mother embraced her, hugging her fiercely, and when she finally released her, Sarah saw her eyes glistening with just a hint of tears. Then she turned to Malloy, and to his surprise, she kissed him on the cheek.

“Welcome to our family, Frank,” she said, then quickly turned to greet his mother so she could pretend not to notice his astonishment.

Sarah's father took both her hands and kissed her cheek. He successfully maintained his dignity, but Sarah knew how deeply his emotions ran by how tightly he squeezed her fingers.

They all knew Frank Malloy was not the husband her
parents would have chosen for her, but they had come to understand he was the right husband for her. Her father shook Malloy's hand with all the warmth she could have hoped for.