Murder on Amsterdam Avenue (6 page)

“We don't know that Charles was killed ‘indiscriminately.' He may have been killed deliberately, by someone who knew him well.”

“But why? Oh, Malloy, I know you warned me that the killer would most likely be someone in this house, but I've been racking my brain ever since, trying to think of any
reason someone here would want him dead, and nothing could be more ridiculous. You can't think his mother or his wife poisoned him, or his grandmother either for that matter. And the servants have all been with us for years. If one of them had run mad enough to do something like this, someone would surely have noticed.”

Frank decided not to inform Oakes that most people were murdered by someone very close to them, like a wife or a mother or an angry servant. And madmen usually killed viciously, not with the secret cunning of a poisoner. From what Sarah had told him about the wife, Frank was willing to put his money on her, sight unseen. “You're right, it's hard to believe someone close to him could have done it, which is why an investigation like this is so painful. A lot of innocent people will be upset that they were considered suspects, no matter how unlikely. And if it turns out to be someone you trusted, you'll have to live with the guilt of not having seen their treachery in time.”

“And if I do nothing, I will have to live with the knowledge that my son's killer is enjoying life and freedom while he lies in an early grave. Which is worse?”

“That's a question only you can answer, Mr. Oakes.”

“Then I will answer it, Mr. Malloy. Charles was my only child. There will never be another, and he left no heirs, so my line ends with me. Whatever Charles might have accomplished in his life will never happen now. Whatever his children might have accomplished will never happen. I have to live the rest of my life knowing there is no future, no one to remember me when I am gone and no one to carry on my name or bear the weight of my hopes and dreams. I want the person who stole all this from me to be punished. I want them to suffer as my family has suffered.”

“Even if the killer is part of your family?”

“He is not, I promise you that, Mr. Malloy. And even if I am wrong, even if the killer proves to be someone dear to me, I will rejoice to see him punished for taking Charles. Under those conditions, are you willing to continue the investigation?”

“Are you sure you don't want to call in the police now that we know it was murder?”

“And have my family's name plastered all over the newspapers? I've seen what Hearst and Pulitzer will do to sell newspapers, the lies they'll tell and the innocent people they will vilify. No, I want this investigation to remain private until you have identified the killer and have enough proof to take it to the district attorney.”

“They'll still write about it in the newspapers,” Frank said.

“But only about the trial, because they won't know about it until then, which means that they won't have the opportunity to publish rumors and conjecture for months leading up to it.”

He was right, as far as he went. There would still be rumors and scandal, of course, but if Frank could prove who the killer was, perhaps even get a confession, the damage would be limited. “All right. Then I'll do everything I can to find the person who killed your son,” Frank said.

“Do you think you might fail?” Oakes asked in alarm.

As a matter of fact, Frank didn't think he'd have much trouble at all, considering the killer was probably in the house with them at that very moment, but he said, “The killer will do everything he can to keep from getting caught, so we have to be more clever than he is. I can't promise I'll find him, but if I fail, you'll understand why.”

“I suppose that is all I can ask, Mr. Malloy. Thank you.”

“You will have to tell your family that Charles was poisoned.”

Oakes winced. “Is that really necessary?”

“They'll want to know who I am and why I'm asking questions. And you'll have to instruct your servants to talk to me. They won't want to say anything about the family to an outsider, but they're the ones who will know where Charles was the day he first got sick and who brought him the poisoned milk and who had access to it before he drank it.”

“Good God.” Oakes raised a hand to his forehead, and Frank saw it was trembling. “I didn't realize . . . and we have the funeral tomorrow . . .”

“We can wait until after the funeral to start. It might even help to let the killer think we have no idea what really happened. He could get careless.”

“I would appreciate it if you could delay. Tomorrow will be difficult enough without upsetting everyone beforehand.”

“Mrs. Brandt and I are planning to attend the funeral, if that's all right.”

“Of course.”

“Mrs. Brandt would probably have attended anyway, as an old friend of the family, but I'll be watching the other mourners to see if anyone is acting suspiciously.”

“At the funeral? What could they possibly be doing?”

“Maybe it's what they're not doing. Someone who should be mourning who seems remarkably composed, or someone putting on a show of grief that seems out of character. I won't know until it happens. You can be watching, too, and let me know if you see something odd.”

“You won't disrupt the service, will you?”

“We won't do anything at all that day except watch, I promise.”

Oakes finished off his whiskey and got up to pour himself another. Frank wondered if he always drank so heavily. That's
something the servants would know. The trick, of course, was getting them to answer truthfully.

•   •   •

S
arah had been sitting by the front window, watching for Malloy so he didn't have to knock. She opened the door and let him in. He looked tired, but he kissed her with his usual level of enthusiasm.

“Thank you for sending Gino over today,” she said when they'd finally made it back to the kitchen.

“I knew you'd be happy to see him, and I guessed he'd want to see Maeve. How did that go?”

“They were shy with each other at first, but when he'd finished telling me everything you'd learned from the coroner, he asked Maeve if she'd like to go for a walk. Of course I offered to put Catherine to bed so she could. He brought her back just as it was getting dark, but she didn't tell me anything about their visit.”

“Do you think that's a good sign?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “So tell me about your visit with Gerald Oakes.”

“He wasn't surprised his son was poisoned, but he was pretty upset about it. He also isn't ready to accept that it might be someone in the house who did it.”

“Is there any possibility it wasn't?”

“Not much. He got sick two days before he died, which means someone gave him a dose sometime during the day but not enough to kill him. The same thing happened again on the day he died, and he came home sick again. Those doses could have been given by anyone, but the dose that killed him the last day was in the milk, so that could only have been someone in the house.”

“But Gerald still wants you to investigate?”

“Yes. He's pretty angry someone killed his only child and left him with no hope for the future.”

“Family heritage is pretty important to these old families. I guess it would be particularly painful if your only son was murdered.”

“He claims he wants to see the killer punished no matter who it is.”

“But we know he might change his mind when he finds out who it is.”

Malloy frowned. “I don't know. I got the feeling he's angry enough that he doesn't really care. Of course, he doesn't really believe it could be a family member, but he's willing to throw any of the servants to the wolves, I think.”

“And you told him you'd have to question all of them?”

“Oh yes, but he asked me to wait until after the funeral.”

“Of course. They'll be too busy until then anyway. Did you tell him we'll be at the funeral?”

“Yes, and he seemed glad of it. I've been thinking since then, though, that maybe Gino should go, too.”

“Gino? You mean he should go with us?”

“No, separately, so we can have an extra pair of eyes watching the mourners.”

“Won't that look odd? He'll stick out in that crowd, and people will know he doesn't belong.”

“I was thinking Maeve could go with him. A couple wouldn't attract as much attention.”

“Unless no one has ever seen them before, which they wouldn't have, and wondered who they were.”

“They could make up a story. Maeve can think of one, I'm sure.”

“What can I think of?” Maeve asked, wandering into the kitchen as if it were an accident, although Sarah figured she'd
probably been waiting in the front room for the proper moment to intrude.

Malloy grinned at her. “A story as to why you and Gino Donatelli would be attending Charles Oakes's funeral tomorrow.”

She wrinkled her nose as she considered. “Didn't he have a job at the Asylum?”

“Yes, he was the superintendent. How did you know that?”

“Gino told me. We could say we worked there and we're paying our respects, if anyone asks. But I'll bet no one will ask. Sometimes if you've got a good enough story, you're so confident that no one even challenges you.”

“And society people are so polite, they might consider it rude to question someone's presence at a funeral,” Sarah added.

“Unless we look like we just came for the free meal,” Maeve said with a grin.

“So you're willing to go?” Malloy asked her.

“Of course. Who will watch Catherine, though?”

“I'll ask Mrs. Ellsworth,” Sarah said. Her next-door neighbor was always willing to have Catherine over for a visit.

“It's settled then,” Frank said. “Gino is meeting me at my house in the morning. We'll come over here and talk about what we're going to be watching for.”

•   •   •

T
he crowd at the Oakes home was smaller than Frank had expected. He remembered Gino's question about whether the Oakes family had ever really accepted Jenny and wondered if the cream of New York society had ever accepted her either. Certainly, the number of well-dressed, middle-aged society people was much smaller than Frank had seen
at similar funerals. A few younger men, probably Charles's friends, and their wives clustered here and there. What surprised Frank most, however, were the three men who came together. They brought no wives, and they didn't offer condolences to the family, and they gave the body of the deceased, on display in the parlor, barely a glance. Bullet-headed thugs, they wore expensive suits, but not well. Frank understood that because he didn't wear his well either. A man had to be born to wealth and grow up with its comforts to feel truly at ease in situations like this.

Frank recognized these men. Even though he'd never seen them before, he knew the type: political hacks. They hung around the fringes of power, helping out as needed, and made money from the corruption that power bred. The city was full of them. Frank's only question was why were these particular fellows at Charles Oakes's funeral?

Sarah was chatting with her parents, so Frank wandered over to where the men stood watching the crowd.

“I don't think I know you,” he said to the one who appeared to be the leader.

He stared back with a cunning grin. “I don't think I know you either,” he replied, earning a chuckle from one of his companions.

“Frank Malloy.” He offered his hand.

“Then I do know who you are,” the fellow said, shaking Frank's hand. “You're the cop what got all that money.”

Frank managed not to wince. “And who are you?”

“Virgil Adderly.”

The name meant nothing to Frank. “Are you a friend of Charles's?”

“Not anymore,” he said, earning another chuckle which he silenced with a sharp glance at the offender. “You don't look like you'd be a friend of his either, Malloy.”

“I know his father from the Knickerbocker Club.” Which was absolutely true as far as it went. This fellow didn't need to know Frank wasn't a member there.

“I heard they let in Jews, but I didn't know they let in Micks. What's this world coming to?”

“I guess you met Charles at the Asylum,” Frank replied in kind.

He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “I was able to help Oakes get his position there, yes.”

“And now you're here to make sure he's really dead?”

“I don't think it's any business of yours why I'm here.”

“It's my business if you're going to cause trouble.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don't know.” Frank glanced meaningfully at his two companions. “Why did you think you'd need bodyguards at a funeral?”

His gaze hardened. “These are my business associates.”

“Just make sure they don't do any
business
here.”

“As I said, we're merely paying our respects.”

Frank took his leave, conscious of their gaze as he made his way across the crowded parlor. Should he upset Oakes by warning him? Or could he take the man at his word that they had no intention of causing trouble? He found Sarah and her parents.

“Who are those men?” Sarah asked.

Frank looked at her father. “Do you know them?”

Felix Decker shook his head. “What are they doing here?”

“They said they know Charles because they got him the job at the Asylum.”

“That's how things work, of course, but how would Charles know people like that in the first place?”

“And why have they come here?” Mrs. Decker asked with a worried frown.

“They said just to pay their respects,” Frank said.

“Do you believe them?” Sarah asked.

“Of course not, but I don't think they're here to cause trouble either. It wouldn't do them any good to make trouble for a socially prominent family.”