Murder on Amsterdam Avenue (7 page)

“Then why else would they be here?” Sarah asked.

Frank frowned. “I think they might be waiting for somebody. Watch the way they look up every time somebody comes in.”

“Who could they be waiting for?” Mr. Decker asked.

“I guess we'll find out if that person shows up.”

“And in the meantime, we should find seats because the service is going to start soon,” Mrs. Decker said.

“Have you seen Gino and Maeve?” Frank asked Sarah as they moved toward the back row of the chairs that had been set up in the center of the room.

“Not yet, but you told them to wait outside until the last minute so they could watch everyone who arrived. They should come in soon, though.”

Sure enough, they had just taken their seats when Gino and Maeve arrived. They looked exactly right in their cheap finery, gawking like rubes. That part had been Maeve's idea. They'd come to honor Mr. Oakes, who had been such a kind superintendent, but they weren't quite sure how to act in a big house like this. Maeve clung to Gino's arm for dear life. If Frank hadn't known better, he would have been sure she was terrified to find herself in such a fancy place. Not for the first time, Frank thought how fortunate Sarah had been to hire a nanny who had been raised by a confident man.

The two young people took seats on the opposite end of the last row of chairs and never so much as glanced at Frank and Sarah. Mrs. Decker looked over at them in surprise. “Isn't that—?”

“Shhh, Mother,” Sarah whispered.

The rest of the group had found their seats, and the family now filed in to sit in the front row. Frank studied the wife, who came first. She looked suitably bereaved, although her eyes showed no sign of prolonged weeping. She'd understand that even if she secretly rejoiced that her husband was dead, she shouldn't show anything except grief on this occasion. He was looking forward to talking to her, and hoped he would have the opportunity. Men like Gerald Oakes sometimes tried to protect females from the ugliness of murder, but since Sarah already suspected her of being the killer, Frank couldn't let her off easy.

Next came Gerald and his wife. She also seemed to be bearing up pretty well, her still-beautiful face a frozen mask hiding whatever her true feelings were. For his part, Gerald looked terrible, his face splotchy and haggard. He, at least, had been weeping for his lost child.

Behind them came an elderly woman Frank hadn't seen before. She hadn't been greeting guests as they arrived. This must be Gerald's mother. She walked with a cane and leaned on the arm of a male servant until she reached her seat, although she didn't seem particularly unsteady on her feet.

As soon as the family was seated, the minister stood up and took his place behind a podium that had been set near the casket.

He welcomed them and said a few platitudes about the tragedy of Charles's death, and then he said, “Let us pray.” Almost everyone bowed their heads. Frank and Sarah did not, and when he glanced over, he saw Gino and Maeve were also looking around. Interestingly, Virgil Adderly and his companions had also kept their heads raised and their eyes open.

Frank only had a second to register this when a disturbance
in the doorway distracted him. A woman had come in late but not quietly. Dressed all in black, she looked the part of a mourner, but her face betrayed not grief but fear and desperation. She glanced wildly around the room until she saw the still-open casket. An anguished cry escaped her, causing the minister to stutter in his prayer and all the mourners to lift their heads in surprise.

She didn't seem to notice everyone had turned to look at her as she took a step toward the casket and promptly fainted in a heap.

G
ino was already on his feet before Frank could move, but neither of them were quick enough to beat Virgil Adderly and his companions. If they really had been waiting for someone, this woman was probably the object of their anticipation. The smaller of Adderly's friends reached her first and made short work of picking her up and carrying her out of the room. Adderly and his other friend followed. It was the work of a moment, and the minister picked up his prayer right where he'd left off.

Gino glanced at Frank for direction. Someone needed to go after them. Frank shook his head and followed the men himself, taking a moment to close the parlor doors behind him. No sense disturbing the funeral any more than necessary.

The male servant who had been helping old Mrs. Oakes was trying to get them to stop so someone could minister to
the stricken woman, but Adderly was intent on getting her out of there.

“Adderly, you aren't planning to kidnap that poor woman, are you?” Frank said.

Adderly looked around in surprise to see Frank following them. He signaled his friend who was carrying the unconscious woman to stop. “I'm just going to take her home. She's obviously indisposed.”

“Nothing a little smelling salts won't cure,” Frank said. “Oh, look, she's coming around without them.”

The woman's eyes fluttered, and she moaned softly, “Charles.”

“Get her out of here,” Adderly snapped to the man still holding her, then turned to Frank. “You should mind your own business, Malloy.”

“Charles Oakes's death is my business.”

“Charles,” the woman said again as she regained consciousness. She looked around in alarm. “Put me down, Amos!”

Amos looked to Adderly, who nodded curtly. Amos set her down. Now that he had a chance to really look at her, Frank could see she was a rather plain woman a bit past her prime, although her figure was good. He'd thought for a minute, right before she fainted, that she might have been Oakes's mistress, but now he realized that was unlikely.

She was looking around frantically. “Where is he? I must see him!”

“You can't see him, Ella. He didn't want anything to do with you when he was alive, and you're not going to make a fool of yourself in front of all those people.”

She looked like she was going to argue with Adderly, and Frank figured an argument like that, with a female who was already on her way to being hysterical, could be very loud and unpleasant for the Oakes family.

“This isn't really a good time to see him, miss,” Frank said, stepping forward.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“A friend of Charles's.” Frank ignored the glare Adderly was giving him. “You'll want to spend some time with him alone, to say good-bye.” Frank was gratified to see the glimmer of hope in her muddy brown eyes. “If you let Mr. Adderly take you away now, you can come back later, after everyone's gone, and have him all to yourself.”

“Oh, thank you!” she said. “Thank you so much.” She turned to Adderly. “You see, Virgil, Charles's friends understand.”

Adderly shot Frank a look of reluctant gratitude, then turned back to Ella. “Let me take you home now.”

“And you'll bring me back later?”

“Of course,” he lied.

She turned back to Frank. “Thank you, sir. You are truly a gentleman.”

Frank nodded his acknowledgment and watched Adderly guide her down the stairs and out of the house with his two thugs at his heels.

Now wasn't that interesting. Adderly claimed to have helped Oakes get his patronage appointment at the Manhattan State Hospital, and maybe he had, but who was this woman Ella and how did she know Charles Oakes? She was obviously not quite right in the head either, so he also had to wonder if she might have poisoned poor Charles when she realized he didn't want anything to do with her. In his police work, he'd dealt with women who had developed an unhealthy—and unrequited—attachment to some man, and this looked like another version of that malady.

Of course, she would have had to have access to Charles in his home, which didn't seem likely, but Frank had learned not to jump to conclusions where murder was concerned.

“Mr. Malloy?” the butler said. “Thank you very much for your assistance, sir.”

“Oh, you're welcome. I was glad to help.”

“Would you like to go back into the service now?”

He really wanted to go after Adderly and find out more about this mysterious female, but he'd have time for that later. “I suppose so.”

“Please follow me, then, sir.”

•   •   •

A
fter the funeral and the meal, Gino and Maeve were waiting for them back at Sarah's parents' house, which was only a few blocks from the Oakeses' house. The Deckers greeted the young people and made everyone comfortable in the rear parlor, the room the family used most often.

“Who on earth was that woman who fainted?” Mrs. Decker asked when they were settled.

Frank noticed that Gino had taken a seat beside Maeve on the sofa. She was no longer clinging to his arm, and they seemed more comfortable together than they had been.

“Her name is Ella,” Frank said. “Adderly and his friends were waiting for her to arrive.”

“Is Adderly the rough-looking fellow with the two, uh, companions?” Sarah asked.

“Yes. I got the feeling they had been expecting her to arrive and make a scene, and they all seemed to know each other very well. She was upset about Charles Oakes's death and wanted to pay her respects, whatever she thought that meant, but Adderly was determined she wasn't going to make a fool of herself in front of everyone.”

“She managed to make a spectacle of herself in spite of him, though,” Mrs. Decker said.

“It wasn't as bad as it would've been if Adderly hadn't gotten her out of there,” Frank said.

“But what relationship does she have with Charles Oakes?” Sarah asked.

“She's apparently in love with him or thinks she is, and according to what Adderly said, Oakes didn't want anything to do with her. I'd like to get her side of the story, though.”

“And find out where she was when Oakes was poisoned,” Gino added grimly.

“So, enough about Miss Ella. Gino, did you notice anything suspicious?”

Gino glanced at Maeve. “Maeve did.”

“What was it?”

Maeve frowned. “Charles's wife. She never shed a tear.”

“I think we already decided she didn't care much for her husband,” Sarah said.

“But did you notice all the men—the young ones, I mean—were giving her a lot of sympathy, but not the women?”

“I saw women going up to her to express their condolences,” Mrs. Decker said.

“Yes, but they didn't really talk to her. They just said how sorry they were and then walked away. The men, they took her hand and looked into her eyes and told her how she could always count on them and a lot of silly stuff that didn't mean anything except they'd be more than happy to come over and cheer her up after the funeral was over.”

Mrs. Decker looked shocked. “Do you think she could have been having an affair?”

“Elizabeth,” her husband scolded her. “Is that any way to talk about the poor girl?”

“It is if she was having an affair,” Mrs. Decker replied.

“If she was, I couldn't tell it,” Maeve said. “She didn't give
any of them secret looks or whisper to them or do anything to show she preferred one over the others. Which made me think none of them was special to her. But she sure enjoyed all the attention they were paying her, and she did everything she could to encourage it.”

“So maybe she poisoned her husband so she could be free to find someone else,” Sarah said.

“That's a bit of a leap, isn't it?” her father said. “She may have been enjoying the attention of those men, but how can you imagine she would murder her husband just so she could flirt a bit?”

“And she could flirt all she wanted while Charles was alive,” Mrs. Decker said, “just as long as she didn't do any more than flirt.”

Realizing they had reached an impasse on Charles's widow, Frank said, “What about the rest of the family? Did anyone notice anything unusual?”

“I noticed Jenny had been crying, at least,” Mrs. Decker said. “She didn't shed more than a few tears at the service, but I could see her eyes were swollen even though she'd tried very hard to cover the traces.”

“She wouldn't want to lose her composure in public,” Sarah explained. “But I'm relieved to know she was mourning her son. She seemed so cold and unfeeling when we called on her.”

“But did you notice hardly anybody spoke to her after the service?” Maeve said. “A few ladies came over and spoke to her, but you'd think her friends would've gathered around her or something.”

“Jenny has always been . . . reserved,” Mrs. Decker said. “She's never been close friends with other society women.”

“Is she shy?” Sarah asked. “She didn't seem shy when I met her.”

“I think she's just sensitive about her background,” Mrs. Decker said. “Many people were rude to her when she came to the city, even after Gerald came home and the war was over.”

“For some people, the war was never over,” Mr. Decker said. “If you lost a son or a brother, it was hard to forgive.”

“But Mrs. Oakes was just a young girl during the war,” Maeve said. “Why would people blame her?”

“I'm not sure they did, not exactly,” Mrs. Decker said. “If Jenny had been different . . . If she'd had some of that famous Southern charm and had tried to win people over, I think they would have eventually accepted her, but she always held herself a little apart.”

“Gerald was angry about it,” Mr. Decker said, surprising them all.

“He was?” his wife asked.

“Yes, he told me more than once how grateful he was that we'd befriended her. He never thought for a minute that it was any of her doing that people didn't like her, though. He thought they were just mean to her because she was from the South.”

“Mr. Oakes drinks a lot.”

Everyone looked at Gino in surprise.

“I thought you didn't notice anything,” Frank said with some amusement.

He glanced at Maeve again. “I wanted to let Maeve go first.” She shot him a glare which he ignored. “He'd been drinking before the funeral started.”

“How do you know that?” Frank asked.

“I could smell it on him when we got there. I shook his hand and told him and his wife we knew his son from the hospital and what a good job he did there and all of that. He thanked me and I could smell his breath.”

“It wouldn't be surprising if a man took a drink to fortify himself on the day he buried his only son,” Mr. Decker said.

If Decker had meant to chasten Gino, it didn't work. “It wasn't just today. That he was drinking, I mean. I could tell from his face. Did you notice how red it was?”

“I did,” Frank said. “I thought he'd been crying.”

“I've seen that a lot at Police Headquarters. Well, not there exactly, but the men who work there. The ones who drink a lot, their faces get red like that, and they stay red.”

Frank frowned, a little annoyed. “The Irishmen, you mean.”

Gino managed not to grin. “The ones with fair skin. Gerald Oakes isn't Irish, but he has fair skin.”

“He does drink,” Mr. Decker said with obvious reluctance. “More than most, I suppose, but he's not a . . . a belligerent drunk. In fact, I don't think I've ever actually seen him drunk.”

That was interesting, a man who drank heavily but didn't show the effects, which meant he was very used to it. Why did Gerald Oakes drink so much? Of course, a man didn't need a reason to drink, but in Frank's experience, he usually at least pretended to have one.

“What about the old woman, the grandmother?” he asked.

“What about her?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“What do we know about her? How was she acting today?”

“I only exchanged a few words with her today, so I can't say much about that, but she never liked Jenny,” Mrs. Decker said. “I already told you that.”

“And they've both lived together in that house all these years?” Maeve asked in wonder.

Mrs. Decker smiled kindly at the girl. “Women often don't get along with their mother-in-law, and yet they can live together for years.”

Maeve glanced at Sarah, who grinned knowingly. Frank's mother would be living with them when they got married.

“When you're a family, you make the best of it and at least learn to tolerate each other,” Sarah said. “Besides, it doesn't matter to us if Gerald's mother hated Jenny or not. We're looking for someone who hated Charles, or at least had a reason to want him dead.”

“Maybe she hated Charles because he was Jenny's son,” Gino said.

“But he was Gerald's son, too, and her grandson,” Sarah said.

“What if he wasn't, though.” Everyone looked at Maeve in surprise. “I know it's not a nice thing to say, but it could be true. Even if it wasn't, the grandmother might've believed it was. Maybe she didn't want Charles to inherit everything.”

“There wasn't much to inherit,” Mr. Decker said. This time everyone looked at him. “Charles had taken the job at the hospital because the family fortunes were in serious decline. Gerald had been asking around, trying to find something for Charles even before he married. I understand his wife had some money her father settled on her, but not enough to restore the family to their former situation.”

“What happened to their money?” Sarah asked.

“The same thing that happens every time a family tries to rely on inherited money generation after generation without ever bothering to make any themselves. It only takes one wastrel in the bloodline to ruin everyone else's prospects.”