“Will the morphine hurt him, do you think?” Letitia asked with a worried frown. “Could it do something to his mind?”
Sarah didn’t want to offer false hope. “He won’t be on it much longer,” she hedged. “Now, let’s see how
you’re
doing.”
When Sarah had completed her examination and was packing her things back into her medical bag, she said as casually as she could, “Detective Sergeant Malloy would like to speak with you this morning.”
“Who?” Letitia asked in confusion.
“The policeman who is investigating your husband’s murder,” Sarah explained. “He needs to ask you a few questions.”
“About what?” She was alarmed now, her hands nervously working the edge of the coverlet. “I don’t know anything. I wasn’t even here when it happened!”
“I’m sure he just wants to verify that with you. He’ll probably also want to know if Dr. Blackwell had any enemies, or if you know of anyone who might have wished him harm. One of his patients, perhaps, or an acquaintance.”
“Everyone loved Edmund,” she insisted. “His clients were devoted to him!”
Sarah could have pointed out that his own wife didn’t love him, but instead she said, “Someone killed him, Mrs. Blackwell, so at least one person didn’t like him.”
“Can’t Mr. Potter take care of this? I don’t want to speak with a policeman. I’m not well!”
“You were well enough to receive Mr. Dudley the other day,” Sarah reminded her. “And Mr. Malloy knows it. He said to tell you he would be happy to interview you in your bedroom if you weren’t well enough to come downstairs.”
“Good heavens! He can’t be serious!” she exclaimed, horrified. “My father would never allow it.”
“I don’t think your father could stop it,” Sarah lied. “Mr. Malloy should be here in a few minutes, and I assure you, he will see you, one way or another. He’s a very determined man.”
Letitia’s smooth cheeks were scarlet with either outrage or embarrassment, Sarah couldn’t be sure which. But Sarah calmly stood her ground, just the way Malloy would have done, she told herself.
After a moment of strained silence, Sarah asked, “Should I ask your maid to come and help you dress?”
Letitia’s china-blue eyes were blazing. “I suppose I have no other choice,” she said in a strangled voice.
“I’ll be happy to stay with you while he interviews you,” Sarah offered. “If that would make you feel more comfortable.”
Tears were flooding those lovely blue eyes now. “I’m sure nothing will make me feel
comfortable,
but I would appreciate your support, Mrs. Brandt. Thank you. You are very kind.”
Sarah didn’t feel kind at all. “It will be over before you know it,” she said, hoping this was true. In any case, it would be over eventually. Sarah was pretty sure Letitia Blackwell was more than equal to the ordeal, in any case.
“YOU DID TELL her I’d come upstairs to see her if she wouldn’t come down?” Malloy asked Sarah as he paced the front parlor restlessly. Mrs. Blackwell had kept him waiting over half an hour.
“I’m sure she just isn’t ready yet. She’ll want to look her best, and that takes time,” Sarah said, concealing her amusement.
“Why would she want to look her best? She’s not going to a ball,” Malloy groused, checking his pocket watch again.
“A woman likes to have every possible advantage,” she explained. “She doesn’t have strength or power, so if she’s attractive, she uses that. Letitia will want you to find her extremely attractive. Or at least vulnerable. Then you won’t be so hard on her.”
Malloy made a rude noise at such a ridiculous notion.
Before Sarah could say more, the parlor doors opened and Letitia Blackwell stepped into the room. She was a vision. Her golden hair had been brushed into a soft halo, and she wore it down, curling to her shoulders and tied off of her face with a ribbon, as if she were merely a child. Her gown was soft and pink and frilly, and she’d pinned a cameo at her throat. Not very appropriate attire for a widow, but an excellent choice for a woman who wanted to be treated gently by a man. Her face was pale, although Sarah suspected rice powder instead of genuine distress had leached the color from her cheeks.
Letitia turned her moist and lovely eyes to Malloy and lifted a trembling hand to her throat, and said, “Mr. Malloy?”
Malloy hurried to meet her and even took her elbow, as if he were afraid she might collapse without support. “I’m sorry to disturb you like this, Mrs. Blackwell, but I need to ask you a few questions,” he said solicitously as he guided her to the nearest chair. “This won’t take long, I promise.”
Sarah had to cough into her hand. Malloy didn’t even notice, and Letitia pretended not to.
When he was certain Letitia was comfortably settled, Malloy took a seat on the sofa beside Sarah.
“Would you like some refreshment?” Letitia asked, her voice breathy and weak, her hands fluttering uncertainly.
“No, we don’t need anything at all,” Frank assured her. “We’ll be gone before you know it.”
Sarah rolled her eyes, but Malloy wasn’t looking at her.
“I already told Mrs. Brandt I don’t think I can be of any assistance,” Letitia said apologetically. “I have no idea who might have killed Edmund.”
“Then you don’t know of anyone who’d had an argument with your husband?” Malloy prodded. “Maybe one of his patients who couldn’t pay his fees or who thought the doctor was a fraud or—”
“Edmund wasn’t a fraud,” she insisted indignantly. “How could anyone think he was?”
“Maybe somebody he wasn’t able to help,” Malloy suggested helpfully. Or perhaps hopefully.
“He helped everyone,” she said, her eyes guileless.
Sarah had to cough into her hand again. This time Malloy glared at her, making her cough harder.
“Should I ask the maid to fetch you something to drink, Mrs. Brandt?” Letitia asked with a worried frown.
Before Sarah could shake her head, Malloy dismissed her with a, “She’s fine.”
Sarah felt compelled to cough again, just to prove him wrong, but Malloy was unmoved. “Mrs. Blackwell,” he was saying, his voice amazingly patient, “I understand you were out the afternoon your husband died.”
“That’s right,” she said, nodding. Her chin quivered a bit, as if she might weep at the slightest provocation.
“Could you tell me where you were and who you were with?”
For a second she looked uncertain, even frightened. “I ... I’m not sure I remember. The shock and everything ...”
“I’ve already told Mr. Malloy about your visits to the opium den,” Sarah said, gently so Malloy wouldn’t glare at her again.
“If that’s where you were, no one else need find out,” Malloy assured her. “No one even needs to know except me.”
But she still wasn’t willing to confide her darkest secret. “What possible difference could it make where I was that afternoon, so long as I wasn’t here? Do you think
I
killed my husband?”
“Certainly not,” Sarah said quickly, earning a black look from Malloy, “but perhaps you could vouch for someone else, someone who might have had a good reason for wanting Dr. Blackwell out of the way.”
Now Malloy was looking as if he wanted to strangle her, but she pretended not to notice as she watched the understanding dawn on Letitia’s fragile face. As Sarah had known, she was no fool.
“I was with Peter that afternoon,” she said almost eagerly. “We met every afternoon at Mr. Fong’s establishment. Peter works in the morning and the evening, but he’s free in the afternoon, so we ...” Finally, she had the grace to blush, dropping her gaze to where her hands were folded in her lap.
“By Peter, do you mean Peter Dudley?” Malloy asked.
Letitia nodded, not looking up.
“I understand that the two of you were lovers,” Malloy ventured. Sarah was gratified that he was finally getting to the point.
Letitia drew a deep breath and met Malloy’s gaze bravely. “I’m not proud of what I’ve done, Mr. Malloy, but I can’t allow you to believe that Peter could have been involved with Edmund’s death. His only sin was in loving me.”
“I’m afraid that gives him a very good reason for wanting your husband out of the way,” Malloy pointed out.
“We both did, but we never would have done anything about it!” she exclaimed. “How could you even think such a thing?”
“Men have been killed for much less, Mrs. Blackwell. But if you were at this Mr. Fong’s place, he’ll vouch for both of you. Can you give me the address?”
Now she really was frightened. “I can’t send the police to Mr. Fong’s!”
“Why not?” Malloy asked, his voice still gentle and kindly, as if he were speaking to a simple child. Sarah wanted to smack him.
“Because ... I don’t want to get him into trouble!”
“He won’t be in any trouble. What he’s doing isn’t against the law, Mrs. Blackwell. Morphine and opium are sold openly in every drugstore in the city. The police would have no interest in this business.”
“Because he probably pays his protection money regularly, too,” Sarah murmured for Malloy’s ears alone.
He pretended he didn’t hear her. “If you give me the address, that’s all I’ll need. You can go back upstairs then and forget I was ever here.”
Letitia still wasn’t sure. She looked at Sarah beseechingly. “It’s all right,” Sarah heard herself say. “If you have nothing to hide, you don’t have anything to be afraid of. And if Mr. Fong says you were both there, Mr. Dudley will no longer be a suspect either.”
With obvious reluctance, Letitia gave him the address. Sarah saw his surprise. It mirrored her own. Mr. Fong must attract a very elite clientele, indeed.
“I’ll need to speak to Mr. Dudley, too, to verify what you’ve told me,” he said. “Where can I find him?”
Letitia made a small sound of distress. “I ... I don’t know where he lives. I can tell you where he works, but you mustn’t call for him there. If the police come looking for him, he’ll lose his job!”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t lose his job,” Malloy promised magnanimously.
Wiping a tear from her cheek, she gave him the name of the bank where Dudley was employed.
“Now, I need to ask you something even more difficult,” Malloy said, his voice even kinder. Sarah was seeing a whole new side of him, and she was quite impressed, if a little disgusted.
Letitia lifted her chin and braced herself, as if for a blow.
“Can you tell me exactly what happened when you came home that day and found Dr. Blackwell?”
This time the color drained naturally from her face, and she shuddered slightly. “I came home, as usual,” she said.
“How did you arrive?”
“I took a hansom cab,” she said. “I always do.”
“Who opened the front door for you?”
“No one. The servants were out. I opened it myself.”
“Was it locked?”
“I ...” She tried to remember. “I’m sure it was, but I can’t remember. I have a key, so I probably used it.”
“Go on,” he urged.
“I came in, and the house was very quiet. I ... I took off my gloves and my hat. Then I saw that ... the study door was closed. It was only closed when Edmund was inside. I almost didn’t ...”
“You almost didn’t what?” he prompted when she hesitated.
“I almost didn’t open the door. He didn’t really care where I was or when I came home, but I thought ... I thought he
should
care, and so what if I interrupted him? He
should
pay attention to his wife. So I knocked on the door and called his name.”
“But he didn’t answer,” Malloy guessed. “What did you think?”
“I thought perhaps he wasn’t in there. Or that he hadn’t heard me. I don’t know what I thought. But I had the strangest feeling, as if something was wrong. At least I think I did. Maybe that was just afterward. But I opened the door. I was just going to tell him I was home and make him pay attention to me, just for that moment. And then I saw him—”
Her voice broke, and even Sarah wanted to spare her this gruesome memory, but Malloy pressed her.
“This is very important, Mrs. Blackwell,” he said. “Did you see or hear anyone else in the house? Did someone run out or did you hear a door open or close? Anything like that, any noise at all?”
“I ... I don’t remember. I just remember I started screaming, and I ran outside and I saw the beat officer, and ... and that’s all I know.” A lone tear slipped down her cheek, and she made no effort to wipe it away, silently reminding Malloy of her pain.
“Thank you, Mrs. Blackwell. That’s all I’ll need for now,” he said. “I hope this hasn’t caused you too much distress.”
“Oh, no, not at all,” Letitia said, pulling herself together bravely. “You’ve been very kind. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more, but I’m happy for the opportunity to remove any suspicion from Mr. Dudley.”
Sarah couldn’t help thinking that she would also be removing suspicion from herself if Fong gave them both an alibi, but she merely smiled and helped Letitia to the door, where her maid was waiting to escort her upstairs. As soon as she’d closed the parlor doors behind them, she turned to Malloy.
“Did you have to be so hard on her, Malloy?”
He didn’t appreciate her sarcasm. “If she’d started bawling, we never would’ve gotten the address of the opium den,” he said reasonably. “But did you have to tell her to give Dudley an alibi, too?”
“If they weren’t together, this Mr. Fong will tell you,” she pointed out just as reasonably. “And I don’t think she would’ve given you Fong’s address just to protect herself. She’s too afraid of him. And as she said, everyone knows she wasn’t here when Blackwell was killed, so it doesn’t really matter where she really was.”
“Actually, everyone
doesn’t
know she wasn’t here. They know she went out, and they know she discovered the body, but the servants weren’t here during the murder, so how does anyone know she didn’t come home earlier than she said?”
He had a point, but Sarah didn’t think it would hold. “Can you really imagine her brazenly blowing her husband’s brains out and then arranging everything very neatly to make it look like suicide?”