Murder on Marble Row (15 page)

“Could Snowberger have just been better at hiding his feelings?”

“Possibly, but I got the impression . . . I really shouldn't be discussing this,” he added suddenly.

“Better if you tell me now than having to testify in court,” Frank bluffed. “What was your impression?”

Reed paled again. “Mr. Snowberger seemed a bit . . . smug. As if he'd gotten the better of Mr. Van Dyke somehow.”

“In a business deal?”

“Nothing that had to do with their company. I'm sure of that.”

“Did they have other business dealings together?”

“I have no idea. That's something you'd have to ask Mr. Snowberger.” He put his hand to his head, silently reminding Frank he'd been seriously injured the previous day.

“I may come back with more questions later,” Frank warned, rising to his feet.

“I'll help in any way I can,” Reed promised. Frank figured he'd be helping in any way that wouldn't get him in trouble with Snowberger.

Frank started for the door, but Reed stopped him. “Mr. Van Dyke's . . . family, how are they?”

Frank looked at him curiously, trying to judge if there was more than an ordinary, professional interest in his question. He seemed merely concerned. “Fine, under the circumstances.”

“They'll probably need my help with the arrangements. Clearing up the business details and that sort of thing,” he added quickly. “I should call on them.”

“I doubt they're expecting you. They know you were injured.”

“Do they?” This seemed to disturb him. “I hope they know it's not serious . . . I mean, I hope they know they can depend on me for assistance.”

“I'm sure they wouldn't think of troubling you, under the circumstances,” Frank said. “Get some rest. That's the best thing you can do right now.”

Frank was mentally shaking his head as he left Reed's boardinghouse. Something just wasn't right about Van Dyke's last morning on earth. What in blazes had he been so happy about that day? And why was he bringing Snowberger a gift of expensive brandy when he'd been so angry with him? Snowberger was probably the only person who might be able to explain it, but fortunately, Frank wouldn't have to ask him about it. He had Creighton Van Dyke in custody, and through him, he'd soon have the anarchist who'd planted the bomb. Then this case would be over.

 
 
E
LIZABETH DECKER WAS STARING AT HER DAUGHTER AS if she'd never seen her before. “You're serious, aren't you? That gossip can solve a crime, I mean.”

“Of course. I just need for you to tell me everything you know about the Van Dykes. Something should give us a clue as to who might have wanted Mr. Van Dyke dead.”

“Really, Sarah, this is silly, especially because anarchists are most likely responsible.”

“Humor me, Mother. What do you know about Lilly Van Dyke?”

“That she's a very tiresome creature,” she said with a small smile.

“Where did she come from? How did she meet Mr. Van Dyke?”

Mrs. Decker sighed in resignation. “She came from Albany, I think. Her father was in business there. I heard there was some sort of scandal, and her father's business was ruined. He owed Gregory a lot of money. No one knows for certain what happened, of course, but suddenly, he announced his daughter's engagement to Gregory, and then he retired to the country with all his debts settled.”

“It doesn't take much imagination to figure out what must have happened. How did Lilly feel about the bargain?”

“I'm sure no one asked her,” Mrs. Decker said without the slightest hint of sarcasm. “To her credit, she made the best of it at first. She even seemed to enjoy her new social status. New York society can be very exciting.”

The look she gave Sarah was to remind her of what she had given up when she'd refused to return to her parents' home after Tom's death. Sarah pretended not to notice. “You said she made the best of it
at first
. Does that mean she changed?”

“Unfortunately, yes. She realized that her husband wasn't interested in buying her everything she wanted or going to every party to which they were invited. She was young and . . . well, I suppose she still had her youthful fantasies about the handsome prince and living happily ever after. All of us have to adjust to reality after we marry, and most women at least have their friends to help them, but Lilly knew no one in the city when she came here.”

“Didn't Mr. Van Dyke introduce her to the proper people?”

Mrs. Decker looked uncomfortable. “I'm sorry to say that the wives of her husband's friends considered her too provincial and too . . . ambitious. She tried too hard, I'm afraid, and people aren't very tolerant of outsiders. She had no friends, and she grew bored and . . .” She looked down at her hands, now folded primly in her lap, as if she were ashamed to number herself among those who had snubbed Lilly.

“What did she do, Mother?” Sarah prompted. “Did she take a lover?”

“There were rumors . . . No one knows for certain, of course,” her mother stressed. “Unless she confessed, which of course she didn't, or her lover bragged, which I haven't heard, we can only suspect.”

“But you did suspect,” Sarah guessed.

“She was so . . . indiscreet. More than one woman dragged her husband away from a social event after he'd made a spectacle of himself flirting with her. She seemed determined to disgrace herself, almost as if she enjoyed the attention she attracted.”

“Did Mr. Van Dyke know?”

“I have no idea. If he did, he hadn't taken any steps to rein her in. She still went to every party and behaved badly.”

“Did you hear anything said about who she might have taken as a lover?”

“No one seemed to know, but if she had—and remember, no one knew for certain—he had to be someone who didn't fear Gregory.”

“You mean someone so powerful himself that even a man as important as Mr. Van Dyke couldn't hurt him.”

“Or perhaps someone who hated Gregory and wanted to take revenge on him in a particularly humiliating way.”

“Would Mr. Van Dyke have been humiliated if Lilly had an affair?”

“Undoubtedly. Lilly would be completely ruined, of course, and he would have turned her out with nothing but the clothes on her back. Even still, he'd be tainted, too. No one respects a man who can't control his wife. His true friends would pity him, and others would despise and even ridicule him.”

Sarah sighed. “And if Lilly's hypothetical lover wanted revenge on Mr. Van Dyke, he certainly wouldn't have killed him.”

“No,” her mother agreed. “That would spoil everything, wouldn't it?”

“Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“If someone had begun an affair with Lilly—even to get revenge on Mr. Van Dyke—he could have actually fallen in love with her. That
would
give him a reason for wanting her to be a widow,” Sarah said triumphantly.

“Which means he'd have to be unmarried himself if he hoped to marry the widow,” her mother observed. “But I'm afraid you give Lilly too much credit. I can't imagine anyone being so obsessed with her that he would do murder to have her. She simply isn't that fascinating.”

“But you said many men found her fascinating,” Sarah reminded her mother.

“I said they flirted with her. They may even have done more than that. She's the type of woman with whom a man might enjoy a dalliance, but to kill for her? You've been reading too many novels if you think a sane man would do something like that for a trifle like Lilly.”

Sarah sighed. “I suppose you're right, but . . . What if she managed to find a man who wasn't quite sane, someone who
would
do murder to have her?”

Her mother looked at her in surprise. “I can't imagine such a man. Who would he be?”

“Maybe someone you don't know,” Sarah tried. “Maybe someone no one would suspect.”

“You mean someone not from our social class,” her mother clarified. “But how would she meet such a man?”

“Use your imagination, Mother,” Sarah suggested slyly. “You must encounter men from time to time who aren't exactly one of society's four hundred.”

“You mean someone like a . . . a tradesman or . . . or a
servant
?”

“Yes, someone no one would expect her to know, much less have an affair with. Someone who would never expect to be noticed by a woman like Lilly, much less win her affection. Someone who could be convinced to do anything he had to in order to have her for himself.”

Mrs. Decker shook her head. “I was only teasing about the novels, Sarah, but this sounds like a very bad one.”

Sarah hardly heard her. She'd suddenly remembered how Tad had embraced his stepmother and the spark of suspicion she'd felt when she saw them together. Was Tad naïve enough to fall under Lilly's spell and to imagine that, with his father out of the way, he could take the old man's place in Lilly's bed?

“What is it, Sarah?” her mother asked. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she lied, managing a smile. The accusation was too horrible to make on the basis of such a slender suspicion. She wouldn't even consider it herself until she'd had a chance to test the theory on Malloy. Surely, he'd convince her she was wrong. He was good at that. “I guess I was just disappointed we couldn't figure out a way to blame this on Lilly instead of on Creighton.”

“I can't blame you, but you have proven my point, Sarah. Lilly simply couldn't inspire someone to do murder. I'm afraid you'll have to find someone else, no matter how much we might like her to be guilty.”

 
 
“
W
HAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S GONE?” FRANK NEARLY BELLOWED at the officer he found guarding the front door at the Van Dykes' mansion.

The poor fellow was nearly quaking in terror. He was what they called a Goo-Goo, new on the force and too young to know how to even wipe his own nose. Frank would've felt sorry for him if he hadn't wanted to punch him in the face.

“He . . . he climbed out the window and escaped,” the Goo-Goo explained.

Frank was sure this must be a bad dream. “He was on the third floor! He'd kill himself!”

The Goo-Goo's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed loudly. “He . . . uh . . . he climbed down some kind of drain pipe, looks like.”

Frank managed to get the rest of the story from the fellow without scaring him to death, although it was a near thing. Fortunately, the officer he'd left guarding Creighton Van Dyke was nowhere to be found, or Frank might have had to shed some blood.

He went upstairs and burst into the parlor without bothering to let the maid announce him or even to knock. The room's three occupants looked up in wide-eyed surprise. He mentally dismissed the son and the stepmother and turned to Miss Alberta Van Dyke, the only one likely to give him an intelligent answer. “Where is he?”

Her face was blotched from crying, making her even more unattractive than she usually was, but she stared back at him defiantly. “I have no idea. You can't think he'd confide his plans to
me
.”

“You're the one who knew where to find him before,” Frank reminded her.

“I knew where he lived because I'd taken him money.”

“Alberta!” Mrs. Van Dyke exclaimed in outrage. “How could you? Your father had forbidden us to have any contact with him!”

Alberta cast her stepmother an exasperated glance, but she said to Frank, “Mrs. Brandt and her mother went to look for him.”

“What?”
This time Frank did bellow, frightening the women and making Tad Van Dyke grab his head. Frank remembered the bottle of brandy he'd taken with him when he'd retired last night. With difficulty, Frank checked his temper and moderated his voice. “Did you say Mrs. Brandt went to look for Creighton?”

Alberta nodded, reluctant to speak again for fear of inspiring another outburst.

“Where did she go?”

“Back to Creighton's flat,” she admitted, equally reluctantly. “Her mother went with her.”

Frank had been
certain
he'd misunderstood this part of it. “
Mrs. Decker
went to the Lower East Side with Sar . . . Mrs. Brandt?”

“Sarah did try to talk her out of it,” Tad offered hesitantly.

Frank wanted to punch something. What could have possessed Sarah to drag her mother along with her when she was looking for an escaped anarchist who might also have killed his own father? He didn't bother to ask himself why Sarah would have even gone on such an errand in the first place. He already knew she had a remarkable lack of good sense where her own safety was concerned.

“Miss Van Dyke,” Frank said with all the control he could muster, “why did they go to Creighton's flat?”

“Because that's the only place they knew to start looking for him,” she said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. “Sarah was going to see if Katya was still there, and if she was, of course she might know where Creighton is. If not, Sarah said she'd met a friend of Katya's who's a midwife, and Sarah thought that, well, perhaps she would help.”

Frank thought that was highly unlikely, but he didn't bother to say so. It wasn't Alberta Van Dyke's fault that Sarah Brandt was acting like a nitwit. He drew a deep, calming breath and let it out in a sigh. “If I find out any of you helped him escape, I'll have to—”

“Don't bother threatening us, Mr. Malloy,” Alberta said indignantly. “We had no idea he intended to escape, and we wouldn't have helped him in any case. He's much safer here than with those horrible people who killed Father.”