In a Gilded Cage (15 page)

Sixteen

I
suppose I should have been content to leave everything to Daniel after that. But never having been of a patient disposition, I was itching to do something myself. I wouldn’t have been as willing to agree with Emily’s suspicion had not Mr. Poindexter claimed to have been out of town from Friday morning until Saturday evening, when I knew very well he was in the city on Saturday afternoon. It seemed that he had gone out of his way to establish this alibi for himself—although of course he might have spent Friday night with Fifi and not have wished to disclose that fact.

I paced around my house, trying to think through how a real detective would approach this matter. Obviously test for the poison, which I couldn’t do. Interview the attending physician, which Daniel was now doing. But if Anson Poindexter was away, then he would have relied on someone else to deliver the fatal dose. I could probably find out more by speaking to the Poindexters’ maid. Unfortunately, I didn’t think it would be as easy to get the servants alone in a large apartment building as it would have been in a private house, where I could simply slip around to the servants’ entrance. I’d just have to play it by ear and take my chances. I put on my black dress again, arranged a black lace shawl over my shoulders, and went uptown to the Dakota.

On the way there I decided that I should go first to Emily’s and let her know about my meeting with Daniel the night before. She might also want to come with me to Fanny’s place during her lunch hour, and two of us might be a distinct advantage. I glanced into the shop window, with its intriguing glass globes that glowed in the morning sunlight and its displays of various preparations. I wondered if one day I’d have money to spend on my appearance and if I’d ever be as concerned about my appearance as Fanny and her friends seemed to be. Maybe there was something to an existence of hardship like mine. At least I was seldom bored!

The bell jangled as I opened the door. I was surprised to see Ned at the counter.

“Miss Murphy, wasn’t it?” he said, giving me a friendly smile.

“Oh, hello, Ned,” I said. “I just stopped by to give Emily a message. Is she out making deliveries again?”

“No, ma’am. She’s off sick today. That’s why I’m finding myself manning the counter.”

“Off sick? What’s wrong with her?” My face must have registered alarm.

“I don’t know,” he said. “She just sent a message with a neighbor’s son to say that she wasn’t well and she wasn’t coming in. Mr. McPherson wasn’t pleased, I can tell you.” He glanced into the back room, where his employer could be seen with his back to us, opening one of those tiny drawers.

“Oh dear,” I said. “I better go and check on her, I think.”

“You’ve gone quite pale, Miss Murphy,” he said. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

“No, thank you. It’s just that one of her friends has just died and . . .”

“And you suspected that what she had might be catching?”

“Well, yes,” I said, not wanting to hint at the real reason for my concern. “She died of complications of influenza, so we were told. Very sad. A young woman who had everything. Life isn’t fair, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” he said with such vehemence that I looked up. “Take Emily,” he went on rapidly. “She is turned out into the world through no fault of her own while her friends live in palaces. And she is such an angel that she never complains about the unfairness of it all.”

“We all have our crosses to bear,” I said. “I’ve been struggling on my own, as I know you have, and yet we’re coming through quite well.”

“So—who was this friend who died?” he asked. “Someone who lived close by?”

“Her name was Fanny Poindexter. I believe you’ve heard Emily talk about her.”

“Indeed I have,” he said. “Formerly Fanny Bradley. She was Emily’s roommate at Vassar, wasn’t she? Married well and lived not far from here.”

“That’s right.”

He made a face. “Poor Emily, that will be cruel blow to her. Fanny was like a sister to her. A cruel blow to Fanny’s family too, I shouldn’t wonder.”

I nodded. “I gather she was an only child. Her parents are taking it very hard.”

“Yes, I expect they would.” He glanced back nervously at the inner sanctum again, to see if Mr. McPherson was about to reprimand him for gossiping. “So it was the influenza she died of?”

“So it appears.”

He nodded. “I knew she wasn’t well because Mr. McPherson had me make her up some of the stomach mixture she liked last week, but there was no hint that it was so serious. Dear me, that is a shock, isn’t it?”

“Of course we don’t know yet whether it was influenza or something more serious,” I went on.

“What do you mean? A doctor was called, wasn’t he?”

“Oh yes, and he signed a death certificate, but no autopsy has been—”

“Autopsy? Why should there be an autopsy?”

I realized I had let my mouth run away with me again. “No reason at all,” I said quickly. “It’s just that you don’t expect healthy young people to die of influenza, do you?”

“This year they are seeming to,” he said. “If I had more resources, I’d like to be working on a cure, instead of wasting time here making up stomach mixtures and tonics for ladies who don’t need them.”

“Do you think someone will discover a cure for diseases like influenza one day?”

He nodded. “One day they’re bound to. Now that we’re in the scientific age.”

A cough from the back room made Ned jerk to attention. “I’d better get back to work,” he muttered. “Let’s hope Emily hasn’t come down with the same influenza. Tell her I’ll try and visit her tonight after work, will you?”

“I will indeed. Thank you, Ned.”

“My pleasure, miss.”

As I left the shop a thought crossed my mind. I wondered if Ned might have the knowledge and equipment to test substances for traces of arsenic or other poisons.

I knocked on Emily’s door and waited what seemed like an eternity. My heart started to beat faster. Had our visit yesterday made Anson Poindexter suspicious? Was there any chance that Mademoiselle Fifi and her maid had seen me and described me? A redheaded Irish woman does rather stand out in a crowd.

“Emily?” I called through the keyhole at last. “It’s me. Molly. Are you all right?”

At last I heard slow footsteps and the bolt slid back from the door. Emily stood there, blinking in the light, a blanket around her shoulders. She looked terrible.

“Emily, what is it?” I asked nervously. “Are you very ill?”

She frowned and put a hand up to rub her forehead. “Just one of my sick headaches, I’m afraid. I’ve always been prone to them when I’m badly upset, and seeing Fanny yesterday was just too hard to bear.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked. “Can I bring you something from your chemist’s shop?”

She shook her head with a tired smile. “There’s nothing that works for it apart from resting in a darkened room until it passes, I’m afraid.”

“I went to McPherson’s to see you and I can’t tell you how worried I was when I heard that you were ill. Ned’s worried about you too. He sends his best and says he’ll try to visit you this evening after work.”

“He’s such a sweet boy.” She managed a smile. “What did you want to see me about?”

“Nothing too important. Just to tell you that Daniel has agreed to speak with the doctor.”

“That’s good.”

“And I am going to see if I can talk to Fanny’s maid. I came to see whether you wanted to come with me, but obviously not today. Should I postpone it until you’re well, do you think?”

“No, please go, by all means,” Emily said. “I wouldn’t know what to do there anyway and I really don’t think I could handle seeing Fanny again.”

“I understand,” I said. “Should I make you a cup of tea or coffee before I go?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, thank you. I can’t keep anything down at this stage, so it’s a waste. Sleep is the only thing.”

“Then I’ll leave you to sleep,” I said. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Not at all. Thank you for coming.” She made her way back to bed while I went to the Dakota.

Fanny’s maid looked surprised to see me.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” I said, “but I rather fear I dropped my glove while I was here with Miss Boswell yesterday, paying our last respects to your mistress. Have you found a glove, by any chance?” I held up the black leather glove I had brought with me for the purpose.

“Oh no, miss.” She let me in and closed the door behind me. “But I don’t think anybody’s been in to the mistress’s room since you were here.”

“Are you home alone?” I asked hopefully.

“No, miss. The master is off making funeral arrangements with Mr. Bradley, but Mrs Bradley is still here.”

“No need to disturb her,” I said. “If you could just come into Mrs. Poindexter’s room with me and help me look for my glove.”

“Go into the mistress’s room?” She looked quite alarmed.

“Is her body still here?”

“Yes, miss. The gentlemen should be coming back with the undertaker any moment to have her removed.”

“I can see that it must be very distressing for you. I can do it alone. No matter,” I said. “What is your name?”

“Martha, miss, and yes, I’m finding it awful hard to realize that she’s gone.”

“Well, Martha, I’m sure it’s a consolation to you that you did everything you could to ease her suffering.”

“I did, miss. I really did. I’d have sat with her night and day but her mother wanted to be with her toward the end.”

“Martha, I wondered,” I began. “Maybe you could tell me, did she eat anything during the last day or so that might have made her sicker?”

She frowned at this. “I don’t think so.”

“Did you bring her her food?”

“Not for the last few days, miss. Like I said, her mother took over everything toward the end—fed her like a baby, she did. Not that she was eating much. She couldn’t keep anything down, you see. But her mother had cook make her a good oxtail broth, and some barley water and calves’ foot jelly, and she fed her a little of those. Not that they did any good—” she pressed her hand to her mouth. “She just slipped away from us, miss. No matter what we did, she just got worse and worse and slipped away.”

“And no medications helped at all?”

She shook her head. “The doctor said it was no good prescribing anything while she couldn’t keep it down. Just sponge baths for the fever and liquids. That’s what he said.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know her that well, but she was a sweet and lovely woman.”

“That she was, miss.”

“So Mr. Poindexter was away when she died, then?”

“No, miss. He came back just before the end. Awful cut up about it, he was. ‘Why didn’t somebody tell me how bad she was? Why didn’t you send someone to find me?’ he shouted. ‘I’d never have taken that stupid trip if I’d known.’”

I moved toward the bedroom door. “In here, wasn’t it?”

She nodded.

“I’ll only be a moment,” I said. “I must have dropped my glove when I went to open the drapes to take a last look at her.”

Martha opened the door and we stepped into the gloom. The odor of death was now more pronounced. I couldn’t exactly describe it, but once you’ve smelled it, you recognize it forever more. The sweet, sickly scent of decay, to put it bluntly, I suppose. I saw Martha visibly recoil.

“It’s all right. You really don’t have to be here with me,” I said. “If you could just show me where to turn on the electric light.”

She did, and harsh yellow light flooded the room.

“I’ll only be a minute,” I said. “I’ll turn the light off again when I’m done.”

I moved quickly, pretending to search around the floor, not sure whether she was watching me or not. When I couldn’t see her I darted into the dressing room and quickly dipped a piece of cotton wool I had brought with me into the stomach mixture. I was just about to drop it into the greaseproof pouch I had made for it when a booming voice demanded.

“What is going on in here?” Mrs. Bradley appeared in the doorway.

“Miss Murphy?” she demanded, her eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bradley. I came back because I thought I had dropped my glove when we came to pay our last respects to Fanny yesterday.” I spoke slowly, trying desperately to come up with a good reason for being in her dressing room. “And Emily felt faint yesterday so I went into the bathroom to wet my handkerchief for her.”