Murder in Murray Hill (Gaslight Mystery) (6 page)

“They’ll never forgive you, you know,” Broghan said when they were alone.

“I know. I’ll probably never forgive me either.”

That made Broghan’s smile even wider. “Still, they say a million dollars makes up for a lot of unhappiness.”

“Do they? I’ll let you know if it’s true. Now, about this girl . . .”

When he’d finished telling everything, Broghan shook his head. “You know we’re not going to find her, don’t you? Girls like that, they never go back home. End up in a bawdy house, too ashamed to face their families.”

Frank didn’t want to argue. “Like I said, I’ve got a girl who’ll meet this Pendergast character. I’ll let you know when he answers her letter.”

But Broghan shook his head again. “She won’t want to be found. You mark my words.”

Frank was tired of marking people’s words. “I’ll let you know.”

He started the long walk out, his footsteps unusually loud in the hallway. Of course, every other time he’d walked down this hall, all the other people there and in the adjoining offices had been busy working and talking and moving around. Today, they were just there, waiting and watching, as he made his way out of the building where he’d worked for so many years. He made a point of looking each one of them in the face, and they had the good grace to look away. Envy wasn’t a very honorable emotion, but they’d turn the anger they felt at themselves on him, so he didn’t bother to speak to anyone. Men he’d known for over a decade turned away. Even the shackled felons in the lobby downstairs were silent as he passed.

Tom opened the door for him and gave him a little salute as he stepped outside. “We’ll miss you, Mr. Malloy.”

“Thank you, Tom. I expect I’ll miss you, too.”

“Think about us now and then, won’t you?”

Frank smiled at that. “Oh, I’ll think about you more often than that.”

His heart thudded in his chest as he walked down Mulberry Street, not daring to look back. He needed to see Sarah. He’d have to make one stop along the way, but then he’d see her. She wouldn’t understand, not really, but she’d listen.

• • •

T
he girls had just taken the cakes out of the oven when someone rang Sarah’s doorbell. Catherine’s little face crumpled in disappointment.

“Maybe it’s not a baby,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.

“If it is, we’ll save you some, Mrs. Brandt,” Maeve called after her as she went to answer the door.

Sarah swallowed her disappointment. She couldn’t help thinking that when she and Malloy were married, she’d never have to drop everything to go deliver a baby. The knowledge should have thrilled her, but how many times had she been grateful her life had a real purpose? Her parents might be glad she was going to return to the kind of life she’d known growing up, a life where women were cosseted and safe, but she also knew most women in that world were bored and unhappy, too.

She was so lost in thought that at first she didn’t realize she recognized the shadowy figure visible through the glass. “Malloy,” she said when she’d thrown open the door. But her smile froze when she saw the expression on his face. “What’s happened?”

“I got fired.”

“From the police? Whatever for?”

“They found out about the money.”

Before Sarah could even register this amazing statement, Catherine exploded out of the kitchen and raced into Malloy’s arms. Maeve and Mrs. Ellsworth quickly followed. The next few minutes passed in greetings and in reporting to Malloy how they were making strawberry shortcake and would he like to have some? He readily agreed, only to be told by a solemn Catherine that the cakes were still too hot, so they’d have to wait awhile.

“That’s all right,” he said. “I need to talk to Mrs. Brandt about something, so by the time we’re done, the cakes should be cooled down enough. Mrs. Brandt, maybe you’d like to go for a walk with me.”

“I, uh . . .” Sarah considered the possibility of having a private conversation here with Mrs. Ellsworth and the girls lurking nearby, and said, “Let me get my hat.”

A few minutes later, after Sarah had changed into something more appropriate for the street, she and Malloy set out down Bank Street, heading toward Washington Square.

“How did they find out?” Sarah asked as soon as they were safely away from the house.

“A newspaper reporter went to Headquarters asking questions about me. O’Brien didn’t give me any details, just that the fellow works for the
Sun
. I’m guessing it’ll be in the paper soon.”

“I suppose it is an interesting story.”

“For people who don’t have anything important to think about, I guess.”

“And they just fired you for that?”

“You should have been there. Every cop in the place was staring at me like I was a sideshow freak at the circus.”

“I’m so sorry.” She tried to think of something more to say, but words couldn’t take away the hurt he must have been feeling at being so unceremoniously booted out of a job he’d done all his adult life. He looked so beaten, she wanted to put her arms around him, but that would be highly improper on a public street. She settled for touching his arm. He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow as they continued down the street. “Are you going to be all right? I know you haven’t gotten the inheritance yet, and—”

“I went to see the attorney today. He said they’re still selling off the various businesses, but he put some money into an account for me to use in the meantime.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah. He said he hoped it would be enough to last a month or so until everything is settled.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “It’s ten thousand dollars.”

Sarah smiled at his consternation, somehow managing not to laugh out loud. Ten thousand dollars was more than two years’ salary as a police detective. “Oh my.”

“I thought I’d buy you an engagement ring.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Only rich people bothered with engagement rings.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Well, if you insist, that would be very nice,” she allowed. She was going to have to get used to being rich again.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” he said when they had crossed MacDougal Street and reached the edge of Washington Square.

“It means everything will change,” she said, trying to imagine things she hadn’t even thought of yet.

“It means I have to tell my mother.”

“I suppose you do, because if she finds out from the newspapers . . .”

“My life won’t be worth living. So I have to tell her today.”

“Yes, we do.”

Frank frowned. “Are you sure you want to be there? My mother is bad enough when she’s happy, and I don’t think this news is going to make her very happy.”

“I’m sure. She’ll be worried about what our marriage will mean to her and Brian, and I want to be there to answer her questions.”

He frowned. “What
will
it mean to her and Brian?”

They’d reached a bench, and Sarah stopped. “That’s what we need to sit down here and discuss.”

A remarkably short time later, Frank and Sarah got up and started walking back to her house, having made some of the most important decisions of their lives.

• • •

F
rank enjoyed the strawberry shortcake, but he enjoyed eating it with Sarah, Maeve, and Catherine even more. By the time they’d gotten back to Sarah’s house, Mrs. Ellsworth had discreetly taken her leave, which Frank found remarkable. She must have been dying to know what he and Sarah had discussed, and yet she’d decided to wait until she could wheedle it out of Sarah tomorrow. That showed remarkable restraint, Frank thought, for a woman whose life revolved around knowing everything about her neighbors.

After a simple supper of cold ham and biscuits, Frank and Sarah made their way over to Frank’s flat on the other side of town. He hadn’t let himself think about what his mother was going to say to his news. She might be pleased or horrified or something else entirely. Of only one thing was he certain: She was not going to like the way her life was going to change.

As he followed Sarah up the stairs to his second-floor flat in the tenement where he lived, he heard the door open. Brian would have sensed his arrival, as he usually did. Even though the boy was profoundly deaf and couldn’t possibly hear him coming, he always knew when Frank was near.

“Francis?” his mother called.

“It’s me, Ma.”

She must’ve given Brian a sign it was all right to go, because he started running to the stairway. He skidded to a stop when he saw Sarah, though, and his small face lit with joy at the surprise of seeing her. He threw his arms around her as she reached the landing, and she hugged him back. His joy bubbled out of him in incoherent sounds he didn’t even know he was making. After a few moments he released her, and his small hands started making the signs he’d learned at the school to which Frank had sacrificed to send him.

“Who’s that with you?” his mother called.

“Mrs. Brandt,” he said, knowing his mother wouldn’t like that one bit.

“Good evening, Mrs. Malloy,” she said, giving his mother her best smile as they approached. Rich women learned early how to smile at people who hated them, and Frank was glad Sarah had that training. She’d never needed it more.

“If you’ve come for supper, I don’t know what I can give you,” his mother said, her hands clutching each other as if she had to stop them from going for Sarah’s throat. But maybe that was just his imagination.

“Thank you, but we’ve eaten,” Sarah said, ruffling Brian’s hair affectionately. He gazed up at her adoringly, which couldn’t have made Frank’s mother any happier.

“We need to talk to you, Ma, about something important,” Frank said. He reached down and lifted Brian up for a kiss. The boy wrapped his slender arms around Frank’s neck as if he would never let go. When Frank looked back at his mother, he saw the color had drained from her face, and the light had vanished from her eyes.

“I guess you’d better come in, then,” she said, her voice flat with despair.

He exchanged a glance with Sarah, who shrugged. Sarah had noticed, too, but there was nothing for it but to tell her. They’d known it wouldn’t be easy.

Frank and Sarah sat down together on the sofa, and Brian crawled up into Sarah’s lap. A worn shawl covered the seat to protect it from wear and dirt, because heaven knew when they might ever be able to replace it. The antimacassars lying across the back protected it from the hair oil that might rub off and stain the fabric. Frank glanced around the rest of the room, really seeing it for the first time he could remember. The furnishings were cheap and a bit worn, but his mother kept the place immaculate, even though she had her hands full with a five-year-old boy, and for the past year she’d been taking him to school every day, too. He’d never really appreciated her until this moment.

His mother perched on the rocking chair that was left over from when Brian had been a baby. She didn’t rock, though. She sat forward, as if preparing to make a quick escape if necessary, her hands clutching the arms like claws.

“Well, what is it?” she demanded when no one spoke. She sounded almost desperate, and Frank felt the sting of guilt for putting her through this.

“I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want you to worry until we had everything settled.”

Her troubled glance darted to Sarah and back to him. “So it’s settled now, is it?”

“Ma, you remember when Mrs. Brandt’s daughter, Catherine . . . Well, when her father tried to claim her.”

“Of course I remember. Do you think I’m touched in the head?”

He was making a botch of this already, but they’d agreed he would tell her this part, so he soldiered on. “Catherine’s father was a very wealthy man, and he wanted to make sure she was well taken care of after he died.”

She glanced at Sarah again, this time with disdain. “So he left the girl well fixed, did he?”

“Not exactly. He didn’t want anyone to take advantage of her, so he left the money to someone else, somebody he named as her guardian.”

She stiffened. “Better still. Now I guess you’re rich, Mrs. Brandt, and you can take care of a family of your own.”

Sarah gave her a sweet smile, acting as if she didn’t notice the sarcasm behind the words. “He didn’t leave the money to me, Mrs. Malloy. I don’t think he trusted a mere female to handle it.”

“He left it to me, Ma.”

She blinked several times before she said, “To you?”

“Yes. He named me Catherine’s guardian, and he left me enough money to take care of her.”

“He had a lot of respect for Mr. Malloy,” Sarah added. “He thought he could trust Mr. Malloy to do what was best for his daughter.”

Mrs. Malloy nodded slowly, her expression bleak, her jaw clenched as if bracing for a blow. “I guess what’s best for her is for you two to get married, isn’t it?”

This was Sarah’s part, so Frank sat back with a sigh and gratefully let her do it. “Mr. Malloy has done me the honor of asking me to be his wife, and I have accepted. We’re looking forward to making a home for Catherine and for Brian.”

His mother closed her eyes for a moment as a shudder ran through her, but Sarah continued before she could reply.

“We’re very concerned about Brian, because you’ve taken care of him since he was born. His life will change when we get married, but we don’t want to upset him anymore than necessary, so we are hoping that you will come to live with us, too.”

Frank didn’t know what he expected, but he hadn’t expected his mother to sit there like a stone, staring at Sarah as if she’d suddenly sprouted horns. After a very long, awkward silence, she said, “Live with you?” Her voice was so faint, he could hardly make out the words.

Sarah, of course, pretended not to notice anything untoward. How on earth did she manage it? “Well, not at my house, of course. Neither one of us has a place big enough for our new family. There’s the three of you and the three of us, and we’d want you to have your own rooms so you could have your privacy when you needed it. And Maeve—that’s Catherine’s nursemaid—will need her own room, and the children could share a room now, but they’ll each need their own eventually, so as you can see, we’ll need to find a much bigger house.”