Murder on Gramercy Park (40 page)

“Well, he’s guilty of that, and he most likely killed Calvin, damn his soul, but he didn’t kill Blackwell.”

“Why would he have killed the others if he didn’t kill Blackwell? Did he try to deny it?”

“Oh, no, he confessed to that, too, but he’s not the killer.” He explained to her about Potter’s failure to explain Blackwell’s murder accurately.

“Maybe he just forgot he did those things,” she tried.

“Would you forget if you’d gone to the trouble to make someone’s death look like a suicide and the police didn’t believe it?”

She supposed he was right. “Then who ... ?” She glanced at Dudley suspiciously. “Do you think ... ?”

“I think Letitia Blackwell did it,” he said.

She was surprised, but only for a moment. Then everything fell into place. “Dudley just told me this morning that she was terrified Blackwell would find out she was using the morphine and make her quit again. You can’t imagine how terrible an ordeal it is to wean yourself off of an opiate.”

Malloy nodded. “That gives me a better motive, then. I was having a hard time trying to figure out why she would’ve been driven to blow her husband’s brains out just because he was a bigamist.”

“I don’t think she even knew that,” Sarah said. “But Dudley also said she and Blackwell had a terrible argument the day he was killed. Blackwell accused her of using morphine again, but he hadn’t been able to find any in the house. She was very careful about that, but she knew when the baby came, she wouldn’t be able to get out for weeks. She couldn’t go without the drug, so she’d have to keep a supply in the house. Blackwell was sure to find it.”

Malloy nodded. “She was desperate, and the only way to protect herself was to kill Blackwell.”

Sarah shook her head. “I still can’t imagine Letitia doing something so ... so messy.”

“I guess you haven’t seen the things morphine users do when they can’t get their drugs. It turns them into animals. Besides, for who else would Potter confess to protect? He must know, or at least strongly suspect, that she was the killer. That’s why he killed Calvin, too, to protect her again.”

“And why he tried to kill Dudley, so Letitia wouldn’t marry a man he considered unworthy of her.”

“I think he just didn’t want her to marry any man who wasn’t him,” Malloy said. “He’d somehow convinced himself that she’d turn to him if Blackwell wasn’t around anymore.”

“Maybe he even intended to tell her he’d killed Calvin to protect her,” Sarah speculated. “He might have imagined she’d be so grateful to him that she’d fall into his arms. Of course, he didn’t know about Dudley’s prior claim.”

Malloy sighed wearily. He looked as if he’d gotten as little sleep last night as she had, and that was probably true. He’d been questioning Potter for most of it. “So I guess now I have to go see Letitia Blackwell.”

“What are you going to do?” Sarah asked in alarm. “You aren’t going to try to arrest her, are you?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out all the way over here this morning. I was hoping you’d have an idea.”

He looked so forlorn Sarah had an irrational urge to hug him. Fortunately, she resisted it. Poor Malloy would have probably fainted from shock at such an inappropriate gesture.

“Oh, dear,” she said, automatically tucking in her skirt as she moved to the chair and sat down. “Give me a minute to think. Obviously, you can’t arrest her. Symington would have your head. And no jury would ever convict her. The men in the jury box would probably all confess to the crime themselves just to keep her from going to jail.”

“So do we let her get away with killing her husband?” Malloy asked, frustration thick in his voice.

“Heaven forbid! I just can’t think ... What would be a punishment for her if she can’t go to prison?”

“Being ruined socially?” Malloy suggested.

She looked at him in surprise. “What made you think of that?”

“Potter. He said that’s why he killed Calvin, to protect Letitia’s reputation in society. He was afraid the bigamy scandal would ruin her. Would she really care if no one ever accepted her again?”

“I’m sure she’d be crushed, but she’d have her morphine to comfort her. She might not even remember she was being shunned.”

“What else would be a punishment, then? Taking her morphine away?”

“Her father probably wouldn’t allow it. If he thought she was suffering, he’d give her whatever she wanted. No, there must be something else. Maybe ...”

“Maybe what?”

Sarah considered. “It’s a risk, but if we can convince her father that she really killed Blackwell, he might take some sort of action to make sure she never harmed anyone else. There is her child to think of, you know.”

“You mean he might keep her locked away or something?” Malloy asked.

“I have no idea, but he’s the only hope we have. He’s arrogant and unreasonable, but if he was convinced Letitia had killed her husband, he’d do something about it. He wouldn’t want to risk her doing anything else so shocking. He must already be annoyed with her about Dudley and the baby. This could force his hand.”

“He’d probably at least keep the lovers apart.”

“Yes, and we could even suggest that. I’d hate to think of them living happily ever after with two men dead because of them.”

“It isn’t much punishment for murder,” Malloy said.

“At least people will know she did it. Some killers never even get that much punishment,” Sarah said.

“I guess I need to set up a meeting with Letitia and Symington, then.”

“You’ll need me there,” she said.

“Why?” he asked with a frown of disapproval.

Sarah gave him a pitying look while her mind raced for a credible reason. Fortunately, she didn’t have to think very long to find one. “What if Letitia decides to faint or even refuses to see you? Are you going to go barging into her bedroom and confront her? Besides, I’m a woman. I can probably keep one step ahead of her reasoning process. That’s something you’ll never be able to do.”

Apparently, this was the right answer. “Can you leave Dudley alone for a while?”

“No, we’ll have to find someone to watch him while I’m gone. And you’ve got to give me some time to go home and change. I can’t go to the Blackwell house with my skirt half falling off.”

“You need to do something to your hair, too,” he said, making Sarah blink in surprise. Since when did Malloy notice her hair? “I’ll go try to scare up Dr. Woomer. Won’t hurt him to sit with Dudley a couple hours.”

When he’d gone, Sarah realized with amazement that Malloy was willingly taking her with him to settle a murder case. Would wonders never cease?

S
ARAH HAD GONE OVER EVERY DETAIL OF THE CASE with Malloy during the cab ride over to the Blackwell house. They’d decided a hansom cab was better than walking since they could talk without shocking any passersby.

“So you think the butler will say that Letitia was the last one in the house that day,” Malloy was saying as the cab pulled up into Gramercy Park Square.

“I’m sure that’s what he told me. She made certain all the servants were out for the afternoon. She probably didn’t want her quarrel with Blackwell to be overheard.”

“And we won’t reveal that Dudley is still alive just yet. I’ll say he told me about the quarrel with Blackwell when I questioned him several days ago,” Malloy cautioned her.

“And don’t forget to mention that Dudley thought she killed Blackwell. That will shake her confidence.”

Malloy looked as if his confidence had received some shaking as he helped her out of the cab. This would be a dangerous confrontation for him, she knew. Offending a man as powerful as Maurice Symington could cost him his job, and Symington could make certain he never found another. For a moment she wondered why he had decided to take such a risk just on the chance that a killer might receive a slight punishment. And then she felt guilty. She would have done it, so why should she assume he would hold himself to a lower standard? Did she doubt his honor just because he happened to be an Irish cop? She knew better than that and felt the sting of guilt for doubting him, even momentarily.

Granger opened the door to admit them, his dignity severely taxed at having to be civil to them. “Mr. Symington and Mrs. Blackwell are waiting in the parlor,” he said. Malloy had telephoned Symington that morning and arranged for the meeting.

Symington rose to his feet when they entered the room. Letitia looked up from where she sat on the sofa. She was dressed in something frothy and blue as a cloudless sky. Perhaps she’d decided to forgo widow’s weeds since she now knew her marriage had been a sham. Or perhaps she just wanted to look lovely and vulnerable and found black did not suit her purpose this afternoon.

“This is very presumptuous of you, Malloy,” Symington was saying as Granger closed the parlor doors behind them. “I trust you are as good as your word and that you’ve finally gotten this thing settled once and for all.”

“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice, Mr. Symington,” Malloy said, not really answering the question or acknowledging the anger behind Symington’s words. “Mrs. Blackwell,” he added, nodding to her.

No one had asked them to sit, but Sarah took the chair opposite where Letitia sat in state on the sofa, her skirts spread artfully so no one could sit beside her. Malloy stood.

“Well, out with it,” Symington said. “I haven’t got all day.”

“Amos Potter has confessed to killing Calvin Brown and stabbing Peter Dudley,” Malloy said.

“Potter!” Symington echoed incredulously.

“Amos?” Letitia said. “That’s ridiculous! Mr. Potter wouldn’t hurt anyone! Besides, why should he want to harm Peter or that poor boy? He didn’t even know them!”

“He wanted to harm Peter Dudley for the oldest reason in the world—he was jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” Symington scoffed.

“Your daughter’s affections,” Malloy replied.

“What?”
Symington cried. Letitia looked only mildly surprised. She was probably well aware of Potter’s devotion.

“Mr. Potter fancied himself in love with Mrs. Blackwell,” Malloy explained. “And he did not think Peter Dudley was worthy of her. He also wanted to protect her from the scandal that would have followed her marriage to Dudley. He believed people would at least suspect an adulterous relationship between them because of the baby’s resemblance to Dudley.”

Symington glared at Letitia. “I told you that’s what would have happened,” he said to her. “You’re well rid of Dudley. He would’ve made you a laughingstock.”

The color rose in her cheeks, but she kept her chin high. Sarah had to admire her for that, at least. Letitia turned to Malloy. “You said he also killed that boy, Edmund’s son. Why would he do a thing like that?”

“Because he’d already tried to convince me that Calvin Brown killed Dr. Blackwell, so he poisoned the boy and left a suicide note confessing to the crime. He wanted to make me believe Calvin was the killer so I would close the investigation.”

“Then he must have killed Edmund, too,” Symington concluded. “Why else would he go to all the trouble to implicate the boy?”

“Because he was trying to protect someone,” Malloy said.

“Who on earth would he have been trying to protect except himself?” Symington scoffed.

“Your daughter.”

If Symington was stunned, Letitia was equally shocked.

“What was he trying to protect me from?” she asked with every appearance of innocence.

Sarah knew this was where her lighter touch was needed. Before Malloy could speak, she said, “I’m afraid that Mr. Potter believes that you killed your husband, Mrs. Blackwell.”

Symington was blustering something about that being preposterous, but Letitia was just staring at Sarah in apparent fascination. “Why would he think a thing like that?” she asked with genuine interest.

This was where they were going to have to stretch the truth a bit. Sarah managed not to look at Malloy. They couldn’t betray any sense of uncertainty.

“We know you quarreled with your husband the day he died, Mrs. Blackwell,” Malloy said. “Peter Dudley told me that you were terrified he would find out you were still using morphine.”

“Letitia,”
Symington said, outraged. “Tell him that’s a lie!”

Letitia ignored him. “My husband and I often quarreled,” she said. “If every woman who quarreled with her husband shot him in the head, there would be no married men left in the city.”

“But you were afraid that if he discovered your secret, he would force you to quit taking the morphine again,” Malloy continued. “You feared that more than anything in the world, from what Dudley said. He also said you were very upset when you met him that afternoon at the opium den.”

“Opium den?”
Symington nearly shouted. “What is this nonsense? I won’t listen to another word of these lies about my daughter!”

“They aren’t lies, Mr. Symington,” Sarah told him. “Mrs. Blackwell regularly met Dudley at an opium den uptown. She told me that herself, and the proprietor will attest to it,” she added untruthfully, hoping Letitia wouldn’t remember that Mr. Fong had already refused to vouch for their alibi and challenge her. “Letitia was forced to go there for her daily dose of morphine because Dr. Blackwell would not allow the drug in the house.”

Symington looked to Letitia, expecting a denial, but all he got was silence. After a moment he sat down abruptly in the chair he had been occupying when Sarah and Malloy had come in. Sarah could see the understanding—and accompanying apprehension—coming to his face.

“Dudley even said that when he heard Blackwell had been killed, he believed you had done it,” Sarah said to Letitia. “Because you were so upset that day when you met him at the opium den and because you were so afraid of your husband finding out about the morphine.”

“And when your butler told Mrs. Brandt that you had personally sent the servants out of the house the afternoon Dr. Blackwell was killed, we knew that you were the last one to see him alive, and the one with the best opportunity—and most pressing reason—to have killed him,” Malloy concluded.