Murder on Sisters' Row (16 page)

“I know,” he said grimly.

“Then why do you look the way you always look when you’re going to yell at me for doing something you didn’t want me to do?”

“I never yell at you,” he protested.

She crossed her arms. “All right, if you aren’t here to yell at me, then why are you here?”

His expression was pained, as if he’d had a hard time at the dentist’s office, and the words sounded as if they were being pulled from him like a bad tooth. “I came because I need your help investigating Mrs. Van Orner’s murder.”

Sarah couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but she knew better than to tease him about it. He wouldn’t be here if he weren’t desperate. “You know I’d be happy to help in any way I can. Do you have time for some lunch first? We were just going to eat.”

“I’d be honored,” he said with just the slightest trace of irony.

The girls were both thrilled to have him, and Catherine told him all about the tiny cakes Mrs. Decker had brought for her tea party—she called them “patty fours”—and Malloy pretended to be mightily impressed. Sarah didn’t want to talk about the murder in front of the child, so she waited until they’d eaten and she’d changed her clothes and allowed Malloy to escort her from the house.

This was going to be a very interesting afternoon.

 

 

M
ALLOY COULDN’T BELIEVE HE WAS DOING THIS. HOW many times had he sworn he’d never let Sarah Brandt get involved in another murder investigation, and here he was, asking for her help.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they made their way down Bank Street. He always forgot how good hearing her voice made him feel, even when she was saying something that completely infuriated him.

“To the rescue house.”

“Do you know where it is?” she asked in surprise.

“I was there this morning.” He had to swallow down his frustration. “They wouldn’t let me in.”

Sarah started coughing, and he knew it was to keep from laughing out loud. “I see,” she finally managed.

“I’m sure you do. I believe you were the first person who warned me about that.”

“But not the last?”

“No, Miss Yingling did, too. She did give me the address, though.”

“I suppose you thought the power of your office would overcome their objections.” She was smirking.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” he warned her, only half joking. “I’ve had a pretty bad morning.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Tell me all about it.”

Frank sighed. “Well, I guess it started last night, when I went over to the Van Orner house.”

“I’m sure they were happy to see you.”

“Oh, yes. Van Orner was drinking himself into a stupor, but he gave me permission to investigate his wife’s death. He even offered me a
fee
.”

“Oh, dear.” She knew how sensitive he was on that subject. “But at least he wants it solved. That probably means he didn’t do it.”

“Probably. And I found out Mrs. Van Orner’s dirty little secret.”

“Dirty?” Sarah asked uneasily.

He wondered what she was imagining. “She drank.”

“She
what
?”

“She drank. Miss Yingling—that’s her secretary—”

“I know Miss Yingling.”

“Miss Yingling explained how Mrs. Van Orner didn’t like to let other people see her when she’s mad or upset, so she carried a flask around with her. When she started feeling out of sorts, she’d take a little swig or two to make herself calm again.”

He waited, but she didn’t say anything. “You don’t seem real surprised. Did you know she was a drinker?”

“No, I didn’t even suspect, but I’m afraid it’s far too common among women who have too much time and too much money to spend.”

“How can you have too much time?”

“When you have days and days to fill and nothing meaningful to do except visit with other women just like you who also don’t have anything meaningful to do except gossip about the women they know who aren’t with them at the moment.”

“I always thought it would be fun to be rich.”

“Maybe it is for men. They can get into politics or business or whatever interests them. Women have to sit at home and plan parties and knit socks for the poor. I might’ve taken up drinking myself if I hadn’t managed to escape.”

“So that’s why Mrs. Van Orner started rescuing whores.”

He’d expected to get a rise out of her with that, but she just looked unhappy.

“What is it now?” he asked.

“Mrs. Van Orner may have had another reason for her charity work.”

Frank remembered she said she’d been gossiping with Mrs. Decker. “What did your mother tell you?”

“She didn’t know Mrs. Van Orner drank, but she did say that their friends always claimed Mrs. Van Orner tried to rescue prostitutes because her husband was so fond of them.”

Frank overcame the strong urge to swear.

“I suppose this means you’re sure Mrs. Van Orner was murdered,” she said after a moment.

“Yes. The medical examiner said she was poisoned, and they found laudanum in her flask.”

“Laudanum? Oh, dear.”

“What is it?”

“It’s probably nothing, but when Amy arrived at the rescue house, she was nearly hysterical, and Mrs. Van Orner suggested giving her laudanum to calm her down, so they must keep some on hand.”

“That’s pretty common.” Almost every home in New York would have a bottle of laudanum handy to treat everything from headaches to tuberculosis.

“Laudanum is awfully bitter,” she said suddenly. “Why didn’t Mrs. Van Orner notice the taste?”

“Probably because it was mixed in with her favorite drink, crème de menthe. It’s a liqueur,” he added when she gave him a puzzled look.

“I know what it is. It just seems like an odd choice for secret drinking.”

“According to the medical examiner, it’s popular with ladies because it tastes so good, unlike whiskey and its near relatives.”

“I just remembered, she always carried peppermints with her. That would account for the minty smell of it on her breath, too.”

“And the strong flavor would’ve covered up the bitterness of the laudanum. Doc Haynes said it only takes two or three spoonfuls of the stuff to kill you.”

“It’s very dangerous. Suicides often use it because it’s cheap and easy to find and works so quickly and painlessly. Could Mrs. Van Orner have committed suicide?”

“I guess it’s possible,” Frank said, “but I don’t have any reason to think so yet. I have to find out what happened at the rescue house that day.”

“Which is why you need me to go with you.” He could tell she was trying not to gloat, but he guessed she couldn’t help it.

Frank swallowed down his frustration again. “Tell me what you know about the women in this house.”

“I don’t know much. I told you about Amy. She’s the girl whose baby I delivered. An Italian girl named Lisa manages the place. I didn’t meet anyone else who lives there.”

“What about a Mrs. Spratt-Williams?”

“She’s one of Mrs. Van Orner’s followers, I guess you could say. She helps with the rescues. Was she at the house yesterday?”

“Yes, and according to Miss Yingling, she met with Mrs. Van Orner right before she left.”

“She’s a friend of hers, I believe. My mother didn’t know her, but she’s a respectable matron, just like Mrs. Van Orner.”

“Whose husband also likes prostitutes?” Frank guessed.

“You’ll have to ask
her
about that,” Sarah replied with a knowing smile.

“What do you know about Miss Yingling?”

“Nothing except that she was Mrs. Van Orner’s secretary. She worked in her offices at the United Charities Building.”

“And she lives with the Van Orners.”

“She does? How odd.”

“I thought so, too, but I wasn’t sure how close rich women like to keep their secretaries.”

“They don’t usually have secretaries, so I can’t really say.”

They interrupted their conversation to cross a particularly busy street, an act that required complete concentration to keep from being crushed to death by a horse or wagon. When they had arrived safely on the other side, Frank asked, “I guess this girl Amy was pretty grateful to Mrs. Van Orner for getting her out of Mrs. Walker’s house.”

“Yes,” she agreed with an odd tone in her voice. “I thought so, too, until she named her baby after Mrs. Van Orner’s husband.”

8

F
RANK WHISTLED. “I DON’T SUPPOSE SHE WAS JUST SHOWING her respect for Mrs. Van Orner.”

“Not that I noticed. In fact, I got the feeling she knew exactly how much she was hurting Mrs. Van Orner when she announced it.”

“Could Van Orner really be the baby’s father?”

“Only two people know that for sure, and I doubt Mr. Van Orner will be very happy to discuss the matter with us.”

“I think you’re probably right. If he is the father, though, then this Amy had a good reason to want Mrs. Van Orner dead.”

“That’s what my mother said, too, but Amy would be foolish to do something so dangerous. She was a prostitute. She surely can’t expect Mr. Van Orner to marry her, even if the baby
is
his.”

“She’s young, isn’t she? Young women get foolish ideas.”

“I suppose they do. Is that what you want me to find out?”

“I want you to find out who spent time with Mrs. Van Orner yesterday, what they talked about, and what her state of mind was. I also want you to find out where her purse with the flask in it was while she was meeting with these people.”

“To find out if someone could have put the laudanum into it while she was busy doing something else.”

“Yes, but don’t ask anybody if they did it.”

The look she gave him would’ve curdled milk. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I know you’re not, but one of those women is a murderer, and I don’t want you to be next.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t even like crème de menthe.”

“They could put it in anything,” he said, exasperated.

“I won’t eat or drink anything in that house. Will that make you happy?”

“I wouldn’t say
happy
, but it’s a start.”

“Is there anything else you want me to find out?”

“If you think I should talk to any of them myself, see if you can get them to come out and meet with me.”

“I doubt any of them will be particularly interested in meeting with a police detective.”

“Then lie to them.”

She pursed her lips to hold back a smile, an expression he knew well. “Where will you be?”

“A coffee shop on the next block. We’ll pass by it on our way, so you’ll know where it is. I’ll wait for you there.”

“I just happened to think, I doubt Mrs. Spratt-Williams will be at the house today. Maybe you can see her at her own house.”

If this Spratt-Williams woman was as rich as Van Orner, he doubted she’d be particularly happy to see him. “Maybe.”

They crossed another busy street, and Frank went over some of the questions he wanted her to ask of the women in the house. Then he showed her the coffee shop where he’d be waiting, and accompanied her to her destination, standing out on the sidewalk to make sure they let her in. Then he walked back to the coffee shop, prepared for a long, boring afternoon.

 

 

L
ISA BIAFORE ANSWERED SARAH’S KNOCK. THE POOR girl looked frazzled, her dark hair straggling down out of its bun, her eyes red-rimmed and sad. “Oh, Mrs. Brandt, isn’t it? I almost didn’t recognize you. Have you heard about poor Mrs. Van Orner . . .” Her voice broke, and she pressed a hand to her lips to hold back a sob.

“Yes, I did,” Sarah said, taking this opportunity to step inside. “I’m so sorry. I came to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

“I don’t know of anything,” Lisa said, using the tail of her apron to wipe her eyes. “Unless you can tell us what’s going to happen to Mrs. Van Orner’s work now that she’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“This house and all of us. Will they shut it down? Where will we go? Nobody’s told us anything, and there’s not enough money here to keep us for more than a week. After that . . .”

Her concerns were legitimate, and Sarah couldn’t imagine Mr. Van Orner continuing to finance a houseful of former prostitutes. “Have you seen Mrs. Spratt-Williams?”

“No, not yet. Just Miss Yingling. She came by late last night to tell us about Mrs. Van Orner. She looked so different, I hardly recognized her. Acted different, too, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She didn’t seem sad at all about poor Mrs. Van Orner either.”

“I’m sure she was just trying to put on a brave front,” Sarah said. “Mrs. Van Orner wouldn’t have approved of any displays of grief.”

“You’re right about that, Mrs. Brandt. I never saw her even look angry until yesterday and then just for a minute, before she caught herself.”

“When was that?” Sarah asked, trying not to sound too interested.

“After she had a talk with that Amy. What a piece of work she is. I don’t know why Mrs. Van Orner didn’t throw her out into the street.”

“I can see this has been very hard on you, Lisa. Can I make you some tea?”

“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I couldn’t let you do that!”

“Of course you could. That’s what friends are for. Come along and let me take care of you.”

The girl allowed Sarah to escort her back to the kitchen, but she insisted on helping prepare the tea things, since Sarah didn’t know where anything was. After a few minutes, they were seated at the kitchen table, waiting for the tea to steep.

“Can you tell me what happened here yesterday?”

“You mean about the fight Amy had with Mrs. Van Orner?”

“I mean everything, from the time Mrs. Van Orner arrived until she left.”

“I suppose,” the girl said doubtfully.

“I’ll help you remember,” Sarah said. “What was the first thing Mrs. Van Orner did when she arrived?”