Murder on Sisters' Row (3 page)

“One of the girls,” Mrs. Walker said quickly. “They have some guests this evening.”

How odd that they’d be entertaining in a place like this. But perhaps family members came to visit the girls. Sarah imagined they would get lonely, being confined here for months.

Beulah arrived and helped Sarah change the sheets again.

“How are things going?” Sarah heard Mrs. Walker ask the cook while she was helping Amy get settled again.

“Just fine. The girls is taking care of everything.”

“If there’s any trouble, come get me.”

“Won’t be no trouble. I’ll see to that. You want some supper now?”

Mrs. Walker said they did, and a few minutes later, Beulah brought up some roast beef with rich gravy, potatoes baked in their skins, apple dumplings, and coffee. The roast beef was remarkably tender. Her neighbor Mrs. Ellsworth would want to speak to the cook about how she’d managed it.

Sarah encouraged Amy to eat, but she said the smell was making her sick, and she didn’t even try.

The piano stopped for a while, then started again. The hours slipped by. Amy walked for a while, then rested and walked some more. Sarah thought she heard voices in the hall, a man and woman laughing, but the sound was probably coming up from downstairs. Sarah thought it odd that the young ladies were permitted to have visitors so late, but Mrs. Walker didn’t seem concerned.

Amy paused and grabbed hold of one of the bedposts as a contraction seized her, and Sarah glanced over at Mrs. Walker. The older woman had finally nodded off. Her chin rested on her chest, and she was snoring softly.

As Amy straightened, Sarah nodded at where Mrs. Walker was dozing in the chair. To Sarah’s surprise, Amy grabbed her arm.

“You have to get me out of here,” she whispered urgently.

“You can’t go anywhere right now,” Sarah said in surprise. “You’re going to have a baby any time.”

“No, no, not now!” she said, her fingers digging painfully into Sarah’s arm and her blue eyes filled with anguish. “After the baby’s born. I have to get out of here! You have to help me.”

Sarah couldn’t understand her distress. “But won’t they let you go home after the baby is born?”

Amy’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, they’ll never let me leave here, not ever. They’ll kill me if I try!”

“What?”
This made no sense. Why would they kill her?

Amy’s anxious gaze kept darting to Mrs. Walker, checking to make sure she was still asleep. “They’re going to take the baby away and then—” Her words twisted into a cry as an especially strong contraction claimed her, and she doubled over with the pain.

The cry woke Mrs. Walker, who snorted in surprise and jumped to her feet. “What is it?”

“Something’s wrong!” Amy said, her eyes wild with fear.

“Do you feel like you need to bear down?” Sarah asked.

“Yes, yes, that’s it! What’s happening?”

Sarah smiled. “Your baby is coming, that’s what’s happening. It’s time to start pushing. Come on, I’ll show you just what to do.”

Sarah got Amy back into the bed and gave her the necessary instructions. Sarah had fashioned fabric loops attached to the headboard that the girl could hold on to as she bore down. In a few minutes she was laboring in earnest, falling back against the pillows propped against the headboard and gasping between contractions.

“It won’t be long now,” Sarah said, and lifted Amy’s nightdress to check on her progress. “Look, Mrs. Walker, you can see the top of the baby’s head.”

The unflappable Mrs. Walker looked, and all the color drained from her face. Sarah hurried to grab her in case she fainted, but she turned away, both hands clamped over her mouth.

“Are you all right?” Sarah asked.

“Yes, I . . . I just . . . I’ll go and get Beulah. She can help you.” She hurried to the door and in another second she was gone.

“Close the door, quick, before Beulah comes,” Amy whispered. “I have to tell you what to do!”

Sarah hurried to close the door, and Amy was already instructing her before she started back to the bed.

“You have to help me get away from this place. You have to contact Mrs. Van Orner.”

The name was familiar, but Sarah couldn’t place it. “Is she a relative?”

“No, no!” Amy said desperately. Then a contraction started, and she couldn’t talk.

Sarah supported her through it, and as soon as she could speak again, she said, “Mrs. Van Orner helps girls like me. Tell her I want to be rescued. She’ll know what to do.”

“If you want to leave here, I’ll help you,” Sarah said. “As soon as the baby is born, I can take you to my house for a few days and—”

“No, no! You can’t help me. They’d never let you take me. They’d kill you!”

“Who’d kill me?” Sarah asked in confusion, wondering if Amy had lost her senses.

“Jake will. Mrs. Walker will tell him to. They never let any of us leave, and I hate it here! I hate what I have to do, and after they take the baby, they’re going to make me do the most disgusting things!”

“Amy, what are you talking about? What kinds of things do they make you do?”

“With the men,” she gasped, going into another contraction. “With the customers!”

Customers?
Sarah’s head was spinning. Suddenly, all the little things that hadn’t made sense before came together. The piano music. The company that stayed very late. The man’s voice. The large, fancy house full of young women. The hostess wasn’t a hostess at all. She was a
madam
!

“Is this a brothel?” Sarah asked, feeling incredibly stupid.

“Of course!” Amy panted, falling back against the headboard again. “What did you think?”

“I thought it was a refuge for unwed mothers.”

Amy gave a bark of bitter laughter.

The door opened. Beulah came in and looked around. “Miz Walker said you was about to pop that baby out.”

“Yes, she is,” Sarah said, managing to regain her composure.

“What do you need me to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Sarah said quickly, wondering if she’d be as weak stomached as Mrs. Walker. “And don’t watch if you don’t want to.”

“Ain’t nothing I ain’t seen before,” she said, stepping to the foot of the bed as Sarah checked Amy’s progress again. “Oh, look there. You’ll have that baby out in a couple more tries.”

“Really?” Amy asked desperately.

“Yes, really,” Sarah said. “Push really hard this next time.”

Amy did, and just as Beulah had predicted, she pushed out her son just a few minutes later.

Sarah held him upside down by his ankles and cleared his mouth with her finger. She didn’t even need to slap him. He started screaming bloody murder all on his own. “Listen to that, Amy,” she said. “A healthy boy!” Sarah turned him upright and held him out for his mother to see.

Amy stared at him from where she lay against the headboard. Her hair was matted with sweat, and her face was red from exertion, but her eyes glowed with some inner fire. Not the pride or the joy Sarah usually saw from new mothers, but something primal and raw, something almost angry.

“Cut that cord so I can take care of the baby,” Beulah said.

Sarah looked up in alarm. “You’re not going to take him away, are you?”

“Lord, no, whatever give you an idea like that?” she asked in genuine surprise. “I just wanna get him cleaned up for his mama.”

Sarah turned to Amy, who nodded almost imperceptively. Sarah took care of the cord and placed him in the blanket Beulah held out. The cook took him over and laid him on the chaise, where she started to clean him up. Meanwhile, Sarah helped Amy deliver the afterbirth and got her cleaned up and comfortable again.

“Here now,” Beulah said, bringing the swaddled infant back over to the bed. “You wanna put him to the breast right away. We wanna get your milk started real good.”

Amy’s face looked as if it had been carved in stone. She took the baby, but she didn’t look at him. She was glaring at Beulah.

“Don’t look at me like that, girl,” the cook said. “Ain’t my fault you got yourself in trouble. Now you gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Why don’t you go tell Mrs. Walker that the baby is born?” Sarah suggested, wanting a few more minutes with Amy. “I’m sure she’ll want to see for herself.”

Beulah sniffed, aware that Sarah was trying to get rid of her, but she left, closing the door behind her.

Sarah turned back to Amy, who still wasn’t looking at her baby.

“Do you know how to find Mrs. Van Orner?” the girl asked. “Mrs. Gregory Van Orner. She helps prostitutes get out of the life. The girls all talk about her.”

“I told you, I can help you.”

“No, you can’t. It’s too dangerous. Mrs. Van Orner has people who help her, though. She knows how to do it. Can you find her?”

“Yes, I think I can.” Sarah had heard about the women who did that kind of work. “But what about the baby? You said they were going to take him away.”

“They’ll let me keep it for a few days. They want my milk to come in. Some of the customers like that,” she said, her lip curling in distaste.

Sarah felt nauseated, but she swallowed it down. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you get out of here.”

2

W
HEN THE DOOR OPENED AGAIN, MRS. WALKER STEPPED into the room. She’d recovered somewhat from her earlier unease. She glanced at Amy, who, after instruction from Sarah, had started nursing her baby. Then she looked at Sarah, who made no effort to hide her anger.

“I see you finally figured it out,” Mrs. Walker said.

“I don’t appreciate being tricked.”

“I needed a midwife, and you wouldn’t have come to a whorehouse,” Mrs. Walker said with a shrug.

“I’ve never refused to help any woman.”

Mrs. Walker didn’t seem to care if that was true or not. “I guess you want to leave now.”

“I’ll stay until I’m sure Amy is all right. And I’ll need to come back again to check on her in a day or so.”

“If you’re willing to come, you’re welcome. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“You’re very kind,” Sarah said sarcastically.

“No, I’m not,” Mrs. Walker said. “I’m practical. Amy is very valuable to me. I take good care of all my girls.” She gave Amy a meaningful look. “Even when they lie to me.”

Amy simply glared back at her.

“Ring for Beulah when you’re ready to leave,” Mrs. Walker told Sarah. “She’ll pay you and have Jake bring the carriage around to take you home.”

When Mrs. Walker was gone, Sarah realized she hadn’t bothered to even notice the baby. Obviously, he meant nothing to her.

“Amy, they can’t keep you here against your will,” Sarah said. “You have the right to leave.”

Amy looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Of course they can keep me here. You should see what they do to girls who try to leave on their own. You can’t get far, not alone with no money, and they never let us have any of the money we earn. So they always catch you and bring you back. They only have to beat up one girl and let the others see it. Then nobody ever tries to get away again.”

Sarah swallowed down her outrage. She needed to be practical, like Mrs. Walker. “Do you have any idea how long they’ll let you keep your baby?”

“No. I heard Mrs. Walker telling Beulah the other day to watch for when my milk came in. I don’t know how long that takes, though.”

“A few days, maybe a week. Do you know where they’ll take the baby?”

“No, I don’t know anything. And if they take it before Mrs. Van Orner can get me out of here, how will I find it again?” She looked down in dismay at the baby nursing hungrily at her breast. So far, Sarah hadn’t seen her show any tenderness toward the boy, so Sarah was glad to see her showing some concern at last.

“I could offer to take him,” Sarah realized. “I know a place where he’d be safe. It’s a mission, a refuge for young girls. They’d take good care of him.”

“A mission? They’re church people then?”

“Yes, they’re Christians. They think it’s their duty to take care of the poor.”

Amy didn’t like it, but she really had few options. “Do you think they’ll keep him until I come for him?”

“I’ll make sure they do. Now tell me everything you know about this Mrs. Van Orner. You said all the girls know about her?”

“Yes, they talk about her. She has a group of friends, and they go into a house like this and rescue the girls who want to leave. The trouble is, nobody knows how to get a message to her.”

“I’ll do that for you. I’m sure I can find out how to get in touch with her.”

“I think she has an office in a building someplace with a lot of other do-gooders. That’s what I’ve heard anyway.”

“Oh, I know the building you mean. The Charity Organization Society.”

“I don’t know. I’ve only heard it called by some letters.”

“The COS, that’s what they call it for short.”

“Yes, that’s it! Oh, Mrs. Brandt, can you find it? Can you go there and tell Mrs. Van Orner about me?”

“Of course I can. I won’t leave you here, Amy. You can trust me.”

Amy sighed and closed her eyes. Her shoulders sagged, as if she’d been bearing the weight of the world and someone had suddenly lifted it for her. “You don’t know what this means to me,” she whispered, and a tear slid down her cheek.

“I think I do,” Sarah said.

 

 

“
A
RE YOU SURE THIS IS WHERE YOU WANT TO GO?” JAKE asked with a frown when he’d opened the carriage door for Sarah. They were on Mulberry Street, in one of the poorest sections of the city. Decrepit buildings loomed on both sides of the filthy street, and hordes of ragged children played disorganized games of tag and kick the can, shrieking wildly as they raced past.

“Yes, I do volunteer work at the Mission here,” Sarah said. She indicated the Old Dutch Colonial house with the newly painted sign that said, DAUGHTERS OF HOPE. The women whom Sarah had recruited to take over the management of the Prodigal Son Mission had decided to change the name to something more appropriate.