Murder in Chelsea (19 page)

“How did she seem to you?” Olivia asked.

“What do you mean?” her mother asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. She wasn’t too happy about the match, you know.”

“Really?”

Sarah had to bite back a smile at her mother’s innocent stare.

“Oh, yes. Well, it’s not like she tried to run away or anything. That would have been foolish. The Wilbanks boy is going to inherit a fortune, and Gilda’s side of the family has to think about those things.”

Sarah knew that Olivia’s side of the family had to think about those things, too, but she merely nodded encouragingly.

“Gilda has a lovely home,” her mother said. “Well, it’s her father-in-law’s house, of course, but I understand he’s very ill.”

“That’s what I’ve heard. How tragic.”

“Yes, it is. But I think Gilda will do well when the time comes. She seems very settled.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Such a fuss at the time. You remember, don’t you?” Olivia’s faded blue eyes gleamed with her eagerness to tell.

“No, I don’t. Not as bad as the Vanderbilt girl, I hope.”

Sarah nearly choked. Consuelo Vanderbilt had been forced to marry an English duke she hardly knew and shipped off to a castle in England.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. The Wilbanks boy is an American, after all. No, she just had some silly notion about marrying for love.”

“That’s not so silly,” Sarah said.

“Isn’t it?” Olivia said, giving Sarah a critical stare. “And what happens when you’re left penniless? There’s nothing romantic about that.”

Sarah could have taken offense, but she had the strangest feeling Olivia was talking about herself.

“No, there isn’t,” her mother agreed, with an apologetic glance at Sarah. “But Gilda doesn’t have to worry about that now. Unless she’s pining away for her lost love.”

“Oh, I doubt it very much,” Olivia said. “She’s much too practical. Besides, her family would never have allowed her to marry him even if he was rich as Croesus.”

“And why not?” her mother asked.

“Because they were cousins, of course.”

10

S
ARAH’S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN BUT ONLY FOR A MOMENT
before she managed to say, “You don’t mean Terrance Udall by any chance, do you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. However did you know?”

Sarah glanced at her mother, wondering how much they dared tell Olivia, knowing it would be all over the city within days.

“When we called on Gilda, Mr. Udall happened to be visiting her, too. He’s a . . . a charming young man.”

“Oh, my,” Olivia said in obvious distress. “Did you . . . Oh, my.”

“What is it, Olivia?” her mother asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, I’m sure. It’s just . . . How unwise of her to be seeing Terrance. I wonder that her husband allows it.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t know,” her mother suggested. “Mr. Udall is her cousin, after all. It must seem very innocent to him for a member of her family to call.”

“That must be the case. But she’s a fool. Anyone might tell him, and to tempt fate like that . . . Well, she’s insane to risk her marriage for a wastrel like Terrance Udall, that’s all I can say. And it’s always the female who pays the price in situations like that. If Mr. Wilbanks were to divorce her, do you think Terrance would want her? And even if he did, they’d be poor as church mice. Love flies out the window when the wolf is at the door.”

Sarah’s father had said something very similar years ago when her sister Maggie had married a poor man. She’d always wondered if it were true.

Sarah’s mother said something meant to comfort, but Olivia was having none of it. “I wonder if her mother knows. Someone needs to talk sense to the girl before it’s too late.”

“I’m so sorry we upset you. I would never have mentioned Gilda if I’d realized . . .”

“You couldn’t have known, but I’m glad you did.”

After another few minutes of meaningless conversation, Sarah and her mother took their leave. When they were safely in the carriage, her mother turned to her. “Gilda wanted to marry Terrance Udall. I know I never heard that, or I would have remembered.”

“And now we know why Terrance is taking such an interest in Ozzie’s inheritance . . . because it’s Gilda’s inheritance, too.”

“How very unselfish of him,” her mother said, “to want the woman he couldn’t have to be rich and happy with another man.”

“I’m sure Malloy would say it’s
too
unselfish.”

“And I’d have to agree with him. What do you suppose they’re up to?”

Sarah sighed. “I don’t even want to guess, because none of the possibilities are very nice.”

“Well, perhaps we’re wrong. Perhaps we’ve completely misjudged Gilda Wilbanks. Perhaps she is just fond of her cousin, and she’s trying to help him meet a nice young lady from a wealthy family.”

“I just wish I thought you were right, Mother.”

* * *

F
RANK WAS A LITTLE CONCERNED ABOUT
T
ERRANCE
Udall seeing him back at Michael Hicks’s office and wondering what he was up to, but Udall was nowhere in sight when he arrived and told the clerk he wanted to know what agency Hicks used to do his investigations. The clerk had to check with Hicks, of course, but to Frank’s surprise, with no argument at all, the man returned and handed him a piece of paper with the name and address of the Kirby Detective Agency on it.

Frank had never heard of it, but that wasn’t surprising. When the Pinkerton Detective Agency gained success after the War, dozens of private inquiry agencies had sprung up all over the country. Kirby probably only worked for Michael Hicks and maybe a few other attorneys. Since few people trusted the police, and for good reason, wealthy people who needed investigations usually relied on private agents.

He found the address on Sixth Avenue in a discreet office building. A female secretary sat at the desk in Kirby’s front office, and she frowned up at Frank. “May I help you?”

She didn’t sound like she thought that was possible, but Frank tried his most charming smile. “I think so. Attorney Michael Hicks sent me to speak with Mr. Kirby.”

She still didn’t look happy, but apparently, he’d said the right thing. She went into the inner office, and returned in a few moments. “Mr. Kirby will see you.”

She showed him in and said, “I didn’t get your name.”

“Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy of the New York City Police.”

She rolled her eyes. There wasn’t much love lost between private detectives and the police. The police considered payments to private investigators money lost that could’ve gone to them as bribes. Private investigators were usually former cops who left because the force was too corrupt or too incompetent. Frank knew how they felt. The secretary closed the door, leaving him alone with Kirby.

The office was simply furnished and Mr. Kirby looked like a simple man of middle age, clean shaven and neatly dressed with dark hair graying a bit at the temples.

“Mr. Malloy, I’m Clarence Kirby,” he said, rising from where he sat behind his desk. His handshake was firm, his palm dry. “I understand Mr. Hicks sent you. What can I do for you?”

“I had some questions about a case you worked on for Hicks, Emma Hardy.”

Kirby frowned. “Have a seat, Mr. Malloy. May I ask what your interest is in that case?”

Frank took the offered chair. “It’s personal. You see, I know the family who has Emma Hardy’s daughter, and they aren’t willing to give the child up unless they’re sure it’s the right thing.”

“I see,” Kirby said.

“I don’t think you see at all, so I’ll explain it to you. I know you were hired to find Emma after she disappeared. By the way, do you have any idea why she ran away in the first place?”

“You haven’t told me anything yet that makes me want to share information with you, Mr. Malloy, so if you don’t mind, I’ll not answer that question just yet.”

“Fair enough. I understand you found her on tour with some play. You approached her and tried to find out where the child was, but you didn’t have much luck. You found out she wrote to Anne Murphy, so you came back to the city and found her, but she didn’t have the child either, and so you killed her.”

Kirby reared back in his chair, his eyes wide. “I beg your pardon!”

“You heard me. You killed Anne Murphy.”

“I did no such thing. I’m a private investigator, not an assassin!”

“But you know who did.”

“Of course I don’t know. In fact, I only know she was murdered because Mr. Hicks told me. I’d stopped watching her as soon as I learned she had no idea where the child was.”

Frank studied him for a long moment, waiting to see if his outrage cracked to reveal a hint of guilt. It did not. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Kirby, but I had to be sure.”

“Sure of what? That I didn’t kill that poor woman? I would have told you that if you’d just asked.”

“And it would’ve been easy to lie if I just asked. You should know that.”

Kirby’s anger faded into a reluctant grin. “I used to know it. It’s been a long time since I questioned a suspect, though.”

“I guess you don’t have much call for that in this business.”

“No, I’m happy to say. Mostly, it’s just following some swell to a cheap hotel to find out he’s cheating on his wife so she can get a divorce and marry her own lover.”

Frank glanced around at the modest office. “Is your operation as small as it looks?”

“Oh, yes, just me and Abby. She types my reports and sends the bills. I used to have other agents, but the clients always wanted me, so it didn’t make sense to keep them on. If I need help, I bring in another agency.”

“What do you think of Emma Hardy?”

Kirby leaned back in his chair, and Frank knew he’d finally told Kirby enough to make him willing to share information. “She’s a hellion. Knows what she wants and goes after it. Near as I can tell, she worked Wilbanks perfectly. She’s not much of an actress on the stage, but she must be pretty good between the sheets, if you know what I mean.”

“Some men see what they want to see in a woman.”

“There’s that, of course, but from what I’ve heard, Emma never let him see what she was really like either.”

“She must’ve done a good job, if he was willing to marry her.”

“That was mostly for the child, I think, although he couldn’t have known what he’d really be getting with her, or he never would’ve considered it. So you know where the child is? What happened to her?”

Frank told him.

Kirby shook his head. “Too bad Anne Murphy never knew. She was terrified when she couldn’t find her.”

“Terrified of what? Do you know?”

“Well, I gather she cared for the little girl, and she became terrified when she couldn’t find her, but I think it was more than that. I never talked to her myself, you understand. I didn’t want to reveal my identity. But I talked to people who knew her. She thought somebody wanted to hurt the child. I guess that’s what Emma told her. So she was afraid they’d found the child and something had happened to her.”

“If she found out some man was asking her friends about her, she might’ve thought
you
were the one after the child. That would’ve scared her, too.”

“Maybe, but she was also scared of what Emma would do if she got back and found out Anne didn’t have her kid.”

“Should she have been?”

Kirby gave him a pitying stare. “Have you met Emma Hardy? Of course she was right to be scared. Emma might not have cared about the girl, but she cared about the money she could bring in. If she got back here and found out Anne Murphy had lost track of her, well, let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be in Anne’s shoes.”

“Do you think Emma would have killed her?”

“Not if she was thinking straight. Anne might still be some help in finding the kid, but in a fit of temper, sure. She smacks Vaughn around some, I hear.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you know?”

“No, I never heard of such a thing, a woman hitting a man. Why doesn’t he just hit her back?”

“You’d expect him to, wouldn’t you? But he doesn’t. I’ve seen it once or twice before. I know, usually it’s the man beating up his woman to keep her in line, but every now and then you see it the other way around.”

Frank remembered Vaughn’s black eye. He said he’d walked into a door. How many women had offered that excuse for bruises their husbands had given them? “So she’s been known to be violent.”

Kirby nodded. “I understand Miss Murphy was stabbed.”

“With a kitchen knife by someone visiting her in her room.”

“Another woman then.”

Frank frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“She lived in a boardinghouse. She wouldn’t have brought a man up to her room.”

Of course. Why hadn’t any of them realized that before? “She wouldn’t have thought twice about inviting her old friend Emma to her room, though.”

Kirby nodded. “Anne probably even suggested it, so they could talk privately, knowing Emma would make a fuss when she found out about the child.”

Could it really be that simple? Of course it could. Frank felt like an idiot. “So it was probably Emma that Anne Murphy was afraid of because she knew how angry Emma would be about Catherine.”

“She wouldn’t have expected Emma to murder her, though,” Kirby said. “Emma would need her help to find the child.”

“Once she calmed down, Emma probably realized that herself, but it was too late.” Frank shook his head. “I didn’t want it to be her.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s Catherine’s mother.”

“I see. You’re fond of the child.”

Frank didn’t want to discuss this with Kirby. He rose. “Thank you for your help.”

“I hope we meet again under happier circumstances.”

Frank paused at the door. “Are you still on this case?”

“No, Mr. Hicks said he had all the information he needed.”

Frank wondered if that was true.

Once outside the building, he stepped back against the wall to allow the other pedestrians on the sidewalk to move past him while he considered what to do next. It was almost suppertime, and he hadn’t seen Brian in too long. He saw no reason to ruin Sarah’s evening with news that would keep until tomorrow, and Emma Hardy seemed unlikely to murder anyone else, at least not in the near future. Yes, tomorrow was soon enough to arrest Catherine’s mother.

* * *

S
ARAH’S MOTHER ARRIVED AT HER DOOR REMARKABLY
early the next morning.

“Oh, Sarah, when are you going to get a telephone?” she asked before she’d even taken off her coat.

“When I can afford one.”

“What did Mr. Malloy say when you told him about Gilda and her cousin?”

“I haven’t spoken with him.”

“Really? I thought for sure he’d at least report to you what he’d learned yesterday from Emma.”

Sarah took her mother’s coat and hat and hung them up in the hall, then led her back to the kitchen, where the coffee left from her breakfast was still on the warmer. “What’s Father doing today?”

“He went to his office, but he told me to contact him immediately if we learned anything new.”

“At this point, I don’t know what we could learn that’s new unless someone decides to confess to killing Anne Murphy.”

Her mother sat down at the kitchen table while Sarah poured coffee for them both. “You sound discouraged.”

“I am.” Sarah sat down across from her mother. “I don’t even know what the right thing to do is anymore. We’ve been hiding Catherine to keep her safe, but we’ve also kept her from her own parents. We may not think much of either of them, but they’re still her parents, and they have a right to see her.”

“I know. If Mr. Wilbanks were in better health, I would invite him to visit Catherine at our home. At least we could be sure no harm would come to her there.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t be able to travel, though,” Sarah said, “so we would have to bring her to him.”

“Gilda, it seems, will accept nothing less than his personal identification of her, too.”

“Which means she’ll want to be present, and I’m sure Ozzie will, too. Mr. and Mrs. Hicks should probably be there as well.”

Her mother smiled wanly. “At least there’s safety in numbers. With so many witnesses, no one would dare lift a finger to her.”