Murder on Fifth Avenue: A Gaslight Mystery (27 page)

“Oh, dear!” Miss English said.

“They thought he had a heart attack, but when the undertaker comes for him, he finds out he’d been stabbed, but it happened before he got to the club.”

“How could that be?” Lizzie asked. “If he got himself stabbed, wouldn’t he go to a doctor or something?”

“That’s just it. The way it happened, he probably didn’t know, or at least he didn’t know how bad it was.”

Miss English stared at him with her big, brown eyes. “How did it happen?”

“We think somebody close to him got angry and accidentally stuck him with something.”

“Nobody gets accidentally stuck with a knife,” Lizzie said.

“I didn’t say it was a knife.”

“What was it then?”

“Something long and thin, like an ice pick.”

“You don’t get accidentally stabbed with no ice pick, neither,” Lizzie said.

“And wouldn’t it bleed?” Miss English asked.

“It was on his back, and it didn’t bleed much. His clothes soaked up most of it.”

“This don’t make sense. If it was just a little stick like you say, how could he die from it?”

“It was small, but it went deep. It hit his kidney.” Frank reached around his own back to indicate the spot. “It didn’t bleed much on the outside, but it did on the inside, and it killed him.”

“Didn’t it hurt?”

“Maybe, but I figure he thought whoever did it had punched him or something. Maybe he thought it was a bruise.”

“Even if somebody hit him, Devries wasn’t one to let it pass,” Lizzie said.

Frank nodded. “Unless it was a woman who did it.”

Miss English’s puzzled expression didn’t change, but Lizzie’s did. “What’re you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything. I’m asking. If it was an accident, and Devries didn’t report it—”

“He didn’t report it because it never happened!” Lizzie said.

“Why are you getting so mad, Lizzie?” Miss English asked.

“Because he thinks you stuck something in the old bugger, that’s why!”

Miss English gaped at him. “Do you?”

“I’m asking if you maybe got mad at him and picked up something that was laying around and—”

“Oh, no, I never! I’d never raise a hand to him. I’d be afraid to, you see.”

“She learned that pretty quick,” Lizzie said, outraged. “First time she tried to complain about something, he hit her good, with a closed fist. What kind of a man does that, I ask you?”

The kind of man who deserves to get stabbed in the back.

“I couldn’t chew anything for a week,” Miss English said, touching her jaw. “If I’d hit him or
stabbed
him, he would’ve killed me, I’ll bet.”

“No doubt about it,” Lizzie said.

Just like with a servant, Frank thought. He wouldn’t have tolerated anything from anyone over whom he held power.

“Oh, I see now why you wanted his clothes,” Lizzie said. “You wanted to know did he get stuck while he was here.”

“How would his clothes tell him that?” Miss English asked.

“If there was a hole or some blood, I’d guess.”

“That’s right, but it’s possible he wasn’t wearing any clothes when he got stuck.”

“Oh! That’s why you thought it might be me,” Miss English said. Lizzie gave her a poke. “I’m sorry. Wasn’t that a proper thing to say?”

Frank wasn’t going to reply to that. “Devries’s son knows about you, Miss English. I don’t know how long it will be until he thinks about doing something about you living here, but you should know.”

“I don’t suppose he’d like Miss English for himself, would he?” Lizzie asked.

“No, he wouldn’t.” Frank suddenly recalled something
Sarah had said. “There’s a settlement house on Mulberry Street that takes young women. It’s near Police Headquarters. They’d take you in.” He glanced at Lizzie. “They might even have a job for you there.”

“What’s a settlement house?” Miss English asked.

“It’s a place where they give you charity,” Lizzie said. “We’ll wait to hear from your uncle.”

“At least think about it.” He pushed himself up off the sofa, thinking he’d accomplished all he could here. He was just going to take his leave when he remembered a suspicion he’d had the first time he’d visited here. “You might also ask Mr. Angotti for help if your uncle doesn’t reply.”

“Oh, Lizzie, I never thought of him,” Miss English said. “He was so polite, too.”

Frank managed not to let her see how pleased he was to discover that she did know the mysterious Italian. “How did you meet him?”

Lizzie glared at him much as Mrs. Devries had when he’d accused her of murder, but Miss English was blissfully unaware of her disapproval. “He called on me one day, didn’t he, Lizzie?” When she looked up, she realized her error. “Oh, dear, I wasn’t supposed to talk about him, was I?”

“I’m sure Mr. Angotti told you not to mention his visit to Mr. Devries, but there’s no harm in telling me. What did he talk about when he visited you?”

Chastened now, Miss English looked to Lizzie in silent appeal. “He wanted to warn her,” Lizzie said. “He told her a wild tale of how Mr. Devries wanted to do away with some woman, and he didn’t know but what it might be Lizzie.”

“Was that what he meant?” Miss English asked, frowning prettily. “He talked so strange, never really saying anything outright. Seemed like he thought I should know what he
meant without him really saying it. I thought he was just worried because I live here alone. You should’ve told me!”

“And scare you to death? Not likely. I didn’t trust him anyways. I never do trust foreigners.”

“What did he want you to do?” Frank asked.

“He said I should protect myself,” Miss English said.

“How were you supposed to do that?”

“He said I should carry a knife, of all things, but I told him I couldn’t do that. I’d be afraid I’d cut myself.”

“And she wouldn’t never use it on anybody anyway, no matter what they done to her,” Lizzie said.

“Oh, my, did you know he tried to give me a knife? Is that why you thought I stabbed Mr. Devries?” Miss English asked.

“No, I didn’t know.”

“But did you really mean I should ask him for help?” Miss English asked.

Frank thought about how perplexed Angotti would probably be by a plea from Norah English. “Yes, I did.”

S
ARAH HADN’T BEEN HOME LONG WHEN HER FRONT DOOR
bell rang. She’d been expecting a summons to a birth. One of her patients was very near her time, but she was surprised to find Malloy on her doorstep instead.

“Was it Miss English?” she asked as she ushered him in.

“No.”

“Her maid?”

“No.” He looked as discouraged as she’d ever seen him.

“We must have missed something, then.”

“I’ve been going over everything in my head all the way over here, and I can’t think of anybody else who had the chance to do it.”

“Are you sure about Miss English and…What’s the other woman’s name?”

“Lizzie. Yes. Miss English is just too simple to lie very well. If she knew anything at all, she would’ve told me.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Mr. Malloy!” Catherine cried, clattering down the stairs, with Maeve on her heels. She ran to him for a hug, and Maeve greeted him happily.

The commotion drew Mrs. Decker from the kitchen, where Sarah had been telling her about the events of the morning.

“Are you here to celebrate the successful completion of your case, Mr. Malloy?” she asked.

“Mrs. Decker, I didn’t expect to find you here,” he said, a little dismayed.

“How could I stay away when I knew you were questioning Paul this morning? Was it a nut pick, as you suspected?”

“What’s a nut pick?” Catherine asked.

“It’s a thing you use to eat nuts with,” Maeve said. “You come along now. The grown-ups need to talk in private.”

Catherine tried a pout, but Maeve was unmoved. She took Catherine from Malloy’s arms.

“When we’re finished talking, you can visit with Mr. Malloy, darling,” Mrs. Decker said. “Run along and play with Maeve now.”

Sarah took Malloy’s coat, and the three of them returned to the kitchen, where she poured him some coffee and they settled themselves around the table.

“I have to tell you, I’m horrified to discover that Lucretia poisoned that poor man,” her mother said.

“I’m sorry,” Malloy said. “I know she’s a friend of yours.”

“Not a friend any longer, I assure you. How could I ever
speak to her again, knowing what she’s done? Are you going to arrest her?”

Malloy hesitated for a long moment, then said, “That’s up to your husband.”

“Why on earth would it be up to Felix?”

“Mother, have you ever known any of your friends to be arrested for anything?”

“No, but none of them have ever committed a murder, either.”

“Mrs. Decker, it’s very difficult to bring a rich person to trial.”

“Why?”

Malloy gave Sarah a pleading glance.

“Because,” she said, “many judges and others in authority are willing to accept bribes to lose the paperwork or drop the charges.”

“That’s outrageous!”

“But it’s true.”

“What will become of her, then?” her mother asked.

“That may actually be up to you,” Sarah said.

“Me? What can I do?”

“You can tell your other friends what she did. She may not go to prison, but you can make sure she never goes anywhere else, either.”

“Oh!”

“Unless your husband has a better idea,” Malloy said.

Sarah’s mother considered this for a few minutes before she said, “But we still don’t know who killed Chilton. Did the mistress do it, Mr. Malloy?”

Malloy glanced at Sarah. “No, and her maid didn’t either. I’m afraid I came here to tell Mrs. Brandt that I was wrong
about everybody, and I’m on my way to report to your husband that I failed, Mrs. Decker.”

“You can’t give up!” her mother said. “There has to be a solution.”

“Mother is right,” Sarah said. “And if you were really ready to give up, why did you stop here first?”

“For some coffee and some sympathy,” he said with a small smile.

“You’re welcome to my coffee, but I’m not ready to give you any sympathy yet.”

“Heavens, no,” her mother said. “But I would be more than happy to help if you’ll just tell me what I could do.”

“Could you convince your husband he really doesn’t want to know who stabbed Chilton Devries?” Malloy asked.

“This is no time for joking, Mr. Malloy. We must put our heads together and figure out who the guilty party is.”

Malloy turned to Sarah. “I wasn’t joking.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Just tell us what Miss English said to convince you she’s innocent.”

“It wasn’t what she said so much as how she answered my questions. I hadn’t ever told them how Devries died, and I pretended I thought she’d accidentally stuck him with something.”

“A nut pick?” her mother said.

“I didn’t come right out and say it. I wanted her to tell me what she used.”

“And she denied it?” her mother said.

“She denied stabbing him or doing anything to anger him. Seems Devries punched her once when she talked back to him—”

“
Punched
her? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m perfectly serious, Mrs. Decker. He punched her in the face so hard she couldn’t chew for a week, she said.”

For the first time Sarah could remember, her mother was speechless.

“I can see why she wouldn’t have dared to stab him,” Sarah said.

“And if she did, she would’ve had to do some real damage or else risk him hurting her even worse than he did before.”

“Oh, I see,” her mother said. “She couldn’t just hurt him enough to make him angry. She’d have to kill him or disable him because he’d turn on her if she didn’t.”

“And whatever actually injured him was too small to disable him and took a long time to actually kill him.”

“So whoever attacked him risked his anger,” her mother said.

“His anger and his retribution,” Sarah said.

Her mother gave her a small smile. “Now I believe you when you say you don’t enjoy this. How frustrating!”

They sipped their coffee, each lost in thought for a few moments. Then Sarah said, “What else did you find out from Miss English?”

“She’s sold off most of the furniture in the house, including all the nut picks.”

Sarah grinned. “Did you ask her that?”

“I asked about the nut
bowls
. They were silver, but not solid silver, she informed me, so she didn’t get much when she sold them. I told her Paul Devries knows about her. I figure sooner or later, he’ll get around to evicting her. She’s trying to find a new protector.” For some reason he smiled at this.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“I just remembered, I told her to ask Salvatore Angotti for help.”

“Why would she go to him?”

“Because he’d called on her.”

“Angotti? Whatever for?”

“To warn her that Devries wanted some woman killed.”

“Why would he do that when he knew Mrs. Richmond was the one he wanted killed?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“I’m not sure. I think maybe Devries didn’t tell him who the woman was at first. Angotti has a lot of people working for him, and he knows some of the men who work for Devries’s business, so maybe he found out Devries had a mistress and assumed she was the one. Whatever his reason, he warned Miss English.”

“What a curious man,” her mother said.

“He certainly is,” Sarah said. “He warned Mrs. Richmond, too.”

“He’s very gentlemanly,” Malloy agreed, only a little sarcastically.

“And how nice he didn’t actually kill her,” Sarah said.

“He’s even nicer than that. Not only did he tell Miss English that Devries might want her dead, he tried to give her a knife to protect herself with.”

Something stirred in Sarah’s memory. “What kind of knife?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”

Her mother leaned forward. “Sarah, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that we originally thought Devries had been stabbed with a stiletto, the kind of knife Italians use.”

“Miss English didn’t accept the knife,” Malloy said. “And if she had, she probably would’ve stabbed herself by accident.”

“But also Angotti went to see Terry Richmond. What if he offered to give her a knife, too?”