Where the Light Enters

by Sara Donati

  Sophie said, “You arranged this nicely. You’ve got Mrs. Cabot and Mrs. Lee united in their determination to look after you. I imagine you have to be creative lest you offend one or the other.”

  As if she had heard her name the housekeeper opened the door before Anna could reach for the handle. She was a reed-thin woman with a dour expression, and Sophie wasn’t sure what to make of her beyond the obvious: Anna liked her, and from that Sophie could be certain that the housekeeper was efficient, quick witted, and thoughtful. If not especially talkative, unless she had something specific to say. As she did now.

  “Dr. Sophie,” she said with a smile that did a good deal to improve her appearance. “Very good to meet you. I’m Eve Cabot. If you like I can take that fine fellow—”

  “Pip,” Sophie supplied.

  “And introduce him to my Skidder in the kitchen.”

  Suddenly she seemed to remember they were standing in the doorway and stood back so they could come in, but she didn’t stop talking.

  “When you’re ready I’ve got veal ragout for you. Biscuits, new peas I fetched this morning from the market, fresh off the boat from Charleston and crisp as can be, and pudding.” She folded her hands over her spotless apron.

  “That will be lovely,” Anna said. “Ned?”

  “Ate already. Left a half hour ago for his class at the Union. Come along, Mr. Pip. I’ve got a marrow bone with your name on it in the kitchen.”

  With that she marched off while Anna and Sophie wandered into the parlor to collapse. Sophie took a moment to look around herself.

  “I’d know this was your place even if you brought me here blindfolded.”

  “Is that a compliment or a criticism?”

  “It’s an observation. Very comfortable and appealing. I see your sisters-in-law have managed to sneak in some fashionable touches, too. The draperies are simple but very elegant. And embroidered pillow covers, I’d expect nothing less.” She leaned forward to admire a vase of flowers in bright colors. “What are these?”

  Anna grinned. “I have no idea. They send flowers from the Mezzanotte greenhouse a few times a week, but so far I have learned to identify only a few of them. I can tell you one thing, though. You see that little gap there? That means Ned took a flower for his buttonhole.”

  Sophie sat back in surprise. “Ned has a buttonhole? Our Giustiniano Nediani?”

  “And a flower to put in it. Since he started working for John Marconi his whole demeanor has changed. I don’t know if you’d recognize him, given the way he dresses these days. I had no idea wine merchants were so formal, but he consults with Bambina and she picks everything out for him.”

  “Now you’re joking.”

  Jack’s youngest sister was generally considered difficult. It was a word Sophie preferred not to use in association with a young woman but in this case, it fit. Bambina was perennially out of sorts, short tempered, with strong and often controversial opinions, distinct prejudices, and few qualms about voicing them publicly. Sophie had not spent a lot of time in her company, but she had never seen Bambina look at Ned with anything but displeasure. She said as much to Anna.

  “He’s gone a long way to winning her over,” Anna said. “He has work she approves of, he’s taking classes at the Union, and he treats her with a combination of teasing and flirtatious respect.” She paused. “I wouldn’t put it this way to Jack, but I think Bambina is halfway to falling in love with Ned.”

  Sophie settled into a deep chair and pulled a pillow into her lap. “Why wouldn’t you say that to Jack?”

  “Because he’s Italian, and she’s his younger sister. He likes Ned and has helped him along, but his sister?” She shook her head.

  “That surprises me,” Sophie said. “So he would forbid a connection?”

  Anna pushed a pile of books into line as she thought. “It depends. If Ned handles it just so, Jack will probably approve and if Jack approves, his father will. But first Ned has to get Bambina to that point. She still thinks that he’s only interested in her because she’s a Mezzanotte. It’s the family he wants, and not her.”

  Sophie thought about it for a moment. “I can see why she might worry about that.”

  “The curious thing,” Anna said, “is that she says this to him quite openly, and he just laughs at her. He won’t allow her moods, much like a mosquito who doesn’t care if you’re poor or vain or proud, it persists until it gets what it wants.”

  “Or is squashed by a rolled-up newspaper.”

  “Or is squashed,” Anna agreed. “But like the mosquito, he seems to be unaware of that possibility. He’s living across the street at the Janssen Apartments, and he finds all kinds of ways to run into her. He knows her schedule better than she does.”

  Ned had inserted himself into both the Savard and Mezzanotte households by being indispensable: quick to take on thankless tasks, good with the Russo children, respectful and willing to be cozened by old ladies. What won them over in the end was his authentic interest in everyone he came across, an intrinsic goodwill, his good sense, and the ability to make people laugh. Anna could overlook a shady adolescence; she admired the strength of character he showed in moving beyond the very circumscribed life that waited for him. Jack was more reserved and very watchful.

  Anna said, “Mrs. Cabot and Mrs. Lee are his firm supporters, and they let it be known.”

  “I wonder that men are so forward these days. Or has it always been like this, and I never took note?”

  Anna tilted her head, and Sophie realized how odd this statement must sound.

  “I had the oddest visit—or, almost a visit, just before I left to come here.” She told Anna about Nicholas Lambert showing up at her door.

  “And what did you say in reply?” Anna wanted to know.

  “I stammered. Finally I said, yes well, we’re neighbors, certainly.”

  Anna made a revolving motion with her hand. “And?”

  “He said that he’d call again tomorrow. What do you make of that?”

  “Sophie,” Anna said. “You know very well what to make of that.”

  After a moment in which she found it hard to catch a breath Sophie said, “I am a new widow. It’s not a month since my husband died. He can’t mean to—” She broke off. “He can’t,” Sophie repeated, and hoped Anna would take this as final word on the subject.

  “Hmmmm,” Anna said. “A discussion for another time. Jack and Oscar are at the door. Compose yourself, or Oscar will want to know what has you so agitated and you won’t like his persistence in getting to the bottom of it.”

  14

  OVER MRS. CABOT’S veal ragout they talked of everything except the visit to the Bellevue dead house, to Sophie’s disappointment and surprise. She had been hoping for some word of their Jane Doe, but then good food deserved attention, and there were other stories to hear free of bloodshed and mayhem.

  Oscar was in high spirits. He seemed determined to make her laugh with the story of a newly promoted detective who had inadvertently set out on a transatlantic crossing.

  “He was sent to tail a couple smugglers,” Oscar said. “So he followed them right onto the ship, made himself comfortable in a spot out of sight thinking he would hear them talking—”

  “And fell asleep,” Jack finished for him.

  “He woke up because he got seasick,” Oscar went on. “Poor sod. Had to go running to find the captain covered with his own muck, and demanded to be taken back to shore.”

  “As you know what happened, the captain must have complied,” Anna said.

  “Not right off,” Oscar said. “The captain didn’t believe young Morgan’s story, you see, and so he asks to see a badge. So the boyo is hopping up and down he’s so mad, trying to get his badge out of his vest pocket, up comes a swell, he loses his footing and over the rail he goes. When they dragged him out of the drink he had lost his bad
ge, one shoe, and what little dignity he had left. So he threw a punch.”

  “And when he got back to shore—” Anna prompted.

  Jack grinned. “A couple broken ribs, a black eye—”

  “And no smugglers. Completely forgot about them in the commotion,” Oscar finished.

  “He’ll never live it down, I expect,” Sophie said.

  Oscar said, “Oh, I doubt he’ll last out the week.”

  “How much money did you put on that wager?” Jack winked at Anna.

  “Laugh, go ahead,” Oscar said, sending him a superior glare. “But I’ve got a nose for these things. You’ll hear the coin clinking in me pockets soon enough.”

  * * *

  • • •

  FINALLY, OVER CAKE and coffee Oscar leaned across the table toward Sophie, as if he had a secret to tell.

  “What do you hear from your Aunt Amelie?”

  Sophie’s smile was easy. “I had a letter the day I got back. She promises to come visit soon. Why is it I’m not surprised you know my Aunt Amelie?”

  Jack smiled. “Because it’s easier to find people he doesn’t know.”

  Anna sat back and studied Oscar for a long moment. “But why would you be acquainted with a midwife? Your sisters?”

  “She did deliver Flora’s babies and Maria’s, too. But I knew her before that. I wasn’t always a detective, you know. I walked a beat, to start in the Insalubrious District, as the Sanitary Commission put it so poetically.”

  “We read the commission’s report in medical school,” Sophie said.

  “Reading is one thing, smelling is another.” He wrinkled his nose. “Trust City Hall to hide something so plain as filth and disease behind a fancy name.”

  “They tore the worst of that district down when they started on the new suspension bridge,” Jack said. “But the stories live on.”

  To Oscar, Sophie said, “So you did know Amelie so long ago as that?”

  “I did, but then everybody knew Amelie. People were fascinated by her—”

  “Because she’s an Indian,” Sophie said.

  “Maybe at first but not for long,” Oscar corrected. “You could go to her with any problem and if she didn’t know the answer, she knew somebody who did. She had connections all over the city, from the dockworkers to the mayor’s office. The two of us had what I would call a collegial working relationship. What’s the phrase Jack—quid something?”

  “Quid pro quo. You mean she patched you up when you got into a fight. What did you do for her?”

  “Every once in a while I lent a hand when she had a difficult situation with a patient. Or a patient’s husband or father, better said. A few times I made some arrangements when a woman needed to get away.”

  Sophie remembered just then Mrs. Lee’s note before the custody hearing ruling had come down, predicting Oscar’s interference if things had gone badly. “You have no end of tricks up your sleeves, I hear.”

  “And thank goodness,” Anna said. “Who knows what would have become of the—” She stopped, a look of surprise coming over her. Then her eyes went very bright as she turned to Oscar. “It was you who warned Amelie that Comstock was after her. You helped her leave the city.” To Jack she said, “You could have told me.”

  He inclined his head. “I wasn’t sure of the details.”

  Oscar said, “I’ll tell the story, but not this evening. There’s something else more important to talk about, but first I must congratulate the cook.”

  * * *

  • • •

  WHEN OSCAR APPEARED in the parlor again it was with a plate of shortbread Mrs. Cabot had pressed on him. He passed it to Sophie and settled into the armchair that was his favorite, put back his head, and yawned at the ceiling.

  “Go on, Oscar, make yourself right at home,” Jack said with a dry grin.

  Oscar ignored his partner, took a sheaf of folded papers from his jacket, and put it on the table. “Her name is Nicola Visser. Mrs. Visser.”

  Sophie took the papers and began to sift through them.

  “How did you find her so quickly?” Anna asked Jack.

  He said, “Oscar found her. His usual magic with the filing clerks. I have no idea how he pulls it off but do me a favor and don’t praise him too much.”

  Oscar shook his head in mock dismay and turned his attention to Sophie.

  “The letter at the top is from the husband, a Jürgen Visser. Dutch.”

  Sophie scanned the letter and then summarized it for them.

  “It’s dated the second of January. The subject is indeed a Nicola Visser, twenty-five years old at the time of her disappearance, wife and mother of two, last seen on the second day of October of last year. She came into the city that day to do some shopping and visit a friend who is employed as a seamstress in the ladies’ dress department at Macy’s.”

  She paused to turn the sheet of paper.

  “Her friend wasn’t in that day, and that’s the last trace of Mrs. Visser the husband’s private detectives were able to find. He hired the Pinkertons.”

  Oscar grunted. “Who no doubt terrified the poor seamstress into forgetting her own name. The bone-boxers.”

  “Description?” Anna asked.

  “Yes, here. Five feet five inches, a womanly figure, blond, blue eyes, a scar at the base of her left palm and a mole on her right hip.”

  There was a small cabinet card. Sophie studied it for a long moment and passed it to Anna.

  “There are clippings from newspaper advertisements,” Sophie went on. “‘Reliable information on the health and whereabouts of Mrs. Nicola Visser will be generously rewarded. J. Visser, Harbor Road, Laurel Hollow, Long Island.’”

  Anna was still studying the photograph. “Is it her, do you think?” Jack asked.

  “It could be,” Anna said. “The bone structure is right.”

  “The particulars fit,” Sophie agreed. “But this Mrs. Visser has been missing since October. And there’s no mention that she was with child.”

  “It was early,” Anna said. “Her husband probably didn’t know.”

  Jack said, “We’re talking about the possibility that she was held captive for seven months.”

  “Yes,” Anna said. “That does seem to be the case. If it’s another multipara homicide, I’m not sure what that means.”

  “Before we go any further I think you must ask this Mr. Visser to come claim his wife’s remains,” Sophie said to Oscar. “As soon as can be arranged. Until we are sure who she is, there is no way to move forward.”

  There was a moment where they were all quiet, thinking.

  “One more thing to talk about,” Oscar said. “Neill Graham’s missing.”

  Both women turned toward him as if he had suddenly broken into song, but it was Jack who related the story without any drama: the search of Graham’s apartment, the extraction of information at Woman’s Hospital, the trip to the Bellevue director’s office, and their conclusions.

  Sophie couldn’t quite make sense of it. “He just announced he had a family emergency and left. Is that it?”

  Jack nodded.

  “What did you find in his Bellevue file?” Anna wanted to know.

  Oscar shook his head. “No next of kin listed.”

  After a moment Sophie said, “So he disappeared from Woman’s Hospital just about the time Mrs. Visser’s body was found. Coincidence?”

  “Not my favorite word,” Jack said.

  Anna looked dubious. “You think he was a part of Mrs. Visser’s disappearance? How would that be possible?”

  “We haven’t had time to work up any solid theories,” Oscar said. “We’ll have to squeeze Graham in where we can. Unless he comes back to Woman’s Hospital tomorrow.” He gave them one of his more frightening smiles.

  “You look forward to interviewing him.�
�� Sophie was surprised at this.

  “I look forward to rattling his cage,” Oscar said. “And getting some information out of him.”

  * * *

  • • •

  LATER, WHILE THEY got ready for bed, Anna read Jack a letter that had come in the afternoon mail from Greenwood.

  Dear Aunt Jack and Uncle Anna,

  You see I can still make jokes so this is proof that I am cheerful. I try very hard to be because I promised you I would, and for Lia.

  Thank you for your letter. The news about Uncle Cap is very sad. Nonna and Aunt Carmela and some of the other aunts are writing to her to say condoglianze (what is this word in English?), but Lia and I would like to tell her too, and to help her feel better in person. Could we come and visit? You said it might be possible and we would like very much to see her and all of you.

  I hope you are all well and that Aunt Quinlan’s hands are not a misery to her.

  Lia and I are well. Tonino is just as he was. Uncle Leo and Aunt Carmela, Nonno and Nonna, all the other aunts and uncles and cousins, everyone is well.

  Just now Lia is helping make cavatel (again, I do not know the English) and so I am writing down for her exactly what she wants you to know: she misses you and hopes you will come to visit soon or that we can come to you even sooner. This is my message too.

  Tonino spends all of his time working with Nonno, in the greenhouses or with the bees. He doesn’t care when he gets stung. He has nerves of steel, all the uncles say it. But really it seems to me he doesn’t have any nerves at all. Nothing can scare him anymore. I don’t think Tonino will want to come visit, but Nonna says he will be fine here for a few days without us. I think she is right. It’s Nonno and Uncle Leo he wants to be near. If he ever talks again it will be to one of them, that’s my guess. Or maybe to Nonna, because he sometimes lets her hold him and rock him and sing to him the way Mama did. But I don’t think he will ever talk to me or to Lia. It makes Lia very sad.