Murder in Murray Hill (Gaslight Mystery)

by Victoria Thompson

  As he followed Sarah up the stairs to his second-floor flat in the tenement where he lived, he heard the door open. Brian would have sensed his arrival, as he usually did. Even though the boy was profoundly deaf and couldn’t possibly hear him coming, he always knew when Frank was near.

  “Francis?” his mother called.

  “It’s me, Ma.”

  She must’ve given Brian a sign it was all right to go, because he started running to the stairway. He skidded to a stop when he saw Sarah, though, and his small face lit with joy at the surprise of seeing her. He threw his arms around her as she reached the landing, and she hugged him back. His joy bubbled out of him in incoherent sounds he didn’t even know he was making. After a few moments he released her, and his small hands started making the signs he’d learned at the school to which Frank had sacrificed to send him.

  “Who’s that with you?” his mother called.

  “Mrs. Brandt,” he said, knowing his mother wouldn’t like that one bit.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Malloy,” she said, giving his mother her best smile as they approached. Rich women learned early how to smile at people who hated them, and Frank was glad Sarah had that training. She’d never needed it more.

  “If you’ve come for supper, I don’t know what I can give you,” his mother said, her hands clutching each other as if she had to stop them from going for Sarah’s throat. But maybe that was just his imagination.

  “Thank you, but we’ve eaten,” Sarah said, ruffling Brian’s hair affectionately. He gazed up at her adoringly, which couldn’t have made Frank’s mother any happier.

  “We need to talk to you, Ma, about something important,” Frank said. He reached down and lifted Brian up for a kiss. The boy wrapped his slender arms around Frank’s neck as if he would never let go. When Frank looked back at his mother, he saw the color had drained from her face, and the light had vanished from her eyes.

  “I guess you’d better come in, then,” she said, her voice flat with despair.

  He exchanged a glance with Sarah, who shrugged. Sarah had noticed, too, but there was nothing for it but to tell her. They’d known it wouldn’t be easy.

  Frank and Sarah sat down together on the sofa, and Brian crawled up into Sarah’s lap. A worn shawl covered the seat to protect it from wear and dirt, because heaven knew when they might ever be able to replace it. The antimacassars lying across the back protected it from the hair oil that might rub off and stain the fabric. Frank glanced around the rest of the room, really seeing it for the first time he could remember. The furnishings were cheap and a bit worn, but his mother kept the place immaculate, even though she had her hands full with a five-year-old boy, and for the past year she’d been taking him to school every day, too. He’d never really appreciated her until this moment.

  His mother perched on the rocking chair that was left over from when Brian had been a baby. She didn’t rock, though. She sat forward, as if preparing to make a quick escape if necessary, her hands clutching the arms like claws.

  “Well, what is it?” she demanded when no one spoke. She sounded almost desperate, and Frank felt the sting of guilt for putting her through this.

  “I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want you to worry until we had everything settled.”

  Her troubled glance darted to Sarah and back to him. “So it’s settled now, is it?”

  “Ma, you remember when Mrs. Brandt’s daughter, Catherine . . . Well, when her father tried to claim her.”

  “Of course I remember. Do you think I’m touched in the head?”

  He was making a botch of this already, but they’d agreed he would tell her this part, so he soldiered on. “Catherine’s father was a very wealthy man, and he wanted to make sure she was well taken care of after he died.”

  She glanced at Sarah again, this time with disdain. “So he left the girl well fixed, did he?”

  “Not exactly. He didn’t want anyone to take advantage of her, so he left the money to someone else, somebody he named as her guardian.”

  She stiffened. “Better still. Now I guess you’re rich, Mrs. Brandt, and you can take care of a family of your own.”

  Sarah gave her a sweet smile, acting as if she didn’t notice the sarcasm behind the words. “He didn’t leave the money to me, Mrs. Malloy. I don’t think he trusted a mere female to handle it.”

  “He left it to me, Ma.”

  She blinked several times before she said, “To you?”

  “Yes. He named me Catherine’s guardian, and he left me enough money to take care of her.”

  “He had a lot of respect for Mr. Malloy,” Sarah added. “He thought he could trust Mr. Malloy to do what was best for his daughter.”

  Mrs. Malloy nodded slowly, her expression bleak, her jaw clenched as if bracing for a blow. “I guess what’s best for her is for you two to get married, isn’t it?”

  This was Sarah’s part, so Frank sat back with a sigh and gratefully let her do it. “Mr. Malloy has done me the honor of asking me to be his wife, and I have accepted. We’re looking forward to making a home for Catherine and for Brian.”

  His mother closed her eyes for a moment as a shudder ran through her, but Sarah continued before she could reply.

  “We’re very concerned about Brian, because you’ve taken care of him since he was born. His life will change when we get married, but we don’t want to upset him anymore than necessary, so we are hoping that you will come to live with us, too.”

  Frank didn’t know what he expected, but he hadn’t expected his mother to sit there like a stone, staring at Sarah as if she’d suddenly sprouted horns. After a very long, awkward silence, she said, “Live with you?” Her voice was so faint, he could hardly make out the words.

  Sarah, of course, pretended not to notice anything untoward. How on earth did she manage it? “Well, not at my house, of course. Neither one of us has a place big enough for our new family. There’s the three of you and the three of us, and we’d want you to have your own rooms so you could have your privacy when you needed it. And Maeve—that’s Catherine’s nursemaid—will need her own room, and the children could share a room now, but they’ll each need their own eventually, so as you can see, we’ll need to find a much bigger house.”

  Amazingly, his mother nodded, as if this made perfect sense, although he had a feeling she really had no idea what Sarah was talking about.

  “And don’t think we want you to do anything but look after Brian,” Sarah went on. “Mr. Malloy will be able to afford to hire some help.”

  “Help?”

  “Servants, Ma. She means servants.”

  “Servants? You can’t afford servants, Francis.”

  “I can now, Ma. I told you, Catherine’s father left me some money.”

  She narrowed her eyes and looked at Sarah again. “Where is this house you want to live in?”

  “We haven’t found one yet. We haven’t even started looking. I would appreciate your opinion, though. Since you’ll be living there, too, I’d like you to see it before we decide for sure.”

  “You’d have to leave here, Ma,” Frank said, wondering if Sarah realized what his mother was really asking. The neighborhoods in New York were like islands divided by streets instead of water. People might live in one neighborhood their entire lives and never even meet people living two blocks away. A person could disappear completely and start a brand-new life simply by moving to a new neighborhood. Leaving the place she’d lived since she’d come to America would literally mean giving up everything and everyone familiar. “You could always come back to visit your friends, though.”

  His mother glared at him, and for once he was happy to see the familiar expression on her face. “Francis, exactly how much money did this man leave you?”

  “I don’t know exactly. They’re still figuring it out.”

  “A guess, then. Yo
u must have an idea if you’re planning to buy a house with it.”

  “Like I said, they don’t know for sure, but they think it’s . . .” Frank could hardly bring himself to say it. “They think it’s around five million dollars.”

  This time the blood really did drain from his mother’s face, and from her head, too, because she slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

  4

  Stop fussing over me, Francis. You’re scaring the boy.”

  Frank glanced at Brian and saw that she was right. He got up from where he’d been kneeling in front of his mother, who now sat in the rocking chair again. Her faint had only lasted a moment before he and Sarah had helped her back into the chair.

  Sarah pressed a glass of water into her slightly unsteady hands, and she obediently took a sip. “Thank you,” she said with apparent sincerity.

  “I know this has all been a shock to you,” Sarah said, sitting back down on the sofa and gathering an uncertain Brian into her lap. She gave him a reassuring smile, and then he turned to his grandmother and made some signs.

  She handed the glass to Frank, who still hovered over her, and signed back to the boy. “He wants to know what we’re talking about. I’ll have to tell him all of this,” she said to them. “About you getting married and about us moving. I don’t know the right signs yet, though.”

  “Maybe they can help you at the school,” Frank said.

  “Of course they can help me at the school,” she snapped.

  Frank gritted his teeth, reminding himself how difficult this must be for his mother. “I know it’ll be hard for you to leave the old neighborhood.”

  “No, it won’t. I can’t stay here if my son’s a millionaire. Nobody’ll even speak to me unless they want money. You should know that, Francis.”

  He knew that only too well. “They’ll find out pretty soon, too. A reporter from the Sun has been snooping around, and it’ll probably be in the newspapers in a day or two.”

  She muttered something incomprehensible and turned back to Sarah. “The boy’ll like having the little girl to play with.”

  Sarah smiled her rich woman’s smile. “I hope he’ll like everything about his new family.”

  “Oh, he already likes you well enough, if that’s what you’re worried about. More women to fuss over him. He’ll be in heaven. Did you say you have a nursemaid for the little girl?”

  “Yes, Maeve. And you won’t really have to take care of Brian anymore either, not really. Maeve is certainly capable of looking after both children, especially with Brian in school. We can even get someone to take him and bring him home, if you like.”

  “Oh, I’ll keep doing that. They need my help at that school. They’re forever telling me they can’t do without me.”

  “I hope you don’t let them take advantage of you,” Sarah said.

  His mother smiled. She smiled! Frank could hardly believe his eyes. “It’s me taking advantage of them. We pay them to teach the signs to the boy, but I learn for free.”

  “I hope you can teach them to all of us, too. We’ll all want to be able to talk to Brian.”

  “It won’t be no trouble to teach the young ones. They pick things up so quick.”

  “That’s true,” Frank said. “Catherine already knows some just from playing with Brian a few times.”

  His mother frowned up at him. “Don’t just stand there, Francis. Get Mrs. Brandt some tea. It’s steeping on the stove.”

  Frank didn’t know why she was still annoyed with him. He’d just told her they were millionaires. And sure enough, he found a pot of tea on the stove. He took a few minutes to heat it up a bit while he listened to the two women making plans like they were old friends. What had come over his mother? She’d always hated Sarah Brandt. Or so he’d thought. No, he couldn’t have been mistaken about that. And he would’ve bet a year’s salary she hated the thought of him marrying her. Maybe Sarah could explain it.

  Frank carried a cup of tea out to Sarah just as she was saying, “Why don’t all three of you come over on Saturday so you can get to know Maeve?”

  Sarah gently moved Brian from her lap to the seat beside her and took the cup from Frank. “Thank you.” Her blue eyes twinkled with mischief. She must be loving this, Frank thought.

  “I can’t speak for Francis, but Brian and I will come. Did you only pour one cup of tea? What’s wrong with you, Francis?” She jumped up and bustled off to the kitchen, leaving Frank to shake his head.

  • • •

  When they’d covered all the important topics, including Frank and Sarah’s wedding plans (none yet) and Catherine’s attitude toward having a brother (ecstatic), Sarah took her leave. She gave Brian a big hug and a kiss after Mrs. Malloy explained to him that his father had to escort Mrs. Brandt back home. Holding him close, she savored the feel of his tiny arms locked around her neck. She had a son now. What an amazing miracle. Then she took Mrs. Malloy’s work-roughened hand in hers, glad to see her eyes no longer held the slightest hint of the fear she’d always had of Sarah. “Thank you for being willing to come live with us. I know it’s going to be a big adjustment for you, and I appreciate it so much.”

  Mrs. Malloy blinked her suspiciously moist eyes. “It’s what’s best for the boy.”

  “I think so, too. I’ll tell the girls to expect you on Saturday. I know they’ll be thrilled.”

  They were out on the street and lost among the throngs of pedestrians still enjoying the spring evening before Malloy finally exploded. “What did you do to her?”

  Sarah couldn’t help laughing at his disgruntled frown. “I didn’t do anything except not steal her son and her grandson away from her.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Sarah sighed, more than a little relieved that things had gone so well. She’d been hoping their decision to invite Mrs. Malloy to live with them would placate her a bit, but even Sarah had been surprised at Mrs. Malloy’s reaction. “It means that . . . Well, I’ve always suspected that her dislike of me was actually the fear that we would marry and take Brian and leave her all alone.”

  “Of course it was. But why does she suddenly . . . ?” He gestured vaguely.

  “Like me?”

  “It’s more than that. I never saw her be that nice to anybody.”

  “Certainly not to you,” Sarah had to admit.

  “Oh no. Wouldn’t want me to get a swelled head.”

  “In that case, it’s a good thing she’s coming to live with us, because with all the money, you’ll definitely be in danger of that.”

  “I just hope it lasts. Her being nice to you, I mean.”

  “It will. She knows it was my decision to invite her. But I just realized, we didn’t tell her you’d lost your job.”

  “Plenty of time for that.”

  “I suppose. Oh dear, I just remembered the poor girl you were looking for. What will happen with her?”

  His jaw tightened, and Sarah’s heart sank. “I had to give the case to Broghan.”

  “But surely—”

  “Surely, they’ll let me keep working on it? No, they won’t. They won’t even think it’s important.”

  “Didn’t you tell them Maeve is willing to—”

  “I told them everything, but it won’t make any difference.”

  “Is it because of you and the inheritance?” she asked, oblivious of the startled looks the word inheritance drew from the people walking nearby them.

  “Partly, and partly because it isn’t the kind of case anybody cares about.”

  “Her father cares!” Sarah said, outraged.

  He sighed with what sounded dangerously like despair. “Sarah, these cases never have a happy ending. Her father wants her back. The families always do, but they want the girl they know back. After something like this, the girl is never the same, though. Sometimes the family even blames her fo
r what happened to her and for embarrassing them. And that’s if we find her at all. Sometimes these girls kill themselves because of the shame, or they end up on the street because they think they can’t go home. And that’s if the man doesn’t murder her when he’s done with her. However it ends, no one is happy, and even if we catch the man, the girl never wants to tell anyone what happened to her, so most of the time he isn’t even charged with a crime because the girl and her family don’t want anyone to know about it.”

  “That’s horrible!”

  “Of course it is, but that’s why the police don’t care about cases like this.” Malloy took her arm to guide her through the crush of wagons clogging the intersection, carefully dodging the piles of horse dung.

  “So are you saying you don’t care if they find her or not?” she asked when they reached the relative safety of the opposite curb.

  “Of course I care. I don’t want to find out she’s dead or selling herself in Hell’s Kitchen, and I’d really like to catch this Milo Pendergast, too. But I know better than to think Pendergast will go to jail or that Grace Livingston will live happily ever after.”

  “Will they even let Maeve try to help find her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They walked on in silence for a time, and Sarah tried to think of a way to help Grace Livingston. By now she should have been used to the injustice in the world, particularly when it involved females, but she hoped she would never become so jaded.

  “Will you at least see her father and let him know what’s happening?”

  He sighed again. “First thing tomorrow.”

  Sarah tried to imagine what he would tell the poor man and decided she didn’t want to know.

  • • •

  Saturday morning finally arrived, and Catherine woke up before dawn, too excited over the pending visit from the Malloy family to remain in bed. Sarah had spent two sleepless nights with a mother whose baby had been reluctant to enter the world, and she had been hoping to sleep in a bit. Maeve, bless her, had spirited Catherine off to the kitchen to keep her busy, but after what seemed only a few minutes of respite, someone again tapped on her bedroom door. Maeve stuck her head in.