Murder in Murray Hill (Gaslight Mystery)

by Victoria Thompson

  “Mrs. Brandt? So sorry to bother you, but Mrs. Ellsworth is here. She got a letter from that Pendergast fellow.”

  Instantly awake, Sarah threw off the bedclothes and snatched up her robe. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she padded barefoot after Maeve. Mrs. Ellsworth and Catherine sat at the kitchen table, chatting about the menu for the day’s planned festivities. Catherine was reminding their neighbor of all the things they’d been baking the past few days, even though Mrs. Ellsworth had been present for all the preparations.

  The letter lay on the table between them, giving no indication that it might mean life or death to a young woman.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Ellsworth.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Brandt,” she said with barely suppressed excitement. “This letter came for you in this morning’s mail.”

  “Why did you get a letter for my mama?” Catherine asked.

  “It came to me by mistake, my darling.” She glanced back at Sarah. “I thought you’d want to see it at once.”

  “Thank you so much.” Sarah picked it up, noting the neat handwriting. Milo Pendergast had learned penmanship in school. “Catherine, would you keep Mrs. Ellsworth company for a few minutes while I read my letter?”

  Using the last reserves of her restraint, Sarah walked out into the front room, when she really wanted to rip the envelope open instantly. Maeve followed, her hands clutching each other anxiously until they reached Sarah’s desk. Sarah found her letter opener and slit the envelope. The cheap paper yielded easily to the blade, and inside Sarah found one sheet of matching letter paper. She unfolded it with unsteady hands and read with Maeve looking over her shoulder.

  My dear Miss Smith, it began. I am most grateful for your prompt reply to my advertisement. I am flattered that you feel I might make you a suitable life mate. I understand your desire for haste, but even a man as anxious as I am for a suitable wife would find it difficult to woo and win a bride in a fortnight. I do enjoy a challenge, however, and I must confess I am curious to meet you and to learn if we might suit. If you are agreeable, may I suggest we meet on Sunday afternoon at two o’clock? He went on to describe the location of the park where he had met Grace Livingston. He had signed it Milo Pendergast.

  “It worked,” Maeve said in wonder.

  Sarah could hardly believe it herself. She actually felt a little breathless. “He must have picked up your letter not long after Malloy left it. I guess no one bothered to let him know.”

  “And the fellow didn’t waste any time getting back to me. I knew it was a good idea to mention my inheritance.” Maeve took the letter and reread it, excitement bringing color to her cheeks. “Mr. Malloy has got to let me go meet him tomorrow.”

  “It isn’t up to him anymore,” Sarah reminded her.

  “But surely . . .”

  “There is no surely about it. Mr. Malloy doesn’t work for the police department anymore, remember?”

  Maeve’s sigh echoed Sarah’s own disgust. She only hoped Malloy could assure them someone who still did work for the police would be following up on Grace Livingston’s disappearance.

  • • •

  By the time the Malloy family arrived a few hours later, Catherine had practically worn a path from the kitchen to the front window while watching for their approach and dutifully reporting back to Maeve and Sarah every five minutes that she’d seen no sign of them yet.

  The girl had thrown open the front door before they’d had a chance to knock or even mount the front steps, and Brian broke into a run and raced up onto the porch to hug her, heedless of his grandmother’s efforts to restrain him.

  By the time Sarah and Maeve had reached the front hall, they were inside. Mrs. Malloy had worn her Sunday best, a black bombazine gown at least a decade out of style but whose condition was so good, she had clearly given it impeccable care and saved it only for special occasions. Her hat appeared to have recently been spruced up with new flowers. Sarah felt oddly touched that she had taken so much care with her appearance.

  “Mrs. Malloy, I’m so glad you could come,” Sarah said, taking her hand.

  Mrs. Malloy’s faded blue eyes had been taking in every detail of Sarah’s modest home, and she seemed to relax just slightly at the sight of the utilitarian office area. “Thank you for having us.”

  Only when she was sure Mrs. Malloy felt adequately greeted did Sarah turn to Malloy, who gave her a tentative smile. “Malloy,” she said, returning it. She gave him both her hands, which he squeezed reassuringly. Or at least she thought that was what the squeeze meant.

  She glanced down at Catherine and Brian, who were communicating in some mysterious way that seemed to make them both very happy. It made Sarah very happy, too. Then she noticed Maeve hovering expectantly. “Mrs. Malloy, may I present Maeve Smith, the young lady I told you about?”

  “Maeve takes care of me when Mama has to deliver a baby,” Catherine said.

  Maeve gave Catherine a smile and nodded to Mrs. Malloy. “Very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Malloy.”

  “Mrs. Brandt speaks highly of you,” Mrs. Malloy said, taking the girl in with her sharp gaze.

  “We think it will be wonderful having Brian to play with all the time, don’t we, Catherine?”

  Catherine nodded vigorously. “Except when he has to go to school. Will you teach us how to talk to him?”

  Mrs. Malloy finally smiled. “I certainly will.”

  “Please come in and sit down,” Sarah said, remembering her manners. She hadn’t entertained in so very long, she’d grown rusty. “I’m sorry I don’t have a proper sitting room, which is just one of the reasons we’ll need to find a larger house.”

  They had brought some of the kitchen chairs out to the front room where the two upholstered chairs sat by the front window. The girls served everyone lemonade, and they made polite conversation about the weather and inconsequential things until the children grew restless.

  “Why don’t I take them upstairs to play?” Maeve said.

  “Mrs. Malloy, would you like to come up with us to see my dollhouse?” Catherine asked. “I arranged it just for you to see.”

  “I would love to see it,” she said, following Maeve and the children up the stairs.

  Malloy took the opportunity to remind Sarah that they were engaged by kissing her rather enthusiastically for a few minutes. When he seemed to feel sufficiently appreciated, she showed him the letter from Milo Pendergast.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked when he’d read it.

  “I’ve got to show it to Broghan.”

  “Will he let Maeve meet this man?”

  He frowned, slapping the letter against his leg. “He can’t stop her from meeting him. The question is whether he’ll assign men to watch her and follow them back to his house.”

  “But that’s the only way we’ll find him, isn’t it?”

  Malloy nodded, still frowning.

  “What is it?”

  “I was just thinking. It’s Saturday, and I probably won’t be able to find Broghan until Monday.”

  “But that will be too late.”

  “Yes, it will. So what’s to stop us from following her ourselves? We can see where he lives, and then Maeve can have a sudden change of heart and run off, and we can tell Broghan where the fellow lives, he can go there and arrest him and be a hero.”

  “Oh, Malloy, do you think that will work?”

  “Why wouldn’t it? I’ll need to tell Mr. Livingston, too. That way he can go down to Headquarters and insist they raid Pendergast’s house and find his daughter. They’ll be annoyed that I interfered, but since I’m letting them get the glory, they shouldn’t mind too much.”

  “He should offer a reward, too, shouldn’t he?”

  “That would help. Can you go with me to keep an eye on Maeve? I think it would be easier if we looked like a couple out for a str
oll.”

  “Of course. I’d feel better if I were there anyway, instead of sitting here and worrying about her. I’ll ask Mrs. Ellsworth to watch Catherine tomorrow.”

  “And I’ll go see Livingston later today and tell him what we’re doing.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear we’ve finally heard from Pendergast. He must be nearly out of his mind with worry.”

  “I just hope we find his daughter. She’s been gone nearly a week now. Anything could’ve happened to her by now.”

  Sarah took his hand. “You did the very best you could.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  They heard footsteps on the stairs, so he quickly tucked the letter into his pocket.

  They both rose when Mrs. Malloy came into the front room.

  “Maeve seems like a clever girl,” she said.

  If she only knew, Sarah thought. “We’re very lucky to have her. Did Catherine show you her dollhouse?”

  “Oh, yes. She has . . .” She caught herself, and Sarah realized in surprise that her voice had broken, as if she were fighting tears. She cleared her throat. “She has a doll that she said is me and one for Brian. She said she needed them so she would have her whole family.”

  “Oh my, I had no idea,” Sarah said, feeling the sting of tears herself.

  Mrs. Malloy cleared her throat again and resumed her usual dignity. “And you’re absolutely right, Mrs. Brandt. Your house is entirely too small for all of us.”

  “Oh, please call me Sarah,” she said briskly, glad to be back on familiar ground. “We really need to talk about where we want to live in the city, don’t we?”

  By the time they had eaten luncheon and devoured all the delicacies Mrs. Ellsworth had helped the girls make, Maeve and Mrs. Malloy were allies and Catherine had learned a dozen new signs to use with Brian.

  As they were leaving, Malloy said, “I’ll be over before luncheon tomorrow so we can make our plans.”

  Maeve smiled with a little too much satisfaction. “I’ll be ready.”

  • • •

  Sarah tucked her hand into the crook of Malloy’s arm as they strolled slowly down the street. The little park was up ahead, and Maeve sat there on a bench, clutching her hands together and glancing around with apparent nervousness. Sarah knew that Maeve really felt eager anticipation at the opportunity to fool this Milo Pendergast as he had fooled Grace Livingston and other women before her. Maeve looked like an eager maiden in her Macy’s finery, purchased for the occasion. They’d had a lovely time choosing the light blue outfit, which Maeve had pointed out would be easy to follow in a crowd and which also happened to suit her perfectly.

  Sarah paused and pretended to look for something in her purse, annoying the people behind them, who cast impatient looks as they had to swerve to avoid knocking them down.

  “Where could he be?” she said.

  “He’s probably here already. He’s been here for a while, watching to see who comes and goes. “

  “I don’t see anyone watching.”

  Malloy sighed. “That’s the whole point.”

  Before Sarah could think of a reply, a tall man bustled past them as if he were late for an appointment. He wore a nicely tailored brown suit and a derby hat. Sarah hadn’t gotten a good look at him, but his vigorous stride and the way his head kept swinging from side to side, as if he were looking for something, made her think he was young. Her heart started racing.

  “Could that be him?”

  “Shhh.”

  Malloy tucked her hand through his arm again, and they started down the street behind him. He stopped at the park, looked at Maeve for a second, then glanced around again. Maeve gave him a hopeful smile, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy looking around. Apparently satisfied, he straightened his shoulders, then reached into his breast pocket and tugged out a piece of cloth until it was clearly visible. A piece of yellow cloth.

  Maeve half rose and spoke to him, her lovely face twisted into a questioning frown. He nodded and replied. They were too far away to hear, but she could clearly see Maeve’s relieved smile and the young man’s answering bow as he greeted her. After a moment, he sat down beside her. He glanced around again, still obviously anxious, but then he turned his attention to her.

  “What do we do now?” Sarah asked.

  “We walk past and don’t look at them. Pretend you’re talking to me.”

  “What should I talk about?”

  “Explain to me what’s happened to my mother.”

  This surprised a laugh out of Sarah in spite of her anxiety for Maeve.

  “I’m serious. All my mother could talk about on the way home yesterday was how lucky I am to get you and how smart Maeve is and how good it’ll be for Brian to have a sister. Do you think it was the dollhouse?”

  Sarah bit back a smile. “It’s a very nice dollhouse.”

  “Why didn’t she get a doll that’s supposed to be me?”

  Sarah had to choke back a laugh at his disgruntled frown. “She already had one.”

  “She did?” He seemed delighted.

  “The house came with a family, so it had a mother and father. She never told me it was supposed to be her family, though.”

  They were passing the bench where Maeve sat with the young man. Sarah managed to catch a glimpse of him without actually looking at them. He was presentable, although not what Sarah would have called handsome, and he seemed awfully nervous for someone who’d done this many times before.

  “Something’s wrong,” Malloy whispered when they’d passed them.

  “I know. He doesn’t seem . . . confident.”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Maybe that’s how he tricks the girls. Maybe he acts more nervous than they are.”

  But Malloy was shaking his head. “He’s a charmer. The women I talked to the other day both said so.”

  “But Maeve isn’t his usual kind of girl. He usually goes after plain girls. Maybe he changed his . . . his method for her.”

  Malloy didn’t look convinced, and he didn’t look happy either. They’d reached the corner, and they turned, stepping out of sight and stopping near the wall so the other pedestrians could easily pass them. Malloy pulled a small mirror from his pocket and positioned it so he could see down the street.

  “What are they doing?”

  “Talking. Usually, he takes them to lunch, but it’s too late in the day for that. I’m hoping he tries to take her directly to his house.”

  “With that story about meeting his mother?”

  Malloy nodded, never taking his gaze from the mirror. “Most girls would agree to that. There’s only one reason a man introduces a woman to his mother.”

  “You warned her not to be too eager.”

  “I hope she can do it. I know how anxious she is to catch this man and find Grace Livingston.”

  “I’ve learned to never underestimate her.”

  They stood in silence for a while, earning puzzled glances from the many pedestrians out to enjoy this lovely Sunday afternoon who must have wondered why they were standing there with Malloy holding a mirror around the corner. Sarah desperately wanted to walk back down the street to check on Maeve, but if Pendergast had noticed them before, he’d think that strange. They couldn’t afford to spook him, not when they were this close. And if they scared him off this time, they’d probably never get another chance.

  After what seemed an hour, Malloy said, “They’re getting up.”

  “Oh, good!”

  “Wait, what . . . ? They’re going the wrong way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The man at the restaurant said Pendergast always heads uptown when he leaves with his lady friends, but he’s heading the other way. Come on. We need to catch up.”

  The plan had been to wait until they passed, t
hen fall in behind them. Instead, Frank and Sarah were headed back the way they’d come. Luckily, Maeve’s suit really was easy to spot as they strolled along the crowded sidewalk, so they didn’t need to follow too closely.

  “I just hope Maeve keeps her promise not to go inside with him,” Sarah said.

  “She’s too smart to do anything else.”

  Malloy quickened his pace when Maeve and Pendergast turned down a side street, disappearing from sight. Sarah was nearly running by the time they reached the corner, but to her relief, the couple was still in sight. Maeve, she noticed, had taken his arm. A nice touch. He’d think she trusted him.

  Malloy slowed down again, not wanting to catch them, just keep them in sight. This street was quieter, lined on both sides with comfortable rows of modest town houses. Trees struggled to thrive here with varying degrees of success, their newly unfurled leaves soaking up some of the city noises and providing intermittent patches of shade.

  Up ahead, Maeve and Pendergast stopped in front of a house. Pendergast gestured that she should precede him up the steps to the front stoop, but Maeve hesitated, backing away slightly. Malloy quickened his pace again. They wanted to be close if he tried to force her. They were still a block away, unable to hear the words, and Maeve took another step back, apparently uncertain. He leaned in with an air of desperation. Plainly, he wanted to get her inside and was making his case, trying to convince her.

  Sarah looked at the house, trying to see a face in the window, but she knew that was silly. They were still too far away and the angle was wrong. Besides, if Grace were a prisoner here, she wouldn’t be looking out the window, would she? How were they going to walk away knowing she was probably inside? Maybe Malloy could get a beat cop to go in with him.

  Maeve was shaking her head now. She’d be telling him she’d made up her mind that she just couldn’t bring herself to go into a gentleman’s house unescorted. That was the story they’d settled on, but Pendergast grabbed her arm. Malloy made an outraged sound, but before he could move, someone shoved them out of the way and raced past them. Malloy staggered a few steps, fighting to keep his balance and not knock Sarah over in the process, and when they both looked up, they saw the running man closing on Maeve and Pendergast.