Murder on Washington Square
Page 20
Sarah was certain the Walcotts didn’t operate a brothel, but a woman who’d had experience in both acting and prostitution would certainly be an asset if all the women there were doing what Anna Blake was doing. “Has Mr. Walcott taken an interest in any of the other actresses in the theater?”
“Not that I know of. Listen, that’s all I know, and I gotta get back. You said you’d pay me . . .”
Sarah reached into her purse and pulled out five dollars, which was probably what Irene earned here in a week. “Thank you for your help,” she said, slipping the money into Irene’s outstretched hand.
She counted the money and smiled. “Any time.” She stuffed the money down into the bodice of her corset and hurried back to the dressing room without bothering to say good-bye.
Sarah stared after her for a long moment, wondering what, if anything, she had really learned. With a sigh, she made her way back down the corridor to the exit. Maybe, she thought, Malloy had had better luck.
The gaslights were lit by the time Sarah reached Bank Street, and she was wishing she’d worn a heavier coat. Her spirits rose instantly when she saw a man sitting on her front step, waiting for her. She needed to see Malloy and find out what he’d learned. But as she got closer, and the man rose to his feet to meet her, she realized it wasn’t Malloy after all.
“Mrs. Brandt,” he said with a pleasant smile, pulling off his hat.
“Mr. Dennis,” Sarah said, making no attempt to hide her amazement, although she did manage not to sound disappointed. She couldn’t help glancing at the Ellsworth house, but no faces stared out of the front windows. Had Mrs. Ellsworth or Nelson seen him sitting here? They would surely wonder about that. Sarah was wondering herself. “What brings you here?”
His smile vanished. “I wish I could tell you I’d come on a social visit, but I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. I wanted to break it to you myself first.”
“What do you mean, first?” she asked apprehensively.
“I mean, before you read it in the newspaper.” He glanced up and down the street, as if trying to judge whether or not he would be overheard.
“Why don’t you come inside?” she suggested, instinctively knowing she didn’t want anyone else to overhear his news either.
He followed her up the front steps and waited while she unlocked the front door. When they were inside, she removed her jacket and took his hat. He was looking curiously around her office. “This is very impressive. You have quite a bit of equipment here,” he remarked.
“My husband was a physician,” she reminded him. “This was his office originally. I don’t use a lot of it.”
He looked a little ill at ease. Most people were in the presence of such intimidating furnishings, but Sarah did nothing to reassure him. She didn’t want him to feel comfortable if he was bringing her bad news. She bade him be seated in one of the chairs that sat by the front window, and she took the other.
When they were seated, she said, “You came to tell me something.”
His smile was apologetic. “I wish I could have forgotten. This gives me no pleasure, Mrs. Brandt. I know you are a friend to the Ellsworths, and—”
“What is it?” she snapped, her patience stretched to the breaking point after her long and frustrating day.
He blinked in surprise at her tone, but he said, “I had an auditor check our books.”
“What books?”
“Our bank records,” he explained. “Ordinarily, the bank’s records are checked for accuracy only once a year, but in light of what you told me . . .”
“What did I tell you?” Sarah asked with growing alarm when he hesitated.
“That Nelson Ellsworth was being blackmailed by a woman of ill repute.”
“I didn’t tell you any such thing!” she protested.
He gave her the kind of patronizing look that set her teeth on edge. “You told me that she had demanded money from another man and that he had stolen it from his employer. You also told me this woman had seduced Nelson as well. Mrs. Brandt, I would be foolish indeed—and remiss in my duties—if I didn’t reassure myself that Mr. Ellsworth hadn’t done the same thing that other man did.”
“But Nelson is innocent!”
“Are you saying he didn’t give her money?”
“Well, he did, but—”
“I felt certain he had, and I had to make certain that money didn’t come from the bank,” he said so reasonably she wanted to slap him.
“Nelson would never take anything that didn’t belong to him,” Sarah insisted.
“Your confidence in him is commendable, I’m sure, but the fact is, Mrs. Brandt, that the auditors found money missing.”
“That’s impossible!” Sarah insisted.
“I assure you, it’s very possible. He stole nearly ten thousand dollars.”
11
WHEN MALLOY KNOCKED ON HER DOOR, SARAH WAS still sitting in the chair where she’d been when Richard Dennis had left almost an hour earlier. She forced herself to get up and let him in.
As soon as Malloy saw her face, he frowned. “What happened?”
“I did a very stupid thing,” she said, waiting until he’d hung his hat, then leading him back into the kitchen. She didn’t even bother to ask herself why she took him into the kitchen. It just seemed the right place to go.
“Does this have anything to do with Anna Blake’s murder?” he asked as he seated himself at the table. “Or is this stupid thing something in your regular life?”
“Both,” she said, filling the coffeepot with water. “I can’t believe I did this.” The worst part was that she hadn’t mentioned to Malloy that she was going to meet Richard Dennis and ask for his help because she’d been afraid he wouldn’t approve. If only she’d given him a chance to talk her out of it!
She put some kindling into the stove and lit it, then fed in some wood until the fire was going. Only when she felt the heat did she realize how cold she’d become, sitting alone with her guilt as night settled over the city. When she had put the coffee on to boil and had nothing left to do, she forced herself to take the seat opposite Malloy and look him straight in the eye.
But when she saw his worried frown, she had to cover her face with both hands and groan. She didn’t deserve his concern. At least it would vanish the instant she told him what she’d done. She could deal with his anger. She deserved that, after all.
“I asked Nelson’s employer not to dismiss him,” she said.
“That doesn’t sound so stupid,” Malloy said. “Unless he turned you down.”
Sarah rubbed her temples where a headache was throbbing. “He didn’t turn me down. He promised to help for as long as he could or until Nelson was arrested, which I assured him wouldn’t happen.”
He didn’t say anything, and she hazarded a glance at him. He still looked worried. About her. She wanted to groan again.
“He didn’t dismiss Nelson, but he did have some auditors come in to check the bank’s books. He was just being careful, he said. Because Anna Blake had blackmailed another man who stole money from his employer to pay her.”
“You told him that?” Malloy asked incredulously.
“I warned you this was stupid!” she cried. “I was trying to convince him that Nelson was an innocent victim of a evil woman. I wanted him to know just how evil she really was!”
“So he was afraid Nelson was stealing from the bank to pay her off, too,” Malloy said. “And was he?”
Sarah buried her face in her hands again. “Oh, Malloy, he couldn’t have been! I know Nelson would never steal from anyone!”
“But . . . ?” Malloy said.
She swallowed the bile that rose up in her throat. “But there’s ten thousand dollars missing from the bank.”
“Good God.”
“My reaction exactly.”
“Have you told Nelson all this?”
“I haven’t had the courage to face them yet,” she admitted. “I know he didn’t do it, but . . .”
> “He’ll deny it even if he did,” Malloy pointed out. “Is this bank fellow going to press charges against Nelson?”
“He said he wasn’t. He said the scandal would be bad for the bank. In situations like this, they handle things very quietly. They’ll simply dismiss Nelson.”
Malloy’s frown deepened. “Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. I’d think they’d try to get at least some of it back from him. Giddings’s law partners made him repay them.”
“I got the impression that Mr. Dennis was going to cover the loss himself. He doesn’t hold out much hope of getting anything from Nelson, I guess. Mr. Dennis’s father put him in charge of the bank so he could prove himself, and he’d rather lose the money than his father’s respect.”
“How do you know so much about this Mr. Dennis and his personal life?” Malloy asked suspiciously.
This is the part she’d been dreading. “My parents arranged for us to meet last Sunday so I could plead Nelson’s case to him. I couldn’t just walk into his office, a total stranger, and ask him to do something like that!” she protested at his disapproving scowl. “He’d think I was insane.”
“But when Felix Decker’s daughter asked him, he couldn’t refuse,” Malloy guessed.
Sarah didn’t like the way that sounded “I’d like to think I also impressed him with my personal charm.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“What does that mean?” Sarah demanded.
“That means . . . Never mind what it means. How did you find out about the missing money?”
“Mr. Dennis came by this evening to tell me.”
“How considerate of him,” Malloy said acidly. “Did he go next door and tell Nelson, too?”
“No, I . . .” Sarah hesitated when she realized she hadn’t even inquired about this.
Malloy raised his eyebrows. “Was he going to leave that to you?”
“We really didn’t discuss it,” Sarah snapped. “I’m sure he’s going to officially notify Nelson that he’s dismissed or something.”
“So this visit he made to you, was that considered unofficial?”
“It was a courtesy, so I wouldn’t think he’d betrayed my trust when he dismissed Nelson.”
“He’s a real gentleman. Except, of course, that he’s covering up a crime and letting a thief get away. Wasn’t he even interested in finding out if Nelson really was the one who stole the money? Because if he wasn’t, then he’s still got a thief working for him.”
“He . . . I didn’t think to ask him that,” Sarah admitted. Her headache was pounding even harder now. “I’ll go see him first thing in the morning and point that out.”
“No, you won’t,” Malloy said. “I’ll go see him.”
“He doesn’t want the police involved,” she reminded him. “If he knows I sent you—”
“He won’t know anything. I’ll tell him Nelson sent me. Nelson didn’t do it, and he wants the real thief caught. He also wants his name cleared, so he asked me to investigate.”
That sounded fairly reasonable, she supposed, although Dennis wouldn’t like it. “Oh, Malloy, how could this have happened? How could money be missing from the bank at the same time Nelson was being blackmailed?”
Malloy stared at her for a long moment, his broad face expressionless, his eyes dark and unfathomable. “It might be because Nelson really did take the money.”
But Sarah had spent the past hour considering that very possibility. “No, I’m sure he didn’t take it.”
“You can’t be sure,” he reminded her.
“Yes, I can. It’s too much money.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ten thousand dollars! Anna had only asked for one thousand. Before that, Nelson had been paying her rent, but he’s a frugal man. He could easily afford an expense like that out of his own pocket, at least for a while. You know Nelson. Even if he could bring himself to steal, he’d never steal ten times more than he needed! He’s too methodical and practical.”
Malloy didn’t argue. She could almost see him considering her theory and coming to the same conclusion she had. “Maybe there isn’t any money missing at all,” he said after a moment.
“What?”
“Maybe this banker just told you that so he’d have an excuse to get rid of Nelson without losing your good opinion.”
Sarah gaped at him. “I’m sure my good opinion doesn’t mean that much to him.”
“Are you?” Malloy asked. “Is this Dennis a married man?”
“He’s . . . a widower,” she admitted reluctantly, not liking where this conversation was going.
“How old is he?”
“About your age,” she allowed.
Malloy nodded as if she’d proven his point.
“What difference could that possibly make?” she asked impatiently.
“Believe me, it makes a lot of difference.”
“In what way?”
“In every way.” A flush had crawled up his neck. “When a man wants a beautiful woman, he’ll do just about anything to keep her good opinion.”
Sarah’s jaw dropped in surprise, but before she could even frame a response, he said, “The coffee’s boiling over.”
Instinctively, she jumped up to rescue it. By the time she’d gotten the pot off the heat, burned her finger, found some butter to put on it, and poured them both some coffee, the shock of his remark had passed.
When she turned back to face him, his expression was once again bland, and the flush had faded from his face.
Before she could say a word, he said, “Did you go see Prescott at the hospital?”
“Yes,” she said, grateful for the change of subject. She set the coffee cups on the table and took her seat again. “He’s not doing very well.”
“Is there any chance he’ll survive?”
“He might. He’s got an aunt. I’m going to . . . Oh, dear, I was going to write her a letter this evening to ask her to visit him and bring him some nourishing food. Then Mr. Dennis came and . . . I guess I’ll have to take him some food myself tomorrow. I was going to go see him anyway. I’d really like to move him here, where I could take care of him, but he’d never be able to stand the trip.”
“That’s what I figured. If it’s any consolation, I think I know who stabbed him.”
“You know who the killer is?” Sarah exclaimed.
“It had to be Giddings’s son.”
“Giddings’s son? Why would he try to kill Prescott?”
“Because he killed Anna Blake.”
“How do you know that?”
“Remember the landlady said a young man came to see Anna right before she was killed? The first time I visited Mrs. Giddings, her son came in and told her she didn’t have to worry about ‘that woman’ anymore. That made me think maybe he knew more about Anna’s death than he let on. I didn’t know then that he’d visited her the night she died, though. Then Prescott starts snooping around. Sooner or later he was going to find out about Giddings and put his name in the paper, too. The boy wants to protect his mother from any more scandal, so he sends Prescott a note, asking him to meet him. He shows up dressed like a woman and lures him into the alley off of Washington Square and stabs him.”
Sarah frowned. “I know we once encountered a woman who dressed up like a man to walk the streets safely at night, but for a man to dress up like a woman . . . isn’t that a little far-fetched?”
“What better way to lure Prescott away so he could kill him?” he pointed out reasonably.
Something about the theory bothered Sarah, but she couldn’t say quite what. It did make sense, far-fetched as it was. “Why haven’t you arrested him yet?”
“I was busy all day on a warehouse robbery, and when I went to their house just now, no one answered the door. I know Mrs. Giddings doesn’t want to talk to me again, so she probably just pretended she wasn’t home. I’m going to try again tomorrow, and this time if she doesn’t open the door, I’ll be a little more forceful.”
“Who’s Irene?”
She stared at him in amazement. “Didn’t Prescott tell you about her? She’s the actress he found, the one who knew Anna Blake.”
“Oh, yeah.” He was unimpressed, so Sarah set out to impress him.
“Did you know that Mr. Walcott was an admirer of Anna’s, when she was on the stage?”
“What do you mean by ‘admirer’?”
“I mean he waited outside the stage door for her and gave her flowers. Then he convinced her to come and live at his house, free of charge, so she could meet rich men like her friend Francine had done.”
“Who’s Francine?”
“Another actress Anna knew. Irene knew her, too. She went to live at the Walcotts’ house a few months earlier. I thought it might have been Catherine Porter by another name, but Francine had red hair and freckles, so it couldn’t be the same person. At any rate, Francine supposedly met some rich man and went off with him.”
“She must’ve been the one Miss Stone told me about.”
“Who’s Miss Stone?”
“The Walcotts’ next-door neighbor. She doesn’t miss much that goes on in the neighborhood—like another old woman I could name. She said she didn’t think this girl’s hair was naturally red, though.” Sarah smiled in spite of herself. Miss Stone did indeed sound like her own neighbor. “This Francine must’ve been the woman Prescott was trying to find,” Malloy mused. “He said he went back to the Walcott house to find out where she went when she left, but Catherine Porter either didn’t know or wouldn’t tell him. He’ll be glad to know she did so well for herself.”
“Irene also knows Catherine Porter, and she doesn’t have much good to say about her. It seems that when Catherine couldn’t find work in the theater, she sold the one thing of value that she had on the streets.”
Malloy raised his eyebrows. “Which would make her very good at doing the same thing Anna Blake was doing, seducing men and blackmailing them.”