Murder on Lenox Hill

by Victoria Thompson

  “I can imagine,” Frank said, not wanting to picture that scene at all. “And what did you decide to do?”

  “It wasn’t my place to decide. That’s why I had called the elders. They understood it was their responsibility to deal with it. There was some arguing at first. No one wanted the boys to be hurt anymore, so we couldn’t take it to court and make it public, but we had to punish that man. In the end, they decided that the best they could do was to drive him from the church.”

  “How did you intend to do that?”

  “The elders were going to confront him in front of the entire congregation. They were going to tell him they knew what he was and what he had done, and he was to pack up his things and be gone by Monday evening.”

  “And you managed to inform everybody in the church of this in less than two days?”

  “We each took several families and called on them. I assure you, it wasn’t difficult. The word spread even more quickly than we could spread it. Not everyone believed us, of course. Some of the doubters even came to church this morning to stand up for him, but in the end, they were too intimidated by the will of the majority to do anything.”

  Frank remembered Sarah’s claims about gossip and imagined she was right. “Did you plan how people were supposed to act this morning? Mrs. Brandt said nobody sang or gave an offering or went forward for communion.”

  She thought about this for a moment. “We didn’t really plan that part of it. I know I didn’t feel like singing hymns of praise this morning, so I sat silent, as did most everyone else. I don’t know why no one put money in the offering plate, but probably for the same reason. As for communion, I couldn’t bear the thought of taking it from that beast, so I didn’t go forward. Everyone else must have felt the same.”

  “What made you decide to kill Upchurch, Mrs. Evans?” he asked gently.

  Her age-softened face colored delicately. “I . . . well, I understood that he could never be brought to justice unless the boys revealed what he had done to them. I couldn’t allow that to happen, so . . . so I decided he had to die.”

  “Seems like that would be a hard decision for a good Christian woman like you, Mrs. Evans,” Frank observed.

  “I think God will forgive me, Mr. Malloy. He knows it was necessary.”

  She seemed very certain. Too certain. “How did you do it then?”

  “How did I do what?” she asked.

  “How did you kill him?”

  “You know perfectly well. I put poison in the communion wine,” she said indignantly.

  “Tell me exactly how you did it—where you got the poison and how you got it in the wine and when you did it,” he prodded, still gentle.

  “Well, I got the poison from my home. I’m sure most every home in the city has rat poison. We certainly do.” Frank supposed everyone had heard Dr. Thomas say that cyanide was found in rat poison. “I brought it to church and—”

  “What did you carry it in?” Frank asked.

  “What? . . . Oh, my . . . my purse,” she said.

  Frank looked meaningfully down at the small drawstring bag she carried. “How’d you get a box of rat poison in there?”

  “Oh, no, I mean . . . I carried it in a paper sack.”

  “I see. Now tell me how you got it in the wine.”

  “I got here early this morning—”

  “I suppose your family will vouch for what time you left the house this morning,” Frank said.

  “Well, yes, of course they will,” she said but without much certainty.

  “That’s good. So you got here early this morning. Did you see anyone in the church?”

  “No, no one was around. I went back into the room where they store the communion supplies, and I put the poison into the wine bottle.”

  “What did you do with the rat poison then?”

  “What did I? . . . I . . . I threw it away. That’s right. I went out into the alley behind the church and threw it away.”

  Frank nodded sagely. “I’m surprised at you, Mrs. Evans. You don’t seem like the kind of person to take the law into your own hands.”

  This stung her. “I am the kind of person who does what’s necessary, Mr. Malloy. I understood the consequences before I did it, and I am prepared to face them now. You may arrest me.”

  Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m not in a hurry to lock you up, Mrs. Evans. You don’t seem like the kind of person to try to run away. Why don’t you go home and pack some clothes and personal items. You’ll want to explain things to your daughter and grandson, too. I’ll come and get you later.”

  She blinked in surprise. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Malloy.”

  “Not at all. You’ve saved me a lot of work by confessing. I could’ve spent weeks trying to figure out who killed Upchurch.”

  She nodded. “That’s true. I’m glad to have spared you that trouble. Well, then, I’ll be going. When should I expect you?”

  “Not until early evening. Have yourself a nice supper at home. Food at The Tombs isn’t very good, so it might be your last decent meal. Pack warm clothes, too. The Tombs aren’t very warm.”

  This sobered her, and when she rose from her seat, her cheeks were pale. “Thank you for being so kind, Mr. Malloy,” she said as he showed her out.

  “Don’t say anything to anyone about this, except your family,” he warned her. “This is police business, and we don’t want the newspapers involved, do we?”

  “Oh, no, of course we don’t,” she said.

  “Would someone see Mrs. Evans home?” he called to the men still loitering. “Whoever takes her home should come right back to answer questions, like everybody else.”

  Several men hurried forward to assume those duties, and Frank returned to the office to consult with Kelly, closing the door behind him.

  “Why did she do that?” Kelly asked. “She didn’t kill him anymore than I did.”

  “Damn, you’re good at this, too,” Malloy said, echoing Kelly’s earlier remark.

  “Maybe she carried rat poison to the church, although I don’t see how, but she never put it in the wine bottle,” Kelly said. “The cabinet was locked.”

  “And Isaiah said the bottle wasn’t even opened when he took it out of the cabinet,” Frank remembered.

  “Who’s she protecting?” Kelly wanted to know.

  “Let’s see if we can find out. Just in case, go out into the alley and see if you can find a bag of rat poison. I doubt you will, but just in case the real killer might’ve tossed it there. Then start questioning those men out there to see if anybody saw anything before the service started, like maybe somebody up on the stage near the communion cup. And try to find out if anybody knows who was in Upchurch’s office with him.”

  “What’re you going to do?”

  “Talk to those other people out there, the minister’s wife and Linton. His daughter is the one who was raped, but I don’t know what he has to do with this mess. Then I’ll help you finish up with the men you haven’t gotten to yet. You know what we’re looking for.”

  “Yeah, somebody who wanted him dead and could’ve put the poison in the cup this morning.”

  “And find out if anybody passed the word about not taking communion, too.”

  Frank opened the office door for Kelly, and they almost collided with the woman Dr. Thomas had identified as Mrs. Upchurch.

  “I’m Reverend Upchurch’s wife, and I need to speak with you immediately,” she informed them.

  Kelly gave Frank a questioning look. “Go ahead,” Frank told him, and ushered Mrs. Upchurch into the chair where Mrs. Evans had sat.

  “Did you have something you wanted to tell me, Mrs. Upchurch?” Frank asked as he took the other seat.

  “I most certainly do. Don’t waste your time questioning anyone else. I’m the one who killed my husband.”

  SARAH DEARLY WISHED SHE COULD BE WITH MALLOY AS he questioned everyone, but she wasn’t foolish enough to ask. He’d never allow it, even if he hadn’t had
that other detective with him. When she saw Mrs. Upchurch volunteering to be questioned, she could stand her inactivity no longer. She left her seat and moved up to where Mr. Linton was sitting all alone.

  “May I join you?” she asked, surprising him. He’d been lost in thought.

  “Certainly,” he said without much enthusiasm.

  “How is Grace doing?” she asked to make conversation as she sat down in the pew beside him.

  A spasm of pain flickered over his face. “She’s fine, I suppose. She doesn’t understand what . . . what’s going to happen to her, so she’s not concerned.”

  “I guess you and your wife are worrying, though,” Sarah said.

  “Oh, yes. My wife, well, she’s beside herself. We were already concerned about what will become of Grace when we’re gone, but now we have the baby to worry about, too.”

  “Perhaps the child will grow up and take care of Grace when you no longer can,” Sarah said.

  He smiled sadly. “That’s kind of you, Mrs. Brandt, but we know that’s not likely. If we just knew . . .” His voice trailed off in embarrassment.

  “Who the father is?” she guessed.

  “We would never allow him to have anything to do with Grace or the child, of course, but we might make some arrangement for him to provide financially for the child in case it’s . . . well, in case it’s like Grace,” he said, his voice breaking.

  “She hasn’t given you any more information about it?” Sarah asked as tactfully as she could.

  “No. She acts like she doesn’t know what we’re talking about when we ask her, too. It’s like it never happened. I can’t believe she could have forgotten such a thing,” he added bitterly.

  “Shock can do strange things,” Sarah said. “She may remember it later, but if she doesn’t, you’ll just have to consider it a blessing that she doesn’t have that horrible memory.”

  They sat in silence for a while. Sarah tried to think of something less painful to discuss. “I’m surprised you didn’t leave when everyone else did,” she said finally. “Won’t your wife be wondering where you are?”

  “I suppose she will, but when I saw Mrs. Evans was staying, I couldn’t leave. I had to make sure I set everything straight.”

  “Do you know something about the murder?” she asked in surprise.

  “I do. I know far too much about it, and now I must confess.”

  FRANK WAS GLAD HE’D SENT KELLY OFF. HE WAS PRETTY sure the man would’ve laughed out loud. For himself, he managed not to sigh. “What did you say, Mrs. Upchurch?” he asked, just to be sure he hadn’t misunderstood.

  “I said, I killed my husband. I poisoned him. With rat poison. You can stop this travesty and let everyone else go home. Will you take me straight to jail, or do I have time to get my toothbrush and a change of clothes?”

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” Frank assured her. “First I need to ask you some questions.”

  “Why? I told you I killed him. What more could you want to know?”

  “How you did it, for one thing, and why, for another.”

  “I did it because I could no longer bear knowing what he was doing to those poor boys,” she said impatiently, as if surprised he hadn’t already figured that out.

  “Did someone from the church tell you what he was doing?”

  “Oh, no,” she said, surprised. “I’ve known for a long time, since shortly after I married him almost ten years ago. I was the one who told Mrs. Brandt, and I assume she told you, which is why you questioned Oliver about it.”

  “If you knew about it for ten years, why didn’t you ever go to the police about it yourself?” he asked in amazement.

  “I did,” she informed him, anger roughening her voice. “Not long after I found out and came to understand exactly what was happening, I tried to report him, but no one believed me. A detective came to question Oliver, but my husband told the man I was crazy, an hysterical female who had been unhinged by the duties of the marriage bed and now I imagined all sorts of perversions in others. After that, Oliver told everyone I wasn’t right in the head. How do you get people to believe you when they think you’re crazy, Mr. Malloy?”

  “Mrs. Brandt believed you,” he reminded her.

  “She was the first one. I knew she was different the moment I saw her. That’s why I told her. I took a chance, but she proved me right.”

  “Yes, she did. And I believed you, and so did the families of the boys and even the church elders. So why did you have to kill your husband?”

  “I didn’t know for certain that anyone believed me, not until this morning, when I found out everyone had turned against him.”

  “How did you find that out?” Frank asked, being as gentle with her as he had been with Mrs. Evans.

  “Well, I began to suspect during the service, when everyone was acting so strangely, but I wasn’t certain until afterwards, when I heard people talking after Oliver was dead. That’s when I realized everyone knew what he’d done.”

  “I want to make sure I understand, Mrs. Upchurch. You say you were afraid no one believed you and that your husband would just keep molesting those boys, so you killed him.”

  “Well, yes,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you think that’s a good enough reason? I have others, if it isn’t.”

  “What others?” Frank asked in amazement.

  She smiled mysteriously. “I needed to be a widow, Mr. Malloy, to protect my child.”

  “Your child?” he echoed stupidly. “I thought you didn’t have any children.”

  “I don’t, not yet,” she said, still smiling. “But I will, in about six months. You see, I couldn’t risk having Oliver denounce me. He’d know he wasn’t the father, but no one else would. He might have tolerated it, just so he wouldn’t have to explain how he knew the child wasn’t his, but I couldn’t be certain of that. He might have thrown me out or even locked me away in an asylum, and who knows what he would have done with the child? I couldn’t take that chance, you see, so I had to kill him.”

  Frank had to agree, she had a much better motive than Mrs. Evans. “How did you do it, then?” he asked. “Tell me step by step.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I put the rat poison into the communion cup this morning, before anyone arrived,” she said.

  “Where did you get it?”

  “Everyone has rat poison, Mr. Malloy,” she chided him. “If we didn’t, the rats would’ve taken over the city a century ago. I’m sure they even have some here at the church, but I brought mine from home.”

  “What did you carry it in?”

  She hesitated a moment. “I put some into a medicine vial. I got to the church early and waited until Isaiah had set out the communion. Then I poured the poison into the cup.”

  “What did you do with the vial?”

  She needed a moment for this one. “I threw it into the street.”

  If she had, it would be crushed to dust by now, so his chances of finding it were small. She would know that, too.

  “Did you see anyone around the church? Did anyone see you?”

  “No, no one,” she said.

  “Where was your husband?”

  “I don’t know. As I said, I didn’t see anyone.”

  “Was he in his office?”

  “I . . . I didn’t notice.”

  “But you knew he’d already left home to go to the church,” he tried.

  “Oh, yes. He liked to go over his sermon one last time, so he always left the house very early.”

  “Mrs. Upchurch, weren’t you worried about poisoning the entire congregation?”

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  “You know that everybody who takes communion drinks out of the same cup, and your husband is always the last to drink. Weren’t you worried about poisoning a lot of innocent people?”

  “I . . . I told you, I killed my husband,” she said, angry now. “That’s all you need to know. I don’t have to explain every little detail to you. Now take me to
jail!”

  “Aren’t you worried about going to jail in your delicate condition?” he asked.

  She gave him a pitying look. “They won’t keep an expectant mother in jail.”

  He didn’t bother to hide his amazement. “Where did you get an idea like that?”

  She stared at him in surprise. “Well, it’s just . . . it’s common sense! No one would be so inhumane!”

  “You’d be amazed how inhumanely they treat murderesses, Mrs. Upchurch, especially women who murder their husbands to keep from being caught in adultery. A jury of twelve men wouldn’t have a bit of pity for you. If they started letting women off for killing their husbands, there’d be a whole lot of new widows in the city, and nobody wants that. Now granted, they might not send you to the electric chair, but they’d surely lock you away for the rest of your life and take away your baby. After all, if you’re crazy enough to kill your husband, you might kill it, too. Now, do you still want me to arrest you?”

  The color had drained from her face, and Frank realized with horror that she looked as though she might well faint. He jumped up and hurried to the door, throwing it open. “Mrs. Brandt!” he shouted. “Will you come in here, please?”

  SARAH STARTED AT THE SOUND OF MALLOY CALLING HER name. She looked at Mr. Linton, who had just told her he intended to confess to killing Upchurch, then at Malloy, who sounded desperate. Linton, she supposed, didn’t intend to go anywhere, and even if he did, she’d just tell Malloy to go after him.

  “Excuse me, please,” she said to Linton, and jumped up. She hurried up the aisle and over to the doorway where Malloy stood. “What’s wrong?”

  “Mrs. Upchurch is . . .” He gestured vaguely, then grabbed her arm and pulled her into the office.

  Rachel Upchurch did look ill. “What’s wrong?” she asked, hurrying to the woman’s side. Sarah took one of her hands. It was cold as ice. “What did you do to her?” she demanded of Malloy.