Murder on Fifth Avenue gm-14

by Victoria Thompson

“I met him when I went back to the house yesterday to look at Devries’s clothes.”

  Sarah blinked. “I get the feeling you have a lot of things to tell me.”

  “Let me start with what I’ve found out since I saw you last, and then you can do the same.”

  “Sounds like a good plan, but don’t dawdle. I was up all night, and I might drift off at any moment.”

  “I’ll do my best to keep you awake. I guess I should start by telling you about my visit with the mistress.”

  Sarah no longer felt a bit sleepy. “I’d completely forgotten about her. What’s she like?”

  “Not like I expected. She’s young and …”

  “And what?”

  “I feel silly saying innocent, considering what she is, but she seems like a fresh-faced country girl who just got lost on her way to the market.”

  “How sad. What’s going to become of her now?”

  “I don’t know, but she’s got a maid who’ll look after her, I think.”

  “A maid?”

  “Well, she was got up as a maid, and she answered the door and fetched Miss English like a maid would, but when Miss English got hysterical, this woman slapped her right in the face.”

  “The maid slapped her?”

  “Yeah. Have you ever seen anything like that before?”

  “I’ve heard about a very ill-mannered houseguest slapping a maid once, but never the other way around. She’d be turned out without a reference and would never get work in another house in the city.”

  “Which is why I thought maybe she wasn’t really a maid.”

  “Or maybe she was the girl’s nursemaid or something and just stayed with her when she fell on hard times or…I don’t know. Did you ask my mother what she thought about it?”

  “Of course not. Do you think I was going to talk about Devries’s mistress with your mother?”

  Sarah had to smile at the image. “No, but I assure you, she would have loved it.”

  “Which is exactly why I didn’t do it. So this girl and her maid are living in this house, but I’m sure Paul Devries will turn them out as soon as he thinks about it, if he hasn’t done it already. That’s why the girl got hysterical, by the way. She didn’t seem too upset that Devries was dead until she realized what it meant to her. That’s when she started carrying on.”

  “How interesting that no one seems particularly upset the man is dead.”

  “Not really. A lot of people who end up murdered aren’t well liked.”

  “I don’t suppose she happened to mention that she’d stabbed him in the back before he left her that morning.”

  “No, but she did admit they had an argument.”

  “What about?”

  “The maid said Miss English wanted to go out to the theater or something, and Devries wouldn’t allow it. But that’s just what the maid said. They could’ve been fighting about anything.”

  “Do you think the girl might have done it? Even by accident?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe by accident, but I didn’t ask her outright. She would’ve just denied it, and I would’ve lost my chance to surprise her with it. I think the maid could’ve done it, but the thing is …” Malloy shifted, obviously uncomfortable.

  Sarah straightened in her chair. “What?”

  “I’m starting to think Devries was naked when he got stabbed.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “The medical examiner noticed there are no holes in the clothes he was wearing when we found him dead at the club, so he wasn’t wearing them when he got stabbed.”

  “He could have been wearing different clothes or …” Sarah tried to imagine some possible scenarios. “You said he spent the night with his mistress. He would have taken off his clothes then, to sleep if nothing else. He might’ve been wearing a nightshirt, and…Would he have taken the nightshirt home with him?”

  “I’ve never kept a mistress myself, but I doubt a man would carry a bag of nightclothes and a change of underwear when he went back and forth between her place and his house.”

  “No, you’re right, he’d keep clothes there. But what about the clothes he wore home from her place? They might have been different from the clothes he wore later in the day.”

  “His valet couldn’t find anything at the house that had holes in it.”

  “If he was undressed when he got stabbed, it must have happened at the mistress’s house, then.”

  “Not necessarily. He also happened to be naked when he had an argument with his son and then later with his wife.”

  Sarah watched Malloy’s face slowly growing red. No matter how many times they discussed things like this, Malloy still got embarrassed. Her medical training had hardened her to such things, and she sometimes wondered if Malloy thought her unfeminine because of it. “I’m guessing you didn’t discuss any of this with my mother either.” From the expression on his face, he didn’t think that was funny. “So, I can understand why a man might be undressed when with his wife, but how did it happen with his son as well?”

  “Apparently, Devries and his wife don’t spend much time together anymore, dressed or not, so it was unusual for the wife, too. According to the valet, Devries came home and took a bath, as he usually did when returning from visiting Miss English.”

  Sarah bit her tongue to keep from making a remark that might embarrass Malloy further and simply nodded.

  “He was in his room, waiting for his breakfast tray to be brought up, when Paul came in.”

  “Mr. Devries was waiting in his room without any clothes on?”

  “No, he wore a robe, but at some time during his argument with Paul, he removed it. Paul said he did it to make him feel inferior.”

  “How would removing his robe make Paul feel inferior?”

  “That’s not something I’m going to explain to you, but it doesn’t matter anyway. I think Devries had another purpose in mind.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing I’m prepared to tell you about, and don’t bother pouting because it won’t work.”

  “I’m not pouting!”

  “So Devries was naked when Paul left the room.”

  Sarah sighed. “What did they argue about?”

  “Paul said Devries had been cruel to Garnet, and he was telling him to stop.”

  “That doesn’t sound right.”

  “Why not?”

  “You told me Garnet wanted to divorce Paul, and we know they weren’t particularly happy together. Why would he care if his father was mean to her?”

  Malloy leaned back in his chair. “That’s a good question. Maybe because of the baby.”

  “I don’t think he knows about the baby. His mother certainly doesn’t. She actually told us Garnet is barren, so she couldn’t know, and I’m guessing if Paul knew, he would have told her instantly.”

  “Then I’ll have to find out why he was so anxious to defend his wife.”

  “Find out what the father was doing to her, too. Maybe he made Garnet mad enough to stab him.”

  Malloy grinned at that image. “I’d rather put my money on Mrs. Devries.”

  “Oh, yes, how did she happen to visit her husband, since you said they don’t spend much time together?”

  “Paul went straight to her to complain about his father, and she went to see Devries herself. According to the valet, Devries was not a modest man, and he made no move to cover himself when she came in.”

  “Oh, dear, I can just imagine her reaction.”

  “Yeah, well, she probably didn’t stay long, but she was there, so I have to consider her.”

  “She didn’t like him much, either, and she probably knows about the mistress, so she’d be mad about that, too.” Sarah shook her head. “I don’t suppose anyone else was in the room with them.”

  “The valet claims he withdrew and didn’t see or hear a thing.”

  “He might not have seen, but I’ll bet he heard plenty.”

  “I’m sure he did, but he’s not going to tal
k, at least not yet.”

  Sarah considered what Malloy had told her. “So both the wife and the son could have done it.”

  “Yes, except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t have any idea what they could’ve stabbed him with.”

  “I thought it was a stiletto.”

  “What would either of them be doing with a stiletto? Besides, Doc Haynes says it was thinner than that. Something like an ice pick.”

  “An ice pick? Where would they have gotten an ice pick?”

  “Just what I was wondering.” Malloy glanced around the kitchen and pointed to the top of her icebox. “There’s yours, right where it’s handy if you want to chip off some ice for something.”

  “Or if I wanted to stab someone with it.”

  “But it would only be handy for that if you wanted to stab somebody in the kitchen.”

  “Oh, I see what you mean.”

  “And while you spend a lot of time in your kitchen, I doubt Paul or his mother ever go there.”

  “And if one of them had decided to murder Mr. Devries with an ice pick, they would have had to go down to the kitchen and get it without anybody noticing or wondering about it and carry it upstairs and …” She shook her head. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know.” Malloy sighed.

  “What about the Italian man Mr. Devries was going to see?”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Angotti. He was interesting.”

  “You met him?”

  “Gino Donatelli made the introduction.”

  Sarah smiled. “How is Gino doing?”

  For some reason, Malloy frowned. “He’s still with the department, at least so far, but I don’t know how much longer that will last.”

  “Are things very different now that Theodore is gone?” Police Commissioner Theodore Roosevelt had instituted many reforms in the department, but he’d left a few months earlier for a job in Washington, D.C.

  “Everything is different, but with all the Italians in the city, it’s still good to have some cops on the force who know the language and the neighborhood.”

  “Are things different for you?”

  He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his voice held no emotion. “Having Felix Decker ask for me by name will keep me in good graces for a while. Now, you were asking about Angotti.”

  “Yes, did you find out why Devries went to see him?”

  “Devries wanted Angotti to kill a woman for him.”

  “Good heavens! You can’t be serious!”

  “I’m perfectly serious. Devries wanted this woman, a Mrs. Richmond, murdered, and he tried to hire Angotti to do it.”

  “Why on earth did he want someone murdered?”

  “I don’t know yet. I have to go see this Mrs. Richmond to find out.”

  “Then Angotti didn’t kill her?”

  “He claimed he didn’t. He said when he heard her story, he decided she didn’t deserve to be killed and told Devries his decision on the day he died.”

  “Do you suppose there’s a chance Devries went to see Mrs. Richmond and took his clothes off for some reason?”

  “I did think he might’ve tried to kill her himself and got stabbed in the process, but I won’t know until I see Mrs. Richmond.”

  “She isn’t likely to admit to something like that, especially if she knows he’s dead now.”

  “Let’s hope she doesn’t. It hasn’t been in the papers yet.”

  “Do you have any idea why Devries wanted her dead?”

  “None. Angotti wasn’t going to help me any more than he had to.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you more.”

  “I’m not. You’re already more involved in this than you should be.”

  “Maybe I could call on Garnet again, just to see how she’s doing.”

  “Somebody in that house might be a killer.”

  “They wouldn’t have any idea I was helping with the investigation, though. I’m just a concerned friend.”

  “Sarah …”

  “All right, all right. But if Garnet calls on me again, I’m not going to turn her away.”

  Malloy didn’t roll his eyes, but she suspected he wanted to.

  “What are you going to do today?” she asked.

  “Go see Mrs. Richmond, and if she doesn’t confess to stabbing Devries, then I’ll go see Miss English again and ask if any of Devries’s clothes have holes in them.”

  “That should be interesting. And if neither woman confesses, what will you do next?”

  “Go see your father, tell him Mrs. Richmond’s story, and find out if he wants me to quit.”

  “Quit? Why would he want you to quit?”

  “So I don’t embarrass the family.”

  Sarah couldn’t believe it. “Yes, I’m sure it would be terribly embarrassing to find out Mrs. Devries killed her husband.”

  Malloy grinned. “I don’t think he’s afraid of that. He’s afraid I’ll find out even worse things about the Devrieses than I already have and his family will have to live with the shame of it, whether I find the real killer or not.”

  “I suppose I should be proud of my father for being so considerate.”

  “You may not like Mrs. Devries, but what about Garnet? Did she do anything to deserve a scandal? Or Paul?”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Stop pouting.”

  “I’m not—” Sarah caught herself when she saw his grin. “Malloy, I think you’re enjoying this case.”

  His grin faded. “Truthfully, I’m not. I don’t like anything about it.”

  “Do you normally like murder cases?”

  “Not like, but…I don’t know how to explain it. The whole thing makes me uneasy, like I’m going to find out something I shouldn’t find out. Something nobody should find out. When your father said he was thinking about putting an end to it, I was actually relieved.”

  “You were just relieved that you wouldn’t have to work with my father anymore.”

  To her surprise, he shook his head. “I would’ve thought that was true, too, before I worked with him, but he’s …”

  “He’s what?” Sarah found herself intensely interested in his opinion of her father.

  “Reasonable.”

  Sarah’s jaw dropped again, and she didn’t even bother to close it. “I would never describe my father as reasonable. You know very well how unreasonable he can be.”

  “Yes, I do, but in this…Well, maybe he’s changed. Tragedy can change a man.”

  It could change a woman, too. The tragedy of her sister’s death had changed Sarah from a careless girl to the woman she was today. Could it have changed her father, albeit more slowly? She would like to think so. “Maybe I should discuss the case with him.”

  He grinned. “Be sure to include your mother. It will save him the trouble of having to tell her everything you talked about later.”

  FRANK WASN’T SURE HOW EARLY WAS TOO EARLY TO CALL on Mrs. Richmond, but he couldn’t imagine it mattered. He wouldn’t be welcome at any time, so he went straight to the address Angotti had given him when he left Sarah’s house. The once-respectable neighborhood was slowly going to seed as immigrants moved whole families into one or two rooms of what had formerly been a single-family home. The address Frank sought was a large house badly in need of paint. A sign in the front window said ROOMS TO RENT. Mrs. Richmond had fallen on hard times if she had to take in boarders.

  A harried woman of middle years answered his knock—the bell no longer worked. Although she wore an apron, she was clearly the lady of the house and not a maid. She looked him up and down. “I only rent to ladies.”

  “Mrs. Richmond?” he asked.

  She planted her fists on her ample hips. “No, I’m not Mrs. Richmond, and what would you be wanting with her?”

  Frank decided not to embarrass Mrs. Richmond if he didn’t have to, so he didn’t mention he was with the police. “I have a business matter to discuss with
her. Is she at home?”

  “Where else do you think she would be?”

  “Would you tell her she has a visitor?”

  “What do I look like, her social secretary? I don’t allow any men in the house except in the front parlor. I run a respectable place, so no funny business.” Before Frank could manage a reply, she started walking away, muttering under her breath. She walked like someone whose feet hurt. When she was halfway down the hall, she called back over her shoulder, “Well, come on in and close the door. You’re letting in the cold.”

  Frank did as instructed, closing the door carefully. The hallway was indeed just as cold as outside. Faded wallpaper curled at the edges, and the floor could have used a good scrubbing. Frank had misjudged. Mrs. Richmond wasn’t taking in boarders. She was a boarder. Many respectable women who had fallen on hard times lived in places like this, along with shopgirls and teachers and others whose wages didn’t allow them the luxury of having their own place. He was glad he hadn’t brought Mrs. Decker along.

  He found what must be the front parlor, a shabby room full of worn-out furniture. He didn’t want to risk any of it, so he was still standing with his coat on when he heard footsteps in the hall. This room was cold, too. There was no fire in the grate.

  “I don’t know who he is,” the woman who had answered the door said, making no effort to keep her voice down. “He ain’t that Italian, if that’s what you’re wondering. This one’s Irish and a copper if I don’t miss my guess. I run a respectable place here, Mrs. Richmond, and I told you when you come here that I don’t allow male visitors, especially Italians and coppers.”

  Another voice replied but too softly for Frank to make out the words. Then a woman appeared in the parlor doorway. She was probably in her forties and had been a beauty in her youth. Her dress was far from new but of good quality, and she had wrapped a cashmere shawl tightly around her shoulders, probably to protect against the chill. He noticed a small hole in the wool near her shoulder. Still, he could tell instantly who and what she was, or rather what she had once been. She held herself erect and met his gaze squarely, the way rich people did when they wanted to put you in your place.

  “Who are you?” Her well-modulated voice held the ring of authority.

  “Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy of the New York City Police.”