Murder on Fifth Avenue: A Gaslight Mystery

by Victoria Thompson

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to come to you in the morning?”

  “Probably, but we’ll need to plan what we’re going to ask her, and I don’t want to take the chance that your father will stay at home tomorrow. We couldn’t possibly speak freely if he’s around.”

  “I can’t wait to meet this Garnet Devries. She sounds like an interesting woman.”

  “I hope so. Her mother-in-law is an insufferable bore. One of those women whose only concern is herself. She’ll thoroughly enjoy being a widow, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she’ll get attention from her friends; she’ll have her husband’s money to spend, but she won’t have to put up with him anymore.”

  “Was Mr. Devries a bore, too?”

  “No worse than many of the men your father knows, I suppose. I’ve often wondered how they amuse themselves at that club of theirs since none of them has the slightest idea how to have a good time.”

  Sarah bit back a smile. “What I don’t understand is why Father is so interested in Mr. Devries’s death.”

  “Because it happened at the Knickerbocker, of course. He’s the club secretary, I believe. Or treasurer. Something like that. He feels responsible, I’m sure. What concerns me is that he has involved Mr. Malloy.”

  Sarah frowned. “Of course he would involve Malloy. He wants the murder solved, and he knows Malloy is the man to do it.”

  “Does he?”

  “Of course he does. Malloy is the best detective in New York.”

  Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Is he now? But that isn’t what I meant. I meant, does your father really want the murder solved? I’m guessing he doesn’t know that himself yet, although I’ll grant you he knows Malloy has the skill to discover the killer. The question is what your father will do with the information once he learns it.”

  “Father doesn’t have to do anything with it. The police will arrest the killer and bring him to trial.”

  Mrs. Decker shook her head. “Sarah, where did you get an idea like that?”

  “Because it’s the law!”

  “If your father doesn’t want the killer arrested, he won’t be. You should know that as well as I.”

  “All right, I do, but if Father doesn’t want the killer arrested, why did he involve Malloy at all?”

  “That is what concerns me. If he wanted the crime ignored, he could have done that without anyone’s help. Instead, he called in the one man he is sure can solve it.”

  “Perhaps you aren’t giving Father enough credit. Perhaps he simply wants to see justice done.”

  “And perhaps your father has another goal entirely.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as putting Frank Malloy to some sort of test. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a tea party to attend.”

  FRANK STARED AT RODERICK. “HIS MISTRESS?”

  Roderick shrugged.

  Frank retrieved a small notebook and pencil from his pocket. “Where is this house again?”

  Roderick gave him the address. “The young lady who lives there is Miss Norah English. I doubt that’s her real name, but that’s what she calls herself.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  Roderick seemed to find the question somewhat insulting. “I have been Mr. Devries’s valet for thirty-two years. I know everything about him.”

  So much for his claim that Devries kept his own counsel. “When did he get home this morning?”

  “He came in around nine, I believe. He wanted a bath and a shave. He always does when he returns from visiting Miss English.”

  “Did you help him with his bath?”

  He acted insulted again. “I always help him.”

  “I’m just trying to find out if you noticed a wound on his back.”

  Roderick frowned. “Where would it have been located?”

  Frank half turned and reached around to touch his thumb to the approximate spot on his own back. “Like I said, it was small.”

  “I didn’t notice anything, but …”

  “But what?”

  “He might have put some sticking plaster on it, mightn’t he? To keep it from bleeding? That could be why I didn’t notice.”

  Roderick seemed very eager to implicate the mistress. “Is this Miss English the kind of girl who might stick a knife into Mr. Devries?”

  “She’s the kind of girl who might do anything.”

  Frank considered this information for a long moment. “Does Mrs. Devries know about Miss English?”

  “Ladies of Mrs. Devries’s station make a point of ignoring women like Miss English.”

  “So you think she knows but has decided not to make a fuss.”

  “I believe that would be an accurate assumption, yes.”

  “Do Mr. and Mrs. Devries get along?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, do they fight?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “At least not where the help can hear.”

  Roderick winced. “The staff can hear everything. They simply don’t speak to each other as a general rule. At least, Mr. Devries tries to avoid speaking with her whenever possible.”

  “Is it usually possible?”

  “Mrs. Devries occasionally attempts to have a conversation with her husband.”

  “Did she attempt to have a conversation with him this morning?”

  Roderick hesitated, and Frank figured he was trying to decide whether to lie or not. “I believe she did,” he said finally.

  “Did anyone else have a conversation with him?”

  Roderick rubbed his palms along his thighs, as if to dry them. “Mr. Paul Devries sought him out as well, I believe.”

  “Any idea what they talked about?”

  “No.”

  Roderick had just told him the staff heard everything, but Frank let the lie pass for now. Paul Devries would probably admit it himself. He didn’t look like a very good liar. “Mr. Devries had a busy morning. Did he meet with anybody else? Any visitors, maybe?”

  “No one came to the house. This house, I mean. The only other people he would have seen are the other staff members, but none of them had a reason to attack Mr. Devries, and if one of them had, he surely would have raised an alarm.”

  Just like he would’ve raised an alarm if somebody had stabbed him at the club. “What about his daughter-in-law?”

  An emotion flickered across Roderick’s face too quickly for Frank to identify. “Why do you ask about her?”

  “I’m just being thorough. Perhaps she noticed something. Did she see Mr. Devries that morning?”

  “I have no idea. She may have.”

  Another lie. Frank was sure of it. He wanted to ask if Garnet Devries was the kind of girl who might stick a knife in Mr. Devries, but Roderick would probably lie about that, too, if he didn’t die of shock at the suggestion. “Did Mr. Devries get along with his daughter-in-law?”

  “I’m sure they had a very cordial relationship.”

  “I thought you knew everything about him.”

  Roderick flushed again. “They were always civil to each other in my presence.”

  Civil. An interesting description. In his experience, people who were civil to each other were trying to hide stronger emotions, and Garnet Devries had seemed to enjoy the news that her father-in-law was dead.

  He wondered how good a liar she would be.

  “Let me get this straight now. Mr. Devries spent last night at his mistress’s house. He came home around nine o’clock this morning, had a bath and a shave, argued with his son—”

  “I never said they argued!”

  “Then argued with his wife, then was civil to his daughter-in-law, and then what? He left the house?”

  Roderick’s face was scarlet. “Yes, he left the house.”

  “What time?”

  “Around eleven.”

  “How long would it take him to get to the Knickerbocker Club from here?” Frank knew how lo
ng it had taken him in the cab Decker had chosen, but he wanted to find out how Devries had traveled.

  “Ten or fifteen minutes if he walked.”

  “Would he have walked?”

  “He didn’t go straight to the club.”

  Frank knew that. He hadn’t arrived at the club until much later. “Where did he go?”

  “He had an appointment.”

  “With who?”

  Roderick’s lips tightened again. He either didn’t want to say or he wanted to say it too much. “With the person who probably killed him.”

  3

  FRANK KNEW BETTER THAN TO JUMP TO ANY CONCLUSIONS. “You think the person Mr. Devries saw after he left the house today is the one who killed him?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I do know that Mr. Devries was not looking forward to the interview.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “Not in so many words, but as I said, I know…knew Mr. Devries very well. I could read his moods.”

  “And what was his mood today?”

  “He seemed preoccupied.”

  “Worried?”

  “That would be too strong a word, I believe. He was anticipating his meeting with Mr. Angotti with some concern.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Salvatore Angotti. He is a foreigner. Italian, if I recall.”

  Frank just barely managed to keep his mouth from dropping open in surprise. An Italian. Doc Haynes thought Devries had been stabbed with a thin-bladed knife, like the kind Italians had brought with them to America. A stiletto. “What business would Mr. Devries have with an Italian?”

  Roderick shrugged. “I have no idea. That is something you will have to discuss with Mr. Angotti.”

  Frank leaned back in his chair and considered this information. “Do you usually keep track of Mr. Devries’s business appointments?”

  “Certainly not, but I would inquire about his plans for the day in order to select the proper attire. This morning, he said, Roderick, I’m sure whatever I wear will impress Salvatore Angotti.”

  “Do you know this Angotti?”

  Once again Roderick stiffened. “No one with a name like Angotti would ever visit Mr. Devries at his home.”

  This was undoubtedly true. “Had you heard of him before today?”

  “I do not believe I have, no. And I’m afraid I was unable to conceal my surprise that Mr. Devries would be meeting with someone like that. He must have noticed, because he said, Angotti is a very unpleasant man, Roderick. I shall be glad to see the last of him.”

  “What did he mean by that?”

  “I assumed he was hoping to never have to meet with the man again.”

  “And you don’t have any idea who he is or how Mr. Devries knew him?”

  “None at all.”

  “Who would?”

  “Someone at Mr. Devries’s offices may know this Angotti person. If anyone stabbed Mr. Devries, I’m sure he’s the one.”

  And Frank was sure Felix Decker would be very pleased if he could put the blame for Devries’s murder on an Italian.

  SARAH SAT AT HER KITCHEN TABLE, SAVORING THE LAST hour of the day. With Catherine safely tucked in for the night, she had just filled Maeve in on what she knew about Chilton Devries’s death and her plans to visit the widow tomorrow with her mother.

  A knock at the door made them both sigh. “I knew this was too good to last.” Sarah rose and motioned for Maeve to stay put.

  “Maybe it’s not a baby.”

  “This late? What else could it be?”

  What else indeed?

  “Malloy,” she said with a welcoming smile when she’d opened the door. She’d long since stopped feeling guilty for the rush of joy she experienced whenever she saw him. His visits didn’t always make her happy, but he certainly made her life more interesting.

  “I’m sorry to call so late,” he said, stepping into the entryway.

  She closed the door and took his hat and coat. He looked tired. “You know you’re always welcome, but you’re especially welcome this evening. I need to find out what you’d like me to ask Mrs. Devries tomorrow.” She managed not to laugh out loud at his expression.

  “How—Your father…?”

  “He stopped by to see me after he left you. Come into the kitchen. Have you eaten?”

  “The Devrieses’ cook took pity on me. I could use some coffee if you have any, though.”

  “How is Brian doing in school?”

  “He’s learning to sign new words every day. I can’t keep up with him.” Sarah could see his pride in his deaf son’s progress shinning in his eyes.

  “Hello, Mr. Malloy,” Maeve said as they entered the kitchen. “We’re so glad you came. We’ve been sitting here trying to figure out what Mrs. Brandt and Mrs. Decker should do tomorrow when they visit Mrs. Devries.”

  Malloy’s expression grew even more amazed, and he plunked down in one of the kitchen chairs as if he’d been punched. “What did your father say to you?”

  Sarah found a cup in the cupboard and filled it from the remains of the pot she’d made earlier for her parents. “You probably think he forbade me to get involved in investigating Mr. Devries’s murder and that I plan to visit the widow tomorrow out of spite.”

  He glanced at Maeve, who was grinning. “Are you telling me he didn’t forbid you to get involved?”

  Sarah set the cup on the table in front of him. “Not only did he not forbid me, he asked me go along with my mother on her condolence call to see what I could find out about the Devries family.”

  “Why would he do a thing like that?”

  Sarah took a seat. “I hope you won’t be insulted, but he said he thought something odd was going on in that house, and he didn’t think you would be able to find out what it is.”

  “He’s right about that.”

  “Which part?”

  “Both parts.”

  “Oh, dear. I just hope you didn’t come here tonight to forbid me from getting involved, because I couldn’t possibly disobey my father.”

  That bit of nonsense made Malloy smile, as she had known it would. “As a matter of fact, I came here to ask if you could possibly go with your mother or at least ask her to see what she could find out about the family.”

  “I’m starting to think I must be dreaming, Maeve. Malloy and my father are both asking me to help in a murder investigation.”

  Maeve grinned. “It does seem strange.”

  Sarah turned back to Malloy. “I guess this means you really weren’t able to find out anything useful.”

  Malloy sighed. “I spent all this time since your father left the Devrieses’ house questioning the servants. All I found out is that nobody in that house would have hurt Devries and that he had an appointment this afternoon with some mysterious Italian fellow nobody there has ever seen.”

  “Italian?” Maeve said. “They use those stilettos, don’t they? Isn’t that what stabbed Mr. Devries?”

  “Could be. It makes sense, at least. But I don’t know who this Italian is or why he was meeting with Devries. Devries might not have even met with him after all. He could be completely innocent.”

  Maeve frowned. “Whether he met with him or not, they’ll try to blame him.”

  “Of course they will,” Sarah said. “We’ve seen firsthand how much people distrust the Italians. That’s why it’s important for Mr. Malloy to find out the truth.”

  Sarah turned to Malloy, expecting a confirmation. Instead he said, “So your mother is going to call on Mrs. Devries tomorrow?”

  “Yes, and my father asked me to accompany her so I could ask some nosy questions and find out why none of his family members seemed the least bit grief-stricken that Mr. Devries is dead.”

  “Did he tell you the daughter-in-law actually laughed when she heard the news?”

  “That could have been shock,” Sarah said.

  “You didn’t see her. I wanted to ask her some questions, but I knew the family would never allow it.” />
  “Just tell me what to ask.”

  Malloy frowned and sipped his coffee. “I’m not sure you’ll get much out of her if the widow and the son are there.”

  “I may have to make a return visit, then. I’m sure Mrs. Devries will want to receive my mother herself tomorrow, and if the daughter-in-law has something unflattering to say about the dead man, Mrs. Devries will never leave us alone with her.”

  Maeve leaned forward in her chair. “Do you have any idea what might be going on? Didn’t you find out anything at all from the servants?”

  “I found out the dead man’s valet is loyal to him, even though he didn’t particularly care for the man. The rest of the servants don’t want to be accused of gossiping about the master of the house, so they weren’t very helpful. I got the feeling they could have told me a lot if they’d dared, though.”

  “About what?”

  “I’m not sure. I do know that Mr. and Mrs. Devries barely spoke to each other, and Mr. Devries has a mistress that he keeps in a house on Mercer Street.”

  Sarah should have been shocked, but she knew many rich men kept mistresses. “That’s interesting.”

  “Even more interesting, he spent the night there last night and came home around nine o’clock this morning.”

  “Why is that interesting?” Maeve asked.

  “You mean except for the scandalous excitement such news might cause?” Sarah asked with a grin.

  “The medical examiner told me that Devries might’ve been stabbed hours before he died. I don’t know how many hours exactly, but it’s possible he got into an argument with his mistress, and she stuck a hat pin in his back.”

  Sarah knew how lethal a well-placed hat pin could be. She’d seen for herself how the six-inch shaft could pierce a heart with a lucky thrust. “Father said Mr. Devries was stabbed in the back.”

  “The medical examiner thinks the blade went into his kidney, and he slowly bled to death.”

  Maeve curled her lip. “That’s a lot of blood. Wouldn’t somebody have noticed he was bleeding? Wouldn’t he have noticed?”

  “The bleeding was inside his body. The little that he bled outside mostly got soaked up by his undershirt.”