Murder in Chelsea

by Victoria Thompson

  “Mr. Wilbanks has told us no such thing,” her mother said in her most withering voice. “And in any case, we are perfectly capable of providing for the child ourselves.”

  “Please excuse Terrance. He tends to be overly dramatic as well as overly protective of me.”

  “Do you need protection, Mrs. Wilbanks?” Sarah asked.

  “No, I do not,” she said with a smile.

  Sarah smiled back. “Then let’s be honest, shall we? I’m sure you have no interest in raising the child of your father-in-law’s mistress and neither does Mrs. Hicks, to whom I’ve already spoken about this matter.”

  “You have? When was that?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “You’re wasting no time, are you?” Udall said.

  “I was summoned by Mr. Hicks,” Sarah said, stretching the truth a bit. “But I’m sure you can understand my eagerness to get this matter resolved, especially since one person has already been murdered.”

  Gilda and Udall exchanged another glance, their shock obvious. “Surely, you don’t think the nursemaid’s death has anything to do with us,” she said.

  “I have no way of knowing if it has anything to do with you or not, but it certainly has everything to do with Catherine.”

  “I don’t see how,” Gilda said.

  Sarah seriously doubted this, but she was willing to play along. “Miss Murphy was the only person who knew what had become of the child. With her dead, she might never be found.”

  “And yet she has been found,” Udall said.

  “Only because the killer didn’t know Miss Murphy had already contacted the people at the Mission where she left Catherine. If she hadn’t done so, no one would ever have known what became of her.”

  “My goodness,” Gilda said in mock astonishment. “What convoluted reasoning. In your version of events, the killer must be a member of a highly respected family of impeccable reputation who murdered a total stranger in order to keep a dying man from seeing his child. Why should anyone believe such a thing when people of the lowest order are also involved and are far more likely to have killed this woman?”

  “I don’t see why,” Sarah said, mocking Gilda’s own words.

  “Do people like that really need a good reason? From what I know about the child’s mother, she’s capable of anything. She must have been furious to learn this nursemaid had lost her child. Who could blame her for lashing out at her?”

  This was not going at all the way they had expected, but Sarah was learning a lot about Gilda Wilbanks that she never would have suspected. Before she could decide what to say next, the maid arrived with the tea. By the time they had all been served and the maid had withdrawn, Sarah had formulated her next step.

  “Solving Miss Murphy’s murder is a matter for the police, of course.”

  “The police,” Udall echoed with his annoying smirk.

  He was right to be contemptuous, of course. Usually, the police would take little interest in the death of someone like Anne Murphy. Her mother stiffened beside her, taking instant offense on Malloy’s behalf, however. “You might be surprised—”

  “He’s right, Mother,” Sarah interrupted, not wanting to give too much away. “We may never find out who killed Miss Murphy, so our concern must be for Catherine and keeping her safe.”

  “So safe that no one ever sets eyes on her?” Gilda said. “How do we know you even have the child, or that she’s even the right child? The city is full of abandoned children. I should like some proof before we go any further with this.”

  As much as Sarah disliked Gilda Wilbanks, she had to admit her request was only reasonable. Still, if someone in this house had already killed to keep Catherine from being found . . . “Her mother can identify her.”

  Gilda smiled knowingly. “I’m sure she can, and she would have every reason to identify any female child as her daughter since her only hope of profiting from this is to produce one. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t already thought of this and enlisted some poor urchin to the cause.”

  “Whose word would you accept, then?” Sarah’s mother asked.

  “I believe Father Wilbanks is the only one with no ulterior motive who could identify her.”

  Such a clever solution, Sarah realized. And she had been so cleverly outmaneuvered. The only way to prove Catherine was Wilbanks’s child was to allow him to see her, and since he was so ill, the only way to do that was to deliver her to the home of those with the best reason to want her dead.

  * * *

  THAT DIDN’T GO AT ALL THE WAY WE PLANNED,” HER mother said as they walked away from the Wilbanks home.

  “No, it didn’t, and the worst part is that she is absolutely right. I’ve just been thinking in terms of allowing Wilbanks to see Catherine as a kindness to him, but without his word, we really have no way to prove she’s his daughter.”

  “Which is only important if you’re interested in her inheriting anything from him.”

  Her mother was right, of course. “Catherine doesn’t need anything from her father or anyone else, but I can’t help hating the thought of someone as unpleasant as Gilda Wilbanks inheriting everything.”

  “Unfortunately, family wealth isn’t usually distributed according to who deserves it most. Your father said everyone expects Ozzie Wilbanks to squander the family fortune in just a few years, in any case.”

  “How lovely that would be for Gilda.” Sarah sighed. “Of course there’s another reason to allow Mr. Wilbanks to see Catherine—because he wants to see his child before he dies.”

  “Yes, and whether we need him to identify Catherine or not, we must bring them together soon.”

  “I just wish we could figure out how to do that without Gilda and her husband finding out.”

  “Oh, I think we must make sure they do find out, so they know without a doubt who Catherine is.”

  Sarah sighed again. “No matter what else happens, I know one thing: Gilda Wilbanks will not get custody of Catherine. Malloy offered to put me on a train to California with Catherine if necessary.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t become necessary. Perhaps your father and Malloy fared better than we did today.”

  They could hardly have done worse, Sarah thought.

  * * *

  FRANK AND MR. DECKER DECIDED THAT THEY WERE more likely to find Michael Hicks in his office in the middle of the day, so they located the address and went there after lunching in a small, elegant restaurant Frank would never have considered entering, where they knew Decker by name and they didn’t even ask him to pay. There were places in the city where cops weren’t asked to pay, but that was a form of bribery to ensure protection from harassment. This, Frank understood, was different. Decker would probably receive a bill in the mail, and the restaurant owners weren’t the least bit worried that it wouldn’t be paid.

  Hicks was in his office, and he wasn’t too busy to see them. Frank figured people were seldom too busy to see Felix Decker. Hicks didn’t seem surprised by their visit, or maybe he just hid it well. The men shook hands, and Frank and Decker took the offered seats in front of Hicks’s expansive desk. The room was meant to impress, with its dark paneling and rich appointments. The heavy draperies blocked any hint of sunlight that might bring cheer to the place. The effect could be either comforting or intimidating, depending on whether Hicks was on your side or not. Frank had the uncomfortable feeling Hicks hadn’t chosen his side in this yet.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked.

  Frank let Decker start, as they had agreed. “You can explain to us why you never told Mr. Wilbanks that your investigator had found Emma Hardy weeks ago and you’ve known exactly where she’s been ever since.”

  Hicks never even blinked. “I can see why you might find that puzzling, but I assure you, my motives were for the best.”

  “And what were those motives?” Frank asked.

  Hicks calmly folded his hands on his desk, as if they were discussing the weather. “Mr. Wilbanks is ve
ry ill, as you’ve seen. His only concern is seeing his daughter . . . Catherine . . . before he dies. In the report I received, my investigator had located Emma Hardy but the child was not with her and had not been with her for months. I’m sure you can understand how upsetting that information would be to Mr. Wilbanks.”

  As much as Frank hated to admit it, he was right, but he wasn’t going to let him off too easily. “So you lied to Mr. Wilbanks?”

  “I did not lie. I merely did not tell him. For all I knew, the child was dead or Emma had abandoned her somewhere and we would never find her. I decided to leave Mr. Wilbanks in ignorance with a bit of hope, at least until we knew for certain what had become of her.”

  “What else did your investigator find out that you didn’t tell Wilbanks . . . and us?” Frank asked.

  Hicks’s clear gaze never faltered. “I had instructed him to do whatever was necessary to locate the child. We didn’t foresee that Emma wouldn’t have her, of course, but when he discovered that, he decided to try to motivate Emma to go to her.”

  “So he told her that Wilbanks was dying,” Decker said.

  “Yes. He told her Mr. Wilbanks still wanted to provide for Catherine and was thinking of leaving her some money in his will, but he wanted to make sure she was all right first. He also indicated Wilbanks would make it worth Emma’s while if she brought the child to see him.”

  “Your investigator sounds very resourceful,” Decker said.

  Hicks shrugged. “He simply understands that most people will do whatever is in their financial best interest.”

  “Yes, and Miss Hardy would have found it difficult to resist the opportunity to take Mr. Wilbanks for a fortune,” Decker said.

  Frank saw a flaw in their reasoning, but now was not the time to point it out. “So what did your investigator do after he tempted Emma with this promise of riches?”

  “He followed the troupe for a few days, expecting Emma to go straight to New York or wherever she had left Catherine. He was surprised when she didn’t, and for a while we both feared the child must be either dead or irretrievably lost, but he eventually learned that she didn’t have the means to return until she got paid at the end of the tour. He saw her mailing a letter, though, and managed to get a look at the address. We decided this person must have Catherine, so I instructed him to return here and locate her.”

  “Anne Murphy,” Frank said.

  Hicks nodded.

  “And did he locate her?” Decker asked.

  “Yes, but he quickly determined she didn’t have the child either.”

  “And before she could get her, someone killed her,” Frank said.

  Hicks tried to maintain his composure, but he couldn’t stop the flush that crawled up his neck. “You can’t believe I had anything to do with that.”

  This time Frank shrugged. “It was an easy way to make sure no one found Catherine.”

  “But I wanted to find her and bring her to David.”

  “We know that’s what Mr. Wilbanks wanted, but was it really what you wanted?” Frank asked.

  “Yes, it was, and I had no reason to wish the child harm, as you well know. Or Miss Murphy either, for that matter. You’re wasting your time here, Mr. Malloy. If you want to find out who killed that woman, you should be talking to Emma Hardy, and in case you don’t know, she’s staying at the La Pierre Hotel with an actor named Parnell Vaughn.”

  9

  HICKS ESCORTED THEM OUT TO THE LOBBY, WHERE SEVERAL young men sat at high desks, scratching away at important papers with their pens. One young man stood at the front counter, however, idly chatting with the man seated there.

  “Don’t you have something to do, Udall?” Hicks asked. Frank got the impression he asked that question a lot of this particular young man.

  “Yes, sir, of course I do, but I hoped to speak to Mr. Decker.” He smiled, and Frank knew he’d gotten away with a lot of mischief with that smile.

  “Are you acquainted with Mr. Decker?” Hicks asked, apparently immune to Udall’s charm.

  “No, sir, but I made the acquaintance of his lovely wife just this afternoon.”

  This got Decker’s attention, as Udall had meant it to. “And where did you meet my wife, young man?”

  “At my cousin’s home.”

  “You’re Cousin Terrance,” Frank said, remembering Ozzie’s description of the man who had tried to terrorize Emma Hardy. “A Van Horn on your mother’s side.”

  Udall’s smile flickered for a moment as he tried to figure out who Frank might be and how he knew so much about him. “You have the advantage of me, sir. Have we met?”

  Hicks, who seemed to enjoy Udall’s momentary discomfort, quickly introduced the men, taking great delight in informing Udall that Frank was with the police. “Mr. Udall is one of my clerks, or at least he is when he bothers to come to the office.”

  Frank remembered what Decker had said about the Van Horns putting their sons to work with mixed results. Judging from his expression, Decker remembered it, too.

  “I had to go to Gilda this afternoon when I heard what’s happened,” Udall said. “She’s extremely upset, you know. Is that why you’re here, Mr. Decker? About the child?”

  “I’m sure that’s none of your business,” Hicks said.

  Udall furrowed his noble brow. “The welfare of an innocent child should be everyone’s business, don’t you agree, Mr. Decker?”

  “Yes, it should,” Frank replied for him, “especially for those who know her. You met her, didn’t you, when you and Ozzie Wilbanks went to see Emma Hardy.”

  Udall’s confidence evaporated into dismay. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, yes,” Decker said. “Ozzie told us just this morning how the two of you went out to try to frighten Emma Hardy into leaving Wilbanks and taking her little heiress with her.”

  Plainly, this was news to Hicks. “Is this true, Udall? Did you go with Ozzie to see this woman?”

  “Ozzie wanted to go. He wanted to see his father’s . . . uh . . .” He glanced around, belatedly realizing how many other clerks could overhear their conversation.

  “Paramour,” Malloy said helpfully.

  “Yes, well, he wanted to go see her, and I was afraid of what he might do. He has quite a temper, you see, so I went along to make sure he didn’t get himself into any trouble. But I only had a glimpse of the child. Ozzie had no time for her, although now that I think of it, she’s his sister, isn’t she? He really should have taken more interest.”

  Frank had to admire this young man. He was the best liar he’d encountered so far in this case. He supposed being the son of a socially prominent family with no money meant Udall had to get by on his charm and good looks, and lying was always a useful skill for someone like that, too. Frank wondered why he hadn’t captured himself a rich wife yet. He’d have to ask Mrs. Decker about that. If she didn’t know, she’d find out. “That’s funny. When we spoke with Ozzie Wilbanks this morning, he said you were the one who lost his temper with Miss Hardy.”

  “Me? That’s ridiculous. Why should I care enough to lose my temper with her?”

  “Maybe you were outraged about the innocent child,” Frank said. “Was that why you threatened her?”

  Udall narrowed his pale blue eyes. “I never threatened that woman, and even if I did, let me remind you that no harm has come to Miss Hardy, nor is it likely to. And if Ozzie and I scared her off so she didn’t marry Wilbanks last year, then we performed the man a service and should be rewarded accordingly.”

  “I’ll suggest it to him the next time I see him,” Frank said.

  Hicks had been enjoying this exchange, but now he said, “Udall, you’d best get back to work now.”

  “Yes, sir. Mr. Decker, sir, it’s been a pleasure. Mr. Malloy . . . good day.” Apparently, it hadn’t been a pleasure to meet Frank.

  Frank was smiling when he and Decker stepped out into the street.

  “I don’t think that man was entirely trut
hful with us,” Decker said.

  “Which one?”

  “Well, now that you mention it, we do know for a fact that Hicks lied to us.”

  “He didn’t lie. He just didn’t tell us the truth,” Frank said, still smiling. “And as for this Udall fellow, he’s a piece of work.”

  “He certainly is. I’m so glad Elizabeth met him. She’ll be able to tell us all about him.”

  Frank was sure she would. “Let’s go find her then.”

  * * *

  SARAH AND HER MOTHER HAD JUST COME DOWN FROM the nursery when Malloy and her father arrived and joined them in the family parlor.

  “You look like you had an interesting day,” her mother observed.

  “We certainly did,” her father replied. He seemed very pleased with himself, or at least pleased about something. He and Malloy actually exchanged a conspiratorial glance. Sarah found herself blinking in surprise.

  “We met Terrance Udall,” Malloy said.

  “So did we,” her mother said, delighted.

  Malloy grinned. “We know. We were hoping you could tell us why he hasn’t married some featherbrained heiress.”

  “Malloy, would you like some coffee?” her father said, pulling the cord to summon the maid.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Her mother patted the seat beside her on the sofa, and Malloy took it, watching her expectantly. “Where did you encounter Mr. Udall?” she asked.

  “He works for Michael Hicks,” her father said, taking a chair on his wife’s other side.

  “I thought you were going to see Ozzie Wilbanks,” Sarah said.

  “We did,” her father said. “Mr. Malloy, would you tell the ladies what we learned today?”

  Malloy was only too happy to do so, Sarah noted, and her father allowed it. He described their visit with Ozzie Wilbanks, giving their impressions of him. Her father interrupted only occasionally and added his opinions when Malloy asked.

  “He seems an odd match for Gilda,” her mother observed. “She’s quite clever and even a little ruthless, or I miss my guess.”

  “According to Ozzie, Gilda is the one who figured out Wilbanks had a mistress,” Malloy said.