Murder in Chelsea

by Victoria Thompson

  “You must’ve been pretty surprised when you found out your father had decided to marry Miss Hardy,” Frank said.

  Mrs. Hicks’s cheeks were flaming when she looked up again. “It was a . . . shock.”

  “I guess it was a shock to your brother, too.”

  “It was a shock to everyone, Mr. Malloy,” Hicks said, still angry. “Of course, we only had Ozzie’s word for it. Mr. Wilbanks was much too ill to confirm or deny it.”

  “Why would Ozzie lie about it?” Frank asked.

  “He wouldn’t,” Hicks said, “but . . .”

  “But we would have liked to have Father confirm it,” Lynne Hicks said.

  “So you didn’t believe it?” Frank asked.

  The couple exchanged a glance. “Let’s just say, we hoped it wasn’t true,” he said.

  “It wasn’t,” Frank said.

  This time they both gaped at him. “How do you know?” she asked.

  “Your father told his valet last night, but he asked him not to tell Ozzie just yet.”

  “That would be like him,” Lynne Hicks said. “But why would he tell Ozzie a lie like that in the first place?”

  “He didn’t. Emma told it, and your father had started coughing and couldn’t deny it or maybe he just decided not to. Whatever happened, somebody went to Emma’s hotel and killed her later that night.”

  They needed a moment for his meaning to sink in. Lynne Hicks got it first. “Are you accusing my brother of murdering that woman so she couldn’t marry Father?”

  “Would you be surprised if I did?”

  “That’s outrageous, Malloy,” Hicks said. “How dare you say such a thing to my wife?”

  “Two women are dead, Mr. Hicks. I want to find out who killed them.”

  “You should pin a medal on whoever killed Emma Hardy,” Hicks said, earning a disapproving glare from his wife.

  “Really, Michael, that’s heartless of you. If you aren’t careful, Mr. Malloy will be accusing you of killing that woman.”

  “Not if he has any sense. And he won’t be accusing your brother either.”

  “But who else would want to prevent a marriage between her and your father?” Frank asked.

  “You’re assuming that’s the reason she was killed, and you have no way of knowing that at all,” Hicks said. “Besides, you said yourself that actor was with her. Surely, he’s the one who killed her. Some kind of lover’s quarrel, perhaps. If he thought she was going to marry David, he might have killed her in a jealous rage.”

  Frank decided not to mention his theory that Vaughn had been drugged by a mysterious visitor. “It could’ve happened that way.”

  “Then you should be arresting Vaughn, not bothering us.”

  “I did arrest him, but I can’t think of any reason he might’ve killed Anne Murphy.”

  “Why do you need one?”

  “Because it’s hard to believe Anne Murphy and Emma Hardy, two women involved so closely with your father and his child, were killed by different people for different reasons. I want to find out who killed them both and why, so I’ll know if little Catherine is safe or in danger.”

  “No matter what else you may believe, Mr. Malloy, you may be certain we wish the child no harm,” Lynne Hicks said. “And please believe me when I say that I’m very glad she has someone who cares about her.”

  “Then maybe you can also understand how important it is to find out why these women were killed. If it was to prevent Mr. Wilbanks from dividing up his fortune, then Catherine is in more danger than ever.”

  “Mr. Malloy, my brother may be many things, but I must agree with my husband. Ozzie doesn’t have the courage to kill anyone.”

  “Nobody wants to think somebody they love is a killer, Mrs. Hicks.”

  * * *

  GOOD HEAVENS!” SARAH’S MOTHER SAID FOR ABOUT THE tenth time in as many minutes as Sarah finished telling her about Emma Hardy’s murder. They sat in the family parlor at the Deckers’ home. “I just can’t believe it. But you know what this means, don’t you?”

  “What it means? I have no idea.”

  “It means that when Mr. Wilbanks passes away, Catherine will be an orphan. There won’t be anyone to object to your keeping her.”

  “I hope you don’t expect me to be happy that poor woman is dead.”

  “I didn’t say you had to be happy about anything at all. Certainly, Miss Hardy’s death is tragic. She’s Catherine’s mother, after all. She may have been a poor mother, but children do love their parents, no matter how bad a job the parents might do.”

  “I wonder what she remembers about Emma, or if she remembers her at all.”

  “She’s very young, of course. She probably remembers very little.”

  The door burst open and Catherine came running in. “Mama!”

  Sarah caught her in her arms and pulled her into her lap for a hug and a kiss. Sarah inhaled her sweet scent and never wanted to let her go.

  “Is it time to go home?” Catherine asked.

  “Do you want to go home?”

  Catherine frowned and Maeve said from the doorway, “She misses you, but otherwise, I think she’d be happy to stay here forever.”

  “We had ice cream,” Catherine said, as if that explained it.

  The adults laughed, and Catherine smiled uncertainly, not quite sure why they’d laughed but glad they had.

  “I miss you, too, sweetheart, but I’m not going to make you go home just yet. You can stay for a few more days.”

  “And you’ll come to visit me?”

  “Of course I will, as often as I can.”

  Catherine sighed contentedly and snuggled more comfortably into Sarah’s lap.

  “Are you enjoying your stay, too, Maeve?” Sarah asked.

  Maeve came over and sat down on the sofa beside Sarah. “Of course I am. We had ice cream.”

  This time even Catherine laughed.

  Sarah coaxed the child to tell her what else she had been doing besides eating ice cream. By the time she had finished, Catherine’s supper was ready, so Sarah ate with her and Maeve in the nursery, and they played with Sarah’s old toys and some new ones her mother had bought to amuse Catherine during this visit, until it was time for bed. How strange to tuck Catherine into the bed where Sarah had slept so many years ago.

  As she smoothed the child’s fine hair away from her eyes, she thought about the loss Catherine had just sustained, even though she had no idea the mother she hadn’t seen in so long was dead. On impulse, she repeated the question she’d asked before. “Darling, do you remember anything about where you used to live before you came to the Mission?”

  Her little face grew solemn. “No.”

  “It’s all right if you don’t,” Sarah said hastily.

  “I don’t want to go back.”

  So she did remember something, but not something good. “You won’t ever have to go back, darling.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” There was, after all, no one left to go back to.

  Catherine sat up and threw her arms around Sarah’s neck. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

  Sarah blinked to hold back her tears. “Of course.”

  Catherine fell asleep in minutes, and Sarah found her mother in the parlor. Her father had returned home while she was upstairs with Catherine, and she greeted him. “Did Mother tell you about Miss Hardy?”

  “Yes, it’s a nasty business. I think you should stay here until this matter is settled.”

  “I’m not in any danger, Father.”

  “How can you be sure? Catherine’s mother and her nursemaid are dead. You’re her mother now.”

  “Yes, but I have no intention of marrying Mr. Wilbanks or trying to get money from him.”

  “Whoever killed those other women may not know that.”

  “Who do you think killed them?” Sarah asked to distract him from trying to tell her what to do.

  He frowned and glanced at his wife. “I wish I thought
it was that Vaughn fellow. Your mother said Mr. Malloy found him in the room with Miss Hardy’s body.”

  “Yes, but Malloy thinks he was drugged,” Sarah said.

  “I’m afraid I respect Mr. Malloy’s opinion too much to disagree, then. That only leaves the members of Wilbanks’s family, though.”

  For a moment, Sarah was too surprised to speak. She’d never expected to hear her father say he respected Frank Malloy.

  Before she could recover, her mother said, “I’m afraid you’re right, Felix. If Catherine and Sarah are in any danger, it must be from Mr. Wilbanks’s family. I’ve been thinking about that for the past hour, and I’ve decided the best thing to do is to take Catherine to visit Mr. Wilbanks.”

  “You think we should take them right into the lion’s den?” her father asked incredulously.

  “Yes. Don’t you see? It’s the only way, since we don’t know who killed those two women and may never find out. To be completely safe, since we don’t know who is responsible, we should make sure that both of his other children and their spouses are there so they will see and hear Sarah tell him that she will take care of Catherine when he is gone and she does not expect or even want him to leave the child anything at all.”

  “I thought you’d decided you wanted to keep some of Wilbanks’s money away from Gilda.”

  “What a terrible joke,” her mother said. “But of course Sarah doesn’t want or need anything from him.”

  “He might leave Catherine money anyway, though,” Sarah said.

  “Then say you’ll refuse it.” Her mother turned to her father. “That’s possible, isn’t it?”

  “To refuse an inheritance? Yes, it is. And I’m sure Wilbanks will see the wisdom of it, if the bequest would put the child in danger.”

  “So, we must notify Mr. Wilbanks at once that we want to arrange for Catherine to visit,” her mother said. “Remember, this was actually Gilda’s idea, although for exactly the opposite reason. She hinted that Catherine might be an imposter in some elaborate scheme to get some of the Wilbanks fortune. She wanted us to produce the child to prove her identity while Mr. Wilbanks is still alive, since he is the only one who could identify her. I would very much like to turn the tables on her.”

  Sarah was actually smiling by the time her mother had finished her explanation. “Mother, that’s brilliant!”

  “My dear, you are a constant source of amazement to me,” her father said. “I had no idea you had such a devious mind.”

  “Is that a compliment?” she asked.

  Her father needed a moment to decide. “Yes, I believe it is.”

  “Then thank you.” She turned to Sarah. “We need to contact Mr. Malloy, of course. He should accompany you.”

  “I should go, too,” her father said.

  “I would like to be there, as well,” her mother said, “but think about it. There’ll be Mr. Wilbanks, his children and their spouses, Sarah, Catherine, and Mr. Malloy. I think that’s more than enough.”

  “But what if one of them truly is the killer?” her father said. “Sarah and Catherine will need protection.”

  “Can you and I protect them better than Mr. Malloy? Besides, if the killer is indeed present in that group, he won’t dare act with so many witnesses. They’ll be safer there than anywhere.”

  “Mother is right, Father. I know you want to protect us, but as soon as this meeting is over, we’ll both be perfectly safe forever.”

  Her father frowned, but he said, “I’ll see what Mr. Malloy suggests. How can we get in touch with him?”

  In the end, Sarah wrote a note to Malloy explaining their plan, while her father penned one to Wilbanks, requesting a meeting with him and his family the following afternoon at which they would present Catherine. They dispatched a servant to deliver the letters, then sent Sarah home in their carriage.

  As the carriage rolled through the dark city streets, quiet now at this late hour, Sarah felt the tension easing from her body for the first time in many days. By tomorrow at this time, it would all be over and Catherine would be safe.

  12

  SARAH SLEPT WELL THAT NIGHT AND ROSE EARLY, SINCE she’d asked Malloy to come over this morning to discuss their plans. To pass the time, she decided to finish the cleaning Malloy had interrupted yesterday, and when she entered her office, she noticed the box he had brought with him from Emma Hardy’s room still sitting on her desk. They’d both forgotten all about it.

  She picked it up and carried it into the kitchen, thinking she’d go through it in case it contained something Malloy should know about. Then someone tapped on her back door.

  “I’m sorry to bother you so early,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, handing her a plate of cookies. “But I saw you leaving with Mr. Malloy yesterday, and I thought he might have given you some news.”

  “Not good news, I’m afraid. Coffee?”

  “Oh, yes, thank you, but I can’t stay long. Nelson and I are taking his young lady friend to a museum for the day.”

  “How exciting,” Sarah said. Mrs. Ellsworth’s son had been unlucky in love before, and everyone was glad to see him keeping company with a nice young woman. “This sounds serious.”

  “Well, her family is hoping and so am I, but they won’t hear of the two of them going off without a chaperone, so I have to go with them. I’m afraid I’ll find it too difficult to walk any distance, however, so they should have plenty of time alone,” she added with a twinkle.

  She took a seat at the table and gave the box a curious glance. “I hope the girls are all right.”

  “The girls are fine, I’m happy to say, but Catherine’s mother is . . . Well, someone murdered her.”

  “Good heavens! How horrible! Do you have any idea who did it?”

  “Not yet.” Sarah told her what little she knew as she served her some coffee.

  “Well, I don’t suppose she’ll have many people mourning her,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.

  “I know. That’s so sad. I keep reminding myself she was Catherine’s mother, though, and I try to think well of her for that.”

  “And Mr. Malloy is certain this actor fellow didn’t kill her?”

  “He’s fairly sure. Vaughn drinks rather heavily, I understand, so it’s possible he did it and just doesn’t remember, but Malloy thinks he wouldn’t have made up such a ridiculous story about the mysterious stranger with the drugged whiskey if it wasn’t true.”

  “I can’t even imagine how horrible this must be for you, Mrs. Brandt.”

  “The worst part was not knowing what to do, but my parents and I have come up with a plan we think will work.” She explained it to Mrs. Ellsworth as they finished their coffee. “I’m waiting for Mr. Malloy so I can see if he agrees or has any other suggestions to make.”

  “It certainly sounds like an excellent idea, and if it works, well . . .” She glanced meaningfully at the box still sitting on the table. “Did I interrupt you in something important?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Malloy found this box of papers in Emma Hardy’s trunk. He was going to go through them later, but he left them here, so I thought I’d see if there was anything important in there.”

  “May I help?”

  Sarah knew Mrs. Ellsworth must be dying of curiosity, although she doubted there would be little of interest. “I can’t imagine Emma would mind if it helps catch her killer.”

  She lifted the lid and saw a collection of what appeared to be letters and bills and a few important-looking papers. She dumped them on the table. Mrs. Ellsworth pulled out two letters, and Sarah began sorting the other papers.

  “This Emma didn’t seem to have many friends,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, holding up the letters. “Looks like both of these are from Anne Murphy.”

  “They’re probably the replies from letters Emma sent. How did Miss Murphy know where to send them, though?”

  “They’re addressed to General Delivery in Pittsburgh and”—she checked the second one—“Philadelphia.”

  “I guess those were plac
es they performed on their way back to the city. I know Philadelphia was their last stop. It would be easy enough to go to the post office and pick up her mail, I suppose. See if Miss Murphy told her anything interesting.”

  “I feel guilty, reading someone else’s mail,” she said, but Sarah noticed she didn’t hesitate, pulling the first letter out of the flimsy envelope.

  The rest of the papers were past due bills and contracts for Emma and Vaughn with the touring company. Sarah had given up finding anything important when she unfolded an official-looking paper and stared at it for a long moment, trying to make sense of it.

  “This is interesting,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, glancing up from her letter. “Miss Murphy tells her that she took Catherine to the Mission and she’ll go get her when Emma arrives in the city.” When Sarah didn’t respond, Mrs. Ellsworth said, “What is it?”

  “It’s . . . it appears to be a certificate of marriage.”

  “Oh, my, did Mr. Wilbanks already marry her? But I thought that’s why she ran away, because she didn’t want to marry him.”

  “No, she didn’t marry Mr. Wilbanks, and now I know why she ran away when he asked her. She was already married!”

  “To whom? That Vaughn fellow?”

  “Yes! They’d been married for . . . for over nine years!”

  “Long before she met Mr. Wilbanks, I’m guessing.”

  “Yes! But if she was married to Vaughn, why did she take up with Wilbanks in the first place?”

  Mrs. Ellsworth grinned. “Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I’m sure you can figure that out without too much effort.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Even married women can be tempted by a rich man, and Emma seemed to be more susceptible than most. What I can’t understand is why Vaughn put up with it. Did I tell you that he used to visit Emma at the house Mr. Wilbanks had provided for her?”

  “Oh, my! I don’t imagine Mr. Wilbanks had any idea.”

  Sarah shook her head. “What kind of a man not only allows his wife to be another man’s mistress but actually visits her in the house the other man pays for? I guess that means he must have met Catherine, too. I wonder who she thought he was. And how on earth could a man stand being confronted with his wife’s child by someone else?”