Murder On GramercyPark

by Victoria Thompson

  “I also know the story of how Dudley tried to elope with your daughter,” Frank said, saving Symington the trouble of making up any lies about their relationship and, with any luck, distracting him from his own rage.

  “That bounder has no principles at all,” Symington said with surprising restraint.

  “So I gathered,” Frank said agreeably. “I don’t know what I’d do to a man who tried to steal my daughter and then left her an invalid.”

  “I know what I wanted to do,” Symington admitted, this time surprising Frank with his candor. “He hardly seemed worth the effort, though. Have you seen him?”

  Frank nodded.

  “Then you know what I mean. How could I have imagined such a man was a threat to my daughter? If I’d ever dreamed a girl like Letitia would find a worthless creature like that appealing… But of course I had no idea. The next thing I know, he’s pounding on my door in the middle of the night, holding my daughter’s broken body in his arms.”

  “It must have taken a lot of courage to face you like that,” Frank pointed out.

  Symington snorted rudely. “I suppose you’re right. He could have left her lying in the road and run for his life. If he’d done that, I most certainly would have hunted him down and made certain he got what he deserved.”

  “Instead you let him go,” Frank guessed.

  Symington sighed. “My only concern was for Letitia. If he simply left the area, she couldn’t hate me for that, and I hoped she’d come to despise him for being a coward. He was terrified when he carried Letitia into the house that night, so it took only a hint to make him see the wisdom of vanishing from her life forever. Or so I thought,” he added wearily.

  “Maybe he really does love your daughter,” Frank said, still playing devil’s advocate.

  “What possible difference could that make?” Symington asked disdainfully. “And if he did love her, he’d have the decency to leave her alone. Anyone can see he’s completely unsuitable for her. You’re obviously a romantic, Mr. Malloy, but don’t be fooled. He’s a fortune hunter and always has been. As soon as he found out Letitia was a widow, he came sniffing around to try his hand with her again. I won’t have it, not this time. And this time I’ll make sure he doesn’t come back into her life.” He had made his resolution, and Frank sensed he would dismiss him in another moment. He had to act fast if he wanted a chance to find Blackwell and Calvin’s real killer.

  “Mr. Symington, there may be more to this than you believe.”

  “More to what?” Symington asked absently, already mentally making his plans for disposing of Peter Dudley.

  “Dudley didn’t just come back into your daughter’s life. They’ve been seeing each other secretly for over a year.”

  For once Symington was unable to control his emotions. This time he did strike his desk, with a force that sent a pen clattering from its holder.

  “I know this is an unpleasant subject for you”-Frank hurried on before Symington could be distracted by his own fury again-“but I’m sure you’ll agree that his involvement with her gives Dudley a very good reason for wanting to see your daughter a widow.”

  Symington took a moment to absorb what the detective had said. He needed only that moment. “You think he killed Edmund,” he said baldly.

  “It’s possible. He had a motive, and he has no alibi.”

  “Then arrest him!” Symington exclaimed.

  Frank had him where he wanted him now. “I’d like to, except that I’m afraid if I do, he might implicate your daughter.”

  “What? He wouldn’t dare!”

  “He very well might, if he thought it would keep him from being executed. Or if he thought the threat of a scandal would frighten you into protecting him.”

  Symington started to deny that he could possibly be influenced, but then he thought better of it. The threat was very real, and Symington did want to protect his daughter at all costs. Frank still wasn’t convinced he hadn’t killed Edmund Blackwell himself for that very purpose, either. “You’re not going to let him go free, are you?” he asked.

  “Not if he killed Blackwell,” Frank said. “But I’ve got to be certain that he can be convicted of planning and carrying out the murder all on his own. I’ll need a little more time for the investigation before I can be sure.”

  Symington nodded. He was sure that he and Frank understood each other, and that they both wanted the same thing. “Take all the time you need. I’ll make sure no one interferes with you.”

  Frank was hard-pressed not to show his relief. “Thank you, Mr. Symington. I’ll do my best to get this matter settled as quickly as possible.”

  Frank rose, ready to leave now that he’d gotten exactly what he wanted from Symington and before the man could have second thoughts. He was almost to the door when Symington called out.

  “Mr. Malloy.”

  Frank turned back warily. “Yes?”

  “When Peter Dudley is convicted of murder, you will receive a one-thousand-dollar reward from me.”

  Frank almost winced. How easy it would be to make sure Dudley was convicted of the crime. Most detectives would gladly oblige for even a small portion of a reward like that. Unfortunately, Frank was no longer one of them. If Dudley turned out to be innocent, Sarah Brandt was going to have quite a bit to make up to him.

  LETITIA BLACKWELL STARED at Sarah in astonishment, but only for a few heartbeats. Then she laid one small white hand on her bosom and said, “I believe I am going to faint. I must return to my rooms immediately.”

  Instantly, Dudley was supporting her, making sympathetic noises and offering to assist her.

  “If you faint, I’ll have to throw water in your face,” Sarah said brutally.

  Letitia’s eyes grew wide. Apparently, no one had ever taken such a tone with her. Or failed to place her comfort above all other considerations. If she didn’t want to discuss anything unpleasant-and plainly she didn’st-she believed she should be excused from doing so. Sarah had no intention of letting her off that easily, however.

  “Mrs. Brandt,” Dudley chided. “How can you say such a thing? Can’t you see how upset she is?”

  “If you have so little concern for my health,” Letitia said haughtily, without the slightest trace of faintness, “then I’m afraid I’m going to have to dismiss you.”

  “If you dismiss me, I won’t be able to care for your child, either,” Sarah reminded her. “But I’m sure you’ll be able to find another nurse who will be willing to keep your child’s illness a secret and treat it properly.”

  “Illness?” Dudley echoed. “What’s wrong with him? He looked perfectly healthy to me. Letitia, what is it? If the child is ill, why didn’t you tell me?”

  Letitia had gone scarlet with fury. So much for her fainting spell. “There’s nothing wrong with him at all. We’ll discuss that later,” she snapped at Dudley, then turned back to Sarah. “Say whatever you are so determined to say, and then leave us alone.”

  “Calvin Brown has been murdered,” she said bluntly.

  Their reactions were difficult to judge. Both looked surprised, and then they glanced at each other almost hesitantly, before turning back to her.

  “Who-” Dudley began, but Letitia interrupted him.

  “Who is Calvin Brown?” she demanded.

  “Edmund Blackwell’s son,” Sarah said.

  Neither of them looked particularly surprised, but perhaps they were simply confused.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Letitia said after a moment. “Edmund didn’t have a son. He didn’t have any children at all.”

  “Are you aware that Dr. Blackwell was married before?”

  Sarah thought she’d catch her there, but Letitia said, “Of course, but that was a long time ago. His first wife died very young.”

  A good story, and maybe even the one Blackwell had told her. “Did you know he had children by his first wife?” Sarah asked, playing along.

  “I told you, he didn’t have any children. Of that I am quit
e certain.”

  Sarah could have pointed out that even Letitia’s child wasn’t Blackwell’s, but she restrained herself. “Dr. Blackwell had three children by his first wife, and one of them was Calvin Brown.”

  “Really, I won’t sit here and listen to this nonsense a moment longer,” Letitia insisted, rising to her feet.

  “If you don’t care about yourself, surely you’re interested in protecting Mr. Dudley,” Sarah suggested, stopping her when she would have started for the door.

  “Protecting him from what?” she asked, outraged or at least pretending to be.

  “From being charged with murder.”

  Dudley, who had risen along with Letitia, made a strangled noise in his throat and sank back down onto the sofa.

  Letitia wasn’t quite so fragile. She merely glared at Sarah. “This is insane. Are you implying that Peter killed this… this Calvin person? Why should he? He had no reason to do such a thing. We don’t even know him!”

  “I’m not implying anything. All I’m saying is that Mr. Dudley-and you, too, Mrs. Blackwell-both had a good reason for wanting to kill Dr. Blackwell. Anyone who sees your child will figure that out in an instant.”

  Letitia gasped, and Dudley paled. His eyes were so wide Sarah could see the whites around the blue irises.

  “But Peter and I were together when Edmund was killed,” Letitia reminded her. “We couldn’t possibly have done it.”

  “The two illicit lovers swear they were together when the betrayed husband was murdered,” Sarah said, trying the theory aloud. “I can’t imagine a jury will believe you.”

  “I told you,” Dudley said to Letitia. “That police detective said exactly the same thing,”.

  She ignored him. “It doesn’t matter if they believe us or not. We didn’t kill Edmund, and we certainly didn’t kill this other fellow. Why should we?”

  “Because he was going to cause a scandal,” Sarah told her.

  “What kind of scandal?” she asked skeptically.

  “Letitia,” Dudley tried, but she motioned him to silence.

  “The scandal of bigamy,” Sarah said, trying to watch both of their faces at once. Dudley merely grimaced, but Letitia turned scarlet again.

  “I haven’t committed bigamy,” Letitia insisted. “Peter and I only tried to elope. We were never actually married.”

  “Edmund Blackwell was,” Sarah replied. “And his first wife, Calvin’s mother, is still very much alive. He didn’t bother with a divorce, either. He simply forgot about her and married you.”

  If Letitia was shocked, she gave no sign of it. “That’s preposterous! No one would have believed a boy like that! No one would have even listened to him about such a thing. His name wasn’t even the same as Edmund’s!”

  She seemed very sure of that for someone who had pretended not even to remember Calvin’s name.

  “Are you saying you knew nothing about Calvin Brown and Dr. Blackwell’s other wife?” Sarah asked.

  “I certainly am!” Letitia said with an air of triumph.

  “That’s a pity,” Sarah said. “Because if you’d known, you would most certainly have been delighted to discover yourself a legally free woman. You and Mr. Dudley could have been married, and you would have been able to keep your child without fear of interference from Blackwell. Instead, you believed you were legally bound in a marriage with no escape unless your husband died.”

  “Letitia, please, you must sit down,” Dudley said, hurrying to her and taking her arm solicitously. Indeed, she did look as if she really might faint this time. They both looked rather ill, in fact. She allowed him to lead her back to the sofa and seat her again.

  “You have no right to upset her like this,” he said to Sarah. “You should be ashamed of yourself. A nurse should have more respect for her condition.”

  “This gives me no pleasure, Mr. Dudley, I assure you. But the fact remains that someone killed Dr. Blackwell and his son. You and Mrs. Blackwell have more reason than anyone else to have wanted Dr. Blackwell dead.”

  “But we had no reason at all to want his son dead,” Dudley reminded her.

  Sarah bit her tongue. No one was to know that Calvin’s killer had tried to implicate him in Blackwell’s death. This was something only the real killer could know, and Malloy was using the information in hopes of tricking that person into betraying himself.

  “I’m sorry our visit has been so uncomfortable to you,” Sarah said, “but I thought you might want to know this information. I’ll understand if you no longer want me treating the baby.”

  Letitia Blackwell didn’t even look at her. She was staring off into space, her face creased into a frown of concentration. “Peter, do you know what this means?”

  “No, my dear, I don’st,” he said, still worried. Perhaps he was afraid the shocks of the past few minutes had unhinged her mind.

  “If my marriage to Edmund wasn’t legal, then my child is illegitimate. My father should have no objections if I marry quickly to give my child a name.”

  “Letitia, dear,” he began, his face reflecting his serious reservations, but she paid him no heed.

  “I’ll send for him at once. He can’t stop us this time. I’m of age, and he doesn’t control my life any longer. Besides, I have to think of my child’s reputation. And my own,” she added, still thinking out loud.

  Dudley looked terrified. Most likely, he saw the flaws in this plan and realized that Symington could, and most certainly would, have many objections to it.

  Sarah could have given them both some advice on how to handle the situation, but she doubted they would welcome it. Or that Letitia would even allow her to speak. She would have given a lot to witness the scene between father and daughter with the daughter’s feckless lover cringing in a corner. Too bad she’d have to miss it.

  “I’ll be going now,” she said, but neither of the lovers even glanced at her.

  Dudley was too busy trying to get Letitia to pay attention to him and listen to reason, but she was having none of it. For the first time Sarah saw the side of Letitia Blackwell that had led her to risk her father’s wrath and elope with a penniless schoolmaster. Stubborn to a fault, she was. Well, she wasn’t Sarah’s problem.

  Without bothering to bid them farewell, Sarah let herself out. She certainly hoped Malloy planned to visit her tonight. She had a lot to tell him.

  AT THE END of the day, Frank made his way to Sarah Brandt’s house on Bank Street without even bothering to question himself. He could pretend he was going there to finish examining Tom Brandt’s files in an effort to find someone who might have had a motive for killing him. He’d come to realize they were both pretending that now. Frank had long since realized he would find nothing in the files, and he suspected she knew it, too. It was just an excuse for him to go over there.

  Really, he just needed to see her to talk about the Blackwell case.

  The evenings were growing cooler. Winter was coming, lurking just out of sight. Soon the winds would start to prowl between the city’s buildings, taking men’s hats and catching ladies’ skirts. Frank imagined a winter’s evening sitting in Sarah Brandt’s comfortable kitchen. Good thing the case would be solved long before then, and he’d have no more reason to meet with her. He could get very used to such comfort if he wasn’t careful.

  Mrs. Ellsworth came out onto the porch with her broom in hand, even though the light was far too dim now even to see to sweep. She just wanted a word with Frank, and he was growing more patient with her. He’d learned that nosy neighbors could be quite helpful now and then.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Ellsworth,” he called. “You’re out late.”

  “It’s not so very late,” she said. “I just wanted to see if the moon was up yet. If there’s a halo around it, that means it will rain tomorrow. I was hoping to go shopping, but not if I’m going to get wet.”

  Frank looked around, but he couldn’t see the moon. The tightly packed buildings permitted only a limited view of the sky, and that was m
ore or less straight up. “The paper said it would be fair tomorrow, but if you’re determined to find the moon, you’re better off to look from an upstairs window,” he advised. “Or even the roof.”

  “You’re probably right,” she said. “How was your day, Mr. Malloy?”

  “Like all the rest of them,” Frank said noncommittally.

  “I imagine all your days are very interesting,” she said with a smile that rearranged her wrinkles.

  “Probably not as interesting as you think,” Frank said, thinking of the drunks and derelicts and thieves and killers he usually dealt with. “Police work can be pretty boring.”

  “Oh, pshaw, Mr. Malloy. It’s not nice to tease an old lady. But you get along now. Mrs. Brandt has a lovely chicken roasting, and I’m sure there’s more than enough for you, if you haven’t eaten yet.”

  A man didn’t need police training to understand Mrs. Ellsworth’s intentions. “I’ll be sure to get my share of it,” he said with a smile. “Good evening, and good luck with your weather predictions.”

  Sarah Brandt was waiting at the door when he arrived at her porch. Her knowing grin told him she’d witnessed the exchange with Mrs. Ellsworth.

  “Is the chicken ready?” he asked as he mounted the front steps.

  “It’s started to get a little dried out. You’re later than usual. I was afraid you weren’t coming at all.”

  He felt a funny little spasm in his chest that might have been his heart, even though he knew perfectly well she was just teasing him. She had that cat-in-the-cream grin on her face, the way she always did when she was trying to get the best of him. “If I’d known you had a roast chicken for me, I would’ve been here earlier,” he teased her right back.

  “I’m going to have to speak to Mrs. Ellsworth about being more discreet,” she said, closing the door after him. “She obviously led you to believe I got that chicken just for you.”

  “Didn’t you?” he asked innocently, hanging his hat on the rack by the door.

  “Of course. I needed a way to keep you occupied so you wouldn’t interrupt me when I tell you all the things I learned this afternoon.”