by Rhys Bowen
“I’m glad you don’t work for the police department,” Daniel said, half smiling. “You’ve built yourself a perfect scenario to have Marcus Deveraux hauled in and arrested.”
“Well?”
“All on supposition, Molly. We’ve investigated these murders quite thoroughly—except for the Hamilton couple, and we’re still working on that—but no mention, no hint of Marcus Deveraux came up when we spoke to friends and family.”
“You see!” I said excitedly. “You’re still working on the Hamilton case. Perhaps you haven’t asked the right questions yet. Before you speak to Marcus Deveraux, you can see Mabel’s aunt and the family lawyer, and find out whether the Masters’s fortune would go to Marcus Deveraux if Susan and her father died. Then you’d have a motive.”
“What about the other murders? Can you come up with a motive for them?” He looked almost amused. “If you have nailed Marcus Deveraux as your suspect, then why would he want to shut a butcher in his meat safe? Because he delivered bad meat?”
“You don’t ever take me seriously,” I snapped. I was tired and it had been a long day, and I had been so excited at the thought of providing the missing link for my husband.
The smile left his face instantly. “On the contrary. I do take you seriously, and you have come up with a link that none of us found. But the link could have been through anyone at the bank—a disgruntled employee, for example. We can’t jump on Marcus Deveraux because he is now one of the partners.”
“There’s something else I found out today,” I said. “Another link, if you will.”
“You’re full of surprises,” he said.
“Listen.” I wagged at finger warningly at him. “I found out who paid a street child to deliver that note to your headquarters.”
Now he looked genuinely impressed, and surprised. “You did? How?”
“I have my methods,” I said. “And my spies.”
“Ah. Nuala’s brood. The little Eastmans.”
“Exactly. And the person was a young man who looked like a student, according to Thomas.”
“Like a student? Then he was probably being paid to deliver it himself.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said, “but there’s something else. Listen, Daniel. The other day I went to the café where Simon Grossman was poisoned. Two things were obvious: one, that it would be relatively easy to put a few drops of poison into a coffee cup while a group at a table was in deep discussion, and two—that most people there were regulars, and students. An outsider who was not one of them would have been noticed. I certainly was as soon as I entered.”
“Ah, but you’re a pretty woman. Young men notice such things.”
“Thank you for the compliment, sir,” I said, “but I think the same would have been true for any stranger, especially one walking between tables to find Simon Grossman.”
“So what are you implying by this?”
“That the person who put the cyanide into Simon Grossman’s drink must not have stood out. He must have looked like one of them. Another student.”
I saw the spark in his eyes. “Ah. So you’re saying that students might be being used by somebody to do his dirty work?”
“Exactly. Students are always short of money. They always have things they don’t want their parents to know about. Someone rich and powerful—someone like Marcus Deveraux—could use them to carry out his plans.” I paused, swinging my legs over the side of the bed now and facing him. “Whoever committed most of these crimes had to be agile enough to climb up the side of a building and in through a window.”
“You’re right,” he said. “It would have to have been someone agile and daring.”
“So you’ll interview Marcus Deveraux?”
“I will. Since his partner’s daughter has been murdered, I’ll have a valid reason to talk to him.”
Something just struck me as he talked and I watched his face. “You called him an arrogant little prig. Do you know him? Is he young?”
“No, he must be mid-thirties by now. Around my age. I met him long ago.”
“How did you know him? Was he at Columbia with you or something?”
“No. I had to question him when I was investigating his father’s death. I was newly promoted to detective and probably looked too young to do the job, and he was horribly patronizing to me, even though he was certainly no older.”
“His father’s death? His father was murdered?” I almost shouted out the words.
Daniel was frowning now. “We were never sure if it was murder or just a horrible accident, but the person we thought might have done it wouldn’t cooperate with us, and claimed he had nothing to do with it.”
“Who was this person?”
“Edward Deveraux, the younger son.”
“The younger son.” I stared at him. “There was a younger son who was involved in a murder, Daniel? And you haven’t considered that he might be part of your investigation?’
I realized I had been yelling.
“Hold your horses!” Daniel put out a hand and touched my shoulder as I tried to stand up. “We’ve only just figured out this minute that this could have anything to do with the Deveraux family.”
“Thanks to me,” I couldn’t resist adding.
“Thanks to you,” he agreed. “But until now, until we considered the murder of the Hamilton couple a part of this same crime spree, the Deveraux name would never have come up.”
“But it has now, and you have the most likely suspect—someone who killed his father, Daniel.”
“He always claimed he was innocent,” Daniel pointed out.
“Could he have been innocent?”
“Hardly. The court didn’t think so at the time. He was a strange, twisted individual, antisocial, reclusive. He had quarreled with his father that morning and said, ‘It’s time you died, old man.’ Later, raised voices were heard coming from the father’s study, then Edward was found with blood all over him. Pretty conclusive, wouldn’t you say, when there were only servants in the house apart from him?”
“So where is he now?” I was so excited I could hardly breathe.
“He was found not guilty by reason of insanity and sent to an institution for the criminally insane for life. I believe, because his family had clout and money, that it was agreed he could be locked in a private institution out in the country.”
“We’ve got it, Daniel.” I stood up now and wrapped my arms around his neck. “It’s him. Edward Deveraux. He felt he was unjustly accused, and he’s escaped and is punishing those involved.”
“We would have been notified if he had escaped. And I always understood that the facility was quite secure—out in the Catskill Mountains, with a high wall around it. But I have to agree that we may have a perfect suspect. I’ll talk to Marcus Deveraux first thing tomorrow. He’d have been notified if his brother had escaped. We should have been too. Of course the department may have been, and the news somehow never was reported to me. I wasn’t the lead officer at the time, and old Boyle has retired. If Edward Deveraux has escaped, it will just be a question of finding him in a city of a million people.”
Twenty-seven
In the morning, Daniel was gone at first light. Part of me wanted to wait home to see if he would bring me any news, but the other part wanted to find out what connection the various other victims might have had to Edward Deveraux and his father’s murder. Daniel’s mother simply rolled her eyes when I told her I’d be going out again.
“And I thought I was called to look after an invalid,” she said. “Here you are running around like a mad thing. Well, I won’t be responsible if you have a relapse. And I won’t be staying on to help you either. I’ve my own life to lead, you know.”
I went over and kissed her on the cheek. “I know you have, and I’m truly grateful,” I said. “Believe me, I do still hurt and I should be resting, but this is just too important. Thanks to what I’ve found out, Daniel might be closer to solving a case that has kept him baffled for mont
hs.”
She stared at me, then said, “And if you’re a smart girl, you’ll not go rubbing that in. You’ll let him think it was all his work and let him take the credit. That’s the way to keep a happy marriage.”
“And it’s what you did with Daniel’s father?” I asked, smiling now.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she said. “I would no more have dreamed of helping out in his police work than of flying to the moon. No, he left his cases behind at the front door and we never discussed them. I provided the safe and happy home that he could look forward to each evening. That was my job.”
“I try to do that too,” I said, “and usually Daniel keeps his police work from me. But it was a piece of luck that that young girl Sid and Gus were asked to help was actually tied in to the crime that has stumped Daniel for so long. It opened a chink in a door that may lead somewhere.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “So I can’t stop now. There is a very dangerous man at large, and if I can help in my small way to catch him, I will.” Then I checked myself. “That is, if you’re willing to look after your grandson for one more day.”
She smiled then. “It’s not as if I have much to do. Young Bridie has taken him over as her personal charge. He only wants her now to feed and change him.” She glanced down the hall to see if Bridie was in earshot. “Have you had a chance to ask Daniel yet about what we discussed?”
“I haven’t, I’m afraid.” I shook my head. “Whenever we meet the conversation has been entirely about police matters. But I think it’s a splendid idea, so I don’t see any reason why he won’t go along with it.” I saw Liam starting to totter out of the kitchen, with Bridie in hot pursuit.
“I should go,” I said, and I snatched up my hat from the hallstand before Liam could decide that he wanted his mother rather than Bridie after all.
The weather had turned bleak and blustery after yesterday’s rain, and I battled with my brolly as the wind threatened to turn it inside out after I dismounted from the streetcar in Brooklyn. On the ride over the East River, I had decided to come clean with Miss Willis, now that I had nothing to hide. I didn’t think she’d have gone out on such a disagreeable day, and I was right. She opened the front door, wrestling with it as the wind threatened to snatch it out of her hands, and stared at me in surprise.
“Why, it’s the lady from the magazine, isn’t it? Fancy seeing you again. What could you be wanting now?”
“I’m sorry to trouble you again, Miss Willis,” I said, “but if I could just come in for a minute, I’ve something really important to ask you.”
“Very well.” She didn’t look too sure. “Although I can’t see what else I could tell you about my poor sister that hasn’t already been said.”
This time she didn’t offer me coffee and cake. The small parlor felt damp and cold, and I suspected that in weather like this she herself stayed in the kitchen, where the stove gave off continued warmth. I know that’s what I would have done.
I took a deep breath. “Miss Willis,” I said. “I wasn’t quite honest with you before. I was actually helping the police to find out who pushed your sister, but I wasn’t allowed to tell you that.”
“I see.” She was staring at me, wide-eyed. “You’re a lady policeman?”
I smiled at the term. “Just helping out. Not official. But we think we might have found out something important. You used to work for the Deveraux family, is that right?”
“Yes, I told you that before.”
She hadn’t, but I wasn’t going to contradict her. “Tell me about Edward Deveraux.”
“Young Edward?” I could tell this threw her completely off guard. “He was a strange little boy—lonely, always had his head in a book, and would look at you in that odd way when you spoke to him. Anyway, his big brother went off to school and then college, but they kept Edward at home, with a tutor, saying he was too delicate. Personally I thought that was a mistake. I thought he might have turned out all right if he’d had to mix with other boys. But I expect they knew what they were doing.”
“And he didn’t get along with his father?”
“His father despised him, and made it obvious too. Mr. Cornelius was a big, blustering sort of man, and he couldn’t abide what he thought to be weakness. I felt sorry for little Edward when he was small. His mother pampered him—well, spoiled him, if you ask me. But then she died and he had no one, really. You could see that he shrank more and more into himself. Stayed locked away in his room, reading and doing all kinds of nasty experiments. If his father hadn’t constantly criticized and belittled him, I think things might have turned out differently.”
“You mean his father’s death? Do you think Edward was responsible for that?”
“I know he was.” She nodded. “I heard them shouting. ‘You disgust me,’ his father said. ‘I expected more from you.’ I couldn’t hear any more of the exact words because the study door was closed. Well, I went on with my cleaning, and then a little later I looked up and Edward was standing there. He had a dazed look on his face, and his hands were all covered in blood. And he said, ‘He’s dead, Mary. My father is dead.’ And then he started to laugh. It was horrible.”
“What happened after that?” I asked gently, because I could see that the memory distressed her.
“The police came, of course, and they took him away. I had to give evidence at the trial, and the way he looked at me, it turned my blood.” She shut her eyes, then took a deep breath. “They didn’t execute him, which was a blessing. He was ruled not guilty by reason of insanity. That’s what the judge said. So they locked him away, poor soul.”
“And where is he now? Still locked away?”
“I’m sure he is. He was sentenced to be locked away for life, and you can’t cure insanity, can you? Mr. Marcus inherited and sold the big family place and I was let go, so I don’t know anything more about the family these days.”
I paused, collecting my thoughts, because the next thing was hard for me to say. “Miss Willis, if Edward Deveraux had escaped…”
“Escaped?” Her hand went up to her expansive bosom. “You mean he got out of that place?”
“We don’t know. If he had escaped, do you think he might have come looking for you?”
“Why would he want to see me again? I was always kind to the little chap—sneaked him an extra cookie when his father had been yelling at him—but we were never close. He never let anybody get close to him.”
I went on, slowly, carefully. “I was wondering if he might look you up to punish you.”
Now she really looked agitated. “To punish me? What for? I never did a thing to him.”
“You gave evidence at his trial. You helped lock him away.”
“I had to,” she said, with anguish in her voice. “The judge summoned me and made me swear on the Bible that I’d tell the truth. So I told them exactly what I told you.” She stopped, her mouth open. “Are you telling me that he came looking for me, to kill me?”
“And killed your sister by mistake, perhaps?”
She shook her head. “How could that be? Nobody could mistake me for Dolly. Take a look at the photograph. We looked quite different. She was a round, dumpy little thing, with that moon face, God bless her.”
“Perhaps he asked in the neighborhood about Miss Willis, and someone saw your sister and pointed her out as Miss Willis. He hadn’t seen you in years, maybe he thought it was you.”
She was still shaking her head. “I just don’t see how and why. It doesn’t make sense. And if he then found out he’d killed my sister by mistake, why not come back for me?”
I couldn’t answer that one. Why not, indeed?
“So they think he’s escaped, do they?” Her voice quivered a little now. “When will they be sure of that? Because I’d need to be locking my door if what you say is true.”
“We should know today, Miss Willis, and we’ll make sure someone passes on the information to you instantly. But I think I can assure you that you’re safe. If he hasn’t come af
ter you by now, he’s probably not going to.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Her hand went to her breast again. “But I still can’t see why he wanted to punish me. Like I said, I was always kind to him. Felt sorry for him, you know. And he’d understand that I had no choice but to testify to what I’d seen and heard. That judge was a very forceful man.”
“What was his name? Do you remember?’
“I’ll never forget it. He had this severe frown on his face and he said, ‘I am Judge Ellingham. We are here to see justice done.’”
Judge Ellingham, whose wife had died of arsenic poisoning. The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place.
Twenty-eight
I thanked Miss Willis, reassured her to the best of my ability, then boarded the crowded trolley again. I couldn’t wait to get back to Terrence Daughtery. I hoped that he wouldn’t have chosen this as the moment to go out, and was glad when the rain picked up, making the going very unpleasant.
“Mrs. Murphy!” he exclaimed when he opened the door a crack and peered out. “What on earth brings you back here, and on such a wild day? I thought we’d concluded our conversation yesterday.”
“I have to ask you one question, Mr. Daughtery,” I said. “Were you at anytime a tutor to the Deveraux family?”
He looked astonished. “Why, yes. I tutored Edward Deveraux for several years, until…”
“Until he killed his father?”
He winced as if a spasm of pain had shot through his body. “No, I left the year before that. He had reached the age of eighteen, and frankly, he was such a bright boy that I told his father there was nothing more I could teach him. Edward really belonged in a university. But his father wouldn’t hear of it. Do you know what he said? He said it would be a waste of money, since, in his words, ‘Whoever would want to employ him?’”