Murder on Fifth Avenue

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.”

“I can’t understand why he allowed someone to injure him so badly and then never even mentioned it to anyone.”

“He probably didn’t know how badly he was hurt. He might’ve thought somebody just punched him or hit him. If it was somebody in his family—”

“Or his mistress,” Maeve added.

“Or his mistress,” Malloy continued, “he probably wouldn’t imagine they were trying to kill him. He argued with his wife and son that morning. If one of them hit him, he wouldn’t call for help or raise any kind of alarm.”

Maeve straightened in her chair. “Why ever not?”

Malloy deferred to Sarah with a nod, picking up his cup again. “He wouldn’t want the servants to know his wife or his son had struck him. Rich people like to pretend they’re better than other people.”

Maeve nodded. “I should’ve figured that out myself.”

“Yes, you should,” Malloy said.

“He must’ve been pretty mean to his daughter-in-law, then,” Maeve said.

“Why do you say that?” Sarah asked.

“I can’t imagine laughing when I heard somebody died unless I really hated him.”

“His wife and son didn’t act like they even cared,” Malloy said.

“Father said Mrs. Devries seemed to be put out by the news.”

“I guess that’s pretty close to how she reacted,” Malloy said. “She sure wasn’t happy about having to wear black now that she’s a widow.”

“Some women just don’t look good in black,” Sarah said, earning a scowl for her sarcasm.

“Have you met the mistress yet?” Maeve asked.

“No. It was too late to call on her when I finished up with the servants. That’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow, that and trying to find this Salvatore Angotti.”

“The Italian,” Maeve said.

“What kind of business would Mr. Devries have with an Italian?” Sarah asked.

“The valet didn’t know, and he made it clear Devries didn’t socialize with people like that.”

“Of course not, but…I wonder if my father would know this…What was his name again?”

“Angotti. How would your father know somebody like that?”