afternoon.”
Frank ignored her. “Did you have an argument with Mr. Devries?” he asked the girl.
Her eyes widened. “Do you think it was my fault? That he died, I mean? Is that why? He got upset and had a heart attack or apoplexy or something?”
“So you did have an argument that morning.”
“They just had words,” Lizzie said. “Mr. Devries, he never wanted Lizzie to leave the house, but she’s a young girl. She needs to have some fun once in a while, doesn’t she? He never would take her anywhere, either. That’s all. He wasn’t even mad. Besides, he was fine when he left here.”
Frank kept his gaze on the girl, but she kept glancing from him to the maid. “That’s right. He never got mad at me, you know. He was always very nice, wasn’t he, Lizzie?”
“That’s right, miss. Always.”
“Did you hit him?” Frank asked.
The girl blinked. “What?”
Lizzie was beet red now. “Of course she never hit him! What kind of a girl do you think she is?”
Frank knew exactly what kind of a girl she was. “Sometimes people get so angry they do foolish things. I was just wondering if Miss English had ever hit Mr. Devries in frustration.”
“I—”
“Don’t say a word!” Lizzie snapped, then turned to Frank. “I told you to get out of here. You can’t come in here and bully us.”
Of course he could, but that would be a waste of time. The girl wasn’t going to admit anything now. “Mr. Devries didn’t have a heart attack.”
“How did he die, then?” the girl asked.
He couldn’t tell her the truth, not if he ever expected to find out if she’d done it. “We don’t know yet.”
“Why not?”
“The medical examiner is doing an autopsy to find out what killed him.”
“Then why are you bothering us?” Lizzie asked. “Miss English has enough problems without the likes of you getting her all upset.”
“Miss English, do you know a man named Salvatore Angotti?”
The girl’s eyes widened again.
“Of course she don’t. How would she know somebody like that? A foreigner, of all people. Miss English don’t know people like that.”
Except Frank would’ve bet a month’s pay she knew him very well or had at least heard his name before. He needed to get Miss English alone, without the meddling older woman. But since she was here, he would have to give up for now. He looked around the sad little room. “Do you own the house, Miss English?”
“I—”
“What business is it of yours?” Lizzie asked.
“Just curious. I hope she got him to give her a financial settlement at least. The family won’t waste any time putting her out if she doesn’t own it.”
Fear flashed across the girl’s face. “How long do you think I have?”
So she didn’t own the house. “That depends on whether someone in the family knows about you or not. It might take some time for them to find out if they don’t. If I were you, I’d start making other plans, though. You can’t stay here forever.”
The girl’s eyes filled with tears, and Frank had to look away. He saw plenty of human misery every day. This girl’s situation wasn’t even particularly bleak. She’d probably find another protector, and next time she’d be smarter and ask for the house. In any case, he could do nothing for her. He gave her his card. “I may be back again if I have more questions.”
“More questions about what?” she asked.
Frank didn’t answer. He just walked out of the room with Lizzie on his heels. As if suddenly remembering her duties, she helped Frank on with his coat and handed him his hat.
“How did he die?” she asked in a whisper.
“I told you, I don’t know yet.”
“But you think somebody did him in, don’t you? Was it poison?”
“Maybe. Any idea who might’ve wanted him dead?”
“Anybody that knew him, I’d guess.”
Not a very nice epitaph. “Do you know this Salvatore Angotti?”
“How would I?” She was lying. Frank was sure of it. “But if Devries was poisoned, I’d say he done it. You can’t trust those foreigners.”
Frank figured that’s what everyone would tell him.
MIRACULOUSLY, NO ONE SUMMONED SARAH TO A BIRTH the next day, so she was ready when her mother’s carriage stopped in front of her house on Bank Street that afternoon. Sarah kissed Catherine good-bye and promised that Mrs. Decker would come in to see her when they returned.
Her mother smiled a greeting when Sarah climbed into the carriage. She wore a dove gray suit beneath her fur-lined cape. “I could hardly sleep last night,” she confessed as Sarah settled on the seat beside her.
“Did you find out anything new from Father last night?”
“No, he went back to the club and didn’t come in until late. He felt he should be there in case any of the members wanted to know what had happened to poor Chilton. Then he went back today. Why are mourning calls made in the afternoon? This has been the slowest day of my life.”
Sarah smiled. “I don’t know who created the rules for proper behavior, but I imagine women decided that having mourning callers in the morning didn’t give them enough time to dress properly or something.”
“Don’t make fun, Sarah. These things are very important to many people.”
“I’m not making fun, Mother, but I must say, I’m thankful I don’t have to worry about these things much anymore. By the way, Malloy came by last night.”
“He did? I’m so sorry I missed him. Did you tell him about our plans?”
“Yes, and he was just as shocked as we were that Father wanted me to go with you.”
“I’m sure he was. Oh, dear, I suppose he came to warn you
“That’s what I expected, too, but no, he also asked me to go with you today. So we have his blessing, too.”
Mrs. Decker frowned. “I’m not sure I like this. Having permission takes away a lot of the excitement, doesn’t it?”
“Well, it does. So tell me what Mr. Malloy had to say so we can plan what we’re going to do when we get to Lucretia’s house.”
City traffic slowed their progress to a crawl, so Sarah had plenty of time to relay what Malloy had shared with her. By the time they were escorted into the Devrieses’ parlor, they both felt confident of their mission.
“Elizabeth, thank you so much for coming,” Lucretia Devries said, ensconced in an overstuffed chair, her feet resting demurely on a needlepoint footstool. She offered a limp hand, wrist to ankle encased in the unrelieved black taffeta of a recent widow.
“I’m so very sorry to hear about Chilton,” Elizabeth said, taking the offered hand.
“Oh, yes, such a terrible shock. I don’t know what I would do without Paul. Children can be such a comfort during a time like this.”
“I’m sure they can. Lucretia, you remember my daughter, Sarah Brandt, don’t you?”
Sarah watched the older woman’s gaze sharpen as she turned, perhaps remembering Sarah’s rebellious elopement and the resulting rift with her family. “My condolences, Mrs. Devries.”
“Thank you, my dear. Please, sit down. I’ve rung for some tea. You must be frozen. How troublesome to have to bury Chilton when the weather is so bad.”
Sarah seated herself on a sofa across from Mrs. Devries. “I’m sure he never thought of the inconvenience when he died,” her mother said with a perfectly straight face as she joined her.
