He’d have to tell his mother, of course. He tried to imagine her learning to sign, but the idea was too ridiculous even to consider. She’d continued to pretend Brian was a normal child, totally ignoring all evidence to the contrary. Being deaf was almost as shameful as being feebleminded, at least by her standards, so she simply denied it.
“Maybe you’d tell me more about these people with the boy Brian’s age,” he said.
SARAH HAD FORGOTTEN how interminably dull society dinner parties could be. No one talked about politics or philosophy or literature or anything even remotely interesting. Sarah did learn more than she ever wanted to know about her old friend Amanda’s trip to Europe and Hazel’s twin daughters. She also learned what had happened to most of the friends she had had as young woman, before she’d decided not to follow the course her father had set for her and gone into nurses’ training. Unfortunately, none of them was doing anything Sarah found interesting.
After dinner, as custom dictated, the women withdrew while the men smoked their cigars and took their brandy. Sarah could have used some brandy herself. She needed fortification to get through the rest of the evening.
To make matters worse, Sarah had begun to realize that having a private word with Dirk Schyler, which had been the entire purpose of organizing the evening in the first place, was going to be practically impossible. They would certainly never be alone at all, and the chances of them having a moment when no one could overhear them was unlikely, particularly when everyone seemed intent on watching the two of them closely for any signs that they were interested in one another.
Her mother could have done a better job of disguising the fact that Sarah had merely wanted the dinner party as an excuse for seeing Dirk. As it was, everyone present was aware of it, since they were the only two unattached people in the party. To make matters worse, they had also come to the conclusion that Sarah had set her cap for him. If it hadn’t been so frustrating, Sarah might have been amused.
Amanda Walker had just asked where she had gotten her gown-a purely idle question since Amanda could have no interest whatever in such an unstylish creation-when the door opened and the men came into the parlor, saving her from admitting it had come from Lord & Taylor. Sarah’s mother had insisted she buy a new frock for the occasion, but Sarah had seen no need to pay a dressmaker for an ensemble she might never wear again.
Instantly, Amanda and all the other women lost interest in her, to her great relief. The men filled the room with their energy, loud voices, and booming laughter. Sarah watched in growing frustration as Dirk Schyler spoke to his sister and then wandered away, off to a far comer of the room. She was just hatching a plan to get herself near enough to him to ask for his help when he called out to her.
“Sarah, would you be so kind as to identify the people in this photograph for me?” he asked.
Sarah gaped at him in surprise. Could he possibly know she wanted a private word with him? Or did he want one with her? Perhaps he was simply afraid she would reveal that she had seen him at Coney Island in the company of a working-class girl and wanted to beg her discretion. Or perhaps he understood that he’d been invited for a reason, and that reason involved Sarah. Whatever it was, Sarah was simply glad for the excuse to confer with him.
“Certainly,” Sarah said, trying not to appear too eager to answer his summons.
As she crossed the room, she heard a stifled giggle and realized that everyone was watching her. Well, what had she expected? They were all waiting for the two of them to show some signs of interest in each other. They would imagine such interest no matter what really happened. Sarah Decker Brandt’s desperate ploy to land herself a rich husband would probably be the talk of visiting rooms for the next month.
Dirk had picked up a photograph of her father’s college rowing team and pointed at one of the men. Sarah, of course, had no idea who any of them were. In fact, she would have been hard-pressed to identify her own father, and she was certain Dirk had no true interest in their identities, either. He proved it instantly.
“Now tell me, Sarah, why on earth have you gone to all this trouble to encounter me again?” he asked in a whisper, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He held the photograph up for her to see, as if it were the true subject of their conversation.
“Why, Dirk,” she replied, unable to resist, “isn’t it obvious? I developed an instant passion for you, and I couldn’t wait to see you again.”
He gave her a look of feigned shock. “Does Mr. Malloy know about this?”
“He wouldn’t be likely to care if he did,” she replied. It was the first word of truth she’d spoken in this conversation.
“Don’t be too sure about that. I’m quite certain Mr. Malloy wouldn’t approve of your consorting with me.”
“Fortunately, I don’t need his approval.”
“What do you need, then?” Dirk asked. His face was still handsome, Sarah noticed, although the signs of dissipation were starting to show. The flesh beneath his attractive blue eyes was pouched from too many late-night drinking parties, and his skin was sallow and unhealthy. He was even developing a slight thickening around the waist that would turn to fat in a few years if he wasn’t careful.
“I need to go back to Coney Island with someone who is familiar with the place.”
He seemed surprised. Fortunately, he was also intrigued. “What on earth for?”
“Because I’m looking for a murderer.”
Dirk looked even more shocked than she would have expected. His face actually paled, and he stared at her for a long moment, as if looking for the answer to some question he dared not ask aloud. Most likely, he had never heard a well-bred woman even utter the word “murderer,” which would more than account for his reaction.
Thus far, their whispered conversation had the attention of everyone in the room, and clearly, they would need more privacy to continue. Dirk visibly collected himself. “It’s awfully warm in here,” he said so everyone could hear, setting the photograph back on the sideboard. “Perhaps you’ll stroll with me in the garden for a bit, Sarah.”
“That sounds lovely,” Sarah agreed. “If you’ll excuse us,” she added to her mother, who nodded her consent. She looked so pleased that Dirk was performing to her expectations that Sarah actually felt guilty for deceiving her.
Dirk offered his arm, and they stepped out through the French doors leading to the fenced enclosure that passed for a “garden” in the city. It was much larger than Sarah’s small backyard, and the flowers had been professionally tended. The shade was cool, and the scents fragrant, but most important, no one could overhear them.
They’d walked a ways from the house before Dirk spoke. “Surely, I misunderstood you, Sarah. You could not possibly have said you were looking for a murderer.”
“But I did. I know it’s hard for you to understand how I could be involved in such a thing, but a young girl I know was murdered recently. Her family has asked me to help in the investigation,” she explained, stretching the truth a bit.
“Why would they ask
“As you know, I have a friend who is a police detective.”
“Ah, yes, the charming Mr. Malloy. Surely, he doesn’t need your help finding criminals, though. Why, the police hardly bother doing that themselves!”
Sarah ignored the insulting remark. It was, unfortunately, too true. “I have been of some use to him in that respect in the past,” she admitted with a trace of pride.
Plainly, Dirk didn’t believe that for a moment. “Sarah, I’m afraid you haven’t learned much of the world, for all your independence from your family, if you believe for one moment this Malloy fellow has any interest in you aside from seduction.”
Sarah was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud at such a ridiculous notion. If Malloy wanted to seduce her, he was certainly adept at concealing his intentions. He was also the world’s most patient-and inept!-seducer. “Is it so difficult to believe a woman could help solve a crime?”
“Quite frankly, yes,” Dirk said, his smile condescending.
Sarah wanted to wipe that smile off his face. She wanted to tell him she had helped solve a murder only a few short months ago. She had been of so much help that Malloy had told her she would have made a good detective, if the police hired women, which they didn’t. But she really wasn’t at liberty to reveal the details of the case, and besides, she doubted Dirk would believe her anyway.
