Murder On Mulberry Bend

Donato’s shoulders sank in defeat, and he looked as if he might pass out.

This wasn’t going the way Frank had expected. The man of the house was shocked senseless and his wife was spitting on the floor. “Sit down, Mr. Donato,” he tried, guiding the man into the flat and pulling out a chair for him. He sank down as his wife had, but he was suffering from grief, or something very like it. Frank still wasn’t sure.

Donato rubbed a calloused hand over his face. When he looked up, Frank saw strong emotions but none he could identify. “You say she stab?”

“Probably with a stiletto,” Frank said, watching for a reaction.

Donato frowned, and his wife started muttering invectives in Italian.

“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to kill Emilia?” Frank asked.

“We no see her, long time,” Mrs. Donato said firmly.

“What about her brother? Has he seen her?”

“No,” Mrs. Donato said firmly. Her husband said nothing.

“Maybe I should ask him myself. When will he be home?”

She crossed her arms beneath her heavy breasts and just glared at him.

“What about Ugo?” Frank asked casually. “You wouldn’t mind if he went to jail, would you?”

Frank expected Mrs. Donato to spit on the floor again, but she just continued to glare at him furiously. He looked down at Donato and gave the leg of his chair a slight nudge.

Donato made a squeak of surprise and looked up, terrified.

“What’s this Ugo’s last name and where does he live?” Frank asked.

“Ianuzzi,” Mrs. Donato hastily offered and added an address farther down Mulberry Street. “He bad,” she added helpfully. “He kill sure.”

“Was he angry at Emilia for leaving him?” Frank tried.

“Si, he hate Emilia. He kill, you see.” She was much too certain, as if she were trying to convince herself, too.

Frank looked at Donato. He wasn’t saying anything, just staring at the table. Frank would have to catch him without his wife. He’d need to see the son, too. They had no intention of telling the police anything. They thought they were well rid of Emilia and her “trouble,” and they weren’t going to let any other family member get dragged down with her.

“I’ll be back,” he warned them and took his leave. Making his way carefully down the dark stairwell, he silently cursed Sarah Brandt. Only she could have compelled him to make such a ridiculous promise. No one was going to be able to find Emilia’s killer. Not only didn’t these people speak English, they were too terrified to tell the truth to the police. They’d also lie to protect each other, even if they were innocent.

He could probably beat a confession out of someone, but he made a point of saving that tactic for people he knew were guilty. In this case, he’d be lucky to find someone who even knew she’d be in the park this morning. On the other hand, she must have been killed by someone she knew. She’d had nothing of value, so she hadn’t been robbed, and she hadn’t been molested, either. Someone who had wanted her dead and knew exactly what he was doing had stabbed her quickly and neatly and walked calmly away, leaving her to fall to the ground and die.

How many enemies so cold-blooded could a girl like that have? And although she’d obviously had at least one, how on earth was Frank ever going to find him when her own mother thought he’d done them a favor?

Sarah could tell by the way Frank Malloy was pounding on her door the next morning that he hadn’t liked getting a message from her at Police Headquarters. She opened the door and said, “My only other choice was to go by your flat and leave a message with your mother,” before he could even open his mouth.

Whatever angry words he’d been about to say died on his lips, but his glare was still fierce. “At least my mother wouldn’t have laughed,” he informed her grimly.

She could only imagine how much teasing he endured each time she contacted him there. “I’m sorry, Malloy, but I didn’t know how else to get you over here. You made it very clear you didn’t want me to get involved in the case, so I knew you weren’t going to drop by to consult with me.” She stepped back and allowed him to enter.

He pulled off his hat and hung it up without waiting for an invitation to stay. “Don’t think for a minute that I’m here to consult you,” he warned. “You aren’t getting involved in this, and that’s final.”

“Of course,” she agreed cheerfully. “I’m sure you’ll find Emilia’s killer all by yourself in a day or two, so I won’t even have time to get involved. I just wanted you to know one thing that Mrs. Wells forgot to tell you.”

This time he looked so angry that Sarah began to feel a little uneasy.

“When did you see Mrs. Wells?” he asked her in a voice that raised the hair on her arms.

“I went to see her yesterday afternoon,” she said, refusing to be cowed. “I had to tell her that my mother offered to hold a party to raise funds for the mission.”

He needed a minute to absorb this information. “Your mother?” he repeated incredulously. “What does you mother have to do with this?”

“Nothing at all. I just thought I’d like to do something to help Mrs. Wells with her work at the mission. Places like that always need money, and my mother knows lots of rich people.”

“Does you mother know she’s giving a party for the mission?” he asked suspiciously.

“Of course she does!” Sarah replied huffily. “She was only too happy to do it.”

“What about Richard Dennis?”

“What about him?”

“Does he know about this party, too?”

Sarah knew Malloy had no love for Richard Dennis, but the expression in his voice when he said the man’s name went far beyond simple dislike. She remembered her suspicion that Malloy was jealous of Richard, but she didn’t dwell on it. She didn’t need to, because now she was certain of it. “Mr. Dennis’s wife worked as a volunteer at the mission before her death. He is also very interested in helping them.”

“Was he with you on Sunday when you visited the mission?”

He was acting as if he had a right to question her like this! She could, of course, point out that it was none of his business, but she said, “Mr. Dennis asked me to accompany him so he could see what kind of work they do there.”

She gave him a moment to digest this, but before he could come up with another intrusive question, she said, “Would you like some coffee?” Without waiting for his answer, she turned and walked off toward the kitchen, perfectly confident that he would follow.

He did.

“Have a seat,” she offered, busying herself with finding some cups. The pot was still warm from breakfast, so she poured them each a cup and set them on the kitchen table. Only then did he deign to sit, and once again she spoke before he could.

“Mrs. Wells told me that Emilia was very proud of her new outfit. The one I’d donated to the mission,” she added, knowing full well he already knew which outfit Emilia had been wearing. “One of the other girls heard Emilia say that she wished Ugo could see her. Ugo was her lover, the one who beat her and threw her out.”

“I know who he is,” he snapped.

“Have you talked to him already?” she asked.

“He wasn’t home when I called,” Malloy said sourly.

“That’s good. You probably needed to know this information before you question him.”

“What information?”

“That Emilia was thinking about showing Ugo how beautiful she looked,” Sarah said, amazed he couldn’t figure that out. “It’s a normal, feminine reaction. She’s feeling confident and irresistible, so she seeks out the man who rejected her.”

“Why? So he’ll take her back and beat her up again?”

He really was in a bad mood. She couldn’t help wondering how much of it was due to Richard Dennis. “I’m sure she wasn’t thinking about him beating her up. She was probably thinking about him falling in love with her and wanting her back. Then she could reject him and have her revenge.”

“Italians get real excited over revenge,” he observed, taking a sip of his coffee.