Murder On Mulberry Bend

“He must’ve thought it was funny she had light hair.”

“I’m sure lots of people did, but Mrs. Donato claims he never suspected. She couldn’t bring herself to love Emilia, though. I’m sure that made life hard for her. No wonder she was deceived by the first man to pay her any attention.”

“That Ugo fellow has a wife and three kids back in Italy,” Malloy said, in case she was going to put any of the blame on Emilia.

“What? That cad!” she exclaimed, outraged.

“He didn’t marry Emilia because he didn’t want to be a bigamist.”

“How very noble of him,” she said acidly. “He should be horsewhipped.”

“At least,” Frank agreed.

“Maybe Emilia found out about his wife and threatened to expose him,” she said. “That would give him a reason to kill her.”

“Only if he cared that his wife back in Italy knew he had a mistress. I don’t think Ugo is too worried about things like that.”

She frowned. She knew he was right and didn’t want to admit it. “Her brother is an organ grinder,” she offered after a moment.

“Is he?” Frank wasn’t sure why this was important.

“He plays outside of Macy’s.”

“Do you think he killed Emilia?” Frank asked, trying hard not to sound sarcastic.

Apparently, he succeeded because she didn’t take offense. “He’s a cripple. He was… he was born without a foot.”

Frank couldn’t help flinching a bit. He’d instantly thought of Brian and the future he’d once imagined for his crippled, simple-minded son. Because of Sarah, Brian was no longer a cripple, and now Frank knew he was deaf, and not simple at all. He’d never be sitting on the pavement outside of Macy’s, begging for coins.

“That’s how I know he didn’t kill Emilia,” she went on. “He never could have come up behind her and stabbed her because he walks with crutches.”

Frank glared at her. “When did you meet him?”

She didn’t quite meet his eye, which was a good thing because the look he was giving her would’ve curled her hair. “I… I told you, he plays outside of Macy’s. I had some shopping to do, so I looked for him. He has a little daughter who dances for him.”

Frank decided it was a waste of energy to be angry at this bit of foolishness. At least she hadn’t been in any danger on a public street. “Are you sure she’s his daughter?”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of those beggars don’t have children of their own or children the right size or that are cute enough, so they hire one.”

“How awful!”

“Not really. At least the kid isn’t working in a tenement sweatshop. She probably earns more money dancing than she would making cigars or paper flowers anyway.”

She frowned. “I guess that’s why he wasn’t very nice to her. She was so tired, she fell asleep sitting on the sidewalk, and he kicked her and made her get up and dance some more.”

“That doesn’t prove she’s not his daughter,” Frank pointed out. They’d both seen natural parents do far worse than that to their children.

“I suppose you’re right.” She sighed and studied her coffee for a moment. Then she looked up. “Mrs. Donato makes paper flowers.” Her eyes lit up. “Do you suppose she sells them in City Hall Park?”

“Do you think she killed the girl?” he asked skeptically. “Because she acted pretty innocent when I questioned her.”

She sighed again. “No, I guess I don’t think she did it.”

She looked tired. He figured she’d been delivering babies and hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Why did babies always come in the middle of the night?

“You aren’t going to find out who killed Emilia Donato,” he warned her. “Nobody is going to find out. Sometimes we can’t solve these cases. Most times, in fact. Girls like that, they take up with a stranger, and they end up dead. Maybe the girl herself didn’t know who he was.”

“But she wasn’t taking up with strangers anymore,” she reminded him. “She was going to get a job.”

“That’s what she told the woman at the mission. We don’t know what she did when she left there. And nobody knows why she was in the park that morning. She couldn’t have been there to look for a job.”

“Her killer knows why she was there,” she argued.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But you’ve got to accept the fact that sometimes there just isn’t an answer and some murders don’t get solved.”

“It’s not fair, Malloy.”

“No, it’s not. But you’ve got to accept it, and you’ve got to forget about Emilia Donato, Sarah.”

He waited for her to agree, but she never did.

9

SARAH PURPOSELY DIDN’T GLANCE OVER WHEN SHE walked past Police Headquarters on Mulberry Street. She was half afraid she’d see Malloy if she did. Of course, he didn’t have any right to stop her from what she was doing. Nobody did, come to that. Still, she didn’t feel like having an argument with him about it in the middle of the street, and she knew him well enough to know he’d want to argue if he saw her heading toward the Prodigal Son Mission.

She’d wanted to come yesterday, but she knew Sunday wasn’t a typical day at the mission. Besides, she’d had a baby to deliver, and by the time she was finished, it was too late. Yes, Monday morning was better anyway. The beginning of a new week would be the perfect time to offer her services as an instructor. Volunteering her help was just what she needed to make her feel her life was serving an important purpose.

And if she found out more about Emilia Donato’s murder, too, well, that would be extremely fortunate.

A very small girl opened the door to her knock. She looked up at Sarah with big brown eyes, her expression solemn, and didn’t utter a single word. Sarah couldn’t help smiling.

“Is Mrs. Wells at home?” she asked.

The little girl nodded her head and didn’t move.

“Could I come in to see her?” Sarah asked.

The girl had to think it over. Apparently, she decided Sarah was acceptable, because she stepped back after a few moments and opened the door wide enough for her visitor to enter. The red-haired girl who had answered the door the last time was hurrying down the hallway from the kitchen. “Aggie, I told you not to open the door!” she scolded the child.

The little one looked up at Sarah, gave her a mischievous grin, and scurried away, dodging the older girl to scramble up the staircase and out of sight.

“I’m sorry, miss,” the red-haired girl said, a little breathless from her rush. “Aggie don’t pay much mind to anybody but Mrs. Wells. Can I help you?”

“I came to see Mrs. Wells, if she’s available. Would you tell her Mrs. Brandt is here?”

“Mrs. Brandt, how good to see you,” Mrs. Wells said.

Sarah and the girl looked up in surprise to see her descending the stairs.

“Aggie told me I had a visitor.” She gave the red-haired girl a look that appeared only mildly disapproving, but the girl paled noticeably, and her eyes widened with apprehension.

“I’m that sorry, Mrs. Wells, truly I am!” she said anxiously. “She don’t pay me no mind when I tell her not to do something.”

“Doesn’t,” Mrs. Wells said, correcting her. “She doesn’t pay you any mind, Maeve. In that case, you need to watch her more closely, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she agreed eagerly and bobbed a curtsey. “I’ll do that, I will.” She hurried off up the stairs,