so he wasn’t going to be leaving town. And just as someone had betrayed the boy once already, someone would again.
Frank cursed and hurried his steps. His arm was beginning to ache. He needed to see a doctor, and he didn’t want to waste his time with any of the saw-bones in this neighborhood, assuming he could even find a sober one.
Sarah Brandt was causing him a lot of trouble. If he had any sense, he’d forget what he’d heard today. She’d never know what had happened with Danny, so she’d never be disappointed in him for giving up the search for her husband’s killer.
Then he thought about his son. Brian was getting his cast off in a few days, and he might be able to walk for the first time in his life. The best surgeon in the city had operated on his club foot – because the surgeon was a friend of Sarah Brandt’s.
No, Frank wouldn’t forget what he’d learned today. Danny and he would meet again soon, and this time, he’d find out exactly what he needed to know.
2
“GOOD MORNING, MRS. BRANDT!”
Sarah waved a greeting to her neighbor, Mrs. Ellsworth. In spite of the Sabbath being a day of rest, Mrs. Ellsworth was out sweeping her front porch. This enabled her to keep an eye on all the activities on Bank Street. She had the cleanest porch in New York City.
“Is that a new hat you’re wearing?” the old woman asked.
Sarah reached up to touch the hat in question. “As a matter of fact, it is.”
“Very stylish,” Mrs. Ellsworth said in approval.
“It should be,” Sarah replied with a grin. “It was my mother’s.”
“Your mother’s?”
“Yes, she decided I needed some more presentable clothes, and she made me take my pick from her closet.” The gown she’d worn to the opera last night had been only one of her new acquisitions. Mrs. Ellsworth hadn’t noticed that her suit was “new,” too.
“That was very nice of her. Now I suppose you’re taking your old things to be laundered, but where are you taking them on a Sunday?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked with a puzzled frown at the bundle Sarah carried. “Or are you taking something to poor Mr. Prescott?” Webster Prescott was a newspaper reporter who had been injured while investigating the murder Sarah had just helped Malloy solve a few days earlier.
Sarah glanced down at the bundle. “No, this isn’t for Mr. Prescott. His aunt is taking very good care of him, and she assured me he doesn’t need anything. And it’s not my laundry, either. I’m paying a visit to one of the missions on the Lower East Side, so I thought I’d take my old things down to them as a donation.”
“Oh, my, what a nice thing to do. I do hope you have included some shoes in your donation. Giving someone a pair of shoes is very good luck.”
“I’m afraid I – ”
“No, wait, I’m wrong about that,” Mrs. Ellsworth corrected herself, frowning in concentration. “It may only be new shoes that bring good luck. I’m not sure what old shoes bring. Oh, yes, I am! They’re good luck for the bride and groom, aren’t they? To tie behind their carriage. Yes, so they must be good luck for everyone, don’t you think?” she asked, satisfied she had solved the problem of the value of old shoes.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Sarah said diplomatically. She never bothered to argue with Mrs. Ellsworth’s superstitions. “In any event, I didn’t have any shoes I could donate, so I’m only giving away clothes.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure those poor souls at the mission will appreciate whatever you can spare. And how is Mr. Prescott doing?”
“I saw him yesterday, and he seems to be improving. He’s fortunate his aunt was able to look after him. If I have time, I’ll stop by the hospital again today to check on him after I visit the mission.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s better,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “But you aren’t going down there to that mission alone, are you? An unescorted woman isn’t safe in that part of town.”
Sarah didn’t bother to point out that it was broad daylight, and that as a midwife, she was accustomed to going to all parts of the city unescorted, at all hours of the day and night. “No, I’ll have a gentleman with me.”
“Mr. Malloy?” she asked, brightening instantly. For some reason, Mrs. Ellsworth had developed a fondness for the gruff police detective. Sarah would attribute her warm feelings to Malloy helping clear Mrs. Ellsworth’s son of murder charges, except that the old woman had liked Malloy long before that.
“No, not Mr. Malloy,” Sarah said, disappointing her. “I’m meeting Mr. Dennis.”
“Mr. Richard Dennis?” she asked, instantly wary. “Nelson said he thought it was Mr. Dennis’s carriage that picked you up last evening. We couldn’t help noticing,” she added, lest Sarah think her nosy.
“We went to the opera,” Sarah said, relieving Mrs. Ellsworth of the need to inquire.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” the old woman asked, still not certain how she felt about her friend seeing Nelson’s employer socially.
“Very much.”
“Mr. Dennis is an honorable man,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, although Sarah heard the echo of a question in the words. “He was very kind to Nelson during the… the unpleasantness.”
Sarah saw no need to mention that Dennis hadn’t
“He certainly won Nelson’s undying loyalty,” Mrs. Ellsworth assured her.
“Then Mr. Dennis is fortunate indeed,” Sarah said.
“And speaking of Mr. Malloy, how is his son doing after the operation?” the old woman asked, returning to a subject nearer to her heart.
“He’ll be getting his cast off on Wednesday. I guess we’ll know then.”
“Please tell Mr. Malloy I’ll be remembering the child in my prayers.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”
Mrs. Ellsworth looked around expectantly. “Is Mr. Dennis calling for you?”
“No, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to take his carriage into the Lower East Side. People might get the idea he was trying to flaunt his wealth.”
“Oh, yes,” the old woman agreed. “The poor should be allowed to keep their pride, at least. But how will you get there? A Hansom won’t want to go there, either.”
“I suggested we ride the El,” Sarah said with a smile.
Mrs. Ellsworth smiled back. “Mr. Dennis on the El. That should be an experience.”
“I’m sure it will be.”
Sarah wished her neighbor good morning and set off to the nearest train station at Eighth Street on Sixth Avenue.
She really hadn’t expected Richard Dennis to ride the Elevated Train down from his home on the Upper West Side, but she smiled when she spotted his carriage sitting near the station. Dennis must have been watching for her, because he alighted from the carriage and hurried toward her as she approached.
He really was a fine figure of a man, and his clothes were tailored to accentuate his lean figure and height. He smiled as he reached her and removed his silk top hat. “Good morning, Mrs. Brandt,” he said. “You look lovely this morning, as usual.”
“Thank you,” she replied, wondering how many times he’d said this meaningless phrase to women who looked far from lovely.
“I’ve been thinking about your plan to take the El and then walk over to Mulberry Street, but I really don’t see any reason why we can’t go in my carriage. You have this bundle, after all, and – ”
“I really think we should arrive unannounced, Mr. Dennis,” she reminded him. “Your carriage would attract a crowd, and believe me, we’d make very slow progress surrounded by hundreds of curious children.” Besides, she thought, I want you to walk through the neighborhood and see for yourself “How the Other Half Lives,” as the
