Sarah had to admit she enjoyed her unique status at Mulberry Street. They didn’t exactly treat her with respect, but the obvious contempt which had greeted her on her first visit there was gone now. In its place was a strange sort of acceptance. She was the red-headed stepchild who wasn’t exactly part of the family but who must be acknowledged, however grudgingly.
What Sarah hadn’t considered doing in her quest to find Malloy was going to his flat to leave a message with his mother. She would love to see Brian and check on his progress, but she didn’t feel up to dealing with Mrs. Malloy after all she’d been through today. She’d just have to wait until Malloy got her other message and made his way to her. Meanwhile, she would change her clothes and return to Bellevue to relieve Mrs. Ellsworth from her vigil.
But when Sarah turned onto Bank Street, she saw a familiar carriage parked at the curb in front of her house. The matched horses were dozing in the twilight chill, and the coachman seemed to be doing likewise. He’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and sat slumped in his seat, his hat pulled down over his eyes. She hoped he hadn’t been waiting for her for very long.
She stepped up to the carriage and thumped on the side to get the driver’s attention. He started awake and looked around in alarm until he saw her standing below him.
“I’m sorry I frightened you, Patrick,” she said. “Why are you here?”
He lifted his hat in respect. “Your father sent me to fetch you, missus. He wants to see you right away.”
“Is something wrong? Is someone ill?” she asked with a worried frown.
“Oh, no, ma’am. He just wanted to talk to you, he said. He has some news you’ve been waiting for.”
Sarah remembered his promise this morning to find out what he could about embezzlement and wondered if that could be his news. If so, he hadn’t wasted any time. She really should get to the hospital as quickly as possible, but hearing what her father had to say was important, too. The coach would carry her to her parents’ home, and then she could have it take her to Bellevue and bring Mrs. Ellsworth home. This would be much safer than allowing the old woman to make her own way home alone, and if any reporters were still about that time of night, the driver could see her safely into her house. As the hour grew later, the traffic would ease, as well, so the carriage would be able to travel relatively quickly through the streets.
“Please wait just a few more minutes while I freshen up,” she said to the driver and hurried inside.
When she had made herself more presentable, she also made a stop at the Ellsworth house to tell Nelson his mother was fine. Only then did she allow the carriage to take her up to Fifty-Seventh Street. When she sat down in the dark comfort of the carriage, she suddenly realized how very weary she was. She’d begun the day at her parents’ home, certain she would soon discover Anna Blake’s real killer. But the more she’d learned from her various stops, the more confused she had become. Instead of being clearer, the situation was getting more confusing. Nothing about Anna Blake made any sense, or so it seemed. Sarah knew from experience, however, that once she had all the pieces to the puzzle, it would all make sense. A twisted sort of sense, perhaps, but a sense she could understand. Probably, she and Malloy just needed to share what they had learned. Between the two of them, they may already have the solution and simply not know it yet.
Sarah sincerely hoped that was true. She wanted Anna Blake’s murder to be solved so she could concentrate on clearing Nelson’s name and bringing Mrs. Ellsworth’s life back to normal.
The rumble of the carriage wheels over the rough streets lulled Sarah into a light doze. The lurch of the carriage when it stopped in front of her parents’ house woke her, and she was surprised to discover she felt somewhat refreshed from her brief nap.
Her parents’ home seemed warm and welcoming to her now, not forbidding as she had seen it just a few short months ago when she’d ended her long estrangement from them. Her mother greeted her with a kiss and a worried frown when the maid ushered her into the family parlor.
“Where have you been, my dear? We were concerned when Patrick didn’t return with you right away.”
“I was out running errands,” Sarah said with a smile, not bothering to offer details. Her mother would only be upset if she knew Sarah had foiled a murder plot, questioned several suspects, and paid a visit to Police Headquarters since she’d seen them earlier today. “I might have been delivering a baby, you know. In that case, I could have been gone all night. I hope Patrick would have gone on home in that case.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t keep the horses out all night,” her father said, sharing her amusement as he also kissed her cheek.
Her mother insisted that she eat when she learned Sarah hadn’t yet had supper. Since she’d skipped lunch as well, Sarah was happy to accept. She’d have the cook wrap up something for Mrs. Ellsworth and Mr. Prescott before she left, too. Although she was starved, she was also impatient to hear her father’s news. Good breeding prevailed, however, and she managed to wait until they were settled back in the family parlor before broaching the subject.
“Your message was that you had some information for me,” she said as her father lit his pipe. The sweet aroma brought back childhood memories of happier times, when she and Maggie were children and still believed in fairy tales and happy endings. Now she knew better, but she still enjoyed the fragrance of the smoke.
“I was extremely fortunate,” her father said, settling himself in his favorite chair. “Hendrick Van Scoyoc was at the club. He always knows everything that happens in the city.”
“He’s a gossip, you mean,” her mother said.
“I mean he’s well informed,” her father said. “I won’t criticize a man who served my purposes so well and in so timely a manner.”
“As you say, my dear,” her mother said. “I stand corrected.”
“And what did Mr. Van Scoyoc tell you?” Sarah asked, hoping to move things along a little faster.
“I asked him to explain to me how one might embezzle money from a bank. Since he owns several, I thought it a harmless enough question, but he took immediate offense.”
“Why on earth would he take offense?” her mother asked before Sarah could.
“Because his good friend… Well, let’s be discreet and just say a friend of his had recently been a victim of this crime,” her father explained. “Or I should say, one of his banks was. Hendrick thought I was being… unkind,” he said, carefully choosing his words, “in making reference to it. It seems the man has suffered some ridicule from his peers over the incident.”
“How interesting,” her mother said, obviously entertained by the idea.
“I thought so,” her father agreed. “I was apparently among the last to have heard about it. I had to explain my purpose in making the inquiry, so he wouldn’t refuse to ever speak to me again. I did not reveal the identity of the individuals involved,” he hastened to add. “Even though Van Scoyoc was very interested to learn who else had been victimized. You see, the situations were eerily similar.”
“In what way?” Sarah asked, even more interested than her mother.
“The bank employee who stole the money had been, until then, very trustworthy and conscientious. A responsible family man, too. The kind you would never expect to be so foolish.”
“What happened, then?” her mother asked, actually leaning forward in her chair in her eagerness to hear the entire story.
“It seems he fell into the thrall of a young woman.”
Sarah could hardly believe she’d heard him correctly. “Who was she?”
Her father shrugged, puffing on his pipe. “If Van Scoyoc knows her name, he didn’t mention it. But I can’t believe he would care to know it. Some Irish girl, I think he said.”
Sarah felt her hackles rise over the tone with which he said “Irish,” as if the Irish didn’t need names, being something less than human. But to Van Scoyoc and her father and others like them, they didn’t. It was a hideous injustice, but she must choose her battles. She would fight that one another day. She had more pressing matters with which to deal at the moment. “Why did he think she was Irish?” she asked, recalling she’d noticed Catherine Porter looked Irish the first time she’d seen her.
“I don’t… Oh, yes, now I remember. Van Scoyoc said something about a red-haired vixen. That must be why I assumed she was Irish.” He dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand, although Sarah made careful note that the woman he described might have been the elusive Francine. “In any case, this fellow stole several thousand dollars from the bank before anyone discovered it. He’d given the money to this girl, of course, and once his crime was discovered, she disappeared.”
“What happened to the embezzler?” Sarah asked, fairly certain the mystery of Francine’s departure was now solved and the identity of her “rich gentleman” discovered. Surely there weren’t many other red-haired women in the city doing the same thing. “Was he arrested or did he escape?”
