Murder on Washington Square

“Neither. He was dismissed from his position, of course, but the bank didn’t press charges. The scandal would have ruined them, so they didn’t dare.”

“Could you find out who this man was?” Sarah asked urgently, certain now he must be another victim of the Walcotts and their tenants.

“I probably could, but I don’t believe that would help you,” her father said. “According to Van Scoyoc, the fellow hanged himself from shame after it all came out.”

“How cowardly of him,” her mother said. “And selfish. You said he had a family. What would become of them with him dead?”

“It wouldn’t be much different than if he were alive, my dear,” her father explained. “He’d never be able to find another position. People talk, you know, and his crime would follow him wherever he went, even if no one spoke of it publicly. At least with him dead, his family could be free of that.”

“Yes,” Sarah said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “With him gone, they could starve in respectability.”

Her father frowned at her tone. “Life is frequently unfair, Sarah. When it is, the innocent often suffer. That’s the way of the world, and we cannot hope to change it.”

He believed that, of course. They’d had this argument many times. This argument had driven her sister Maggie to her death. Unfortunately, Sarah didn’t have the energy to answer it tonight. She had more important things to do, in any case. She, for one, was going to change at least one of the ways of the world and make things better for the Ellsworths and Webster Prescott.

Before she left, however, she still needed a bit more information. “Did Mr. Van Scoyoc explain how one might embezzle from the bank without being caught?”

“Not without being caught. Eventually, the discrepancies would be found, no matter how careful the thief was. Blame might be diverted onto another, but the crime could not be concealed forever. He was also surprised that the discrepancy was found so quickly. He did not believe that such a thing couldn’t be discovered in a day, even if the auditors knew what they were looking for.”

“Then how does he explain it?” Sarah asked.

“He doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t believe they found it at all.”

The hour was late by the time Sarah finally arrived at Bellevue. She found Mrs. Ellsworth dozing in her chair, her chin resting on her bony chest, her breath coming in unladylike snores. Webster Prescott was sleeping, too. He seemed to have recovered a bit from his earlier ordeal, and the nurse confirmed he’d been resting comfortably for several hours. Even his fever was a little lower.

Mrs. Ellsworth awoke with a start and a snort when Sarah touched her shoulder. “What…? Oh, Mrs. Brandt,” she said in relief. Then she instinctively looked at Prescott. “How is he?”

“He seems to be doing fairly well.”

“Oh, heavens, don’t say that! It’s bad luck to say a sick person is doing well!” she informed Sarah, aghast at her ignorance.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, however insincerely. “I mean to say he’s not doing as poorly as he was.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the old woman replied with some relief.

Sarah bit back a smile. “You’ve done a good job guarding him, but it’s time for you to go home to your own bed now.”

“Nonsense! Someone must stay with him all the time. What if that woman comes back to kill him again?”

“Then I’ll be here,” Sarah told her.

“But you shouldn’t waste your time here. You have things you could be doing, while I don’t have anything to look forward to except more waiting.”

“Yes, you do,” Sarah assured her. “I need for you to go home and tell Mr. Malloy where I am when he comes looking for me tomorrow. I have some important things to tell him, especially about the woman who tried to kill Mr. Prescott, and I need to see him as soon as possible.”

“Then I should stay here while you go find Mr. Malloy,” she argued.

“I’ve spent a good part of the afternoon trying to do just that without success. I left a message for him at Police Headquarters, so I think the best plan is for me to stay in one place and let him find me. But he’ll go to my house, and he won’t know where else to look unless you tell him.”

She started sputtering additional objections, but Sarah cut her off.

“You’re going home, and I’m staying here, and I won’t hear any more on the subject. Now, I’ve got a carriage waiting for you downstairs, and you’re keeping the poor driver from his bed.”

“A carriage?” she echoed suspiciously.

“It’s my parents’. They sent me home in it, so I thought I should make good use of it. Now don’t make that poor man wait any longer. There’s food, too, for your and Nelson’s supper, courtesy of my mother’s cook. Enjoy it.”

Mrs. Ellsworth offered a few more feeble arguments, but finally she surrendered. She really was starting to feel the strain of the day. Before she left, however, she pressed a rabbit’s foot into Sarah’s hand.

“It can’t hurt,” she said when Sarah looked skeptical.

“How many of these do you have?” Sarah asked, remembering she’d given one to Malloy as well.

“As many as I need,” she replied.

When she was gone, Sarah made herself as comfortable as possible and settled in for a long night.

Frank wondered how Sarah Brandt could give him a headache when he wasn’t even with her. He’d been feeling pretty good this morning, having arrested Anna Blake’s confessed killer the night before. Although he’d had no reason to be concerned about her comfort, he’d managed to get Mrs. Giddings locked up in The Tombs instead of at Police Headquarters. The Tombs were grim, but they were still far more tolerable than the cellar at Mulberry Street.

Getting Gilbert Giddings released from jail had been the work of a few moments, and he hadn’t even had to deal with the man himself. Let his son tell him the awful news about what his wife had done. He never wanted to see that sorry drunk again. Frank’s sense of accomplishment had dimmed somewhat when he’d gotten Mrs. Brandt’s message, though. He was used to being teased about her, or as used to it as he was ever going to get, but that didn’t mean he was used to having her involved in his cases. He’d never get accustomed to that, especially when being involved meant confronting would-be killers in the act, as he’d learned from Mrs. Ellsworth when he’d gone looking for Sarah Brandt at her home.

“I’m sure Mrs. Brandt is perfectly fine,” Mrs. Ellsworth said from where she was sitting beside him on the El as they sped uptown toward Bellevue. “We scared that woman off. She won’t be back.”

Frank gritted his teeth. “If it was a woman,” he said. “You said yourself you didn’t see her face.”

“Well, whoever it was who tried to poison poor Mr. Prescott, they won’t be back,” Mrs. Ellsworth insisted.

Frank only hoped she was right. The thought of Sarah Brandt facing down a killer in the middle of the night on a deserted hospital ward was unsettling, to say the least. It unsettled Frank so much he wanted to strangle somebody. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said, not for the first time. “I told you I’d get somebody to stand guard over Prescott. His newspaper will probably hire a guard when they find out what happened. It would make for a good story.”

“A guard can prevent the killer from striking again, but he won’t be able to give Mr. Prescott the special care he needs,” she pointed out. “Besides, I’m tired of being locked in my house day and night.”

When Frank had gone to Sarah Brandt’s house this morning-and he’d gone the instant he’d gotten her message-the last thing he’d expected was to find Mrs. Ellsworth watching for him.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Mrs. Ellsworth was always watching for something to happen on her street. If she’d been unable to do anything about what had been happening lately, that only made her more anxious to get active again. Frank would’ve had to tie her hand and foot to keep her from accompanying him to the hospital to find Mrs. Brandt. When she told him about the attempt on Prescott’s life, he hadn’t wanted to waste time trying to deter her, either.

“If it’s any comfort to you, I arrested Anna Blake’s killer last night,” he told her.

Her eyes widened, almost erasing the wrinkles around them. “Oh, Mr. Malloy! That’s wonderful! Who was