“I’ve been very concerned from the beginning,” Sarah explained. “Since I saw Alicia the night before she died, I feel connected somehow. And one of the police detectives has been very kind in answering my questions and keeping me informed about what’s happening.”
Mina sniffed in derision. “Are you consorting with a
Anger flooded Sarah, nearly choking her, but she somehow managed to bite back the sharp retort she so desperately wanted to make. She settled for, “I sometimes think I’m the only one who cares if Alicia’s killer is found.”
For a second, Sarah thought perhaps Mina was going to agree with her. But then she said, “I’m really very tired, Sarah. This has been a terrible strain on all of us. I know you’ll excuse me if I cut our visit short.”
Effectively dismissed, Sarah had no choice but to leave. She rose and took a moment to put her gloves on, hoping that Mina would feel compelled to say something into the silence. But she disappointed Sarah by simply waiting until she was finished. Then she summoned a maid to see her out.
Out on the sidewalk, Sarah savored the sounds of busy Fifth Avenue. Briefly, she considered taking a hansom cab back to Greenwich Village. She needed some time to digest her visit with Mina and to figure out if she had learned anything at all. But the fare would be exorbitant, and she could be just as alone with her thoughts on the El.
Feeling slightly out of place in her new gown among the working people on the train, Sarah watched the buildings speeding by, absently noting the advertising signs plastered on nearly every exposed surface of those buildings. “Castoria” and “Ivory Soap, It Floats,” and “Sozodont Toothpaste” and “Buffalo Lithia Water” were all being touted as the cure for whatever ailed a body, from female complaints to bad breath.
By the time the train reached Fortieth Street, Sarah had decided that Mina had told her nothing useful. What she really needed was to see Malloy for a consultation. She needed his guidance and his perspective and most of all, his experience to help her decide what to do next. After a while, even the murmur of the wheels on the tracks seemed to hum his name. Malloy, Malloy, Malloy. Come soon,
Malloy didn’t come until the following evening. Sarah had long since finished her supper and was reading one of Tom’s medical journals when she heard his knock. Recognizing his silhouette through the curtain, she felt a surge of anticipation she hadn’t felt since she’d lost Tom. For all the satisfaction her work gave her, Sarah realized her life had lacked a certain amount of excitement in recent years. In fact, except for the occasional difficult birth, it had lacked any excitement at all. But Detective Sergeant Malloy had changed all that by asking her to help him solve Alicia’s murder. She might never actually like him-he represented too many things of which she disapproved for that to ever happen-but she must always be grateful to him for giving her a purpose outside herself for the first time in far too long.
“Malloy,” she greeted him warmly. “Come in. I’ve been busy, and I have a lot to tell you.”
He looked bone weary, and his shirt was limp and wrinkled, as if he’d worn it for more than one day in the recent heat. He did, at least, remove his hat this time. Sarah took it and hung it on the coat tree by the door.
“Have you eaten?” she found herself asking. Why she should care, she had no idea, but he looked as if he needed someone to look after him. Sarah’s long dormant feminine instincts demanded she do so.
“I’m fine,” he said, a little gruffly, she thought. “Don’t go to any trouble for me.”
“Come into the kitchen and sit down anyway. I’ve got some coffee left from supper. You look like you could use some.”
She thought he smiled a little at that, although she couldn’t be sure. It might simply have been a grimace. But he followed her into the kitchen, and he drank the coffee she poured for him.
“What have you found out?” he asked when he’d finished half the cup in one swallow.
“Well, let’s see. Where should I begin?” she mused, taking a seat opposite him and picking up her own cup. “I went back to the Higgins house, and this time I talked to the children.”
“The
“Yes, you probably thought they were asleep when Alicia was killed, but Mary Grace wasn’t. She’s the oldest girl. Her bed is right by the window, and she was awake that night. She saw a man and a woman come into the house.”
“When was this?” Suddenly, Malloy didn’t look quite so tired anymore.
“Mary Grace didn’t know the time, but it must have been late, after everyone else was in bed. The man was tall and thin, and the woman was short and round and walked with a cane. The man had to help her up the stairs, Mary Grace said.”
“Did she recognize either of them?”
“She said she didn’t. It was dark, of course, but she recognized Hamilton Fisher when he came out later. She said she could tell it was him by the way he walked, and he was carrying his bag with him. If she’d known the man and woman, I think she would have recognized them, too.”
“She saw Fisher leave then?”
“Yes, she thought he was the one who let the man and woman into the house, although she didn’t see him do it. She must be right, too, since nothing else makes sense. And shortly afterward, he left. He was carrying a satchel, so Mary Grace thought he was leaving for good, which of course he was.”
“But she didn’t think she knew the man and woman.”
“No, but I believe we can assume the woman was the abortionist. The man brought her, and…”
“And he tried to get her to perform the abortion, but Alicia wouldn’t allow it.”
“Or more likely, the abortionist wouldn’t do it when she found out how far along Alicia was. She wouldn’t want to take a chance of Alicia dying, and a procedure so late in the pregnancy would be very dangerous.”
“So she didn’t do it, and then what?” Malloy was thinking out loud, trying to come up with a scenario that made sense. “She stood there while the man killed Alicia?”
“No, Mary Grace said she saw the man leaving later, alone. She said he was running as if someone was chasing him, although no one was. I think the woman, the abortionist, must have left when she found out she had nothing to do there. The man stayed with Alicia. Perhaps they quarreled, or perhaps he’d simply intended to kill her all along if he couldn’t get her to agree to the abortion. In any event, however he came to do it, he strangled her. Then he must have become frightened by what he’d done, so he ran away.”
“I hate to admit it, Mrs. Brandt, but your theory makes a lot of sense,” he said with just the trace of a smile. “Now all we need to know is who he was.”
“Or at least who
“Oh, I already know who
“You do? How?”
“I questioned all the abortionists in town, remember? Only one of them is short and fat and walks with a cane. The Russian woman, Petrovka.”
“Emma Petrovka, of course!” Sarah cried. “I should have guessed it myself. I know her slightly. Our paths have crossed once or twice.”
Sarah had thought Mrs. Petrovka an awful woman, but not for any reason other than her profession. She seemed competent and well-mannered, and many women were grateful for her services, as Sarah knew only too well. Perhaps Alicia would have been if given the choice in time.
“Will you question her again?” Sarah asked. “Can you make her tell you who the man was?”
This time Malloy did smile. It was a funny, crooked little thing that looked oddly out of place on his broad face. “I’m not allowed to question anybody, Mrs. Brandt. I’m off the case, remember?”
Oh, dear, she’d forgotten. But then she recalled who was really investigating this case. “But
“Are you sure you want to? This isn’t like interrogating the Higgins children. You’re getting pretty close to the killer.”
“Mrs. Petrovka isn’t the killer,” Sarah scoffed.
“No, but she most likely knows who is. If she tells you anything, not necessarily who he is but anything at all that could lead you to him, you’d be in danger.”
“How would the killer know?”
