staring at him until he moved on. He supposed they knew he was a policeman. People always did, even though he didn’t wear a uniform or any other outward sign of his profession. Being who he was could be an advantage when dealing with certain elements of society, the ones who could be frightened or intimidated. It was a disadvantage when dealing with the privileged few, however. They knew he had no power over them and looked upon the police mostly as a nuisance.
Taking Potter up on his offer of a reward had probably been a mistake. Now he felt obligated to solve the crime, and not just by pinning it on an innocent boy, no matter how happy that would make Potter. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the proper social credentials to find out what he really needed to know to solve the case.
But Sarah Brandt did.
The knowledge galled him, and he knew he shouldn’t allow her to be involved, no matter how helpful she might be. He didn’t need to solve the case that badly. Or at all, if the truth were known. Murders went unsolved every day in the city, and no one really cared, except perhaps a few grieving family members. If it wasn’t for the reward, he certainly wouldn’t be working so hard on
He supposed he was actually fortunate that Sarah Brandt wasn’t the kind of woman to care if he allowed her to do something or not, though. She’d help him with this case because she wanted to, no matter whether he approved or not. In fact, his disapproval would probably only encourage her, which saved him from having to humble himself and actually ask for her assistance.
“Are you still here?” Amos Potter inquired rudely from behind him.
Frank turned around to see the little man coming down the hallway from the dining room. “So it would appear,” he replied mildly.
Potter sighed impatiently. “I can’t believe you allowed that boy in here today.”
“You mean Calvin?” Malloy asked just to annoy him.
“I mean the boy who killed Edmund,” Potter sniffed. “Really, Mr. Malloy, you’re wasting your time questioning Edmund’s friends and supporters. They had no reason to wish him ill. Quite the contrary, most of them will suffer from his death. And it’s especially troubling when you know exactly who killed Edmund and why.”
“I told you, Calvin didn’t kill his father.”
“So you say, but I’m afraid you’ve been taken in, Mr. Malloy. Calvin was always fiendishly clever, even as a child. Edmund told me stories about the boy… Well, I’m not one to gossip, but suffice it to say that the child has been an accomplished liar his entire life. I’m not surprised he was able to deceive you, but you must be careful not to let him escape without paying for his heinous crime.”
“If he’s guilty, he won’t escape,” Frank assured him.
Potter didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press the issue. “I’ll have Granger see you out,” he said.
“I’m waiting for Mrs. Brandt,” he replied, pointedly sitting down on the bench in the hallway.
Potter seemed a bit disturbed by this, but he said, “I’ll be in the study if you need anything. Good day.”
Potter closed the door behind him. Frank wondered how he felt about working in the room in which his good friend had been murdered. Maybe he enjoyed it. Potter seemed to have been in Blackwell’s shadow during the doctor’s life. Perhaps he felt he would come into his own now. If he could achieve the same results as Blackwell in healing people, he might gain respect and fame of his own. Unfortunately, Frank didn’t think he could. If half of Blackwell’s success had been due to his ability to charm people into thinking they were healed, Potter would never be able to duplicate his results.
SARAH DIDN’T KEEP Malloy waiting long. He didn’t even look impatient when she found him sitting in the hallway at the foot of the stairs.
“How is she?” he asked, rising to meet her.
“She’s sleeping.”
“Morphine?” he guessed.
“Yes.” She sighed, and let him take her medical bag to carry.
They didn’t wait for the butler to show them out.
The street was quiet except for the muffled sounds of the city all around it. She supposed the little park would help with that. Traffic would avoid the square, and the residents probably paid the beat patrolman to make sure no riffraff lingered in the area. In fact, Sarah could see him strolling along the street on the other side of the park.
Malloy saw him, too. “Patrick!” he shouted, getting the man’s attention. “I need to talk to you!” He turned to her. “If you don’t mind, I have to ask him some questions.”
“Of course not,” she said, more than eager to hear what Malloy would speak with him about.
The policeman hurried over to where they stood. He was middle-aged and overweight, his stomach bulging over his belt, and by the time he reached them, he was red-faced and out of breath. Unmistakably Irish, his large nose was blotched with broken veins from years of drinking. Malloy took him aside, not bothering to introduce him to Sarah, although he looked eager enough to make her acquaintance and kept glancing over at her curiously during his conversation with Malloy.
Sarah turned away, feigning interest in something in her purse while the two men talked, but she could hear every word.
“You were on duty the day this doctor fellow was killed, weren’t you?” Malloy asked.
“Yes, sir, I was. Remember, I was guarding the door when you come in, and I told you what happened.”
“Did you see anyone suspicious hanging around that day?”
“Suspicious? What do you mean by suspicious?”
“I mean anybody who didn’t belong in the area, or somebody hurrying away, like they were scared or something,” Malloy said. Sarah heard the edge of impatience in his voice, and turned her head so Officer Patrick wouldn’t see her smile.
“I don’t know if I can think of anything like that happening…”
“You’ll not get anything from me but a cuff to the head, Patrick, so give up trying to get me to bribe you. Did you see a boy knocking on Blackwell’s door that afternoon around two o’clock?”
“Well, now come to think of it, I did. Couldn’t rightly say it was two o’clock, or even the same day, but I recall seeing a boy on somebody’s porch in the last few days. Banging on the door, he was. Looked like he belonged on a farm somewhere. From his clothes, I mean. Tried to tell me he had an appointment, but I knew he was just some bummer looking for a handout, so I sent him on his way. That’s what I get paid to do, ain’t it?”
“I suppose it is,” Malloy agreed, not happy at all with this level of cooperation. “Did you see anybody else?”
“When?”
Even Sarah was starting to get annoyed with this Patrick. He might get his cuff on the head from
“The day the doctor got killed,” Malloy said. He sounded as if he were gritting his teeth to keep from shouting.
“I thought he killed hisself,” Officer Patrick said. “I saw him, and that’s what it looked like to me. I was across the way there when I heard his wife screaming. She run out on the stoop and starts screaming like somebody’s trying to kill
“When you saw Blackwell, did you touch anything in that room?”
“Sweet Mary, no! There was blood everywhere, and any fool could see he was dead. I didn’t even go in the room except maybe a step or two. What makes you think somebody killed him?”
“There’s some money missing from the house,” Malloy told him. “If I find out you took it-”
“I didn’t take no money from the house! What do you think I am?” Patrick asked, affronted.
“I just better not find out that you did. Thanks for your help, Patrick,” Malloy said, disgust heavy in his voice. “You can go back about your duties now.”
“Glad to be of help,” he called after Malloy. Then, “Nice to see you, miss.”
