Then he asked the doctor about his fees, and Dr. Newton replied straightforwardly, as if it never occurred to him that Frank wouldn’t be able to pay them. Frank had been right, the reward in the Blackwell case would go a long way toward paying the good doctor.
“I’ll bring you the money tomorrow,” Frank said.
“There’s no need to pay me until I do the surgery,” the doctor assured him with a smile. “Shall we look at my schedule and see when we can fit Brian in?”
A few minutes later they were outside on the street, with the surgery scheduled toward the end of the month. Frank hoisted Brian onto his shoulder again, and he resumed looking at everything around him with the greatest fascination.
“Was he very upset when you took him away from your mother today?” Mrs. Brandt asked.
“I expected he’d throw a fit,” Frank admitted, “but he just wrapped his arms around my neck so tight I thought I’d strangle and never even looked back.”
“That’s how much he loves you, Malloy,” she said wisely. “He had no idea where you were taking him or why. He just wanted to go with you. He was willing to give up the only security he’s ever known just for the chance to have your attention.”
Frank felt a suspicious burning behind his eyes, but he blinked a couple of times until it went away. He had to clear his throat before he could say, “It was good of you to come today.”
“Don’t think I did it out of kindness, Malloy,” she cautioned him. “I was as anxious as you to find out if David could do anything for Brian.”
They walked a few steps in silence before Frank came up with the right combination of words. “I looked into your husband’s file.”
“His file?” she asked in confusion.
“The police file. To see what they found out when they investigated his murder, if they had any idea who might’ve done it.”
Her fine eyes lit with interest. “What did you find out?”
“Not much,” he said, resigning himself to her instant disappointment. “You were right. Without a reward being offered, there wasn’t any reason to solve the case, so nobody tried very hard.”
She sighed, and he thought she blinked a little harder than she usually did. “I suppose it’s far too late to investigate now. After three years…”
Frank cleared his throat again. “I was wondering…”
“Yes…?” she said when he hesitated, a small spark of hope lighting her eyes again.
“Maybe I could look through your husband’s files. Of his patients, I mean. Maybe there’s something there, a reason why somebody’d want him dead.”
It was unlikely that he’d learn anything. Just as she’d said, after three years there was little chance of learning anything new. She must have known this, too, but still she smiled a little when she looked up at him.
“If you think it might help, you’re certainly welcome to look through all of his records,” she said. “And Malloy…?”
“Yeah?” he said.
“Thank you for caring.”
8
MALLOY ARRIVED AT SARAH’S IN TIME FOR SUPPER. She’d felt obligated to cook for him since he was going to investigate Tom’s murder. Also because she wasn’t fond of eating alone, and Malloy was good company. Or at least interesting company. And they had a lot to discuss about the Blackwell case. Well, Sarah did, anyway, and she hadn’t wanted to discuss it walking down a public street this afternoon when Malloy was wrestling with his restless son. So she’d invited him to supper.
“How’s Brian doing after his exciting day?” she asked when she’d greeted him.
“He fell asleep on the train ride home,” Malloy told her. “I guess all the excitement was too much for him.”
“He certainly did seem to be enjoying himself.”
Malloy frowned as he hung his hat on the coatrack in her hallway. “I never thought of it before, but his life is pretty boring. My mother takes him shopping with her, but he sees the same things all the time. And the same people, too.”
“If he could walk, he could go more places,” she suggested.
“Did you understand what all that doctor said he was going to do to Brian’s foot?” he asked with a frown.
Sarah bit back a smile. Malloy had behaved as if he’d understood perfectly when they were in the doctor’s office. “Not all of it. The techniques he’s going to use are pretty unusual, at least from my experiences with medicine. Basically, I think he’s just going to fix the parts of Brian’s foot that didn’t form properly. And I know he’s been very successful in the past. There’s every reason to believe he can help Brian, too.”
Malloy didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t look quite so worried, either. He’d probably question her some more later, but not now. He wouldn’t want to belabor the issue and make her think he was ignorant.
The thought startled her, and she wondered how and when she’d become such an expert on Malloy’s personality. Before she could decide, he said, “Something smells good.”
“I hope it tastes good, too. Come on into the kitchen. Everything’s ready,” she said, leading the way.
She’d set the table carefully, not asking herself why she’d taken such pains. Malloy probably wouldn’t even notice, and if he did, he might wonder himself.
“Sit down and make yourself comfortable,” she said, indicating one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Would you like a glass of beer?”
“Sure,” he said, and she poured some from the pail that she’d gotten from her neighbor, who brewed it in his basement.
In a few moments she had the pot roast arranged on the plate with the potatoes and carrots around it. She placed it on the table with a sense of satisfaction.
Malloy raised his eyebrows and grinned a little, as if he were amazed that she had produced such a master- piece. “You went to a lot of trouble,” he said.
“Not really,” she assured him. “I enjoy cooking when I’ve got someone to cook for. Would you do the honors?” She handed him the knife to cut the meat.
He didn’t take it. “Better lay it down on the table,” he suggested deadpan, indicating the knife.
“Are you afraid I’ll stab you with it?” she asked in amusement, laying the knife down as instructed.
“No, but my mother wouldn’t let anybody hand a knife directly to someone. Means you’ll have an argument or something like that.” He picked up the knife and, using his own fork, began to slice the meat.
“I’m sure Mrs. Ellsworth would say the same thing,” she said. “She sent over a pie this afternoon. She must’ve known somehow that you were coming. Sometimes I think she has a crystal ball.”
“Maybe she just bakes a lot of pies and can’t eat them all,” he said, slipping a slab of beef onto her plate.
When they had both been served and the bread passed, Sarah took her seat opposite him and began to eat. The beef was tender and moist, thank heaven. She was never sure how to tell when it was done but not too done. She’d guessed right this time.
“I have some interesting news for you,” she said after a moment.
He stopped, his fork halfway to his mouth. “About Brian?”
“No, nothing like that,” she assured him. “About the Blackwell case.”
He gave her a look, but she ignored it. “Did you know that Letitia Blackwell had a lover before she met her husband?”
“A lover?” he echoed, and took a bite of potato, chewing thoughtfully. “She must’ve been pretty young. She isn’t too old even now, is she?”
“No, she isn’t. My guess is that she had a schoolgirl infatuation. The object of her affections was the local schoolmaster. Her father disapproved, of course, or would have if he’d even known about it, which I doubt he did. Then the two of them actually eloped, or tried to. That’s when Letitia fell off her horse and was so badly injured.
