to at the funeral.”
Potter seemed surprised. “Why, nothing in particular. Edmund treated her for a back ailment, I believe. He helped her tremendously.”
“And she was so grateful she gave him a house to live in,” Frank said, as if that were the most natural reaction in the world.
“I’m sure I don’t know anything about that,” Potter insisted.
“Have you met with Mr. Fitzgerald to discuss the matter?”
“Yes, but… Well, he’s a reasonable man. He doesn’t expect Mrs. Blackwell to move out under the circumstances. I managed to convince him to… Well, what gentleman could do such a thing?”
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Frank said. “How long will he let her stay there? Or maybe you arranged for her to start paying rent.”
“I…” For some reason, Potter’s face grew red, and he seemed very uncomfortable. “That is, I haven’t spoken to Letitia about this yet. I’m sure when she understands the situation-and when she’s able, of course-she’ll be only too happy to retire to her father’s house. It’s the only sensible course of action, under the circumstances.”
“Why would she do that?” Frank asked. “She could just get another house if Fitzgerald doesn’t want her in his. It would be hard to go home to live with her father again after being married and on her own.”
Potter squeezed his mouth down to a bloodless line. Frank pretended not to notice his agitation. The man was, after all, taking great pains to appear reasonable. After a moment of intense self-control, he said, “I’m afraid Mrs. Blackwell would find it difficult to… to manage without her father’s assistance.”
Frank considered the possible meanings of this astonishing admission. “Are you saying that Mrs. Blackwell isn’t able to manage a home on her own?”
“Oh, no, I’m sure… that is, she’s been doing so for a while now, so… It’s not that, not that at all.”
“What is it, then?” Frank asked. It was, he had to admit, much easier to interrogate an intelligent man than a stupid one. He didn’t have to bloody his knuckles.
“Well, it would seem that… I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, you understand, but it would appear, from the records I have been able to find, that Edmund hadn’t been… Well, what I mean is-”
“Spit it out, Potter,” Frank ordered, unable to bear Potter’s hedging another moment.
Potter’s face blanched. “Edmund left no estate,” he blurted.
“Did you think he would?”
Potter was obviously uncomfortable with this subject. “He was very successful. He led me to believe… I received a salary, of course, but I was also a partner in the practice. I handled the business aspects, scheduling the lectures and renting the halls, that sort of thing. In return, Edmund trained me in his techniques, and I was to get half of the profits of the practice as soon as I was proficient enough to become a healer myself. When Edmund bought the house on Gramercy Park, or rather, when he led me to believe he’d bought it, I believed I owned half of it, too. He had many wealthy clients who paid him well for his services, but now…”
“Now it looks like he managed to spend all of it before he died,” Frank supplied. Too bad Potter had offered him a reward to find the killer before he found out there was no estate. If the man thought he’d inherit a prosperous business, he would have had an excellent motive for murder. But that would have been far too easy. Frank was going to have to work harder than that to earn this reward.
“Edmund was rather proud of his success,” Potter was saying, making excuses for the dead man. “He’d never had any before. He felt it was important to maintain the trappings of affluence in order to win the confidence of the affluent clients he wished to attract. He kept a carriage and had a full complement of servants. That’s very expensive.”
“This must’ve been a shock to Mrs. Blackwell to find out she’s penniless,” Frank suggested.
“Oh, I haven’t told her anything about this yet. She’s… Well, she’s not even receiving visitors yet, and this isn’t something I could tell her in a note or through an intermediary, and certainly not until she’s stronger.”
“Of course not,” Frank agreed. He wondered how Potter would break the news to the young widow and if he was hoping she would seek comfort from him. Or possibly even support. Potter may once have imagined he would be able to offer it, with half of Blackwell’s estate at his disposal. Now, of course, he could only offer her space in his shabby flat. “Well, now, the reason I stopped by today is that I need a list of Blackwell’s female clients, the ones who seemed most
“Whatever for?” Potter asked in alarm.
“So I can question them and find out if any of their husbands were jealous of the good doctor.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Sure I can. Don’t worry, Potter. I’ll find Blackwell’s killer for you.”
“Not from among his clients!” he insisted. “None of them would even consider… It isn’t possible!”
“You think rich people don’t commit murder?”
Plainly, he’d never given the matter a great deal of thought. “I’m sure I have no opinion on that, but you just can’t question these ladies as if they were common criminals! They’ll never allow me to-”
“Allow you to what?” Frank asked when Potter caught himself.
“Nothing, nothing at all.”
Frank frowned thoughtfully. “Were you planning to take up Blackwell’s practice where he’d left off?”
“Edmund performed a valuable service for people who are suffering,” Potter insisted. “Someone must continue his work, for the good of humanity.”
“And that would be you, I guess.”
“I have been thoroughly trained,” he reminded Frank indignantly. “I can perform the same adjustments Edmund performed, and I can relieve suffering just as well. There is no need for his work to end just because he is no longer with us.”
“Not if you say so,” Frank said. “So tell me, which do you want more? Do you want me to find Blackwell’s killer or do you want me to avoid offending his clients so you can continue to treat them?”
Potter’s face mottled with rage. “I want you to find Edmund’s killer, but you had him in your grasp and you let him escape!”
Frank gave him a pitying look. “Are you still talking about Calvin Brown?”
“Of course I am! You know as well as I that he killed his father. He’s the only one with any possible reason to want him dead. If you can’t see that, then perhaps I should get another detective to investigate this case.”
Now Frank was annoyed. “First of all, Calvin hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s still right there, in his rooming house on Essex. He’s as anxious as you are to find out who killed his father.”
“So you say. When was the last time you saw him?”
“Very recently,” Frank hedged. “And his landlady will send me word if he tries to leave town. But he’s not the killer, Mr. Potter. If he was, he’d be long gone, as you pointed out yourself.”
“Unless he’s more clever than you give him credit for, Mr. Malloy,” Potter warned. “He’s his father’s son. He would know instinctively that running away would prove him guilty. That’s why he’s still here, continuing to deceive you with his innocent face and his country manners.”
Frank didn’t like Potter’s opinion of his intelligence, but he managed not to mention it. “Could I have that list of names, Mr. Potter? Or maybe I could ask Mrs. Blackwell for it,” he added, knowing this was the one thing guaranteed to inspire Potter to action.
“You wouldn’t dare! Besides, she won’t see you. I told you, she’s not receiving visitors yet.”
“I could have Mrs. Brandt ask her,” Frank said with a smile.
Potter practically swelled with impotent fury, and for a moment Frank entertained the fanciful notion that he might actually explode. Fortunately, Potter allowed his chivalry to override his anger. He wasn’t going to permit Mrs. Blackwell to be involved in any unpleasantness if he could help it. “I will give you a list, but if you offend any of these people, I will have your job.”
Frank managed not to grin in triumph.
SARAH KNEW SHE was wearing out her welcome at the Blackwell home, but until someone told her to stop visiting, she would certainly continue. Besides, this time she had a mission. She wanted to find out what had happened to the schoolmaster who’d been Letitia’s first lover. If he had, indeed, died mysteriously on the orders of Letitia’s father, as Malloy had suggested, Sarah would have a perfect suspect in the murder of Dr. Blackwell, too. Of course, proving Symington responsible for the schoolmaster’s death would avail nothing.
