Murder On GramercyPark

Letitia looked askance at the baby. “I should send for the nurse,” she said. “He shouldn’t be here anyway.”

She was right, of course. No lady of her station would have brought her infant into the front parlor when she had a visitor. Unless, of course, her visitor was the baby’s father and she’d wanted him to see the child.

“He’s a… a handsome boy,” Potter said without much conviction. “What are you going to call him?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said with another glance at Dudley.

Potter frowned in disapproval. “You must name him after his father. Surely there is no other logical thing to do under the circumstances.”

This time Letitia colored, but she lifted her chin defiantly. “I may do that,” she said.

Dudley made a small sound, probably of surprise, and Potter’s mouth thinned to a bloodless line.

Sarah was enjoying this thoroughly, but the baby was beginning to root, his hungry mouth searching her bodice in vain for sustenance. Although Letitia had said she should call for the nurse, she had made no move to do so. Sarah gathered the child up and carried him over to where the bell rope hung and managed to pull it to summon a maid. Letitia didn’t even seem to notice.

Potter was still glaring at Letitia. “We must put an announcement in the papers about the birth,” he said. “Edmund’s clients will want to… to acknowledge the child.” Trust Potter to be thinking about the practical aspects of the situation. Considering the condition of Blackwell’s estate, a few monetary gifts would be well received.

“I don’t want any of them to know. I don’t need anything from those people,” Letitia insisted.

“But they’ll want to send gifts,” Potter insisted. He sounded almost desperate. Sarah began to wonder if he needed the money even more than Letitia did. At least she had her father to fall back on. Sarah was sure Potter had no wealthy relatives in his family tree.

“I don’t care if they do or not,” Letitia said petulantly. “I don’t want anything from those people. I had to let them gawk at me before, but I don’t have to even see them now if I don’t want to, and I don’t want to.”

“I’ve never known you to be so unreasonable, Letitia,” Potter chided her. “It isn’t very becoming.”

She gaped at him. “And I’ve never known you to be so imperious, Amos. What gives you the right to tell me what to do?”

“I’m only looking out for your best interests,” he defended himself. “Someone must. Edmund left things in a terrible state.”

“That doesn’t give you any reason to be rude to me,” Letitia reminded him. “I’m not responsible for what Edmund did or didn’t do.”

Potter was instantly contrite, probably because there was no advantage to being anything else. “I didn’t intend… You have mistaken my meaning, Letitia. It’s just that I’m so concerned for you…”

“If you were truly concerned, you would be a great deal kinder to me, Amos. I have been through a very difficult time, and my health is still precarious.” She emphasized this by dabbing her nose with the handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve.

“Forgive me, Letitia. I forgot myself,” he said, finally giving her the apology she was demanding. “It’s just… You look so well, it’s hard to remember you are so lately recovered from your confinement.”

“I’m not recovered,” Letitia informed him. “In fact, I’m surprised Mrs. Brandt isn’t taking me to task for being up at all.” She gave Sarah a challenging look, which Sarah returned with a smile. She was still standing by the parlor door, waiting for a maid to come and take the baby.

Sarah thought of several things she could say in reply, but all of them would have gotten her banned for life from the Blackwell home. “I’m sure you are the best judge of your ability to entertain visitors,” she demurred.

This pleased Letitia for some reason. “Yes, you’re right,” she said, and turned back to Potter. “Thank you so much for coming to see me, Amos, but I’m afraid I’m growing quite tired and will have to bid you good afternoon.”

Potter’s face fell. “I… But I need to speak with you privately,” he reminded her almost desperately, “about matters of grave importance.”

“Not today. I couldn’t possibly deal with anything important. Could I, Mrs. Brandt?” she asked in challenge.

“Certainly not,” Sarah replied obligingly. She still needed access to the Blackwell home if she was going to find the killer, and Letitia’s favor was the only entree she had.

“There, you see? I hope you will call again in a few days,” Letitia said to Potter, who could no longer ignore the fact that he was being dismissed.

He got reluctantly to his feet, then looked suspiciously at Dudley. “Mr. Dudley, perhaps we can share a cab,” he suggested.

“Please allow me to say my private farewells to my dear friend Mr. Dudley,” Letitia said. “And he doesn’t need a cab, in any case. He lives very close by.”

“How convenient for you,” Potter said coldly, then turned to Letitia and tried to muster up some charm. “I’m so glad to see you,” he said, bowing over her and reaching out, expecting her to give him her hand.

She did so, but with little enthusiasm, and she let him hold it only for an instant. He was visibly disappointed.

“I’m afraid my business cannot wait much longer. I will call on you again tomorrow,” he said, brooking no argument.

Letitia did not reply. Everyone knew she didn’t have to receive him if she didn’t want to, so he could call all he wanted. “Good afternoon, Amos.”

His anger evident in every move, Potter nodded stiffly to Dudley, then turned and marched to the parlor door. Just as he reached it, it opened to admit the maid, who had finally come in response to the bell. She seemed a little breathless.

“Peggy, see Mr. Potter out,” Letitia said. “Mrs. Brandt, would you take the baby back to his nurse?”

Sarah pretended not to hear the request. Instead, she handed the child to the unsuspecting maid, who was too startled to refuse him. “You may take him back to his nurse,” she told the girl, then shooed both her and Potter out and closed the doors decisively behind them.

She turned to see Letitia’s outraged expression. Dudley was simply looking confused.

“I’m afraid I must speak with both of you immediately,” Sarah explained by way of excuse for her outrageous behavior, “and don’t bother dismissing me. I’m not as easily intimidated as Mr. Potter, and besides, you need to hear what I have to say, whether you want to or not.”

13

FRANK FOUND MAURICE SYMINGTON IN HIS WELL-APPOINTED office in a building on upper Fifth Avenue. According to Frank’s sources, Symington owned property all over the city and made his living by collecting rents and spending as little on maintaining his buildings as possible. Most of his property was located in the poorer sections of the city, so the tenants didn’t complain much about their living conditions for fear of being evicted.

Anticipating the possibility that Symington would refuse to see him, Frank told the man’s secretary that he had some news about Dr. Blackwell’s death. Even so, Symington kept him cooling his heels for almost an hour, but finally the young man who handled the clerical work in the office invited him into the inner sanctum.

The office was large and meant to intimidate. The wall behind Symington’s desk was a huge window providing a panoramic view of the city below and the sky above. Symington looked up impatiently from a stack of papers on his enormous mahogany desk.

“What is it?” he demanded. “And make it quick. I don’t have time for any nonsense.”

“Calvin Brown is dead,” Frank said baldly, still standing because he hadn’t been invited to sit.

Symington’s gaze had returned to his papers, as if assuming Frank could have nothing interesting enough to say to distract him, but this time when he looked up, Frank had his undivided attention. “Who did you say?”

“Edmund Blackwell’s son,” Frank said politely. Symington knew perfectly well who he was talking about. “I know you were trying to be discreet when you pretended not to know who he was the other day with Potter, but