Murder On GramercyPark

“Dudley?” he guessed hopefully.

“He’d apparently come to see the baby. The three of them were in the parlor together, alone.”

“Very cozy,” Frank noted.

“Especially because Amos Potter arrived right after I did. He was so desperate to see Mrs. Blackwell that I decided he should finally get the chance.”

“I’m surprised that butler didn’t physically stop you from intruding on her,” Frank said.

“Oh, I almost forgot: Granger is ill. He hasn’t been well for several days. Turns out he was just sick with guilt for not getting home first the day Blackwell was killed so he could’ve discovered the body instead of Mrs. Blackwell. Even the butler adores her. What is it about that woman that turns men into idiots?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Frank said.

She sniffed derisively, but she was too eager to tell her story to stop and argue. “Anyway, Granger was sick in bed with an upset stomach, so that little maid who let me in before was the only one guarding the door. It was easy enough to get past her with Potter.”

“I guess Potter was surprised to see Dudley.”

“Surprised? He was horrified. I told you the baby has red hair just like his. No one could miss the resemblance. Potter isn’t a fool. I’m sure he figured it out as quickly as I did, and he obviously knew that Letitia had had a lover before Blackwell. He asked a few leading questions and quickly determined Dudley was the man.”

“That must have been a blow. He thought Letitia would be his now that Blackwell is gone.”

“What was I just saying about her turning men into idiots?” she asked. “Potter couldn’t have Letitia if he were the last man alive on earth.”

“You can’t fault a man for dreaming.”

She just rolled her eyes. “Needless to say, Letitia wasn’t too happy to have Potter there-or me either, for that matter. She sent him on his way pretty quickly, and she tried to get rid of me, too, but I refused to leave.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment. I know how stubborn you can be,” Frank said, taking another bite of his chicken.

“I’m not stubborn, I’m determined,” she insisted good-naturedly. “As soon as Potter was gone, I broke the news to them that Calvin Brown was dead.”

“You did what?” Frank shouted, nearly choking on his chicken.

“Oh, dear, was that the wrong thing to do?” she asked.

“I told you, only the killer would know about the suicide note!” He couldn’t believe she’d ruined his plan already.

“I didn’t tell them about that!” she said indignantly. “I just said he was murdered. They pretended they didn’t know who he was, but I could tell Dudley knew, at least.”

“Of course he knew. I told him the other night.”

“You did?” she asked, disappointed. “When did you see him? What did he say?”

“He said he didn’t kill Blackwell or Calvin. What do you think he said?” Frank was remembering why he’d once vowed never to see Sarah Brandt again and certainly never to let her become involved in another of his cases.

“Well, I think Letitia knew about him, too,” she said, still not showing any sign of understanding how she’d ruined the investigation. “She claimed that Blackwell had told her he’d been married before but his first wife had died young and that he didn’t have any children. She’s a good liar, so I wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or not.”

Frank sighed. He would have known, but now he wouldn’t have the chance. “What else did you tell them?” he asked wearily.

“I didn’t tell them anything,” she said defensively. “I just pointed out that if they didn’t know about Calvin, they both had a very good reason for wanting her husband dead.”

“And if they did, they had a good reason, too,” he reminded her.

“So either way, they’re still good suspects. Unless Mr. Fong gave them an alibi,” she remembered.

“He didn’t.”

“He didn’t?” she asked with delight.

“Mr. Fong is a good businessman. He doesn’t know anything about his clients, including their real names. And he certainly doesn’t make note of their comings and goings. That saves him the trouble of being involved in unpleasant things like murder investigations. You should follow his example,” Frank pointed out.

She just gave him one of her looks. “There was one unfortunate result of my visit this afternoon,” she admitted.

“I’ve already counted more than one.”

She wasn’t the least bit repentant. “When I pointed out that Letitia’s marriage to Blackwell wasn’t valid, Letitia decided to inform her father that she was going to marry Dudley immediately. I guess she doesn’t feel the need to mourn a bigamous husband any longer, and she mentioned something about her child needing a father.”

“Her father will be pleased to hear that. He offered me a thousand dollars to arrest Dudley as the killer.”

“What?”

“It’s a reward,” he said a little defensively, “not a bribe.”

“It’s not a bribe unless Dudley is innocent. Does he really think he’s guilty, or does he just want to get rid of Dudley? And when did you see Symington?”

He didn’t feel he needed to explain his activities to her. “I think he wants to get rid of Dudley and hopes he’s the killer.”

She frowned thoughtfully. “A thousand dollars is a lot of money. Some detectives would make sure Dudley was found guilty whether he was or not.”

“Do you think I’m one of them?” he asked, stung.

She was so surprised he knew she hadn’t even thought of this. “Of course not! I know you better than that! But Symington doesn’t. I was just thinking he must believe he’s made sure he’ll be rid of Dudley and have Blackwell’s murder settled, too. What an evil man!”

Frank felt a pang of guilt. Sarah Brandt was sure he wouldn’t take a bribe to convict an innocent man, but he knew his honesty was inspired only by the fear of seeing disappointment in her eyes. In his own way, he wasn’t any better than Maurice Symington. “Maybe Symington thinks Dudley is really guilty. In any case, he’s just trying to protect his daughter.”

“He’s done a poor job of it so far. First he lets her get involved with Dudley and nearly elope with him, then he gives her to that charlatan Blackwell, and all the time she’s using morphine. Heaven help her if he’d been neglecting her!”

She was right, of course. “Maybe Dudley really did kill Blackwell, though. He’s still a good prospect.”

“And so is Symington,” she reminded him. “Maybe he’s trying to make sure you don’t look any farther than Dudley. That way, he’d get rid of Dudley and save his own neck in the process.”

“Do you think a man like Symington would do his own killing?”

She considered this for a moment. “Probably not. On the other hand, maybe killing Blackwell was an accident or a crime of passion. He hadn’t planned it, and when it happened, he had to cover it up. He couldn’t trust anyone else to keep his secret, so he had to kill Calvin himself, too, and try to convince the police the boy was Blackwell’s killer.”

“Blackwell’s death wasn’t an accident or a crime of passion, either,” Frank reminded her. “He was sitting at his desk, calmly writing a letter, while his killer snuck up behind him. He probably didn’t even know his killer was there until he got shot.”

She frowned. She didn’t like being wrong. That was too bad. “So we’re back to Dudley.”

“Or Letitia,” Frank said. “Wouldn’t you like for her to be the killer?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, “but even if she was, she’d never be convicted. Can you imagine a jury of men sentencing her to death? They’d all fall in love with her and let her go free in the hopes that she’d marry one of them out of gratitude.”

Frank had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at that picture. “But she’d probably marry Dudley. Wouldn’t that be punishment enough?”

“It would be for me, but for some reason she seems to love him. I wonder what she sees in him.”

“Don’t ask me. Maybe she likes having a man she can control.”