“Yes, sir,” Frank said, although he had no hope at all that he’d be able to obey this order. One thing might help, though, if he could convince Roosevelt to do it. “Maybe we could start by getting the newspapers to publish the facts instead of all this business about the girl being kidnapped and her throat being cut.”
“Yes, yes, good idea, Malloy. Good idea,” Roosevelt said, rubbing his hands in anticipation of getting to work. “I’ll call a press conference. I’ll need a full report with all the details so I can answer questions. I’ll get Haynes there to talk about the autopsy, too.”
“He, uh, he hasn’t actually done the autopsy yet,” Frank admitted.
“Then he’ll do it tonight. I want the news in the morning papers. I’ll need that report right away, Detective Sergeant Malloy.”
Frank took the hint and made his escape, Donatelli on his heels.
“I never saw him up close before,” Donatelli whispered as they made their way downstairs. “He’s something, isn’t he?”
Frank didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to figure out how he was going to do the impossible and solve Nainsi Ruocco’s murder.
5
Sarah took Aggie for a walk the next morning to pick up several of the more reputable newspapers. Aggie almost had to run to keep up with her as she hurried back home to see what they had to say about Nainsi’s death.
When she arrived, she found Mrs. Ellsworth and Maeve in the kitchen with all the ingredients for an English pudding.
“Good morning, Mrs. Brandt,” she said cheerfully. “Going to catch up with the news?”
“I want to see what they have to say about a . . . a friend of mine. Maeve, will you take Aggie upstairs for a little while?”
“Mrs. Ellsworth was going to show me how to make a pudding,” Maeve said, not wanting to hurt the older woman’s feelings. She probably also wanted to eat the pudding.
“There’s plenty of time for that,” Mrs. Ellsworth said cheerfully. “Give me and Mrs. Brandt a few minutes to talk, and I’ll call you down when we’re finished so we can start the pudding.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said obediently, taking Aggie by the hand.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Mrs. Ellsworth’s polite smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“One of my patients was murdered night before last,”
Sarah said, laying the papers on the kitchen table to sort through them.
“Good heavens,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, taking a seat at the table. “I was afraid something like that would happen. I saw a crow on your back fence on Monday morning. It’s an omen of death. I didn’t say anything, because I know how you feel about my superstitions. I was just hoping you wouldn’t have a delivery that day.” She shrugged apologetically. “How did it happen?”
Sarah didn’t comment on her feelings about Mrs.
Ellsworth’s superstitions, but she briefly told her what had happened to Nainsi. “Last night when I was coming home, the newsboys were shouting about how she’d been kidnapped by the Ruoccos and had her throat cut because they wanted her baby.”
Mrs. Ellsworth made a rude noise. She’d had personal experience with the way the newspapers distorted the facts to make a story more sensational. “Let’s see what new lies they’re telling today. Hand me one of those papers.”
The two women spent the next few minutes scanning the stories.
“Says here Roosevelt himself had a press conference about it,” Mrs. Ellsworth reported.
“This paper says that, too,” Sarah noted. “I can’t understand why he’d take such a personal interest in the death of one poor Irish girl.”
“Maybe you should ask him,” Mrs. Ellsworth suggested with a sly grin. The Roosevelts had been friends with Sarah’s family for generations.
“Maybe I will.” They both read on for a minute or two.
“Oh, my, does yours talk about the riot down at Mrs.
Ruocco’s restaurant?”
“Yes. Says they arrested more than twenty men, too. Must have been a real . . . what is it the Irish call a big fight?”
“Donnybrook,” Sarah supplied. “The Irish and the Italians hate each other under the best of circumstances. They hardly need an excuse to start fighting.”
“Looks like they found one, though. I wonder if Mr. Malloy was down there making the arrests.” Mrs. Ellsworth was especially fond of Frank Malloy.
“I don’t think he does that kind of thing,” Sarah said, wondering what Malloy had thought when he heard about the riot. They’d both been so sure no one would care about Nainsi’s death. Then she noticed something particularly disturbing at the end of the news story. “Theodore promises that the killer will be caught,” she said in amazement.
“A good thing, too,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.
“More like a miracle, and even less likely to happen.
They’re Ugo Ruocco’s family.”
“Who’s Ugo Ruocco?”
“He’s the leader of the Black Hand.”
“Heavens! You mean those horrible people who blow things up?”
“They’re more likely to beat people up,” Sarah said. “They only use bombs if they can’t persuade you some other way.”
“Persuade you to do what?”
“To pay them money to protect your place of business.
The irony is that you’re paying them to protect your business from them. If you pay, you’re safe. If you don’t pay, they destroy you.”
“How awful!” Mrs. Ellsworth exclaimed in outrage. “Why don’t the police do something about it?”
Sarah gave her a sad smile and a moment to figure it out for herself.
“Oh,” the older woman said. “I suppose the Black Hand pays for protection from the police.”
“Or else the police are afraid of them, too.” Sarah sighed.
There was so much evil in the world.
Before she could sink into complete despair, she heard small feet running through the house.
“I think Aggie got tired of waiting for her cooking lesson,” Sarah said, turning to catch the child in a hug. Maeve was close behind her. The four of them spent the next hour preparing the pudding and putting it on the stove to steam.
Sarah was trying to clean Aggie’s hands when they heard the doorbell ring.
As usual, Aggie pouted, and Sarah went resignedly to answer it. She recognized the silhouette through the frosted glass, and she was smiling when she opened the door.
“Malloy,” she said.
He didn’t smile back, which told her he wasn’t happy to be here. Which meant he was here on business.
Aggie came running and flung herself at him before he could even remove his hat. Maeve and Mrs. Ellsworth followed at a more dignified pace, but they greeted him just as happily.
“Something smells good,” he observed when he’d set Aggie back on her feet.
“Mrs. Ellsworth showed us how to make a pudding,”
Maeve reported.
“We’d invite you to stay and try some, but it won’t be done for another three hours,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I don’t suppose you planned to stay that long.”
“I’m afraid not. I’m working on a case. I just need to ask Mrs. Brandt a few questions, and then I have to go.”
