MURDER ON ASTOR PLACE
MURDER ON ST. MARK’S PLACE
MURDER ON GRAMERCY PARK
MURDER ON WASHINGTON SQUARE
MURDER ON MULBERRY BEND
MURDER ON MARBLE ROW
MURDER ON LENOX HILL
MURDER IN LITTLE ITALY
MURDER IN CHINATOWN
MURDER ON BANK STREET
MURDER ON WAVERLY PLACE
MURDER ON LEXINGTON AVENUE
MURDER ON SISTERS’ ROW
1
SARAH AND THE GIRLS WERE STROLLING BACK FROM THE Gansevoort Market, thoroughly enjoying the crisp fall morning and chatting happily about the purchases piled high in the large baskets Sarah and Maeve carried over their arms.
“Oh, no,” Maeve said when they’d turned the corner onto Bank Street and saw the carriage parked in front of Sarah’s house. “Looks like you won’t be helping us bake any pies this afternoon.”
The carriage most likely meant that someone had come to fetch Sarah to deliver a baby.
“I’m sure you and Catherine will do just fine without me,” Sarah said, looking down at the small girl who clung to her free hand. Her foster daughter looked up, her eyes full of disappointment.
“I’ll miss you,” Catherine said in her whispery voice. When Sarah had first found her at the Prodigal Son Mission, Catherine had been completely mute. She’d only started speaking a few months ago, and she still spoke softly, as if afraid of startling herself with the sound of her own voice.
“I’ll miss you, too. You know I’d much rather spend my days with you and Maeve, but I have to help ladies have their babies. That’s how I earn the money we need to buy things with.”
“I know,” Catherine said, but she stuck her lip out in an unmistakable pout.
“We’ll ask Mrs. Ellsworth to help us with the pies,” Maeve said, naming their next-door neighbor. Mrs. Ellsworth was always available to help the girls do anything at all.
Mention of Mrs. Ellsworth banished Catherine’s pout. Maeve knew just how to cheer her up. Sarah thought for at least the thousandth time how fortunate she was to have Maeve as Catherine’s nursemaid. The girl had also come from the Mission, and the three of them had formed a real family in the months they’d been together.
A young man stood beside the carriage, and he straightened as they approached. He’d been smoking a cigarette, and he tossed it away. He wore a uniform of some kind, and he looked quite dignified when he put his mind to it, although Sarah noticed that he gave Maeve a very efficient once-over. He managed not to be offensive about it, though.
“Can I help you?” Sarah asked when they were close enough for conversation.
“Are you Mrs. Brandt, the midwife?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I been sent to get you. Mrs. Walker, the lady I work for, she said to come quick. If you’d be so kind,” he added awkwardly, remembering his manners.
“Is Mrs. Walker having a baby?”
Something about that question amused the young man, although he controlled his expression almost instantly. “No, ma’am. One of her guests is.”
Sarah glanced at the carriage and the horses. The horses were well fed and groomed, the carriage clean and in good repair. Not a rented outfit but one owned by someone who had the means to care for it. “I’ll be right with you. I just need to get my things. Would you like to wait inside?”
He looked at Maeve again, as if weighing her attractions against his own responsibilities. “I’d better stay with the horses,” he decided.
They went into Sarah’s house, and a few minutes later, Sarah came out carrying her black bag, the medical bag that had belonged to her husband, Dr. Tom Brandt, dead now for well over four years.
The young man hurried to carry the bag for her, but Sarah didn’t release it when he reached for it. “It’s usually faster if I walk,” she said. “Because of the traffic. Unless it’s too far.”
“Mrs. Walker said you was to come in the carriage. She’s very particular, and I wouldn’t want to make her mad.”
And Sarah wouldn’t want to get him in trouble. “All right, but if we get stuck, I’ll get out and walk the rest of the way. Where are we going?”
The question seemed to alarm him, but he recovered quickly. “We won’t get stuck. We don’t have far to go. Just a few blocks north.”
He helped her into the carriage, and she placed the medical bag on the floor at her feet. Then he closed the door and hurried to climb up to the driver’s perch. Only when the door was closed did Sarah notice the curtains had all been drawn over the windows. She pulled back the one at the window beside her to let in some light to relieve the gloom. Then she leaned back on the cushioned seat and tried to relax. This would probably be the last time she got a moment’s peace for at least twenty-four hours. She closed her eyes, hoping to catch a brief nap before she reached her destination, or at least to rest a bit.
Sarah was surprised to be awakened when the carriage rattled to a stop. She really had dozed off for a little while. Disoriented, she looked out the window she had uncovered and saw she was in an alley behind some large houses. The carriage shifted on its springs as the driver climbed down. A moment later, he opened the door and helped her out, taking her bag from her.
“This way,” he said and directed her to precede him down the walkway that bisected the small patch of weedy ground that formed a backyard of sorts for one of the houses. It led to a porch and a kitchen door. A large Negro woman stood in the open doorway. She wore a bright red bandanna tied around her head, and her enormous
