“Mrs. Brandt? Of course I know who she is.”
“No, I mean do you know who her father is?”
“Her father? No, why should I?”
“Because he’s Felix Decker, that’s why. I don’t think he’d be happy to hear you hauled his daughter down to Police Headquarters to ask her questions about something that happened in a brothel.”
“Who’s Felix Decker?” Mrs. Walker asked.
“One of the richest men in the city,” O’Brien said sourly. “And not one of your clients, I take it.”
Mrs. Walker glared at him. “I just want my girl back. I don’t care who took her. I pay you to protect me, O’Brien. I expect to get my money’s worth.”
“Malloy, go see this Mrs. Brandt and find out what happened to the girl,” O’Brien said.
“She’d have to be crazy to tell me that, knowing I’d have to tell you,” Malloy said. “And she’s not crazy.”
“I don’t care about any of that. Just find out what happened to the girl and get her back to Mrs. Walker.”
Why, Frank wondered as he let himself out of O’Brien’s office, couldn’t Sarah ever take his advice?
“NOT EXACTLY WHAT YOU EXPECTED, WAS IT?”
Sarah looked up in surprise to see Miss Yingling standing in the doorway of what must be the front parlor. She wore the same drab olive green suit she’d worn the first day Sarah had met her, but she seemed much more animated today than she had then. Her eyes were actually sparkling.
“No, it wasn’t,” Sarah admitted. “I didn’t expect to get away with the baby so easily.”
“Mrs. Van Orner had a bit more trouble, I’m afraid.”
“But she did get Amy out, didn’t she?”
“Oh, yes, but the stupid girl wanted to get dressed and pack up all her clothes. Mrs. Van Orner tried to reason with her—how much use will those clothes be to her outside of a brothel, after all?—but she kept arguing. Finally, Mr. Porter just picked her up bodily and carried her out of the house in her nightdress.”
“Oh, dear! I knew I should have warned her they were coming. She could have been ready.”
“Oh, yes, waiting at the door with her grip,” Miss Yingling scoffed. “That would be a pretty picture.”
“She could have at least gotten dressed,” Sarah said.
“It’s just as well. They never want to part with the fancy clothes, and they even want to wear them. A woman can’t walk down the street dressed like that without attracting the wrong kind of attention, so we end up having to burn the clothes.”
“Did Mrs. Walker try to interfere?”
“A little, but she was late to the party. Mr. Quimby kept the cook busy at the front door for quite a while, long enough for Mrs. Van Orner and Mr. Porter to get back downstairs with the girl. The girl was making a fuss by then, and the cook heard it and started shouting for the madam. She and Mrs. Walker came running, but Mr. Quimby and Mrs. Van Orner were able to hold them off until they got Amy into the carriage.”
“Were you with them?”
“Oh, no, I was here, helping Lisa get everything ready. Mrs. Spratt-Williams told me all about it.”
“Lisa?”
“Lisa Biafore, the Italian girl who let you in just now. She’s really Analise, but she’s trying to be more American, so she changed it to Lisa.”
Sarah heard a door open and close upstairs. “I’d like to examine Amy, to make sure she’s all right after the carriage ride and all the excitement.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Van Orner will see the wisdom of that. Should I ask her?”
“Yes, please.”
She left Sarah standing in the front hall as she hurried off toward the rear of the house. In a few minutes, Mrs. Van Orner came into the front parlor, where Sarah had found a seat on a battered sofa. Miss Yingling came trailing along behind.
“Mrs. Brandt, we can’t thank you enough,” Mrs. Van Orner said as Sarah rose. “Your information was invaluable.”
“Not as invaluable as your courage,” Sarah replied. “If you and your friends hadn’t been willing to go in there . . .”
Mrs. Van Orner waved Sarah’s praise away. “Not at all. We simply do God’s work. Tamar said you wanted to examine the girl. I think that’s a good idea. She was extremely agitated during the entire event. I’m so glad you brought the baby over, though. Perhaps she’ll calm down now. If not, we can give her some laudanum.”
“I’d rather not, since it can go through the milk and make the baby too groggy to feed well. Let me see how she’s doing first.”
“Certainly. Tamar, will you take Mrs. Brandt upstairs?”
Miss Yingling seemed only too glad to oblige. She led the way and Sarah followed.
“How many women live in the house?” Sarah asked as they climbed the stairs.
“Just two others right now. We have room for more, but the women don’t do well if they have to share a room with someone, I’m afraid. They have a difficult time adjusting to normal life, so we try to give them privacy when we can.”
“Is it unusual for a woman to be as agitated as Amy was?”
“Not at all. They’re frightened and excited at the prospect of freedom. Some of them become hysterical while others just huddle in a corner and shake.”
Miss Yingling stopped in front of one of the doors that lined the upstairs hallway. Sarah could hear the murmur of voices from inside. Miss Yingling tapped lightly, then opened the door without waiting for an invitation.
“Mrs. Brandt would like to see Amy,” she announced.
The room was already crowded. Furnished with a plain iron bedstead, a wardrobe, and a washstand, the place felt more utilitarian than comfortable. Plain muslin curtains hung at the window, and the walls were painted an ugly shade of brown. Amy lay propped in the bed, the baby at her breast, and Mrs. Spratt-Williams and the girl Tamar had told her about, Lisa Biafore, stood by, ready to help in any way. Miss Yingling and Sarah took up the remaining floor space.
“Mrs. Brandt,” Amy said, brightening. “I got out!”
“Yes, you did. I’m very happy for you.”
“You should be. You have no idea how horrible that place was. Of course, my room there was a lot nicer than this,” she said, looking with disfavor around her current accommodations.
“You should be grateful you’ve got a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in,” Lisa Biafore chided.
Amy ignored her. “I’m hungry. I have to keep up my strength to feed the baby.”
Lisa sniffed in disapproval. “It’s not mealtime yet, but I’ll see what we have in the kitchen.”
“I’d like some bread and jam,” Amy said. “Strawberry is my favorite.”
Lisa rolled her eyes as she passed Sarah on the way out of the room.
“You missed all the excitement, Mrs. Brandt,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said.
“Miss Yingling told me. Amy, how are you feeling?”
If Miss Yingling’s eyes were sparkling, Amy’s were glittering. “I’m as happy as I can be.”
Sarah smiled. “No, I mean are you having any discomfort? Any bleeding?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to even think about it.” But now that she did, she apparently decided she needed to complain. “That man was very rough with me, you know. Carried me out of the house and practically threw me into the carriage. Didn’t give me a chance to get dressed or anything!”
“They didn’t have time,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said. “They had to get you out before someone raised the alarm.”
“And the carriage was so old, I don’t think it even had any springs left. I’m probably black-and-blue from bouncing around.”
“Would you mind if I examined you? I want to make sure you’re still doing all right.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She unceremoniously removed the baby from her breast and held him out to Mrs. Spratt-Williams. “Would you take care of him for me? That girl who was here said she was going to get something
