Murder on Sisters' Row

“Yes, and according to Miss Yingling, she met with Mrs. Van Orner right before she left.”

“She’s a friend of hers, I believe. My mother didn’t know her, but she’s a respectable matron, just like Mrs. Van Orner.”

“Whose husband also likes prostitutes?” Frank guessed.

“You’ll have to ask her about that,” Sarah replied with a knowing smile.

“What do you know about Miss Yingling?”

“Nothing except that she was Mrs. Van Orner’s secretary. She worked in her offices at the United Charities Building.”

“And she lives with the Van Orners.”

“She does? How odd.”

“I thought so, too, but I wasn’t sure how close rich women like to keep their secretaries.”

“They don’t usually have secretaries, so I can’t really say.”

They interrupted their conversation to cross a particularly busy street, an act that required complete concentration to keep from being crushed to death by a horse or wagon. When they had arrived safely on the other side, Frank asked, “I guess this girl Amy was pretty grateful to Mrs. Van Orner for getting her out of Mrs. Walker’s house.”

“Yes,” she agreed with an odd tone in her voice. “I thought so, too, until she named her baby after Mrs. Van Orner’s husband.”

8

FRANK WHISTLED. “I DON’T SUPPOSE SHE WAS JUST SHOWING her respect for Mrs. Van Orner.”

“Not that I noticed. In fact, I got the feeling she knew exactly how much she was hurting Mrs. Van Orner when she announced it.”

“Could Van Orner really be the baby’s father?”

“Only two people know that for sure, and I doubt Mr. Van Orner will be very happy to discuss the matter with us.”

“I think you’re probably right. If he is the father, though, then this Amy had a good reason to want Mrs. Van Orner dead.”

“That’s what my mother said, too, but Amy would be foolish to do something so dangerous. She was a prostitute. She surely can’t expect Mr. Van Orner to marry her, even if the baby is his.”

“She’s young, isn’t she? Young women get foolish ideas.”

“I suppose they do. Is that what you want me to find out?”

“I want you to find out who spent time with Mrs. Van Orner yesterday, what they talked about, and what her state of mind was. I also want you to find out where her purse with the flask in it was while she was meeting with these people.”

“To find out if someone could have put the laudanum into it while she was busy doing something else.”

“Yes, but don’t ask anybody if they did it.”

The look she gave him would’ve curdled milk. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I know you’re not, but one of those women is a murderer, and I don’t want you to be next.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t even like creme de menthe.”

“They could put it in anything,” he said, exasperated.

“I won’t eat or drink anything in that house. Will that make you happy?”

“I wouldn’t say happy, but it’s a start.”

“Is there anything else you want me to find out?”

“If you think I should talk to any of them myself, see if you can get them to come out and meet with me.”

“I doubt any of them will be particularly interested in meeting with a police detective.”

“Then lie to them.”

She pursed her lips to hold back a smile, an expression he knew well. “Where will you be?”

“A coffee shop on the next block. We’ll pass by it on our way, so you’ll know where it is. I’ll wait for you there.”

“I just happened to think, I doubt Mrs. Spratt-Williams will be at the house today. Maybe you can see her at her own house.”

If this Spratt-Williams woman was as rich as Van Orner, he doubted she’d be particularly happy to see him. “Maybe.”

They crossed another busy street, and Frank went over some of the questions he wanted her to ask of the women in the house. Then he showed her the coffee shop where he’d be waiting, and accompanied her to her destination, standing out on the sidewalk to make sure they let her in. Then he walked back to the coffee shop, prepared for a long, boring afternoon.

LISA BIAFORE ANSWERED SARAH’S KNOCK. THE POOR girl looked frazzled, her dark hair straggling down out of its bun, her eyes red-rimmed and sad. “Oh, Mrs. Brandt, isn’t it? I almost didn’t recognize you. Have you heard about poor Mrs. Van Orner . . .” Her voice broke, and she pressed a hand to her lips to hold back a sob.

“Yes, I did,” Sarah said, taking this opportunity to step inside. “I’m so sorry. I came to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

“I don’t know of anything,” Lisa said, using the tail of her apron to wipe her eyes. “Unless you can tell us what’s going to happen to Mrs. Van Orner’s work now that she’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“This house and all of us. Will they shut it down? Where will we go? Nobody’s told us anything, and there’s not enough money here to keep us for more than a week. After that . . .”

Her concerns were legitimate, and Sarah couldn’t imagine Mr. Van Orner continuing to finance a houseful of former prostitutes. “Have you seen Mrs. Spratt-Williams?”

“No, not yet. Just Miss Yingling. She came by late last night to tell us about Mrs. Van Orner. She looked so different, I hardly recognized her. Acted different, too, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She didn’t seem sad at all about poor Mrs. Van Orner either.”

“I’m sure she was just trying to put on a brave front,” Sarah said. “Mrs. Van Orner wouldn’t have approved of any displays of grief.”

“You’re right about that, Mrs. Brandt. I never saw her even look angry until yesterday and then just for a minute, before she caught herself.”

“When was that?” Sarah asked, trying not to sound too interested.

“After she had a talk with that Amy. What a piece of work she is. I don’t know why Mrs. Van Orner didn’t throw her out into the street.”

“I can see this has been very hard on you, Lisa. Can I make you some tea?”

“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I couldn’t let you do that!”

“Of course you could. That’s what friends are for. Come along and let me take care of you.”

The girl allowed Sarah to escort her back to the kitchen, but she insisted on helping prepare the tea things, since Sarah didn’t know where anything was. After a few minutes, they were seated at the kitchen table, waiting for the tea to steep.

“Can you tell me what happened here yesterday?”

“You mean about the fight Amy had with Mrs. Van Orner?”

“I mean everything, from the time Mrs. Van Orner arrived until she left.”

“I suppose,” the girl said doubtfully.

“I’ll help you remember,” Sarah said. “What was the first thing Mrs. Van Orner did when she arrived?”