house are terrified they’ll be turned out.”
“They probably will be unless this Mrs. Spratt-Williams is willing to keep it going.”
“Even if she’s willing, she may not be able. According to Miss Biafore, Mrs. Van Orner supported it with money of her own, not what she got from her husband, and also some she got from friends. Even still, they were often short of funds.”
“So that’ll give you a reason to call on Mrs. Spratt-Williams. Miss Yingling gave me her address.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll call on those two fellows who helped with the rescues.”
“Potter and what was the other man’s name?”
“Quimby.”
Sarah frowned. “Neither of them were with her at all yesterday. What could they possibly tell you?”
“I won’t know that until I talk to them.
“Where shall we plan to meet later?”
“I’ll come by your house tomorrow.”
Sarah took her leave, so she’d arrive at Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s house in time to make a socially acceptable afternoon visit. Frank watched her go with a sick feeling in his stomach. How the hell did she always mange to get mixed up in his cases?
MRS. SPRATT-WILLIAMS LIVED IN A TOWN HOUSE A FEW blocks from Sarah’s parents’ home on the Upper West Side. It was furnished modestly but in good taste. Mrs. Spratt-Williams received Sarah in the family parlor. She wasn’t dressed for company, and she looked as if she might have been crying.
“What a surprise, Mrs. Brandt. Please excuse my appearance, but I suppose you’ve heard about poor Vivian.”
“Yes, I did. What a shock. I’m so very sorry.”
“You can’t imagine how distraught I am. I’ve known Vivian for years and years. She was like a sister to me.”
“I’m sure she must have felt the same way. I know she appreciated your help with Rahab’s Daughters.”
“Oh, yes. I was the first one she came to when she got the idea for it. She said to me, ‘Tonya’—she always called me Tonya. My real name is Antonia, but she shortened it to Tonya when we were girls—she said, ‘Tonya, we must do something for all these unfortunate women in the city.’ ”
“It seems a very unusual thing for ladies like you to be concerned with,” Sarah observed.
“Vivian was an unusual woman, and . . . well, she had her reasons, I suppose,” she added with what might have been a hint of distaste.
Sarah decided not to mention the rumors about Mr. Van Orner, at least not yet. “I understand she supported the work with her own money.”
“Yes, she had a small inheritance, from an aunt, I think. She used the income from that and some of her allowance, I’m sure.”
“And her friends helped, too, I suppose.”
“Those of us who were involved, of course. I gave her what I could. I’m a widow, you see, and I have limited resources. I believe the gentlemen were more generous.”
Sarah knew what it cost to run a house like this, and she suspected Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s resources were limited only by her own choices. “I was just at the rescue house to see if there was anything I could do to help. Miss Biafore is quite concerned about what will become of Rahab’s Daughters now.”
“Oh, dear, I’m sure no one has given that a moment’s thought. I know I just heard about Mrs. Van Orner this morning.”
“How did you hear?”
“Miss Yingling sent me a note. I assume she notified the others as well. Isn’t that how you heard?”
Sarah chose to ignore the question. “I believe you were with Mrs. Van Orner just before she died.”
“Was I? I had no idea. I didn’t know when it happened. Or even where. Was it at the rescue house?”
“No, shortly after she left, I believe. In her carriage.”
“In her carriage? How horrible. But of course, Miss Yingling was with her, so at least she wasn’t alone.”
“Miss Yingling wasn’t with her.”
“She wasn’t? How strange.”
“Why was it strange?”
“I . . .” She had to think about that. “Wasn’t Vivian going home? Miss Yingling lives with the Van Orners, so naturally I assumed she was with her. They always leave together.”
“Not that day. After she spoke with you, Mrs. Van Orner was upset about something, and she didn’t wait for Miss Yingling. Do you have any idea what she was upset about?”
The color rose in Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s face. “I hope you aren’t accusing any of us of causing her to have apoplexy or something.”
“Apoplexy?” Sarah asked in confusion.
“Or heart failure or whatever she died of. I assume from your questions that they believe something that happened that day caused her to die very suddenly. A shock of some kind, perhaps.”
“Did she have a shock that day?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” she insisted, even though her face was scarlet.
“You were one of the last people to speak with her before she died,” Sarah reminded her. “Did she seem to be in shock?”
“I . . . I have no idea. Vivian was . . . She wasn’t one to let her emotions show.”
“Did she seem out of sorts? Not herself?”
“I don’t remember.”
Sarah took a chance. “Was she drinking more than usual?”
Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s eyes widened and the color drained from her face. “Drinking? What are you talking about?”
“Everyone knows about the flask she carried with her,” Sarah lied. “And how she would take a sip or two to calm herself.”
“You’re mistaken!”
“Drinking alcohol when you’ve had a shock can sometimes cause a . . . an unfortunate reaction,” she tried. “If that’s what happened to Mrs. Van Orner, then it’s no one’s fault, is it?”
There, she’d given Mrs. Spratt-Williams a chance to clear her conscience, if she’d been blaming herself.
“Do you think that’s what happened?” she asked, almost hopefully.
“It would make sense.”
Mrs. Spratt-Williams closed her eyes and sighed, as if a weight had been lifted from her. “I’m afraid that Vivian and I did have words yesterday. I’ll never forgive myself if that caused her death.”
“What did you discuss? Maybe it wasn’t really that upsetting to her,” she added, lest she be thought simply nosy.
“Oh, dear, I don’t know if it was or not. With Vivian, it was so hard to tell. She never allowed her true feelings to show. Her mother always taught her it was unladylike.”
“I’d be happy to give you my opinion,” Sarah said, fighting the urge to shake the story out of her.
“Oh, I don’t suppose it could matter now. I was only trying to help, you see. She wanted to put Amy out of the house. She was so unpleasant, and the other girls hated her. She even refused to look after her baby, but . . . Well, Amy has had a difficult time of it. I know because she told me her story. When you know what she’s been through, you can understand why she’s so angry. I’m afraid I’ve become quite fond of the girl and her darling little boy.”
“Did Mrs. Van Orner argue with you?”
“No, not really. She just . . . She simply refused to discuss it. I tried every argument I could think of, but she wouldn’t budge.”
“And did you see her with her . . . her flask?”
“No, I didn’t. I never saw her actually drink from it, not once in all the years I’ve known her. I could smell it
