said.
Porter blinked several times, trying to make sense of Frank’s statement. “I knew she died, but nobody said it was suspicious. Miss Yingling should have warned us!”
“She didn’t know,” Frank said.
A loud crash from upstairs made both men jump.
“The children are getting ready for bed,” Porter explained. “Let’s go into the parlor.”
This was the formal parlor, reserved for guests and kept in pristine condition, even though the furnishings were starting to show their age. No fire had been laid, and a distinct chill hung in the air. Porter offered Frank a chair by the cold fireplace and took one opposite.
“What’s this about Mrs. Van Orner now?” he asked, leaning forward. “There must be some mistake.”
“No mistake, I’m afraid. Mrs. Van Orner died in her carriage yesterday afternoon as she was traveling from the rescue house to her home.”
Porter shook his head, his expression inexpressibly sad. “Miss Yingling just told us she died. I couldn’t imagine why. I still can’t believe it. She was never sick a day in her life.”
“Have you known her all her life?”
“Oh, yes. Our families were great friends. We saw each other in church and at parties, everywhere really.” He shook his head, lost in memories.
Frank couldn’t help comparing the Van Orner home to this one and wondering why, if their families had been so close, Porter’s position in life was now so much less prosperous than the Van Orners’. “Did you ever court Mrs. Van Orner?” he asked, probing to see if he could find some romantic rivalry that might have soured through the years.
He looked up in surprise. “Heavens, no! We were children together. Nothing kills romance quicker than remembering how somebody looked in short pants. Besides, Vivian had higher aspirations. Once Van Orner noticed her, no one else had a chance.”
“How did you get involved in her charity work?”
“She asked me to help her several years ago. She needed some men to go with her into a bad part of town. I told her I wouldn’t be much help if she was set upon by ruffians, but she wasn’t concerned about that. As it turned out, she needed a man to knock on the door of a brothel and pretend to be a customer. She thought I would be perfect for that, and as it turned out, she was right. I’ve been helping her ever since.” He seemed very pleased with himself.
“I understand Mrs. Van Orner used her own money to support the rescue house.”
“Yes, she had an inheritance from some relative, I think. She used that for it. Van Orner wouldn’t give her a penny to help harlots. Those were his own words. I’ve heard him say them myself. So she used her own money and asked her rich friends to help her, too.”
“Did you help her?”
He shook his head sadly. “I’ve got six children, Mr .... I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Malloy.”
“Mr. Malloy, I’ve got six children. I inherited my father’s business, but I haven’t been as successful as he was at it. We manage, but . . . To tell you the truth, one reason I agreed to help Vivian was because I thought it might do me some good with Gregory’s friends—that’s her husband.”
“Did it?”
“Oh, no, not at all. Gregory’s embarrassed by her little hobby, as he calls it, and he doesn’t have any use for me or the rest of Vivian’s helpers.”
“But you still kept helping her.”
“Yes. As I said, we’re old friends.” Another crash made them both jump, even though this one was a bit muffled. “And it gives me an excuse to be out of the house,” he added.
Frank could readily understand why.
“Can you think of anyone who might want to harm Mrs. Van Orner?”
“Oh, dear, I almost forgot why you’re here. I keep forgetting Vivian’s dead. She’s the last person in the world you’d expect to die. She had so much still to do, you know. And now you tell me someone . . .
“It appears that she was poisoned.”
“Good God, you don’t say! I can hardly credit it. Why would someone want to do a thing like that?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me.”
He gave the matter some thought. “Some of the madams were quite angry with her, as you can imagine.”
Frank didn’t have to imagine. He’d seen Mrs. Walker in person. “I don’t think any of them would have had access to her, though.”
“You said she was poisoned. How did it happen?”
“Someone put laudanum in . . . in her drink.”
Mr. Porter stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment, and then his eyes grew wide. “In her flask, you mean? Oh, dear heaven, of course that’s what you mean.”
“You knew about her flask?”
“Oh, yes, we all did. All of us who worked with her, that is. We pretended we didn’t, or at least we never said anything to her about it. Who am I to judge, after all? Any woman who had to live with Gregory Van Orner could be excused for just about anything that helped her through the day.”
Frank’s brief encounter with Van Orner confirmed that opinion. “I know Mrs. Van Orner had made a lot of enemies in the city, but none of them would have had access to her flask yesterday.”
“Oh, my, you’re absolutely right. But that means someone who . . . Are you saying someone in the rescue house poisoned her?”
“Someone who had access to her flask at some time yesterday,” Frank corrected him.
Porter nodded. “I see. So it might have been someone at her home, too.”
“I have to consider all the possibilities. Her husband asked me to investigate, though.”
“He did? I wonder why.”
“Maybe he wants the guilty person punished.”
“So I guess that means he’s not the guilty person. More’s the pity, although I don’t suppose you’d arrest a man like Gregory Van Orner no matter what he did, would you?”
They both knew the answer to that question, so Frank saw no reason to respond. “Do you have any idea who might want to harm Mrs. Van Orner—either in her home or the rescue house?”
“Besides Gregory, I don’t know—not that he really cared enough to murder her, of course, but I’m sure he’s not particularly grieved at her death either. Maybe one of the women we’d rescued. Sometimes they get very angry. Vivian did what she could for them, but she couldn’t keep them forever. They have to learn to make their way in the world.”
“Do you know of one in particular who was unhappy?”
“Not really. I don’t even know who’s living at the rescue house now. I haven’t seen Vivian in over a week, at least.”
“Was that unusual?”
“Oh, no. I’m very busy with my business and my family responsibilities. She only called on me when she had a rescue at a brothel, and that rarely happened, I’m afraid. It’s very dangerous, you see.”
Frank took a chance. “What do you know about Miss Yingling?”
“Miss Yingling? Why do you ask?”
“I just thought it was strange that she lived with the Van Orners.”
Mr. Porter smiled slightly. “I thought it was strange, too, considering the rumors about Gregory.”
“What rumors?”
Porter leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “That he enjoyed the company of harlots.”
“What does that have to do with Miss Yingling?”
“Oh, didn’t you know? Tamar Yingling was the first whore Vivian ever rescued.”
