need you spoiling her good reputation.”
Mrs. Richmond glared at him as if she’d like to scratch his eyes out, trembling with fury and frustration. He felt sorry for her, but he couldn’t let that stop him from finding out the truth. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what I need to know, so why don’t you sit down, Mrs. Richmond?”
He could see the effort it cost to pull herself together, and he admired her strength. She sat down as reluctantly as if the seat were covered with broken glass. At least the fear had vanished from her eyes. All he saw there now was anger.
He knew she wasn’t going to answer any more questions, so he decided to tell her what he’d guessed so far and let her respond. “You don’t think Paul was much of a husband to Garnet. Maybe she told you he spent all his time with his good friend Zeller and ignored her.”
Mrs. Richmond’s eyes widened, telling him he was at least close to the truth.
“You tried to get Garnet to tell you why she wanted to leave Paul, but she wouldn’t. You said you’d seen her three times since you’ve been in town. Did she visit you here?”
He had to wait a full minute before she finally said, “Yes.”
“She came here to see you, but she wouldn’t tell you what was wrong. Did she want you to go home or did she want you to stay?”
“Go home,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Did you ask her to go with you?”
No answer.
“Did you talk about it, at least?”
Her cheeks flamed again. “I have no home of my own to offer her.” The pain behind the words tore at him, but he couldn’t stop now.
“And what did you think when she told you about the baby?”
She jerked as if he’d slapped her. “What baby?”
“The baby she’s going to have.”
She uttered a strangled cry and fainted dead away.
Frank swore as he jumped to catch her before she hit the floor. He lowered her as gently as he could to the worn carpet and hollered for the landlady. The woman came stomping into the room, probably intending to give Frank a piece of her mind, but she stopped short when she saw Mrs. Richmond.
“Good heavens, what’ve you done to her?”
“She fainted.”
“How do I know that? Maybe you did something to her!”
“You can ask her when she wakes up.”
She sighed with long-suffering. “I’ll get my salts.”
Frank tried to remember what you were supposed to do when someone fainted. All he could think of was loosening their clothes and chaffing their wrists. He decided just to wait for the smelling salts. Mrs. Higgins returned with a vial. She pulled the cork and waved it under Mrs. Richmond’s nose.
Soon Mrs. Richmond was conscious and back sitting in her chair, but she was still furious at Frank, and now Mrs. Higgins was, too.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but you got no right coming in here and upsetting people like this,” the landlady said.
Frank figured Mrs. Richmond wasn’t going to tell him anything else, at least not today, but first he had to find out if she could have killed Devries. “You said an Italian visited Mrs. Richmond,” he said to Mrs. Higgins. “Did she have any other visitors? Any other men, I mean.”
“What business is it of yours?”
“It’s police business, and if you’d like to avoid spending a night locked up in a cell, you’ll answer me.”
“It’s all right,” Mrs. Richmond said wearily. “Who do you think visited me?”
“Did Devries himself call on you?”
Her eyes widened. “No!”
He looked at the landlady for confirmation. “It would’ve been last Tuesday.”
“Tuesday? No, and not any other day, either. The only one I know who called before you was the Italian.”
At least he wouldn’t have to ask Mrs. Richmond if Devries had undressed in her presence. He’d probably need more than smelling salts to revive her after that. “Devries is dead.”
Mrs. Richmond blinked. “What?”
“Devries?” Mrs. Higgins said. “That’s your daughter’s name, ain’t it? You mean her daughter’s husband is dead?”
“No, his father.”
Mrs. Richmond couldn’t seem to comprehend. “Dead? But how…?”
“Somebody stabbed him.”
All the blood drained from her face, and he was very much afraid she was going to faint again. “I…I need to go to my daughter.”
“Of course you do,” Mrs. Higgins said and turned to Frank. “You’ve done enough damage here. You’d better go.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
FRANK DIDN’T KNOW WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HIM. HE didn’t usually jump to conclusions, but after hearing Mrs. Richmond’s story about how Devries had cheated her husband, he’d assumed Devries had taken her daughter as his mistress. Maybe because he’d recently heard a story just like that. But Devries hadn’t taken her for himself. Instead, he’d married her off to his son. He really wanted to talk to Sarah about this, but he couldn’t possibly wake her up to talk about this now. He’d have to wait until this evening.
Meanwhile, he needed to see Miss Norah English.
Lizzie the maid opened the door. “You’re like a bad penny, ain’t you?”
“I’m glad to see you’re still here.” Frank didn’t wait for an invitation to come in, and Lizzie’s frantic attempt to shut the door in his face failed.
Sputtering indignantly, she slammed the door behind him, surrendering to the inevitable. “What do you want?”
“I want to see Miss English, if she’s still here.”
“Where else would she be?”
“I was afraid somebody would’ve sent her packing by now.”
“Why would you be afraid of that?”
“Because then I would’ve had to waste a lot of time hunting her down.”
“Lizzie? Who’s there?” Miss English called from upstairs.
“It’s that copper what was here the other day. Don’t you worry none. I’ll just—”
“Miss English, I need to speak with you again,” Frank called, silencing Lizzie with the glare that usually put a stop to interference.
“Don’t you go scaring her,” Lizzie whispered, not nearly as frightened as she should have been. “She never hurt nobody in this world, and you got no right to upset her.”
Frank would have told her he had every right, but Miss English appeared on the landing above them. Today she seemed even more innocent than she had two days ago. Her brown eyes wide and frightened, she stared down at him, her fingers fiddling nervously with the ruffles on her dress.
Frank tried a reassuring smile. At least he hoped it was reassuring. “I just have a few more questions for you, Miss English.”
She wrung her plump hands. “What should I do, Lizzie?”
Lizzie gave him a murderous look, but she said, “I guess you better talk to him. I doubt he’ll leave until you do.”
Miss English descended the stairs, still watching him warily, as if afraid he might do something terrible to her. He found himself feeling sorry for her, too, and instantly caught himself. He’d never felt sympathy for murder suspects before. What was wrong with him?
