Murder on Fifth Avenue

“I haven’t told them yet. In fact, they don’t even know I’m here or that Roderick is dead.”

“You were waiting for me, I assume.”

Frank hated himself for having to say it. “I need to know how you want this handled.”

The muscles in Decker’s jaw flexed. “You must have a low opinion of me, Mr. Malloy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean because you felt you needed to ask that question. Yes, I wanted Chilton’s death handled discreetly, but only because it might have been unintentional. This servant’s death, however, is no accident. Someone killed the poor man with calculated cunning to cover their own guilt. I can’t allow something like that to pass.”

The knot of tension in Frank’s belly loosened. He nodded. “I’m waiting for the medical examiner, and I’ll need to tell the family. You don’t have to stay for that.”

Decker studied Frank for a long moment. “I won’t have you think me a coward, either, Mr. Malloy. We’ll tell them together.”

The medical examiner arrived a few minutes later, and the noise of the man and his orderlies clomping up the stairs alerted the family that something was wrong, leaving Frank no choice but to go to them at once. He gave Doc Haynes his instructions, then followed Decker and the maid into the back parlor, where Mrs. Devries and her son had been spending a quiet evening.

“Felix, what on earth is going on?” she asked. “And what is that policeman doing here at this hour?”

“I’m afraid I have some more unpleasant news, Lucretia,” Decker said.

“About my father’s death?” Paul asked. He stood behind his mother’s chair, as if they had determined to present a united front against the intruders.

“No, about someone else’s death,” Decker said.

“Someone else?” Paul said. “Don’t tell me there’s been another unfortunate accident.”

“I’m not so sure it was an accident, but your father’s valet is dead.”

Paul seemed genuinely shocked. “Roderick? But that’s impossible. I saw him just after supper, and he was perfectly fine.”

“Be quiet, Paul,” his mother said. “Don’t say another word. What happened to him?”

“We aren’t sure yet,” Frank said, according to the plan he and Decker had made. “I came here tonight to ask him some more questions and found him very ill with gastric fever. We sent for the doctor, but Roderick died before he arrived.”

“I knew it,” Mrs. Devries said.

Frank and Decker gaped at her.

“What did you know?” Decker asked.

“Roderick. I knew he was the one who stabbed Chilly. I told Elizabeth exactly that this afternoon when she came to see me.”

Her son looked down at her as if he thought she was insane. “Why would Roderick have stabbed Father?”

“Your father was a difficult man, my dear. You must know that. I confess, I can’t blame the poor fellow for wanting to put an end to his misery.”

“You can’t really believe that,” Paul said.

“Paul, didn’t I ask you not to say another word?” She looked at Decker again. “I’m afraid Paul was often blind to his father’s faults, but we know, don’t we?”

“Mother!”

She silenced him with a gesture. “He was poisoned, wasn’t he?”

“That is what Mr. Malloy suspects,” Decker said. “How did you know?”

“What else could it be? He must have been unable to bear the guilt for what he’d done to Chilly, and he took his own life. I’m surprised your Mr. Malloy hasn’t figured that out himself.”

11

FRANK COULD HARDLY BELIEVE IT. DID SHE REALLY THINK anyone would accept such a ridiculous story?

“Mother, that hardly seems—”

“Enough, Paul. No one is interested in your opinion. Felix, I’m afraid I’m going to have to instruct the staff to stop admitting you. Every time you come, something awful has happened.” She smiled as if to show she was joking, but Decker did not return it.

“So it seems. Mr. Malloy will need to question the staff before he leaves tonight.”

“Is that really necessary? I won’t have them upset. The house has been in an uproar for a week already.”

“They will probably feel better if they think the police are going to sort it all out.”

“Is that what you do, Mr. Malloy? Sort things out?” she asked.

“I try.”

“I can’t imagine what good it will do, but I don’t suppose that will stop you, will it?”

She could have stopped him, but Frank chose not to inform her of that. “If Roderick killed himself, maybe he said something to one of the other servants or maybe one of them noticed something.”

He didn’t think she could argue with that, and apparently, she agreed. “I doubt a man intent on killing himself would confide in someone else, but I suppose anything is possible. Lord, such a fuss. I don’t know how I can bear it. Paul, will you help me upstairs to my room?”

“Of course, Mother. I’ll ring for someone to see you out, Mr. Decker.”

“Don’t bother. I know the way. Don’t worry about a thing, Lucretia. Mr. Malloy will take care of everything.”

The look she gave Frank didn’t seem very appreciative.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” FRANK ASKED DOC HAYNES.

The two men stepped aside as the orderlies carried Roderick’s body out of his room on a stretcher. “From what you describe, it does sound like poison, probably arsenic. I’ll have them test the whiskey, of course.”

“It would be arsenic.”

“I know. Common as dishwater. Every house in the city has a box of rat poison in a cupboard somewhere. Do you know where he got the whiskey?”

“The scullery maid thought he’d stolen it, but he managed to say somebody gave it to him. He died before he could tell me who, though.”

“Worst luck.”

“How soon will you know?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday. Come see me Monday afternoon.”

Frank swore. Monday was Devries’s funeral. He was starting to feel like he might not be able to bear it either.

As he had before, Frank spoke with each of the servants one by one, hoping Roderick might have bragged to one of them about the gift someone had given him. This time the young man who had offered to summon the doctor took charge of organizing the interviews. As it turned out, young Winston was Paul’s valet.

None of the other servants knew anything about the mysterious decanter of whiskey, although one or two of them wouldn’t have been surprised to learn Roderick had stolen it from Devries’s room. He did like a nip now and then, although Devries didn’t allow his servants to drink in the house. Frank had given up hope of learning anything important long before young Winston sat down with him in the receiving room, the last one to be questioned.

He lacked Roderick’s air of confidence, but Frank figured time would take care of that. Paul was the master of the house now, and his valet would soon start to feel the importance of his position.

“When did you last see Roderick?” Frank asked, the same question he had asked all the others before him.