Murder on Fifth Avenue

“You killed Roderick,” she said.

“Don’t be absurd!” Mrs. Devries tried, looking a little desperate now.

“And for nothing,” Frank said.

Once again they all turned to him.

“That’s right,” Frank said to Mrs. Devries. “You didn’t need to kill him at all.”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She turned to Paul in silent appeal.

“She thinks you stabbed your father,” Frank told him.

“I did!” Paul insisted.

“What did you stab him with?”

“Stop torturing him!” Garnet cried. “I already told you, I did it.”

Frank was willing to play along. “And what did you stab him with?” Sarah would have spoken, but he silenced her with a gesture. “Mrs. Brandt thinks she found the weapon you used under your bed. All you have to do is tell us what it is.”

“It’s a knife,” Garnet said.

“Where did you get a knife?”

“I…I…From my breakfast tray.”

“She’s lying!” Paul said. “I stabbed him.”

“With what?” Frank asked, pretending to be very interested.

“A knife, of course.”

“And where did you get a knife?”

“From his breakfast tray.”

“Which didn’t arrive until after you left him.”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes, it is. The maid will confirm it.”

Sarah was staring at him with a gratifying amount of admiration. “Neither one of them did it,” she marveled.

“What?” Paul said.

“I know you’re trying to protect each other,” Frank said, “but it’s not necessary, because neither of you did it. I was sure one of you had, so I was glad when you started arguing about it. I figured the guilty one would be only too willing to confess, but neither one of you knows what he was stabbed with.”

“What was he stabbed with, if not a knife?” Garnet asked.

Frank deferred to Sarah.

“Something the size and shape of an ice pick. We thought it was a nut pick.”

“Those things Father was always using on his walnuts?” Paul asked.

“Yes. One is missing from the set in his room.”

“He had one when he came into my room that morning,” Garnet said. “He was eating one of his cursed walnuts and grinning at me—” She clamped a hand over her mouth as if she was going to be sick again, and Sarah rushed to her side.

“She needs to sit down,” Sarah told Paul.

“You aren’t going to fall for that again, are you?” his mother said. “She’s just pretending she’s ill to get your sympathy.”

“She’s not pretending. She’s with child,” Sarah said, as she and Paul helped Garnet to a chair.

“Good God!” Paul cried in horror. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because she’s a devious little trollop, that’s why. What other reason could she have for not telling you about your own child?”

“Because your son isn’t the father,” Frank said, watching for her reaction. “Your husband is.”

Frank had the satisfaction of seeing the blood drain from her face as she realized the truth.

“Then that wasn’t the first time,” Paul was saying to his wife. “You should have told me.”

“Why?” she asked with a sad smile. “So we could both be miserable? You couldn’t have stopped him.”

He took her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“He’s dead now. That’s all that matters.”

Sarah discreetly moved away from them and said to Frank, “Except we still don’t know who killed him.”

“No, but the list of possible killers has gotten much shorter.”

“You don’t think she did it?” Sarah nodded at Mrs. Devries.

“No, she was too anxious to protect Paul. If she’d done it, she would’ve known he didn’t.”

“Paul?” Mrs. Devries said. “I’m feeling very unwell.”

She looked it, too.

“Ring for the maid, Mother. I have to look after Garnet.” Paul turned to Frank. “If it’s true that she killed Roderick, what will you do with her?”

Frank honestly didn’t know. He couldn’t imagine the New York City justice system bringing a wealthy woman to trial for poisoning a servant. Money would change hands, and the case would simply go away. “I’ll talk to you about it later. You need to take care of your wife now.”

Sarah followed him out into the hallway. “What will you do now?”

“I need to pay Miss English a visit. Devries had a set of nut picks at his mistress’s house, too.”

THE HOUSE ON MERCER STREET LOOKED MORE FORLORN than ever. Frank wouldn’t have been surprised to find Norah English and her stepmother gone, but Lizzie answered the door with her usual reluctance.

“Can’t you leave us alone?”

“No.” Frank didn’t have to push his way inside. She stepped back, resigned. “Is Miss English receiving visitors?”

“Don’t you go scaring her now. She’s been nervous as a cat since you come around with the news about Mr. Devries.”

“Has anyone from his company been to see you?”

“Not yet, but we ain’t waiting to get kicked out.”

Frank noticed immediately that most of the furniture was gone. A sagging sofa was the only thing left in the parlor. “I see you took my advice.”

“We didn’t hardly get nothing for that stuff, either. Everybody’s out to cheat you.”

Frank had to agree with that. “Did you contact her uncle?”

“Yeah, but we haven’t heard back from him.”

“You might need to encourage him a bit. Try telling him if he doesn’t help, you’ll have to go back and live with him again. That should get him moving. And don’t let him know you’ve got any money.”

“I do know better than that.”

“I’ll wait in here while you go get Miss English.”

Frank strolled around the nearly empty parlor while Lizzie clomped up the stairs and did whatever was necessary to get Miss English prepared for his visit. She only kept him waiting a few minutes this time.

Today she looked like a schoolgirl in her simple shirtwaist and skirt with her hair in a plain bun. Lizzie hovered protectively, but Frank had no wish to harm or frighten her, unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Let’s sit down,” he said, indicating the sofa.

She took one end, and he lowered himself carefully onto the other, hoping he’d be able to get back up from its sagging depths without losing too much of his dignity. Lizzie stood at Miss English’s elbow.

“I see you’ve sold the nut bowl,” he said.

“You told us to,” Miss English reminded him.

“Yes, I did.”

“It wasn’t solid silver. Nothing he had here was solid silver.”

Frank figured Devries was a careful man who wouldn’t leave anything valuable where someone else might get it. “He had another bowl of nuts upstairs, didn’t he?”

“What difference does that make?” Lizzie asked.

Frank shot her a look, but she didn’t seem intimidated.