“They’ll be upset when they hear about Chilly anyway,” Decker said. “Might as well get it all over with at once.”
“I’ll ring for the maid.” Paul moved to the bell rope.
“I’ll need a room where I can see them alone,” Frank said.
“The receiving room should do nicely.” Mrs. Devries rose. “I think I shall retire. All of this excitement is bad for my nerves. My doctor told me I should never become upset, you know. It’s the very worst thing when you have bad nerves.”
“I’m sorry to have distressed you, Lucretia,” Decker said, “but someone had to tell you about Chilly. I thought it would be easier from me than from a stranger.”
Paul stepped forward. “You were very kind to come yourself, wasn’t he, Mother? I know the truth of it hasn’t really sunk in for me yet. There’s so much to do, isn’t there? A funeral and…and …” He gestured vaguely.
“We’ll need mourning clothes, I suppose,” his mother said. “I detest wearing black, but there’s no help for it, is there?”
“No, Mother Devries, there’s no help for it.” Garnet sighed again and turned as the maid came in.
Frank waited as Paul told her that Mr. Malloy would like to speak with Roderick in the receiving room, and then he would like to see some of the other servants, too. Roderick would take care of all that. Her eyes were like saucers at the strange request, but, of course, she couldn’t question him. She’d have to wait for the gossip to make its way through the household.
“Are you going to tell this Roderick that Mr. Devries is dead?” he asked Paul.
The young man blanched. “Oh, uh, well, you can tell him, can’t you? I’m not good at that sort of thing, you know.”
Nobody was good at that sort of thing, but Frank just nodded. He hoped this Roderick wasn’t too fond of his master. He’d certainly resent having to find out about his death from a policeman, in any case.
Decker was expressing his condolences to Mrs. Devries, who managed to look stricken even though she obviously didn’t give a fig. She, in turn, thanked him for his concern and promised to let him know immediately if he could do anything to assist her. Frank figured she would think of a lot of ways he could do that. Mrs. Devries and Paul didn’t seem like the kind of people who could accomplish much on their own.
Garnet, however, was another matter entirely. She apparently had more brains than the other two put together. How had she ended up married to an idiot like Paul Devries? Frank would never understand the rich, who seemed to sell their daughters off to the highest bidder with no thought to whether they would be happy or not.
Then again, both of Felix Decker’s daughters had run off with men of their own choosing and neither of those marriages had ended so well, either.
Decker shook her hand and moved toward the door. “I’m sure Elizabeth will call on you as soon as she hears the news.”
Frank wished he could talk to Decker’s wife, Elizabeth, before she made that call. She had once assisted him on an investigation, and surely she could learn some useful information on this one if he told her what to ask. Unfortunately, Decker had no idea his wife had been involved in a murder case, and Frank wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.
Paul rang for the maid again to show him out.
“Mr. Malloy can walk out with me and wait downstairs for the valet,” Decker said.
Frank thanked them for their help, although they hadn’t helped him at all, and followed Decker out. He had the feeling Decker wanted a minute alone with him, but when they reached the front hallway, a man who could only be the valet Roderick was already waiting.
Decker took his hat from the maid and turned to Frank. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
Frank figured he would.
SARAH BRANDT WAS ENJOYING A RARE DAY AT HOME. AS A midwife, she had to be available night or day to go on a delivery, but no babies had seen fit to enter the world today, leaving her free to enjoy her foster daughter, Catherine. Her mother had also stopped by for a visit, although Sarah knew she had mostly come to see Catherine, who filled her need to have a grandchild.
They were all in the child’s bedroom, sipping make-believe tea from a tiny china set, when the front doorbell rang.
Catherine’s bottom lip immediately popped into a pout.
“I’ll answer it.” Her nursemaid, Maeve, jumped up from her place on the floor. “Maybe it’s not a birth. Maybe it’s Mr. Malloy,” she added with a wicked grin. Catherine clapped her hands and Sarah smiled. The child adored Frank Malloy.
“Have you seen Mr. Malloy lately?” Mrs. Decker asked from where she sat on Catherine’s bed.
Sarah wasn’t fooled by her mother’s seemingly innocent question. “No, not lately.” She pushed herself up from the floor. Whoever was at the door would probably want to see her even if they didn’t need her for a delivery.
A man’s voice rumbled below.
“Heavens, that sounds like your father,” Mrs. Decker said.
“What would he be doing here?” Sarah couldn’t remember the last time her father had been to her modest home. Surely not since her husband, Tom, died, over four years ago.
“Maybe he’s looking for me. Oh, dear, I hope nothing bad has happened. Sarah, you really should get a telephone. You have no idea how convenient they are.”
“And you have no idea how expensive they are, Mother.” Sarah left the room with her mother and Catherine close behind. From the stair landing she caught Maeve looking up, her expression mirroring her own astonishment.
“Father, what a nice surprise.”
“I hope it is.” He blinked. “Elizabeth, I didn’t know you were here.”
“You didn’t? We thought you might have come looking for me.”
“No, I…I needed to speak with Sarah, but I’m glad you’re here. It will save me having to tell it twice.”
Sarah felt a tug as Catherine peered from behind her skirts. “Darling, you remember Mr. Decker, don’t you?”
The child nodded.
“I’m very pleased to see you again, Catherine,” he said. “I believe you’ve grown since I saw you last.”
Catherine looked up at Sarah.
“I believe she has.” Sarah couldn’t blame Catherine for not answering. Her father spent his life intimidating his own business associates. Even when he was trying to be charming, he could seem frightening to a child.
“Should I take Catherine upstairs, Mrs. Brandt?” Maeve asked.
“Yes, please.”
“We won’t be long, I’m sure,” Mrs. Decker said with a smile that held all the warmth her husband’s did not. “Then I’ll be back to finish our tea party.”
Sarah saw her father’s eyebrows rise, but he said nothing as his wife stroked Catherine’s smooth cheek before Maeve took the child’s hand and led her back up the stairs.
“Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ll make some coffee.” Sarah led them to the kitchen, her home’s main gathering place. Her front room had long since been converted into an office for her late husband’s medical practice and where she still consulted with her own patients.
“I hope you aren’t here to tell us something horrible,” her mother said as her parents took seats at the well-worn kitchen table. Sarah doubted her father had sat in many kitchens in his life, but she offered no apologies. She started making the coffee.
“Chilton Devries died.”
“Good heavens! Was it an accident?”
“No, I believe it was on purpose.”
Sarah looked up.
“Your Mr. Malloy believes he was murdered.”
Sarah didn’t bother to point out that he wasn’t
