“No one came to the house. This house, I mean. The only other people he would have seen are the other staff members, but none of them had a reason to attack Mr. Devries, and if one of them had, he surely would have raised an alarm.”
Just like he would’ve raised an alarm if somebody had stabbed him at the club. “What about his daughter-in- law?”
An emotion flickered across Roderick’s face too quickly for Frank to identify. “Why do you ask about her?”
“I’m just being thorough. Perhaps she noticed something. Did she see Mr. Devries that morning?”
“I have no idea. She may have.”
Another lie. Frank was sure of it. He wanted to ask if Garnet Devries was the kind of girl who might stick a knife in Mr. Devries, but Roderick would probably lie about that, too, if he didn’t die of shock at the suggestion. “Did Mr. Devries get along with his daughter-in-law?”
“I’m sure they had a very cordial relationship.”
“I thought you knew everything about him.”
Roderick flushed again. “They were always civil to each other in my presence.”
Civil. An interesting description. In his experience, people who were civil to each other were trying to hide stronger emotions, and Garnet Devries had seemed to enjoy the news that her father-in-law was dead.
He wondered how good a liar she would be.
“Let me get this straight now. Mr. Devries spent last night at his mistress’s house. He came home around nine o’clock this morning, had a bath and a shave, argued with his son—”
“I never said they argued!”
“Then argued with his wife, then was civil to his daughter-in-law, and then what? He left the house?”
Roderick’s face was scarlet. “Yes, he left the house.”
“What time?”
“Around eleven.”
“How long would it take him to get to the Knickerbocker Club from here?” Frank knew how long it had taken him in the cab Decker had chosen, but he wanted to find out how Devries had traveled.
“Ten or fifteen minutes if he walked.”
“Would he have walked?”
“He didn’t go straight to the club.”
Frank knew that. He hadn’t arrived at the club until much later. “Where did he go?”
“He had an appointment.”
“With who?”
Roderick’s lips tightened again. He either didn’t want to say or he wanted to say it too much. “With the person who probably killed him.”
3
FRANK KNEW BETTER THAN TO JUMP TO ANY CONCLUSIONS. “You think the person Mr. Devries saw after he left the house today is the one who killed him?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I do know that Mr. Devries was not looking forward to the interview.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Not in so many words, but as I said, I know…
“And what was his mood today?”
“He seemed preoccupied.”
“Worried?”
“That would be too strong a word, I believe. He was anticipating his meeting with Mr. Angotti with some concern.”
“Mr. Salvatore Angotti. He is a foreigner. Italian, if I recall.”
Frank just barely managed to keep his mouth from dropping open in surprise. An Italian. Doc Haynes thought Devries had been stabbed with a thin-bladed knife, like the kind Italians had brought with them to America. A stiletto. “What business would Mr. Devries have with an Italian?”
Roderick shrugged. “I have no idea. That is something you will have to discuss with Mr. Angotti.”
Frank leaned back in his chair and considered this information. “Do you usually keep track of Mr. Devries’s business appointments?”
“Certainly not, but I would inquire about his plans for the day in order to select the proper attire. This morning, he said,
“Do you know this Angotti?”
Once again Roderick stiffened. “No one with a name like Angotti would ever visit Mr. Devries at his home.”
This was undoubtedly true. “Had you heard of him before today?”
“I do not believe I have, no. And I’m afraid I was unable to conceal my surprise that Mr. Devries would be meeting with someone like that. He must have noticed, because he said,
“What did he mean by that?”
“I assumed he was hoping to never have to meet with the man again.”
“And you don’t have any idea who he is or how Mr. Devries knew him?”
“None at all.”
“Who would?”
“Someone at Mr. Devries’s offices may know this Angotti person. If anyone stabbed Mr. Devries, I’m sure he’s the one.”
And Frank was sure Felix Decker would be very pleased if he could put the blame for Devries’s murder on an Italian.
SARAH SAT AT HER KITCHEN TABLE, SAVORING THE LAST hour of the day. With Catherine safely tucked in for the night, she had just filled Maeve in on what she knew about Chilton Devries’s death and her plans to visit the widow tomorrow with her mother.
A knock at the door made them both sigh. “I knew this was too good to last.” Sarah rose and motioned for Maeve to stay put.
“Maybe it’s not a baby.”
“This late? What else could it be?”
What else indeed?
“Malloy,” she said with a welcoming smile when she’d opened the door. She’d long since stopped feeling guilty for the rush of joy she experienced whenever she saw him. His visits didn’t always make her happy, but he certainly made her life more interesting.
“I’m sorry to call so late,” he said, stepping into the entryway.
She closed the door and took his hat and coat. He looked tired. “You know you’re always welcome, but you’re especially welcome this evening. I need to find out what you’d like me to ask Mrs. Devries tomorrow.” She managed not to laugh out loud at his expression.
“How—Your father…?”
“He stopped by to see me after he left you. Come into the kitchen. Have you eaten?”
“The Devrieses’ cook took pity on me. I could use some coffee if you have any, though.”
“How is Brian doing in school?”
“He’s learning to sign new words every day. I can’t keep up with him.” Sarah could see his pride in his deaf
