investigating?”
“I called him in, yes.”
Any reply she made would be wrong, so she busied herself with filling the coffeepot.
“You were very wise to choose Mr. Malloy, my dear,” her mother said. “Now tell us everything.”
While her father explained, Sarah set the pot on the stove to boil, then took a seat at the table.
“So then Mr. Malloy and I called on the Devrieses to break the news.”
“Dear heaven,” her mother said. “I suppose Lucretia became hysterical.”
“Oddly enough, no. She merely seemed put out.”
Sarah frowned. “Put out? You mean she was annoyed that her husband had died?”
“Yes, and not nearly as grief-stricken as I hope you would be if I died,” he added to his wife.
“I would be inconsolable,” she replied.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I’m trying to remember who the Devrieses are,” Sarah said.
“You remember their son, Paul, I’m sure. You’re of an age, I believe. Mousey little boy with yellow hair. Never had much to say for himself.”
“Which hardly makes him memorable, but I think I may have danced with him a time or two when we were growing up. Is he married?”
Her mother nodded. “Yes, but I don’t think his wife is anyone you’d know. I don’t think I even know where she came from. I can’t seem recall her name, either.”
“Garnet,” her father said. “She started laughing when she heard Devries was dead.”
Elizabeth Decker’s eyebrows rose. “Laughing?”
“I’m sure it was hysteria. The shock.”
“I’m sure.” She didn’t sound it.
“Why did you feel you needed to make a special trip here to tell me all this?” Sarah asked.
To her surprise, her father didn’t answer right away. He glanced from her mother to his well-tended hands. He finally looked up, and Sarah had never seen her father look so uncertain before. “I know you have assisted Mr. Malloy with his investigations in the past.”
“Felix—”
Without turning away, he raised a hand to silence her mother. “I have not always approved of your involvement with him. You have, at times, even put yourself in danger.”
Sarah felt her hackles rising. She had fought against his will her entire life, even estranging herself from both her parents for years. She wasn’t going to submit now. “Father, I’m a grown woman and—”
“I know, I know. I don’t want to argue with you, Sarah. Just hear me out. I don’t believe you have any reason to involve yourself in this investigation. You hardly know the Devries family, but I was hoping you would accompany your mother when she makes a condolence call tomorrow.”
Both women gaped at him. Sarah found her tongue first. “A condolence call?”
He turned to his wife. “I’m afraid I already promised Lucretia you would call.”
“Of course I will. She may be insufferable, but we’ve known them all our lives. But why do you want Sarah to go with me?”
Sarah caught his glance. “Because something is very strange in that house, and I doubt Mr. Malloy has the slightest chance of finding out what it is.”
RODERICK WAS A MAN OF MIDDLE YEARS, AND FRANK could see he took his position as valet to the master of the house very seriously. His suit and shirt were impeccable. His neatly parted dark hair, lightly touched with gray, lay smoothly against his head. His suspicious glare also said he didn’t appreciate being called away from his duties by the likes of Frank Malloy.
“Mary Catherine said you wanted to speak with me,” Roderick said when Mr. Decker had taken his leave.
“Yes.” Frank led him into the ugly little receiving room and closed the door. “Would you like to sit down?”
Roderick stiffened, not giving an inch. “I don’t think that …”
“Mr. Devries is dead.”
Frank’s words had the desired effect. Roderick blinked a few times, and the color drained from his face, along with all resistance. Frank took his arm and put him into one of the wooden chairs that formed practically the only furnishings in the room.
He looked up, his face slack. “Dead? But how…?”
“We think he was murdered.” Frank sat down across from him and waited. The man who had risen to the exalted position of valet had been serving wealthy people most of his life. He’d overheard every intimate detail of their lives. Frank hoped Roderick would blurt out his opinion of someone’s guilt, but the silence grew deafening. He was far too well trained for that. He wouldn’t be where he was if he hadn’t learned to keep the family’s secrets to himself.
“How? When?” he finally asked. To his credit, he was the only one in the house so far who had reacted as if he cared what had happened to the dead man.
“We don’t know exactly. That’s why I need to talk to everyone who might’ve seen him today. I’m trying to figure out where he was and who he might’ve been with.”
Roderick stiffened again and color flooded back to his face. “I’m sure I have no idea where he was after he left the house today.”
“He didn’t mention where he was going? Maybe he had a business meeting or an appointment with somebody.”
“Mr. Devries kept his own counsel. He wasn’t one to confide in his servants.”
Frank nodded as if he understood perfectly the habits of wealthy men. “You knew him better than anyone, though. Did he seem anxious or worried about anything?”
“I’m sure I couldn’t say.”
“Don’t know or just couldn’t say?”
Roderick blinked again. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. Look, Roderick, here’s what happened. Somebody stabbed Devries in the back.”
The valet gasped.
“But he didn’t die right away. We don’t know what he got stabbed with, but the wound was small, and he must not have known how badly he was hurt. He went on about his business for a while, and when he got to his club this afternoon, he sat down in a chair and died. So now we need to figure out where he was today so we can figure out who could’ve stabbed him.”
“No one here would have harmed Mr. Devries.”
“I didn’t say anybody did. I asked you to tell me where else he might’ve been today.”
Roderick’s dark eyes narrowed. “You said he was injured a long time before he died.”
“That’s right.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
“Could it have been…early this morning?”
“Maybe. What happened early this morning?”
“I don’t know. I mean, Mr. Devries wasn’t here.”
“Where was he?”
“He…He spent the night elsewhere.”
Frank leaned forward in his chair. “Do you know where?”
“As I said, Mr. Devries keeps his own counsel…or, at least, he did.”
“But you’re pretty sure you know where he was.”
Roderick’s lips tightened as if he were trying to hold back what he wanted to say. “He owns a house down on Mercer Street, near Washington Square.”
“And you think he was there last night?”
“He stays there frequently.” Roderick sighed. “I don’t suppose it matters now, but…someone else lives
