Murder on Marble Row

by Victoria Thompson

  Leo glared at his sister. “How’s he going to learn then, if nobody shows him?” he demanded, signing also to include his parents.

  His parents chuckled, and even Frank had to smile.

  Leo held out his hand to Brian and jerked his head toward a corner of the room where Leo had laid out some toys. “Come on,” he said, and started toward the toys.

  Brian looked at Frank questioningly. Plainly, he understood the invitation, although how he could, Frank had no idea, but he was clinging possessively to Frank’s lapel. Frank nodded encouragingly. Brian looked back at Leo, who was sitting down on the floor beside the toys. He began to set up a row of wooden soldiers, and again he motioned for Brian to join him.

  After another pleading look at Frank, who nodded again, Brian finally scrambled down and hesitatingly made his way over to where Leo sat on the floor. The older boy offered him a soldier, and Brian sank down beside him and began to help.

  Bernard made some signs.

  “He says, what do you want to ask him?” Trude translated.

  Frank had so many questions, he didn’t even know where to start. “Everything, I guess,” he said. “How did they learn sign language . . . and how did you learn to talk if they can’t?” he added to Trude.

  She smiled importantly. “That’s easy. We just did.” Then she turned to her father and asked Frank’s questions.

  For the next hour, they conversed in this awkward way, with Frank asking and Trude translating both questions and answers with signs and giving the answers verbally back to Frank.

  He learned that Bernard had been born deaf, like Brian, even though no one else in his family was deaf. His parents had sent him to school when he was young, and he’d learned sign language and all the other things a child learns in school. When he got old enough, he’d been apprenticed to a printer. Many deaf men became printers because the job required little verbal communication to perform and deaf men weren’t bothered by the loud noise of the presses. As a skilled laborer, he earned a good wage.

  Mrs. Isenberg had become deaf after having a high fever when she was six. She could speak, although her speech was sometimes difficult to understand, and she lip-read fairly well. Still, she preferred using sign language, and it was a necessity when communicating with her husband. She’d met Bernard at the school they’d both attended. She’d learned all the academic subjects she would have at a regular school, as well as the womanly skills of sewing and cooking and cleaning. She was glad that both of her children could hear. Life was hard even when all your senses worked properly, but she and Bernard had a good life together. Brian could, too, she assured Frank.

  “He needs to be in school, though,” Trude said with no prompting from her parents. Her mother poked her as a reprimand for presuming to instruct an adult, but she stood firm. “He does!”

  Frank had been watching Brian and Leo from the corner of his eye during the conversation with the Isenbergs, and he could see the boys were getting along fine. Leo kept making signs to Brian and coaxing him to imitate them. Brian’s small fingers were nimbly mimicking Leo’s, although Frank was sure he had no idea what he was doing besides playing a game with a new friend.

  Seeing that the adults were watching them, Leo scrambled to his feet. “See what he’s learned already.” He led Brian over to them, and pointed at himself. Brian made some quick signs with his fingers, and the Isenbergs laughed in delight, making Brian grin.

  “What did he say?” Frank asked, intrigued.

  “He spelled Leo,” Leo said proudly. Then he pointed at Brian, and the boy made different signs. The Isenbergs clapped in approval, and Brian brightened and clapped, too.

  “He spelled his own name,” Trude told a mystified Frank.

  “Watch this,” Leo commanded them. He pointed at Frank and made a sign like a salute, with a hand to his forehead and then lowered it, palm up. Brian tried to imitate him, and after a few tries and some additional guidance from Leo, he made the sign correctly. Then Leo pointed at Frank, and Brian happily made the sign.

  “What did he say?” Frank asked Leo.

  “He said Father. He knows your name now.”

  Thrilled at being the center of attention, Brian made the sign again, looking up at Frank with his small face aglow with pride. Frank felt the sting of tears and a rush of love so strong it staggered him. He snatched Brian up and hugged him fiercely to his chest.

  “I think he’ll send him to school now,” Trude said.

  12

  SARAH FELT A LOT BETTER THE NEXT MORNING. SHE’D gone straight home and right to bed after that awful scene in the Van Dykes’ parlor. Fortunately, she wasn’t summoned to deliver any more babies, so she’d spent most of the time since then sound asleep. Now she felt ready to face the Van Dykes again. With any luck at all, they’d figure out who killed Mr. Van Dyke today, and she could forget all about their petty bickering and scandals, at least Sarah hoped so as she set out for Marble Row.

  The maid greeted her warmly and took her cloak. “Miss Alberta and Mr. Tad haven’t come down yet,” she said. “Mr. Creighton went out early and isn’t back yet, and Mrs. Van Dyke already has a visitor. You can wait down here if you like, and I’ll see if Miss Alberta can receive you.”

  “Who is Mrs. Van Dyke’s visitor, Ella?” Sarah asked, knowing full well the maid shouldn’t reveal such information. “If it’s Mr. Malloy, I know he wouldn’t mind if I interrupted them,” she added, hoping to trick her into telling.

  “Oh, no, it’s Mr. Snowberger,” the girl said gravely. Plainly, she was certain Sarah wouldn’t dream of interrupting such an important person.

  She was wrong. “Really?” Sarah said brightly. “I’ve been wanting to see him to express my condolences,” she lied, heading for the stairs.

  “Wait, Mrs. Brandt,” Ella cried in alarm, hurrying after her. “I’ll announce you.”

  “No need,” Sarah said, climbing the stairs as quickly as she could so the girl couldn’t catch up with her. “Mr. Snowberger is an old friend.” Just a slight bending of the truth. She had known him all her life, although he’d never been particularly friendly.

  “Mrs. Van Dyke don’t like it when I don’t announce people,” the girl was arguing as she tried to catch up to Sarah.

  The front parlor door was closed. Sarah figured Allen Snowberger would merit being entertained in the best room, so she headed straight there.

  “Please, Mrs. Brandt,” Ella begged, but Sarah had already reached the door and threw it open. What she saw stopped her dead in her tracks.

  Allen Snowberger was sitting on the sofa with Lilly Van Dyke in his lap. His face was buried in her bosom, and when the sound of the door opening brought his head up, Sarah could plainly see that Lilly’s bodice hung open and her breasts were completely exposed.

  Lilly jumped up with a shriek, grabbing the edges of her bodice and yanking them together as she stumbled away from Snowberger. As for him, he bolted to his feet, hastily turning his back. He began adjusting the front of his trousers.

  “Pardon me,” Sarah said insincerely. She’d been hoping to catch Lilly and Snowberger unawares, but not this unawares.

  “I’m terrible sorry, Mrs. Van Dyke,” Ella exclaimed frantically, coming up beside Sarah. Both of the room’s occupants had their backs to her, so she was spared the shock Sarah had sustained. “I tried to stop her!”

  “Get out,” Lilly screeched. “Just get out!”

  Looking terrified, Ella did as she was bid. Lilly had probably meant the command for Sarah, too, but she closed the parlor door behind her and stayed right where she was. “Does Mr. Malloy know the two of you are having an affair?” she asked mildly.

  They both started and turned sharply to look at her. They obviously had thought she’d left with Ella.

  “We aren’t having an affair,” Snowberger insisted. He’d finished with his trousers and now turned to face her fully, running a hand nervously down his waistcoat, as if checking to make sure everything was in place.

&n
bsp; “Oh,” Sarah said in surprise. “I suppose you were giving Mrs. Van Dyke a medical examination, then. You were certainly close enough to hear her heart beating.”

  His face flushed scarlet, but he continued to meet her gaze defiantly. Now that he’d gotten a look at her, he was trying to decide if she was really someone he need worry about. He wouldn’t recognize her, of course, since he hadn’t seen her in years.

  Lilly was still struggling with her bodice, but she whirled on Sarah. “Why can’t you mind your own business? No one invited you here!”

  “Alberta asked me to come by and check on Mr. Reed,” Sarah lied. “I thought Ella said I would find them in here. I certainly didn’t intend to find you . . . well, the way I found you.” This much was true.

  “Who are you?” Snowberger demanded.

  “Felix Decker’s daughter,” Sarah replied, giving him the fact most likely to inspire fear in him. “You may call me Mrs. Brandt.”

  He blanched. He now knew she was dangerous indeed. “Mrs. Brandt,” he tried again, more conciliatory this time. “I think you misunderstood what you saw here. Mrs. Van Dyke and I are old friends. I was merely trying to comfort her on the loss of her husband, who also happened to be my friend and partner.”

  “You have an interesting way of offering comfort, Mr. Snowberger,” Sarah said. “I’m sure Mr. Malloy will find your relationship with Mrs. Van Dyke very interesting.”

  “I’ve already spoken with Mr. Malloy about it,” Snowberger assured her, “so you need not trouble yourself. He understands completely.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows, remembering what Malloy had said about knowing Lilly had at least one lover. But if he knew about Snowberger, why hadn’t he mentioned him as a possible suspect when they were discussing this yesterday? “What exactly does Mr. Malloy understand?” she asked.

  Snowberger smiled in that condescending way some men did when explaining something to a female he considered of inferior intelligence. “He understands that Mrs. Van Dyke and I are merely . . . friends.”

  “Friends?” Lilly shrieked again. “We’re more than friends, you pudding-headed gasbag, and you’d better not forget what I told you!”

  “Lilly, shut up,” Snowberger said nervously.

  Ignoring him, Lilly turned to Sarah, lifted her chin, and said, “Allen and I are going to be married.”

  Behind her, someone threw the door open again, nearly knocking her over, and Tad Van Dyke burst in, with Lewis Reed and Alberta right behind.

  “What did you say, Lilly?” Tad demanded, his young face white to the lips.

  “Nothing, Tad,” Snowberger assured him hastily. “She’s very upset and isn’t thinking clearly.”

  Lilly looked at Snowberger as if she’d like to slit his throat, but Tad distracted her.

  “You said you were going to marry him!” he repeated, horrified.

  Alberta had noticed something else. “Lilly, what happened to your dress?”

  Lilly glanced down at her half-buttoned bodice. When she raised her head again, she gazed straight at Snowberger with a triumphant smile. “Allen was simply sampling what is going to be his.”

  Snowberger was desperate with either embarrassment or fear. “It isn’t what you think,” he said to no one in particular.

  “It’s exactly what you think,” Lilly insisted.

  Tad made a strange sound and took a step toward Lilly, then stopped, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.

  “Mr. Snowberger,” Reed said, his voice quivering with outrage. “How could you? Mr. Van Dyke isn’t even in his grave yet.”

  Snowberger stared at Reed in surprise for a moment before giving a bark of mirthless laughter. “Are you presuming to chasten me, you little toad? You wouldn’t dare come near this house if Gregory was alive. He told me how you’d tried to get under his unfortunate daughter’s skirts just so you could get your hands on his money.”

  Instinctively, Reed lunged for him, but Alberta and Sarah grabbed him and held him back.

  “Don’t, Lewis!” Alberta cried.

  “Listen to her, Lewis,” Snowberger advised. “Lay a hand on me, and I’ll have you arrested. In fact, if you so much as show your face at my office again, I’ll have you arrested.”

  “For what?” Reed challenged, surprising Sarah. Apparently, he could show some spirit when aroused.

  “Trespassing,” Snowberger said smugly. “You are no longer employed at Van Dyke and Snowberger.”

  Reed was livid, but common sense prevailed. His face was still bright red with rage, but he straightened away from Alberta and Sarah’s restraining hands, squaring his shoulders. “Come, Bertie. This is no place for you.” He took her arm and led her out of the room.

  Tad was still staring at Lilly, his face a mask of misery. “Lilly, I don’t believe you,” he was saying. “You said we’d always—”

  “Go away, Tad,” she said quickly, cutting him off. “You’re just a boy, and now you’re a poor boy. Don’t be a nuisance. Allen and I have things to discuss.”

  He looked at Snowberger and back at Lilly again. She was fiddling with her buttons, pretending to fasten them, and didn’t even spare him a glance. With a cry of despair, he turned and fled the room.

  Finally, Lilly looked up at Sarah. “I’m sure you were just leaving, too,” she said coldly.

  “And so am I,” Snowberger said hastily.

  “Allen!” Lilly cried in protest, but he was already moving toward the door.

  “I’ll . . . We’ll talk later,” he said over his shoulder.

  “You promised!” she called after him, hurrying to the door, but he was gone, clattering across the hall and down the stairs with unseemly haste.

  “What did he promise?” Sarah asked.

  But Lilly only glared at her and flounced out of the room. Something important had happened here, and Malloy needed to know about it. Without bothering to ask permission, Sarah went to the small room under the stairs where the Van Dykes kept their telephone. She called Police Headquarters and, after careful consideration, left a message for Malloy to call Mrs. Felix Decker at her home. Waiting here for him to arrive could be awkward, particularly since Lilly was so angry with her at the moment. Besides, Lilly might have her thrown out. She might not really be the mistress of the house anymore, but the servants didn’t know it yet. Her mother would welcome her, though, and she could wait there as long as necessary for Malloy to reappear.

  FRANK COULDN’T BELIEVE HE WAS GOING TO FELIX Decker’s house. The instant he’d gotten the message to telephone Mrs. Decker, he’d known it was from Sarah. She’d been meddling again, in spite of his warnings and threats, and now she claimed to have important information. If only she could’ve told him over the telephone, but with operators listening and the connection being so poor, he’d had no choice but to meet her at her parents’ house to discuss it.

  He wondered if he could convince her mother to tie up Sarah and keep her there until he’d solved this case.

  To his surprise, the Deckers’ townhouse wasn’t nearly as grand as the Van Dykes’. Away from the bustle of Fifth Avenue, their street was quiet and the homes comparatively modest. A maid opened the door and welcomed him by name, telling him he was expected. He asked if Mr. Decker was home, and she informed him Mr. Decker was out of town on business. At least he’d be spared having to deal with the old man.

  The maid showed him to a distinctly feminine room in the back of the house that overlooked a patch of yard and a tree. Sarah and her mother were there, sitting on a small sofa in front of a crackling fire, and Sarah rose to meet him, smiling the way she always did when she saw him. She didn’t look tired this morning. She looked beautiful.

  “Malloy,” she said by way of greeting. “Come and sit down. We have a lot to tell you.”

  Frank nodded at Mrs. Decker, who had also risen from her seat. “Good morning, Mrs. Decker.”

  “Good morning to you, too, Mr. Malloy.” Her mother looked well kept, as always. “Sarah has made s
ome exciting discoveries.”

  “So she said,” Frank replied as neutrally as he could. He took the wingback chair opposite the sofa and tried to remember he couldn’t yell at Sarah in front of her mother.

  “Lilly and Snowberger are having an affair,” Sarah announced when they were all settled.

  Frank couldn’t help but glance at Mrs. Decker to see her reaction to such a bald and shocking statement coming from her daughter. She seemed remarkably undisturbed. Frank wondered how long that would last. “I know,” he said. “Snowberger already told me.”

  “Did Mr. Van Dyke know about it?” Sarah asked.

  “Snowberger made a point of telling him, or so he said. They’d been rivals all of their lives, and Van Dyke had recently made him lose money in a business deal. He did it to get revenge on Van Dyke once and for all, not because he had any affection for Mrs. Van Dyke.”

  “How ungentlemanly,” Mrs. Decker said with a frown of disapproval. “Adultery is unforgivable under any circumstances, of course, but to compromise a woman’s honor simply for revenge is unconscionable.”

  “It would be, if it’s true,” Sarah said. “I suppose he was the one who told you he didn’t have any affection for her.”

  “Yes. He said he only . . .” He glanced at Mrs. Decker while he searched for an acceptable way to say it. “That is, they were only . . . It just happened once.”

  “That would hardly qualify as an affair,” Mrs. Decker pointed out, not the least disturbed. “That would merely be a seduction.”

  “And he only did it to humiliate his partner. He said he hopes never to see Mrs. Van Dyke again,” Frank explained, glad to put an end to this uncomfortable discussion.

  “Except he saw her just this morning,” Sarah informed him.

  “Sarah caught them in flagrante delicto,” Mrs. Van Dyke added with apparent pride.

  “In what?” Frank asked, knowing the words couldn’t possibly mean what he thought they did, especially not if Mrs. Decker had said them.