Murder on Lenox Hill

by Victoria Thompson

  “I understand you don’t have any children of your own,” Frank began, watching the minister carefully for reaction.

  His eyes widened in surprise. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Why is that, I wonder, a big, strong man like you? You look like you could father a whole baseball team of boys.”

  Upchurch flushed crimson. “I don’t question God’s will,” he tried.

  “Are you sure it’s God’s will and not something else?”

  “How dare you ask a question like that? Get out of my office.”

  Frank ignored the request. “The reason I’m asking is that I heard a rumor about you.”

  The color quickly receded from the minister’s face. “Gossip, you mean. Surely, you know how accurate gossip is.”

  “Where there’s smoke, I usually find some fire, Reverend, and the source of this . . . gossip was pretty reliable.”

  “You must understand that when someone is successful at something, certain people will always try to discredit them. You might not realize it, but even ministers can be jealous of one another. People in the church get angry, too. They want things to be as they were before. They don’t like new people coming into the church, so they start making up stories about the minister.”

  Frank could see how agitated he was, a stark contrast to how cool and confident he’d been at their last meeting. “What kind of stories do they make up about you?”

  “I have no idea!” he almost shouted. “They say that I’m . . . They say I waste too much time on the children in the church. They want me to visit the elderly members more. They want me to preach better sermons. They want me to preach shorter sermons or longer ones. No matter what I do, someone is displeased.”

  “Do you think you waste too much time on the children?” Frank asked mildly.

  “What do you mean?” His composure was thoroughly broken now. Frank thought he might even be sweating beneath his clerical collar.

  “What do you think about women, Reverend Upchurch?” he asked, ignoring the question.

  He blinked in surprise. “I . . . they’re God’s blessing to mankind. They must be sheltered and protected.”

  “Protected from the lusts of men?”

  “Yes! And if you’re talking about Grace Linton—”

  “I’m talking about your wife, Reverend Upchurch. Should she be protected from the lusts of men?”

  “My wife? She . . . Of course! What are—”

  “Should she be protected from your lusts, Reverend Upchurch?”

  “Yes! I mean, no! What are you talking about?” he cried.

  “I’m talking about why you don’t have any children of your own, Reverend Upchurch. You protect your wife from your lusts because you don’t like women at all, do you?”

  “What? Of course I do. I have every respect—”

  “But you don’t lust after them, do you? In fact, they disgust you.”

  “No, I—”

  “Grown women disgust you, don’t they?” Frank insisted, leaning forward into Upchurch’s sweating face. “You’ve got to have younger flesh, innocent flesh.”

  “That’s insane! You’re insane!”

  “And that’s why you seduced Grace Linton, because no one is more innocent than she is!” Frank concluded in triumph.

  Upchurch’s protest died on his lips, and he simply gaped at Frank, his eyes wide with shock for a long moment until the meaning of his words finally registered. Then slowly he closed his mouth and slowly the color returned to his face as the confidence returned to his manner. “Is that what you think? That I seduced Grace?” To Frank’s amazement, he threw back his head and laughed. Frank recognized it as the laugh of an innocent man who had nothing to fear from the police.

  “What’s so funny?” Frank demanded, furious that he’d allowed Sarah to convince him without more proof.

  “You are, Detective. Coming in here and accusing me of something like that. Ask Grace if I’ve ever laid a hand on her. You said she couldn’t name her attacker, but if I were he, she’d be able to identify me. She knows me as well as she knows anyone. She and her mother are here four or five days a week. But I have never even been alone with Grace, and you will never prove that I was, no matter how many people you try to intimidate. Grace herself will exonerate me.”

  “But your wife . . .” Frank said before he could catch himself.

  “My wife? Oh, yes. I should have told you when you were here before that she cannot be trusted. As you pointed out, we have no children, and I’m afraid it has affected her mind. She imagines things that aren’t true and delights in shocking people by telling them as fact. I try to keep her away from people as much as I can, but short of putting her in an asylum, it’s impossible to confine her completely. Did she tell you that I’ve never touched her? Of course she did. I can see it on your face. She blames me for not giving her children, so she made up that horrible lie to punish me.”

  “You deny it, then?”

  “I’ll admit that I ceased having relations with my wife a few years ago, as soon as I realized how fragile her mental state is. I couldn’t take a chance that we’d finally have a child to be raised by an incompetent mother.”

  “That must be difficult, living with your wife and not enjoying her.”

  “It is, but it is my duty to protect her from herself. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to end this unpleasant discussion and get back to my work. I’m finishing my sermon for tomorrow, and I’d like to be done by the time people start coming in for Saturday activities.”

  Frank didn’t want to leave. He knew Upchurch hadn’t raped Grace Linton, but something else was wrong, very wrong, with Reverend Upchurch. It might not have anything to do with Grace, but it was there just the same. Trouble was, he didn’t know what it was, so he didn’t know what questions to ask or how to force it out of him. Even worse, if he tried without knowing, he wouldn’t succeed in doing anything except irritating the minister enough to complain about him to his superiors. That would ensure Frank would be forbidden from speaking to him again and possibly even lose his job, in the bargain.

  Left with no other choice, he rose to his feet. Before he could think of something to say, someone rapped on the office door and without waiting for a reply, pushed it open. A young boy about thirteen or fourteen burst into the room, halting abruptly when he saw Frank. His broad, expectant smile faded to uncertainty.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know—”

  “That’s all right, Percy. The detective was just leaving,” Reverend Upchurch said with a knowing smile at Frank.

  Frank tried to think of something cutting to say, but nothing came to mind that didn’t sound foolish. He turned and walked toward the door where the boy still stood. He stepped aside warily to let Frank pass. Frank noticed how clean he looked. He seldom saw a really clean boy. Boys in the Lower East Side rarely washed at all, and those in the better parts of the city managed to collect grime like a magnet the moment they left their mothers’ sides.

  Percy watched him, his large eyes wide with innocence and a touch of fear for the terrible policeman. Frank tried to remember ever being that young and innocent, but failed. He nodded politely at the boy, but Percy just kept staring back, mesmerized.

  When Frank was in the hallway, Reverend Upchurch said, “Close the door, Percy, so we can have our private talk.”

  “Why is that policeman back?” the boy asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, nothing’s wrong,” Upchurch said, just as the door closed.

  No, nothing at all, Frank thought angrily. He’d done everything right. He’d asked the right questions, and he’d terrified Upchurch—right up until he’d mentioned Grace Linton. Frank was now certain that Upchurch hadn’t harmed Grace Linton. He’d actually been relieved when he realized that’s what Frank was talking about. But he was guilty of something else, something evil. Frank just had to figure out what.

  Lost in thought as he walked through the sanctuary, he
almost didn’t see the boy sitting on the back pew. Frank remembered him from his last visit. He was the youngest of the group who had been cleaning the church. He stared up at Frank with the same frightened innocence as Percy.

  “You here to see Reverend Upchurch?” Frank asked, ready to tell him the minister was in his office with Percy.

  “No, sir. It’s Percy’s turn,” he said, his voice showing no sign of being ready to change.

  “Turn for what?”

  The boy hesitated, not sure if he should answer but afraid not to. “We . . . we each have a turn with him. Private time, he calls it.”

  “Private time for what?”

  The boy squirmed in his seat. “We talk. He . . . he teaches us stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff does he teach you?”

  The boy shrugged. “Stuff our fathers would teach us. We don’t have fathers, and our mothers don’t know what a father would teach us.”

  “Mark!” a young voice called sharply.

  Frank looked up to see another of the boys from the cleaning group coming toward them. He’d just come into the sanctuary, and now he was hurrying over to Frank and Mark.

  “What’s going on? What’s he saying to you?” he asked Mark.

  “Nothing,” Mark said defensively.

  “Is there something he shouldn’t tell me?” Frank asked. “Something that’s a secret?”

  “No,” the older boy said, then turned back to Mark. “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing, Isaiah,” he said defensively. “I’m just waiting for Percy.”

  “He was telling me how Reverend Upchurch spends private time with each of you boys, teaching you things,” Frank said, watching Isaiah’s reaction.

  The boy was already angry, and that made him angrier. “It’s none of your business what Reverend Upchurch does. It ain’t against the law or anything.”

  “He just likes us,” Mark offered.

  “Yeah, he likes us. You gonna arrest him for that?” Isaiah challenged.

  “No,” Frank admitted. “Not for that.”

  He looked down at Mark one last time. Another clean boy, neat and scrubbed and innocent. Frank walked away, aware of the boys watching suspiciously.

  Out on the church steps, he stopped to button his coat and wrap his muffler more tightly, but even as he stared out at the crowds moving down the busy street, he saw the faces of the three boys. Young and innocent.

  Something tugged at his consciousness, something important, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He was sure of one thing, though. Upchurch hadn’t raped Grace Linton, and he’d have to tell Sarah Brandt she’d been wrong.

  9

  SARAH READ THE BRIEF NOTE THREE TIMES BEFORE SHE was sure she understood Malloy’s message. “He didn’t do it.” Apparently, Malloy had questioned Upchurch and somehow determined he hadn’t raped Grace Linton. Sarah couldn’t believe it. She’d been so sure Upchurch was guilty. Now she had to figure out what Mrs. Upchurch had meant or if Malloy was right, that she’d just been trying to blacken her husband’s name. It was an ugly thought, but no uglier than anything else that had happened.

  What now? Sarah wondered. Another visit to the Lintons? No, they had nothing more to tell her, and they’d certainly wonder why she was back nosing into their affairs. Call on Mrs. Upchurch again? If she had been lying before, she’d only lie again. But had she been lying? Had Upchurch somehow fooled Malloy? Not likely, but someone had raped Grace, and the only place she encountered potential rapists was at that church.

  From upstairs, Sarah could hear Maeve talking to Aggie. The girls were playing with Aggie’s dolls. Sometimes Sarah thought Maeve enjoyed it as much as Aggie did. She’d had no dolls in the hovel where she grew up. Tomorrow was Sunday, Maeve’s day off. She’d go to the mission for the Sunday services there and to visit with the other girls. The mission was the best home she’d known, and what was left of her family had disappeared into the teeming tenements, leaving no trace.

  Sarah usually took Aggie to the mission services on Sunday, too, if she didn’t have a delivery, but maybe she should try taking her to a real church for a change. She’d been invited to attend the Church of the Good Shepherd several times. Perhaps she’d accept those invitations. Malloy would probably disapprove, but he didn’t have to know.

  GRACE LINTON SAW THEM FIRST. SHE AND HER PARENTS were already seated in the sanctuary, but Grace was looking over her shoulder so she could watch who was coming in.

  “Mrs. Brandt!” she cried, waving furiously.

  Her mother shushed her, but she looked, too, and smiled a greeting.

  “Would you like to sit with the Lintons?” the usher asked and escorted Sarah and Aggie down the aisle.

  Mr. Linton rose politely, and Mrs. Linton said, “I’m so glad you decided to visit our church.” All of them looked at Aggie curiously.

  Sarah wished them all a good morning. “This is Aggie. She’s recently come to live with me,” she explained. “Aggie, this is Mr. and Mrs. Linton and their daughter, Grace.”

  Aggie smiled shyly.

  “We’re pleased to meet you, Aggie,” Mrs. Linton said.

  “Aggie is very quiet,” Sarah added.

  “That’s good,” Grace said, “because you have to be quiet in church or people look at you. Will you come sit next to me, Aggie?”

  Aggie looked up at Sarah for permission, and Sarah nodded. The Lintons made room in the pew for Aggie and Sarah, who sat on Aggie’s other side. When they were settled, Sarah took a moment to glance around.

  Their arrival had caused a bit of a stir, and a few heads had turned their way. Strangers smiled and nodded in welcome. Across the aisle, she saw Mrs. Evans and her daughter, Mrs. York. Percy wasn’t with them. He probably preferred to sit with his friends.

  As she continued to look around, Sarah felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Instinctively, she looked to her right and there she saw Mrs. Upchurch. She stood at the other end of their aisle, staring directly at Sarah. She seemed to glow with fury, and her plain features had taken on a strange beauty. She held Sarah’s gaze for a long moment, as if trying to send her a silent message. If she wanted to let Sarah know how angry she was, she succeeded. Beyond that, Sarah couldn’t begin to guess what was wrong. Could Mrs. Upchurch be angry because Malloy had confronted her husband? If she didn’t want her husband exposed, then why had she confided in Sarah in the first place?

  “My goodness,” Mrs. Linton said softly, noticing the minister’s wife’s scowl. That seemed to break the spell, and Mrs. Upchurch turned away, taking her place in one of the front pews.

  “You’ve met Mrs. Upchurch, I assume?” Mrs. Linton said, speaking over Grace and Aggie.

  “Yes, I . . . I called on her the other day.”

  Mrs. Linton’s expression silently reminded her that she’d been warned.

  “Maybe Mrs. Brandt will bring you to visit me sometime,” Grace was saying to Aggie.

  Aggie gave Sarah a pleading look. “I’m sure we’d both enjoy that,” Sarah said diplomatically. Mrs. Linton would need to issue the true invitation.

  Before she could, the organ began to play, and the soft conversations around them ceased abruptly. A few minutes later, two boys in robes came down the aisle carrying candle lighters. Sarah recognized both of them from her previous visit.

  “That’s Percy,” Grace whispered to Aggie. “He’s my beau.” Sarah smiled, wondering if Percy had any idea Grace considered him her beau. He’d probably be mortified.

  “Shhh,” Mrs. Linton warned, lifting a finger to her lips.

  Grace covered her mouth and gave Aggie a conspiratorial look that made her grin. They all watched as Percy and the other boy solemnly lit the candles in the twin candelabras at the front of the church. Then they extinguished their lighters and took seats on the front pew.

  Sarah had to agree that the service was beautiful. The choir sang three soul-stirring songs, and when Reverend Upchurch ascended to the pulpit, every face in the room turned
to him raptly.

  As Sarah had expected, he was a magnificent speaker. His voice rang with conviction as he admonished his congregation to care for even the least of these, my brethren, for in doing so, they will have ministered to Christ himself. Knowing what she did of Upchurch’s work with the fatherless boys, she thought this an appropriate topic. In spite of her suspicions about him, when he was finished, she felt a renewed commitment to the girls at the mission. Even Aggie seemed enthralled with the message, and she rose reluctantly for the closing hymn, as if she didn’t want the service to end.

  As people began to make their way out of the church, Mrs. Evans squeezed through the crowd to speak to Sarah.

  “I’m so glad you came,” she said, taking Sarah’s hand in both of hers.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” Sarah said. “You were right about the choir being excellent, and Reverend Upchurch is a wonderful preacher,” she had to admit.

  “We’re so very fortunate to have a man like him.”

  Sarah introduced Aggie to Mrs. Evans and Mrs. York, who had also come over. Slowly, they all began to move toward the exit. Grace had Aggie by the hand and was explaining something to her. Sarah was the last to leave the pew, and just as she was stepping out into the aisle, someone grabbed her arm from behind.

  She turned in surprise to see Mrs. Upchurch’s angry face. She’d come down the pew from the other end to catch Sarah.

  “That policeman, did you send him?” she demanded.

  “What?” Sarah asked in confusion.

  “That policeman. He got it all wrong. I thought you understood what I told you. He doesn’t like girls! It’s boys he—”

  “Mrs. Upchurch,” Mrs. Evans said sharply, a strained smile on her face as she came to rescue Sarah from the crazy preacher’s wife. “How nice to see you.”

  Mrs. Upchurch gave her an impatient glance, then turned back to Sarah. “Remember what I said. You know who he spends his time with.” With that, she turned away and retraced her steps to the other end of the pew to make her escape down the opposite aisle.