Murder on Lenox Hill

by Victoria Thompson

  “No,” she said, then caught herself, suspicious that she’d been tricked. “At least, no one said anything to me about it.”

  “So you expected the people in the congregation to go up and drink out of the cup you’d put poison in.”

  “Yes . . . I mean, no,” she said, laying her hand on her heart again. “I . . . I didn’t think of that.”

  “We didn’t find a bag of rat poison in the alley, Mrs. York.” He wasn’t sure of that, but Kelly would certainly have returned to tell him if he had.

  “What? I . . . Maybe it blew away,” she tried.

  “Was there any poison left in it when you threw it away?”

  “Yes . . . No . . . I . . . I don’t remember.” She was starting to cry again.

  “It doesn’t seem very responsible of you to throw a bag with poison in it out into the alley. Some poor dog might’ve found it. Or a child.”

  “I . . . I didn’t think of that.”

  “You didn’t do it, either, did you?”

  She stared at him, fear darkening her eyes. “I did! I killed him. I swear I did.”

  “Why are you wasting my time, Mrs. York? Have you considered what would happen to you if I believe you and put you in jail?”

  She swallowed loudly. “I know what would happen. I would go to prison. I have a weak heart, Detective. I wouldn’t live very long in prison. That’s why my mother is taking the blame for this. She thinks she’s protecting me, but I won’t live much longer in any case. If I’m dead and she’s in prison, what will happen to Percy? That’s why I can’t let her take the blame.”

  “Does she know you’re here?”

  “I . . . I don’t think so. I didn’t tell her I was coming.”

  “Mrs. York, your mother didn’t kill Upchurch, and neither did you. Your mother was trying to protect someone, maybe the real killer or maybe somebody she thought was the real killer. Do you have any idea who that could be?”

  “I . . . No, I don’t think so,” she replied uncertainly.

  “Could Percy have done it?” he asked baldly.

  “Oh, no!” she cried in alarm. “He was at home this morning. He didn’t want to come to church, and we wouldn’t have let him, even if he had. Our maid can vouch for him.”

  Frank believed her. She wasn’t a good enough liar to fool him. “Could she have been protecting you? Could she have thought you did it?”

  Mrs. York stared at him for a long moment. “Oh, dear, she might have. I said something unkind about Upchurch—I don’t even remember what it was—right after he died. We were standing right over his body, and Mother looked at me so oddly, almost as if she was afraid of something,” she added in dismay.

  That was it then, Frank decided. They’d been trying to protect each other. “Whatever her reason was, she didn’t convince me she’s guilty, so you don’t have to try to convince me you’re guilty to protect her. Go home, Mrs. York, and take care of your son.”

  “Oh, Mr. Malloy!” she cried and began to sob.

  Frank wondered how she would’ve reacted if he’d arrested her. He didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because the door burst open again, and this time it was Isaiah Wilkins.

  He’d been going to say something he probably considered very important, but when he saw Mrs. York sobbing her heart out, he stopped dead.

  “What did you do to her?” he demanded.

  “Nothing,” Frank snapped, getting tired of being falsely accused of abusing women. “Didn’t anybody ever teach you to knock?”

  “I . . . I had to tell you something,” he stammered, still looking at Mrs. York, who was making an effort to stop crying.

  “Let me guess. You killed Upchurch,” Frank said.

  “Well, yeah . . . I mean, yes, sir, I did,” he said with some amazement.

  This sobered Mrs. York instantly. “Isaiah!” She looked at Malloy in confusion. “Could she have been protecting him?”

  Frank doubted it, but Isaiah said, “That’s right, she was, but nobody needs to protect me. I can take my own punishment. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Oh, Mr. Malloy, what will happen to him?” she asked in despair.

  “That’s up to a jury to decide, Mrs. York. Do you feel able to get yourself home? There’s probably some men from the church still here, if you need help.”

  “Perhaps I’ll wait for Mr. Linton to be finished. He passes my house on his way home, so I could go with him.”

  “That’s a fine idea,” Frank said, escorting her to the door. “Please tell him I’ll be with him as soon as I can. And tell your mother I’m sorry, but I won’t be calling on her this evening after all.”

  Mrs. York smiled wanly. “I’m sure she won’t be too disappointed. Thank you very much, Detective.” She turned to Isaiah. “You have many friends here. We won’t desert you.”

  Isaiah blinked a few times, as if to clear tears from his eyes, and he nodded solemnly in reply.

  When she was gone, Frank closed the door behind her and turned back to Isaiah. “Have a seat, young man.”

  The boy frowned, as if he thought the offer was some sort of trick, but when Frank took a seat, he followed suit.

  “Now tell me what you forgot to tell me when I questioned you before,” Frank said, the edge of annoyance sharp in his voice.

  “I didn’t forget,” he said belligerently. “I just . . . I didn’t want you to know, is all. I didn’t want to go to prison.”

  “Or the electric chair,” Frank said blandly. “Don’t forget, murderers usually get to sit in Old Sparky.”

  Isaiah blanched, but to his credit, he didn’t falter. “I don’t want no woman taking the blame for something I did.”

  “That’s noble of you, son. You do owe Mrs. Evans a debt, though.”

  “Mrs. Evans? Why?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “For confessing to the murder to protect you,” Frank said impatiently.

  “She did?” Now he was flabbergasted.

  Now Frank was confused. “Who did you think had confessed for you?”

  “Mrs. Upchurch,” he replied. “Mrs. Brandt said so.”

  “Mrs. Brandt said Mrs. Upchurch confessed to protect you?” Frank asked, still confused.

  Isaiah frowned. “No, she just said Mrs. Upchurch confessed. I knew she didn’t really do it because . . . because I did it,” he realized, quite satisfied with his logic. “So I had to come and tell you, so you wouldn’t arrest her.”

  Frank didn’t like the way this conversation was going. He and Sarah had been certain Rachel Upchurch was trying to protect her lover. Isaiah Wilkins couldn’t possibly be her lover.

  Or could he?

  “That’s very gentlemanly of you, Isaiah,” Frank said, using the word he knew Upchurch had always used.

  Isaiah winced a bit, but he didn’t drop his gaze. “It would be worse than ungentlemanly to let a lady go to prison for something she didn’t do, wouldn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes,” Frank said. “That’s why I’m careful to find out who’s really guilty before I arrest anybody. Now tell me, how did you kill Upchurch?”

  “With rat poison,” he said confidently.

  Frank silently damned Dr. Thomas for voicing his theory so publicly. “Where did you get the rat poison?”

  This stumped him, but only for a few seconds. “From here. We keep some downstairs in the church kitchen. The rats come around even though there’s not much food here.”

  “Where do you keep it?”

  “It’s in the kitchen pantry, on the top shelf. I can show you,” he offered, starting to rise.

  “Maybe later,” Frank said. “How do you happen to know so much about the rat poison here at the church?”

  “Because I put it out a few times, whenever Reverend Upchurch . . .” He hesitated, his lip curling in distaste for a moment. “Whenever he saw rats, he’d tell me to put it out.”

  “All right,” Frank said, satisfied with that explanation. “When did you put the poison in the cup?” />
  He had to think about this one, too. “I got the idea when I was getting the wine out this morning. I figured it would be a good way to kill him, and nobody would ever know it was me that did it.”

  Frank nearly winced at his naïveté, but he soldiered on. “How did you get the poison in the cup?”

  “I . . . I took the cup downstairs and put some of the poison in it,” he said. “Then I took the cup back upstairs and put the wine in it and set up communion like I usually did.”

  “Weren’t you worried about the people who were going to come up for communion that morning?” Frank asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what made you think Upchurch was the only one who’d drink out of that cup?”

  “I . . . I wouldn’t’ve let them,” he said, his eyes wide as he realized what could have happened. “They were all so mad at him, why would they want to take communion from him? I was pretty sure they wouldn’t come up, and I didn’t drink any, either. He was the only one who did.”

  Frank nearly sighed. That was the trouble with honest people. None of them could lie worth a damn. “If I look downstairs, will I find the rat poison where you left it?”

  “Yes. That’s where it always is.”

  “Let’s go downstairs now, and you can show me.”

  Mr. Linton rose to his feet as they walked through the sanctuary, but Frank had to ask him to be patient just a bit longer. Downstairs, they passed one of the churchmen waiting in the hallway to be interviewed by Kelly. He ignored the man’s curious stare as he and Isaiah found the kitchen.

  The room was spotlessly clean. If rats indeed visited here, they were surely disappointed. Isaiah went straight for the two-door wooden cabinet at the far end of the room and pulled the doors open. Inside were tins of various sizes, obviously holding whatever supplies a church kitchen needed. Everything was arranged in neat rows across the front of each shelf. The boy looked up at the top shelf where one slot stood empty. It looked like a missing tooth in an otherwise perfect smile.

  “That’s funny,” he murmured. He stood on tiptoe and reached up to feel around in the empty spot, to see if the box could have gotten pushed back. “It’s not there,” he said in surprise.

  “When was the last time you saw it there?” Frank asked.

  “I don’t know. A couple weeks ago, I guess,” he said, then caught himself. “Until this morning, I mean.”

  “So you saw it there this morning, but now it’s gone.”

  “Yeah, I mean, yes, sir, that’s right. I saw it this morning. . . . I mean I used it this morning and put it right back there, but now it’s gone.”

  “Maybe the killer took it,” Frank suggested.

  Isaiah stared at him blankly for a moment, and then he got mad. “Stop trying to trick me.”

  “Why would I try to trick you into saying you didn’t kill Upchurch?” Frank asked quite reasonably.

  “Because you don’t like Mrs. Upchurch, and you want to get her in trouble. Nobody likes her, and people are always saying mean things about her, but they’re wrong. She’s not like they say. She’s not crazy.”

  “What is she?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I mean is she the kind of woman who seduces young boys? That would make her no better than her husband.”

  His face flushed scarlet, and his eyes blazed with fury. “You don’t know anything about it. She loves me!”

  “And you love her, too, I guess.”

  “Yes, I do,” he admitted proudly.

  “So does that make what you did with her all right?” Frank challenged.

  “More right than what Upchurch did to me!” he cried. “He was the one who told me what to do with the girl I loved. He said you should only do it with somebody you loved. That was important.”

  “So you got your revenge by doing it with his wife.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that! It wasn’t revenge!”

  “What was it then?”

  “I told you, I love her!”

  Frank waited a few moments for Isaiah’s anger to burn down to a simmer. “Did Upchurch tell you that what you were doing with the girl you love could make a baby?”

  He was puzzled again. “No.”

  “Well, it can.”

  He didn’t seem too concerned. “Only if you’re married. Only married people can have babies.”

  Frank nearly groaned aloud at this further example of the innocence of privileged youth. “Did Upchurch tell you that?”

  “He didn’t have to. Everybody knows it!”

  Frank rubbed his forehead. Plainly, the boy didn’t know why Mrs. Upchurch had been so eager for his affections or that she was now carrying his child. With any luck, he’d never find out, either.

  “Do you believe me now that Mrs. Upchurch didn’t kill her husband?” the boy asked when Frank didn’t reply.

  “Yes,” Frank said wearily.

  “Are you going to arrest me now?”

  Frank looked into his eyes, still so innocent even after two people he’d trusted had betrayed him so mercilessly. “Not just yet. Because you’re still a child, I can’t arrest you without notifying your mother,” he lied.

  The boy’s face crumbled. “Oh, I didn’t think about her.”

  “You should have. She loves you more than anyone in this world, and this is going to break her heart.”

  “Oh, God,” he breathed, covering his face with both hands.

  “Maybe you’d like to spend a little time with her before I come to arrest you,” Frank suggested. “Don’t tell her what you’ve done, though. Just be nice to her and tell her you love her and spend the rest of the day with her.”

  He lowered his hands to reveal red-rimmed eyes. “I will. I’ll do that! Thank you, Mr. Malloy. I’ll never forget you for this.”

  Without a backward glance, he ran out. Frank heard his feet pounding on the stairs as he raced up and out to the street. Wearily and much more slowly, Frank followed. In the sanctuary, he found Mrs. York still keeping Mr. Linton company.

  “Sorry you had to wait so long,” Frank told him. “Come on into the office.”

  Maybe, just maybe, Frank thought, Linton has the missing piece that would solve this puzzle.

  Or maybe he didn’t.

  SARAH MADE RACHEL UPCHURCH LIE DOWN ON HER chaise while she fixed some tea, then took it to her.

  “He didn’t kill Oliver,” Rachel argued between sips. “He couldn’t have.”

  “Why not?” Sarah challenged. “He’s obviously in love with you, and he has good reason to believe you love him, too.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Rachel said, trying to sound affronted.

  “I mean he’s the father of your baby, which means you seduced him. To him, that would be proof that you love him.”

  “I didn’t seduce him,” she insisted. “I didn’t have to. Oliver took care of that.”

  “Are you saying your husband brought the two of you together? That he knew about it?” Sarah scoffed.

  “No, of course not, but he’s the one who filled their heads with all that nonsense. He told them he was just teaching them how to make love to a woman. I never realized that until Isaiah told me. He’d always liked me, you see, right from the first, and I encouraged him. It annoyed Oliver when any of his boys paid me attention, so naturally, it gave me pleasure.”

  “So when you found out Isaiah was interested in you, you used him to get the child your husband wouldn’t give you.” Sarah didn’t bother to disguise the contempt she felt.

  “It wasn’t like that . . . not entirely,” she amended when she saw Sarah’s skepticism. “Isaiah had finally realized that Oliver had lied to him, and I think he needed to prove to himself that he was a man. The only way he could do that was by being with a woman, and being with Oliver’s wife would be the ultimate . . .”

  “Revenge?” Sarah offered when Rachel hesitated. “That’s a romantic reason to start an affair.”

  �
��You must understand,” she pleaded. “He loves me. No one had ever really loved me like that before. It was intoxicating.”

  “I’m sure it was, but that still doesn’t excuse what you did to him. What’s going to happen when he realizes you lied to him just like your husband did?”

  She covered her eyes for a moment, as if she really did feel the guilt for what she had done. When she looked up again, her voice was flat with despair. “He may never know it if he ends up in prison. Dear heaven, why would he have killed Oliver?”

  “Maybe he was thinking about marrying his widow,” Sarah suggested.

  To her credit, Rachel began to cry. “What have I done?”

  Sarah had no answer for her.

  “NOW, WHAT IS IT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING SO LONG TO TELL me, Mr. Linton?” Frank asked.

  Linton looked uneasily around the minister’s office. “I came by this morning early, before anyone else was at the church, to see Upchurch.”

  Ah, Upchurch’s mystery visitor. “What did you want to see him about?”

  Linton had folded his hands in his lap, and now he began to twist them. “I didn’t sleep at all last night, after I heard what Upchurch had done to those boys. I didn’t even know a man could . . . could use boys like that.”

  “Not many people do,” Frank said, wishing he was one of them.

  “I kept thinking about Grace and what happened to her. I’ve been trying to figure out who could have done it ever since we found out. I keep coming back to the fact that if a man had attacked her, she would’ve told us. I know if he’d frightened her or hurt her, she would’ve told us. Then I remembered what you’d said, that maybe the man who did it was someone she knew and liked and maybe she hadn’t been frightened at all.”

  “The way the boys weren’t frightened of Upchurch,” Frank offered.

  “That’s right. Until I heard about that, I could never have imagined such a thing could have happened to Grace, too.”

  “Why did that make you go see Upchurch?”

  Linton nervously smoothed his lapels. “I wanted . . . I had to find out if he’d done the same thing to Grace that he did to those boys. She would’ve trusted him like they did, and she would’ve believed any lie he told her.”