Murder on Astor Place

by Victoria Thompson

  “You understand that I don’t believe in gossiping about my neighbors,” she said primly, and Sarah forced herself not to smile.

  “Of course not, but any information you have might help us find out who killed her.”

  “Us?” her mother echoed in surprise. “Sarah, just how does all this concern you, and who else would it involve?”

  Sarah could have bitten her tongue. Good thing Malloy hadn’t heard her slip. She was getting a little tired of his lectures about how she really wasn’t investigating this case. “I was able to help the police in their investigation. Because I knew Alicia,” she added at her mother’s frown of disapproval.

  “The police?” she sniffed. “Really, dear, you shouldn’t become involved with the police. You know the kind of men who are drawn to that profession. They’re hardly the sort of people with whom you should associate.”

  Her mother would probably faint if she saw some of the people with whom Sarah associated quite intimately every day of her life, but she decided not to mention that.

  “Surely, Mother, you know that the Roosevelt’s son, Theodore, is a police commissioner now. He’s done a lot to reform the police force.”

  “Yes, and I know someone sent him a bomb in the mail the other day, too. Can you imagine such a thing? So much for his efforts at reform!”

  Sarah decided to take another tack. “In any case, the detective who is working on Alicia’s case is quite... respectable, I’m sure,” she tried lamely, trying not to choke on all the lies. Roosevelt’s reforms hadn’t changed very much about the department yet, except to make people angry at not being able to go to a saloon on Sunday, and even worse was knowing Malloy wouldn’t exactly be flattered by her description of him. “And I just want to know for my own satisfaction who killed Alicia. I can’t stand the thought of the person who snuffed out her life walking around a free man while she lies cold in the ground.”

  The thought seemed to disturb her mother as well, although it could simply have been the ugliness of the image that upset her. Whatever it was, it provided the incentive Sarah needed.

  “As I said, I hardly credit this story about Alicia, but if you think it might help...”

  “I’m sure anything would help,” Sarah said.

  Her mother frowned again, uncertain this time. “There was a rumor—and mind you, it was only a rumor; I never heard it from anyone who actually knew it to be true—that Cornelius was trying to arrange a marriage for Alicia.”

  “Whom did they want her to marry?” Sarah asked, trying not to sound too eager.

  “That’s the strange part. You see, Alicia was quite pretty and would have had many suitors as soon as she was out. There would be no reason to arrange something ahead of time, as one would with a daughter less... desirable.”

  She didn’t have to explain to Sarah, who had been quite eligible herself at one time, although she had chosen another destiny. Sarah nodded encouragingly.

  “Which was why no one could believe that Cornelius would waste such a prize on ... on Sylvester Mattingly.”

  8

  Now IT WAS SARAH’S TURN TO BE STUNNED. SYLVESTER Mattingly! A vision of the man she had seen on the VanDamm’s doorstep such a short time ago flickered before her mind’s eye. Then she tried to picture that elderly gentleman with dewy, young Alicia VanDamm, but even her usually vivid imagination rebelled at such a blasphemy.

  “Good heavens,” she murmured.

  “Exactly,” her mother said. “I take it you are acquainted with Mr. Mattingly.”

  “I’ve... seen him.”

  “He’s old enough to be Alicia’s grandfather,” her mother said, confirming Sarah’s impression. “No one could believe her family was seriously considering a marriage between them, which is why no one did believe it. Someone must have started the rumor as some sort of joke. At least that’s what we decided. And when there was no engagement announced, we were sure of it.”

  Sarah’s mind was reeling. She could hardly think what to ask next. “Was there ... ? Did anyone know Alicia had disappeared?”

  “I hadn’t heard anything, and I doubt anyone else had, either. She wasn’t out yet, so she would hardly be missed from society. Many families send their young daughters away for months at a time, to school and such. No one would even notice her absence. Oh, Sarah, this business with Alicia is all so horrible,” she said, taking Sarah’s hand in hers. “But I don’t care how awful the tragedy was if it brought you back to us. Does that make me evil?”

  Sarah smiled and squeezed her mother’s hand. “I don’t think so. Bringing us back together again might be the one good thing to come from Alicia’s death.”

  Her mother stared at her for a long moment, giving Sarah the opportunity to notice subtle changes that she’d been too preoccupied to observe before. Her mother had always been plump, as women of her class were expected to be, but she seemed thinner now, as if time had chiseled off the outer layer of softness. Her eyes were still blue but not as bright as Sarah remembered, and the gold of her hair was now mixed with a generous amount of silver. While she had been blessed with good skin and had taken great pains all of her life to preserve her complexion, time had scratched her a bit. The creases from her nose to her mouth were deeper than Sarah remembered, and the firm line of her jaw had blurred. Sarah couldn’t help wondering how much of this was just the normal ravages of time and how much of it might have been caused by the loss of both her daughters. At least Sarah still had it within her power to give one of them back to her.

  “I haven’t even asked how you are,” Sarah said. “You look very well.”

  “I look older,” she corrected primly. “How could I not? But you’re right, I’m well. Your father will be so sorry he missed you. He’s in Albany, you know.”

  Sarah did know. She’d read it in the Times. He was addressing the legislature about something or other, which was why Sarah hadn’t felt the slightest qualm about coming here today, knowing she wouldn’t have to see him just yet. “How is he?”

  Her mother gave her a glance, as if trying to judge the sincerity of her inquiry. “He’s not as well as I am, I’m afraid.”

  Sarah felt a pang, although she wasn’t sure if it was concern or simply guilt for not being quite as concerned as she should have been. “Is something wrong? Has he been ill?”

  “It’s his stomach. He... Well, I think he worries too much. You know how he takes everything to heart.”

  There had been a time when Sarah was sure her father didn’t even have a heart, but she wouldn’t mention that now. “Has he seen a doctor? What do they say?”

  Her mother shrugged one shoulder helplessly. “You know how they are. Sometimes I don’t think doctors know anything at all.”

  Sarah could have agreed. She’d seen far too many childbirths botched by supposedly expert physicians. On the other hand, she knew how caring her husband had been. “Medicine isn’t an exact science. There’s so much we don’t know about the human body. But most doctors are competent,” she pointed out.

  Her mother was instantly contrite. “I didn’t mean... Oh, my dear, I hope I haven’t stirred any painful memories for you.”

  “Don’t be silly. And Mother, we’ll drive each other to distraction if we keep imagining we’ve given offense about things that happened in the past. We have to put all of that behind us now and go on.”

  “Of course,” she agreed eagerly. “It’s just... I’m not sure what to say to you anymore. You seem so... so different.”

  “I am different. I’m older, too, and I have my own life. But I’m still your daughter. And I’m not fragile or bitter.” She hoped that was true, at least. “Don’t worry about offending me. You never used to worry about that before,” she reminded her gently.

  Her mother managed a small smile at that. “I didn’t, did I? But I never really intended to offend you. I was only concerned with your well-being, Sarah. I still don’t think it’s proper for a woman to live alone and to... well, to do the things you do.�
�

  “Women have been delivering babies since the beginning of time, Mother.”

  “But not women of your class, Sarah. You were intended for better things.”

  “For visiting my neighbors and attending parties and teas and ordering servants around?” she scoffed.

  Sarah saw at once she’d gone too far. Her mother’s face seemed to crumble beneath the weight of Sarah’s contempt.

  “Oh, Mother, I’m sorry!” she said quickly. “I didn’t come here to quarrel. I came here to make up with you.”

  “I was hoping that was true. When Milly told me you were here, I hardly knew what to think. Or what to expect. Sarah, what can I expect? Are you going to vanish from my life again, or will I see you regularly now? Should I tell your father you were here? Will you come to dinner next week?”

  “Of course you can tell Father I was here,” Sarah said with a bravado she didn’t exactly feel. The thought of facing him again, after the harsh words they had exchanged at their last meeting, made her own stomach slightly sick. “And of course I’ll see you regularly now. I’d love to come to dinner, too, but I can’t make plans very far in advance, I’m afraid. I never know when I’ll be needed since babies don’t keep regular hours, but perhaps I could come by for tea one afternoon.” There, that would guarantee a brief visit if things didn’t go well.

  “That would be wonderful!” Sarah felt another pang at the longing she saw in her mother’s eyes. “I’ll be sure your father is here, if you’ll send word ahead.”

  Sarah made no promises. She would have to wait a day or two to see how truly brave she was. Walking through the city alone at night was nothing compared to facing her father’s wrath again. Would he still be angry or would he have mellowed with the years? Somehow, Sarah could not imagine her father mellowing in a millennium.

  They chatted for a while about people Sarah had known, her mother bringing her up to date on their lives and activities. She told Sarah about a trip to Paris her parents had taken and about some parties she had recently attended. Sarah listened politely and asked questions, recognizing her mother’s need to keep her there as long as possible. Perhaps she realized Sarah’s ambivalence about returning and was afraid to let her go. Whatever the reason, Sarah let her babble on for another hour before making her excuses.

  Outside, the weather was even warmer than it had been earlier. They really were having an early spring. Sarah began to regret having worn such a heavy dress. She walked the few blocks to the Sixth Avenue elevated train station, trying not to exert herself too much in the heat, and gratefully took shelter on the shade of the covered staircase that led up to the platform.

  As she climbed the stairs, she recalled what her mother had told her about Alicia and Sylvester Mattingly. Many people in the VanDamms’s social set would see nothing unusual in her father arranging a marriage for her, and while they might be shocked by his selection of a groom and the vast age difference between the couple, few would condemn such a choice outright. In many ways it would make a certain perverse sense to them. If Alicia’s father wanted to be certain she would be protected and financially secure, an older husband was the logical choice.

  Or perhaps Mr. Mattingly had done VanDamm some favor or performed him some service for which Alicia was to be the reward. While this would give the matter a more cold-blooded, businesslike flavor, few would have condemned this motivation, either. Men had been paying debts and sealing bargains with their daughters for centuries. Just because the VanDamm house had electric lights and a telephone didn’t mean they had accepted every trapping of progress.

  Sarah wondered what sort of debt would require the mythical virgin sacrifice, but then, Alicia hadn’t been a virgin. As Sarah stood on the platform watching the next train rumbling along the elevated track toward the station, she considered the possibility that perhaps Cornelius VanDamm wasn’t the debtor at all. Perhaps Mattingly had been the one who owed VanDamm a favor. And perhaps he had been prevailed upon to settle it by taking Alicia as his wife. Already pregnant, she would be soiled goods to be sure, and providing a name and respectability for her child would be enough to provide payment in full for just about any kind of debt. Still, her youth and beauty would provide more than ample compensation to Mattingly for having claimed her child as his own. And even if people doubted he had fathered that child, no one would ever admit it to his face.

  The train stopped, and the passengers filed out. The cars weren’t terribly crowded at this time of day, so Sarah was able to find a seat in the first car she entered. There were still empty seats a few moments later when the train started again, and Sarah was glad she had gotten away from her mother when she did. In another hour, the platforms would be packed with workers returning to their homes in other parts of the city, and the conductors wouldn’t allow the trains to leave the station until they were so jammed that not another human body could be squeezed on board. The accidental contact one made with strangers under such circumstances was disconcerting enough, but far too many men took advantage of the situation to initiate more than accidental and far from proper contact. Sarah had made retaliatory use of her hat pin on more than one occasion under such circumstances, and she was grateful for the opportunity on this trip to simply sit and ponder the facts she had learned today.

  She would have to contact Malloy again, although she should probably wait a day or two. Although he’d been fairly civil when he left her flat the other night, she didn’t want to try his patience too much. When she considered how well their last meeting had gone, she thought perhaps she should have tried feeding him much sooner. With a small smile, she even considered the advisability of carrying something edible with her at all times, just in case she encountered him. Barring that, she should at least have something substantive to tell him before tracking him down again. The news about a rumored marriage between Alicia and Mattingly hardly qualified unless she could verify it.

  Or unless she could think of a reason why it might have caused Alicia’s death. That, she realized as she watched buildings and apartments speed by the train’s window close enough for her to reach out and touch if she’d wished to risk losing an arm, might take a little more thought.

  FRANK KNEW SOMETHING was wrong the minute he stepped into the room. The detectives all had desks in one large room in Police Headquarters, and this afternoon, everyone who happened to be here was nonchalantly ignoring Frank. Too nonchalantly. They were merely pretending not to notice him and really watching him like hawks and waiting expectantly for something. Frank could feel it in the air like a vapor. What they could be waiting for, Frank couldn’t imagine until he reached his own desk and saw the envelope. The ivory vellum envelope addressed to him in a decidedly feminine hand.

  Damn, no wonder they were watching him.

  “Is it a love letter, Frank?” a falsetto voice inquired from across the room. Frank didn’t even glance up.

  “O’Shaughnessy said she’s a real peach. A blonde,” someone else reported.

  “A blonde!” The phrase echoed through the room as the rest of them repeated it incredulously.

  “She’s an informant,” Frank said to the room at large, but of course they didn’t want to believe something so innocent.

  “I never had a stool pigeon send me a love letter,” Harry Kelly said.

  “You never had anybody send you a love letter,” Bill Broghan hooted.

  “And you couldn’t read it even if they did,” Frank said, still staring at the envelope. He didn’t have to turn it over to see who it was from, and he certainly hadn’t needed to hear her description. Only one person in the world would be sending him a note like this. He was very much afraid he was going to have to strangle Sarah Brandt. His only regret would be that he would never make Captain.

  But it might be worth it.

  “Ain’t you gonna read it, Frank?” someone coaxed.

  “Read it out loud,” Bill suggested. “Don’t be stingy.”

  “I can’t read it out loud,” Fra
nk said. “It would take me too long to explain all the big words to you.”

  “Or all the dirty words,” Harry said slyly.

  Frank gave him a look. “I thought you already knew all the dirty words.”

  “He’s got you there, Harry,” Bill hooted.

  “I thought you swore off women, Frank,” Harry said. “Where’d this blonde bit of fluff come from?”

  “I told you, she’s an informant.” She’s also a pain in the backside, he added silently, fingering the envelope. The paper was quality, just like Sarah Brandt. Just like Alicia VanDamm. What the hell was he doing involved with any of them? He knew how to handle crooks and killers and con men. He didn’t know how to handle ladies, dead or alive. And he had no intention of handling Sarah Brandt at all.

  With a resigned sigh, he picked up the envelope and broke the seal. He could feel the eyes of all the other detectives watching him intently, waiting for some reaction. Frank was going to do his best to disappoint them.

  “Dear Mr. Malloy,” her note began. He should read them that part, if they were expecting a love letter. “I have learned some very interesting information about Sylvester Mattingly’s relationship with Alicia. It seems that rumors were circulating among the VanDamms’s acquaintances that Mr. VanDamm was arranging a marriage between Alicia and Mattingly. I have a theory that might explain Alicia’s circumstances which I would rather not put in writing. If you will call upon me at your earliest convenience, I will be happy to explain it to you.” It was signed, “In haste, Sarah Brandt.”

  “That son of a bitch,” Frank muttered, recalling in great detail his conversation with Sylvester Mattingly. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to cooperate with Frank’s investigation. He was the one Alicia had been running away from all along! And when he thought about Mattingly so much as touching that poor girl...

  “Bad news, Frank?” Bill asked with phony concern.

  “She throwing you over for another fellow?” Harry smirked.