The place was crammed with knickknacks and plaster saints, just as Sarah would have expected from a woman of Mrs. Malloy’s age and class, but it was neat as a pin nonetheless. Also what Sarah would have expected.
“Now, how does a woman like you know my Francis?” she challenged, looking Sarah over thoroughly, as if considering withholding her approval if Sarah didn’t have a reasonable explanation.
“I met him when he was working on a case. A girl I knew was murdered.”
Plainly, she doubted this very much.
Sarah wasn’t about to attempt to convince her. “Is Malloy here?” she tried.
“He stepped out for a while.”
“He must be feeling better then,” Sarah guessed.
“He wasn’t hurt much. The doctor said he was just stunned. His head aches, though he won’t admit it. Never would give in to being sick, not even when he was a boy. At police headquarters, they told him to take a few days off to rest.”
“Which he doesn’t appear to be doing,” Sarah pointed out.
Mrs. Malloy ignored her. “What’s that you’ve brought?” she asked, nodding at the basket on Sarah’s arm.
Now she felt a little foolish. “Some food. I thought he lived alone and might appreciate something homemade.”
Mrs. Malloy carefully digested this information, her pinched expression pinching even tighter. “And what would your husband be thinking of you traipsing all over town taking homemade food to other men?”
“I’m a widow,” Sarah said and watched understanding brighten the old woman’s faded eyes.
She sniffed her disapproval. “In my day, a woman didn’t go calling on a man. It wasn’t proper. Still isn’t, so far as I know.”
Sarah couldn’t help smiling. “I’m not calling on him, Mrs. Malloy. I just felt sorry because he got hurt and I was partly to blame. If you’ll just tell him I came by—”
“Frank’s not a free man,” Mrs. Malloy told her. “If that’s what you’re thinking, that he’s just got his old mother, and he’d leave her quick enough for a young, buxom widow like yourself, then you’ve got it wrong, my girl.”
Sarah could hardly keep from laughing aloud at the notion that she might have set her cap for Frank Malloy. Or even more preposterous, that he might be the least bit interested in her in return. Somehow managing to keep a straight face, she said, “I assure you, Mrs. Malloy, I’m not—”
“Because he’s got his boy to think of, he has, and he’s got no time for the likes of you or any other female.”
“His boy?” Sarah echoed in surprise.
“Yes, his boy,” Mrs. Malloy confirmed smugly. “Or didn’t you even notice him over there?”
Sarah looked where she was pointing and realized she hadn’t noticed the child playing in the far corner of the room, his back to them. For a second she marveled that a child could play so quietly she hadn’t even been aware of him, and then she marveled that he hadn’t come over to inspect their visitor the instant she entered the room, as any child would have done. From here, she could only see the red-gold curls his grandmother must be reluctant to cut, even though the boy was out of diapers.
Mrs. Malloy strode over to where the child sat and at her approach, he turned and finally noticed Sarah. His small face lit up with a glorious smile, and he dropped the toy soldiers he’d been carefully arranging and hitched himself around to face her.
He was beautiful. There was no other word to describe him, and Sarah was so taken that for a moment she didn’t register the fact that he was crawling toward her instead of walking as a child his age should have been. That was when she noticed his twisted foot, and her heart broke. How tragic that a child so winning should be crippled.
She still couldn’t stop smiling at him, though. He was simply too sweet. “Hello, young man,” she greeted him, stooping to be closer to his level. “My name is Mrs. Brandt. What’s yours?”
The boy stopped when he reached her and reared upright on his knees, holding out his arms to be picked up.
“He don’t talk,” his grandmother said before Sarah could reach for him. “He’s simple, too.”
The words were like a knife in Sarah’s heart. He’s simple too. In addition to being a cripple. The tragedy of it was too horrible to contemplate as she stared down into the cherubic face. She had just set her basket down and reached out to him, instinctively wanting to take him into her arms, when the door opened behind her, distracting them both.
Malloy came in, seeming to fill the crowded room with his presence. He took in the scene with one glance as Sarah rose to her feet. He did not look pleased.
“Malloy,” she said by way of greeting.
He looked at his mother, as if seeking some unspoken message. Sarah couldn’t tell if he received it or not, but when he looked back at Sarah, he was glowering. “What are you doing here?”
“She brought you some food,” his mother said, as if it were an accusation.
The boy had lost all interest in Sarah and now was waving his arms and trying to jump up in an attempt to get his father to notice him, but Malloy didn’t take his gaze off Sarah. He was furious.
“I was worried about you,” Sarah tried. “They took you away in an ambulance,” she added when he looked as if he was going to scoff.
“How did you find me?” Plainly, he wasn’t pleased that she had, so she decided to irritate him even further.
“Teddy got me your address.”
“Teddy who?”
Sarah smiled blandly. “Teddy Roosevelt. Commissioner Roosevelt to you.”
The boy was pulling on Malloy’s pant legs, demanding to be noticed. “Mum, take care of him, will you?” he said impatiently, barely sparing the boy a glance. His face was scarlet.
The old woman pried the boy’s hands loose and scooped him up, showing a strength that surprised Sarah. He looked far too heavy for her to manage, but she held him easily.
“There’s some cookies in the basket,” Sarah offered. “Maybe he’d like one.”
The old woman gave her a withering glare before turning away. The boy was struggling, reaching for Malloy who continued to ignore him, but eerily, the child made no sound. Not speaking was one thing, but he appeared to be completely mute.
“Take him next door,” Malloy told his mother before Sarah could puzzle it out.
“And leave you two alone?” she said, pretending to be shocked.
“Just go.”
Not even Sarah would have disobeyed him when he used that tone, and the old woman was no braver than she. The boy tried to grab Malloy as she carried him past, but he failed. His face was tragic with disappointment, but for all his frustration, he still uttered not a sound.
“Very nice to have met you, Mrs. Malloy,” Sarah called as they walked out the door. The old woman merely grunted.
Neither Sarah nor Malloy spoke until they heard the door to the apartment next door closing.
“Now, what are you really doing here?” he demanded wearily.
Sarah let out a sigh long-suffering sigh. “I told you, I was worried about you. I went to the hospital that night, when I was finally able to get away from Mrs. VanDamm, but you’d already gone home. I tried at police headquarters, but no one would tell me how to find you.”
He muttered something that might have been a curse.
Sarah grinned with satisfaction. “A very nice gentleman named Brogham said it would be worth his life—or words to that effect—if he told me where you lived.”
“He was right about that.”
“It took me three days to think of it, but I finally realized I could ask Teddy, and he was dee-lighted to find your address for me,” she said, mimicking Teddy’s favorite phrase.
“You know Roosevelt?” he asked incredulously.
“Of course I know him. All the Knickerbocker families know each other.”
“Why didn’t you say so before?”
“You never asked.”
The look he gave her was meant to curdle her
blood, and it very nearly did, although she tried not to let on. “You appear to be doing well,” she ventured.
“I’m fine.”
“You didn’t look too fine the last time I saw you.”
Plainly, he didn’t want to remember. “I just got the wind knocked out of me is all. And I hit my head when I fell, I guess.” He reached up to rub the back of his head but stopped when he realized what he was doing and adjusted his hat instead.
She decided not to mention what his mother had said about his head hurting. “Your son is a very handsome child.” His expression was a warning not to trespass, but she ignored it. “What’s his name?”
For a second she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he said grudgingly, “Brian.”
“And his mother?”
“Died when he was born. A midwife killed her.”
His bitterness scalded her, and she almost cried out from the shock of it. “Oh, Malloy, I’m so sorry!”
Of course, Sarah couldn’t be sure that’s what had caused his wife’s death. Women died in childbirth every day, and it was nobody’s fault. But obviously, Malloy believed the midwife had been at fault, or at least he needed to blame her for it. And that explained so much of Malloy’s attitude toward her. She must bring back terrible memories for him.
If so, he didn’t want to dwell on them. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here. And don’t give me any more stories about how you were worried about me.”
Sarah sighed in defeat. “I guess I’ll have to confess, then, before you use the third degree on me. I called on Mrs. VanDamm the other day. The experience was absolutely extraordinary, and I wanted to share it with someone, but I couldn’t think of anyone else who would really appreciate it except you.”
If he was surprised she’d sought him out just to gossip, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he was as interested as she had expected. “You called on her? What happened?”
Apparently, he wasn’t adverse to a little gossip himself.
“She was sitting in the parlor, wearing a new gown that someone must have spent an entire night making to have it ready so quickly, and she was receiving every visitor who came to the door. A lot of them were coming, too, because nobody had seen her in years and because the deaths of her family were so shocking.”
This time Malloy scratched his head in bewilderment. “Was she telling people what really happened?”
“Of course not. Alicia’s death is old news by now, since people believe she’d died a natural death at their country home, so it was Mina and Mr. VanDamm’s deaths they were concerned about. Everyone knew they had been struck by lightning, but nobody could imagine what they’d been doing on the roof in that terrible storm in the first place. She’d made up a story for them, though. Mina, it seems, was distraught over her sister’s death, and she’d decided to do herself harm, being unable to bear the tragedy of Alicia’s loss. Her father had rushed to save her, and they’d both been struck down.”
Malloy shook his head. “Did anybody believe her?”
“I doubt it, but they pretended to, which is all that matters. And you can’t imagine the change in her. I expect she still takes her ‘medicines,’ but she’s completely different in every other way. She’s actually lively and interesting. And she’s thoroughly enjoying being the center of attention of every person whose opinion matters in this city.”
“Every person whose opinion matters to her,” he corrected her.
“At any rate, she’s turned Mina and VanDamm into tragic martyrs, and poor Alicia is very nearly a saint.”
“And she’s the star in her very own melodrama.”
“Savoring every moment.”
Malloy shook his head again and pushed his hat back to express his disgust. “I wish I still believed in hell. I’d like to think of VanDamm and Mina burning in it.”
Sarah had to agree. “I’ve never been able to understand what makes a man do the things he did. Mina may have killed Alicia, but he was the one who twisted her and made her so evil in the first place. He ruined both his daughters, completely and utterly.”
As she might have expected, he picked up her one betraying remark. “Have you met men like VanDamm before?”
Sarah managed not to shudder at the memories. “I’ve delivered their daughters’ babies. Most of the time they deny it, of course. Sometimes everyone denies it, but I always know. The way they act gives them away. The only difference between them and VanDamm is that VanDamm had enough money to keep his sins a secret for over thirty years.”
For a long moment they both contemplated those sins. Then Sarah remembered something else.
“Did you get in any trouble for being there that night?” she asked.
He tried to pretend he was angry again, but this time Sarah saw through him. “You didn’t have to say that you’d sent for me.”
“I was afraid it would be a black mark against you otherwise. VanDamm did have you taken off the case, remember?”
“It doesn’t matter now that he’s dead. Besides, Superintendent Conlin—he’s the one who ordered me off—is going on a long vacation to Europe, and rumor has it he’ll retire when he gets back. I doubt he even remembers my name, so I’m not too worried he’ll go to the trouble of booting me off the force or even reporting me.”
“That’s a relief, since Teddy only promotes men whose records are clean,” she added sweetly.
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell Teddy the whole story.”
“I did,” she said, horrifying him. “I wanted him to know how honorably you behaved even when Alicia’s own father didn’t want her murder solved. You deserve a lot of credit.”
“I don’t want any credit for this case.”
Sarah remembered what she’d thought of Malloy when she first met him. She’d thought he was as corrupt as most policemen were. She’d assumed he wouldn’t be interested in solving Alicia’s murder unless he’d get a reward for it. Then he’d gone on to solve it even at the risk of losing his job. Once she’d believed him selfish and even cruel. What other kind of man would become a policeman? But now she’d met his son, and she knew the answer.
“That’s why you do it, isn’t it? Because of your son.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, instantly defensive.
“That’s why you work for the police. Why you want to be a captain. So you can support Brian.”
She could almost see his hackles rise. “I’d be a poor excuse for a man if I didn’t.”
“I wish I believed more men felt that way. I’ve seen too many abandoned children, though. Especially when the children are less than perfect.”
“Don’t make me a hero, Mrs. Brandt,” he warned. “I’ll only disappoint you.”
Sarah was no longer sure of that, but she decided not to argue. “Another reason I came here was to thank you for not giving up and for finding Alicia’s killer.”
“And for bringing her to justice?” he asked bitterly.
“I don’t think we can take credit for that, although they both certainly got what they deserved. The State of New York couldn’t have done a better job of it in that new electric chair of theirs. And now neither one of them will ever hurt anyone again. If that isn’t justice, it’s the next best thing.”
“If you say so.”
Sarah looked at his rough Irish face and realized that at some point she had begun to respect him. Meeting his son had helped her understand him, too. They would never be friends, of course, but together they had accomplished something unusual and amazing, which gave them a bond she’d never experienced with anyone else. Perhaps in time...
But they wouldn’t have that time, and neither of them really wanted it. The case was solved. The reason for them even to know each other was gone, and they never need encounter one another again.
“I guess this is good-bye, then,” she said, offering her hand.
He wiped his own on his pant leg before taking hers. His grip was strong and warm through her glove. “If t
he department had female detectives, you could’ve been good at it.”
Absurdly pleased by the unexpected compliment, Sarah felt herself blushing for the first time in years. “Well, if you ever need help on a case again, you know where to find me.”
As if he ever would. They both smiled at the thought, and Sarah took her leave. Out on the street, she looked up and thought she saw him watching her through the window. Then she looked again and decided it had probably just been a trick of the sunlight on the glass.
Feeling the odd mingling of satisfaction in a job well done and regret that the job was over and her mundane life beginning again, Sarah made her way back into the life of the city.
Murder on Astor Place Page 27
