“You think Amy’s death has something to do with Vivian?”
Frank was starting to wonder how a man so stupid had managed to be successful enough to become rich. But maybe he’d just inherited his money. “I think somebody who wanted you all to herself decided to do away with your wife. That somebody slipped laudanum into your wife’s flask at the rescue house.”
“Amy!” Van Orner guessed.
“That’s what I thought at first. She had the opportunity to poison her and she wanted her dead. And the next day she packs up her baby and marches over here and presents herself to you, and you take her in. That made me think she’d planned it.”
“Of course she did!” Miss Yingling cried. “She planned the whole thing. Gregory had told her all about Vivian’s work, so she told the midwife her sad story and begged her to contact Vivian to rescue her. She was going to kill Vivian all along!”
“I don’t know what she planned to do, but even if she did plan it, somebody else beat her to it.”
“How can you know that?” Van Orner asked.
“Because the killer didn’t plan on Amy showing up on your doorstep or you taking her in. She intended for Amy to get blamed for the murder, because Amy had the perfect reason for wanting Mrs. Van Orner dead. But when you let Amy move in here, the killer couldn’t take the chance that you’d protect her. So Amy had to die, too.”
Now Van Orner was looking at Miss Yingling, his eyes filled with horror at what she’d done.
Her eyes widened with terror. “It’s not true! I didn’t do any of that!”
“Who else had something to gain by killing these two women?” Frank asked.
Miss Yingling looked around wildly, as if hoping to find someone to blame lurking nearby. “Mrs. Walker! She’s surely the one who killed Amy. She died in her very house.”
“That’s what you wanted us to think. That’s why you sent Mrs. Walker that note and signed Mr. Van Orner’s name. You knew you were taking Amy shopping this morning. You also knew Mrs. Walker would do what Van Orner wanted, because she’s afraid of him. In fact, she was too afraid of him to kidnap Amy unless she thought that’s just what he wanted.”
“She’s not afraid of him!” she tried, but they all knew it wasn’t true.
“And don’t forget, the person who killed Amy also killed Mrs. Van Orner,” Frank said.
“Mrs. Walker could’ve done that!” Miss Yingling cried. “She was here the morning Vivian died, remember.”
“But why would she want to kill Mrs. Van Orner?”
“I . . . Because she hated her. Because she’d stolen Amy right out of her house.”
“And isn’t it funny that you didn’t remember Mrs. Walker had visited Mrs. Van Orner until this morning.”
“That’s not true! I remembered all along.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me before?” Frank asked.
“Because I wanted you to think Amy killed Vivian!” she cried, then clamped her hand over her mouth in horror over what she’d just admitted. She looked to Van Orner for help, but he was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.
“What have you done?” he roared.
“Nothing! I didn’t do anything, I swear!” She was trembling now, her face white and her lips bloodless. She stared up at Van Orner, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “You’ve got to believe me!”
Van Orner started toward her. “You lying bitch! After all I’ve done for you!”
She gave a cry and her knees gave way. Frank caught her before she fell. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa, where he laid her down.
“I didn’t do it, Gregory,” she murmured. “You’ve got to believe me!”
“Get her something to drink,” Frank told Van Orner.
Reluctantly, Van Orner went to the sideboard and poured something into a glass and handed it to Frank. Frank pressed it to her lips, and she took a sip or two, then turned her head away. “You might as well give me some laudanum, too,” she said bitterly.
“You won’t get off so easy,” Van Orner said. “I’m going to see you hang!”
She gasped, her eyes wide with horror. Frank decided not to mention that in New York State, murderers died in the electric chair, figuring that wouldn’t ease her concerns at all.
She turned to Frank, tears flooding her eyes. “You’ve got to believe me! Why would I kill anyone?”
“Because you wanted me all to yourself,” Van Orner snapped.
“But I didn’t! I didn’t want him at all!” she told Frank. “I was so glad when he got tired of me, and Vivian was giving me a chance to have a real life! I never would’ve harmed her.”
“Then who did?” Frank asked reasonably, ignoring Van Orner’s disgruntled frown.
“I thought it was Amy! Truly, I did. That’s why I convinced Gregory to let you investigate. I was sure you’d find out she killed Vivian. If I’d killed her, why would I want you to investigate?”
Frank had to admit that did seem to support her innocence, but he still wasn’t convinced. “Maybe you thought you’d set it up well enough that I’d think Amy was the killer, but when she showed up here, you decided not to take a chance and got rid of her yourself.”
“That would be stupid! Why would I take a chance like that?”
“Who else would have wanted them both dead then?”
“I don’t know!”
“Of course you don’t. The person who did this had to hate both Mrs. Van Orner and Amy. She had to be in a place where she could sneak the laudanum to them. She had to know about Mrs. Walker and that she would do what Mr. Van Orner wanted. And she had to know where Amy was going to be this morning so she could set it all up. Who could that be but you?”
Miss Yingling was frantic now. Her eyes darted around as her mind raced in search of some way out.
“It’s no use, Tamar,” Van Orner said. “You’re the only person who—”
“No, wait, someone else knew!”
“Knew what?” Frank asked skeptically.
“About Amy, that I was taking her shopping today. Mrs. Brandt knew!”
“Mrs. Brandt?” Van Orner asked. “You mean Elizabeth Decker’s daughter?”
“Yes, the midwife! She was here on . . . on Saturday. Yes, I remember. We were talking about it then. Amy was bragging that she was going to get a nurse for the baby, and she asked Mrs. Brandt about . . . about feeding him, and then she told her that we were going shopping first thing on Monday, as soon as the nurse got here. She knew!”
Frank sighed. “You have to do better than that if you want to convince me you’re innocent. I know Mrs. Brandt very well. She’s been helping me with this investigation. She wouldn’t have killed either woman. She didn’t have any reason to.”
“It’s over, Tamar,” Van Orner said. “Mr. Malloy, you can take her now.”
“No!” she wailed. “No, there’s someone else! I almost forgot—Mrs. Spratt-Williams was there, too, that day. She came with Mrs. Brandt. She was worried about Amy, she said, and she came to make sure she’s all right.”
“Why would Mrs. Spratt-Williams want to kill Amy?” Van Orner scoffed. “Or Vivian either, for that matter. Vivian was her oldest friend.”
But Miss Yingling wasn’t listening. Frank knew that expression on her face and what it meant. He’d seen it many times before on many other faces. She was remembering something, something important, and putting it together with everything else and figuring it all out.
She sat up on the sofa, and when she looked at Frank, her eyes were clear. The terror had drained out of her, and she almost smiled when she said, “I know who killed them.”
14
MRS. SPRATT-WILLIAMS TURNED IN HER CHAIR SO SHE could reach the tea tray that had been set out on a table beside her. Three cups were stacked on the tray, along with three saucers, three spoons, and three small plates to hold the little sandwiches and cakes her staff had prepared for them.
She picked up the top cup and set it on a saucer, then t
ook the cup from the bottom of the stack and put it on another saucer.
“I’m not sure you realize the implications of your pledge to support my beliefs that charity to the poor should not be limited, Mrs. Brandt.”
“Perhaps not, but I do know how shocked I was to learn the philosophy of the Charity Organization Society.”
“Their philosophy, as you put it, is based on Mrs. Lowell’s belief that ‘Gratuitous charity works evil rather than good.’ ”
Sarah had heard those words before, the first time she’d visited Mrs. Van Orner’s office. “Mrs. Lowell?”
“Mrs. Josephine Shaw Lowell. She founded the COS. She believed that if a widow receives too much assistance to support her children, for example, she might lose her love for them because she was relieved of the anxiety of providing for them.”
Sarah blinked in amazement at such reasoning, but Mrs. Spratt-Williams wasn’t finished.
“She also believed that while giving a handout to an unemployed man would help him for the moment, it would also teach him the dreadful lesson that it’s easy to get a day’s living without working for it.”
As Sarah absorbed this astonishing bit of news, Mrs. Spratt-Williams carefully lifted the tea cozy off the pot.
“The COS has records on over one-hundred-seventy-thousand individuals and families, and they are quite selective and stringent in qualifying people to receive aid. The records of each applicant are carefully examined to determine if their poverty is the result of their own character flaws. Such people are denied assistance, and consequently, they refuse the majority of requests.”
Sarah couldn’t even imagine the tragedy this policy would have caused to the thousands in the city who were destitute and had no other hope of assistance.
Mrs. Spratt-Williams poured the tea. “How many lumps do you take, Mrs. Brandt?”
“Two, please.”
“I think you’ll find that with this particular type of tea, more sugar enhances the flavor. If you’ll allow me to judge . . .” She dropped four lumps into each cup.
Sarah accepted the cup her hostess offered. “I can certainly see why you took it upon yourself to circumvent the system by reporting false names for the women that you helped.”
“What do you think of the tea?” she asked.
Sarah took a sip. She found it unpleasantly bitter and could understand why extra sugar would be necessary. “It’s very unusual,” she said tactfully.
“It comes from Madagascar, I believe. It’s very rare in this country.”
Sarah thought it probably wasn’t likely to become popular either.
Her hostess tasted hers. “You’ll find the flavor improves as you drink it.”
Sarah obediently lifted the cup to her lips again, wishing propriety didn’t demand that she politely drink something that tasted so awful.
“I had no other choice but to report false names for the women we rescued. As I’m sure you can imagine, Mrs. Brandt, a woman who has worked as a prostitute would never qualify for charity under the requirements of the COS. They would consider her immorality a character flaw and determine that her own weakness had caused her distress.”
Sarah nodded. She could see that clearly.
“Do you need more sugar?” Mrs. Spratt-Williams asked.
“Oh, no, this is fine,” Sarah lied and lifted the cup again. “I understand that Mrs. Van Orner didn’t approve of you falsifying the names.”
Distaste flickered over her face, but she managed a small smile. “Yes, Vivian and I did disagree on this matter.”
“That’s unfortunate, since you were such good friends.”
“We were old friends, that’s true,” she said, making a distinction Sarah didn’t quite understand. “I may honestly say that Vivian was my last remaining friend in the world.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true,” Sarah said as common courtesy demanded, although she knew from what she had heard that this was probably true.
“Oh, yes, it is. You see, I experienced a tragedy of my own almost a decade ago that cost me practically everything I held dear.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” Sarah put the cup to her lips again.
“The worst part is that I had no hand at all in the evil that happened, yet I alone suffered for it.”
Sarah nodded her understanding. “That’s often the case, unfortunately. But you seem to have risen above it.”
“You’re kind to say so, but you know nothing of my life before the tragedy. My husband was a wealthy man as a result of his family’s business interests. He lacked his father’s talents at making money, however, and after his father’s death, his businesses ceased to prosper.”
“A very common story.”
“I suppose so, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. My husband longed to improve his fortunes, and he learned of a new business venture out West somewhere. I’m not sure exactly what it was. He never confided the details to me, but he invested in it and persuaded many of our friends to do the same. He wanted them to benefit, too, you see.”
Sarah thought perhaps the friends might have seen things differently, but she nodded encouragingly. “Of course he did.”
“As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, this venture was not successful, and all the money was lost. My husband suffered along with everyone else, but our friends had no sympathy for that. Some had lost far more than they ever should have risked, and they were completely ruined, but that wasn’t Harold’s fault, was it? They should have known better.”
They should have, but no one ever blamed their own poor judgment in a situation like this. “It must have been very difficult for you.”
“Oh, it was. Not only did we lose our own money, but our friends deserted us. Our lives became very different, as you can imagine.”
Sarah could easily imagine. “Was Amy’s father one of the people who lost money in the scheme?” Sarah asked.
Mrs. Spratt-Williams smiled slightly. “You’re very perceptive, Mrs. Brandt. I knew you were. That is why I invited you here today. I knew you would discern the connection once you had all the facts.”
“I can certainly understand why you took such an interest in helping her.”
“I didn’t do it out of guilt, you understand. I was in no way responsible for what happened to her, but if I could ease her path in any way, I felt an obligation to try. Your tea will be getting cold.”
Sarah raised the cup again. “I’m guessing Mrs. Van Orner felt just the opposite about helping Amy.”
“Oh, yes, and Amy had no one to blame for that but herself. If she hadn’t made such a point of letting Vivian know she had been Gregory’s mistress, she would have fared very well.”
“She’s faring well now,” Sarah reminded her.
“Is she?” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said with an odd smile. “Time will tell.”
Sarah supposed she was right. Gregory Van Orner had tired of her once, and he might again.
“I’m glad to find you so perceptive, Mrs. Brandt. I do want you to understand, but perhaps I won’t need to explain everything to you. When our friends deserted us and our circumstances were so greatly reduced, I was no longer welcome in homes where I had been received for years. I had little opportunity for society or the company of my social equals. All I had left was the service Vivian offered me as a member of her group at Rahab’s Daughters.”
“She proved to be a good friend to you.”
“In her own way, but she never showed me the same compassion she had for the women we rescued.”
Sarah couldn’t imagine why Mrs. Spratt-Williams would need compassion. “In what way?”
“As I said, we disagreed about reporting the names of the women we helped to the COS. They would never permit one of their members to violate the rules, and when I begged her to allow Amy to stay at the rescue house, she told me she was going to report me for falsifying records. I would never be able to work with any of the charity organizations again.”
MISS YINGLING SWUNG HER
FEET DOWN TO THE FLOOR and gazed up at Frank and Van Orner with the self-confidence Frank had come to expect from her. “I know who killed both of them.”
Van Orner glared down at her. “Tamar, you can’t expect us to—”
“Wait,” Frank said. “I’d like to hear what she has to say.”
“I just remembered, Mrs. Brandt wasn’t the only one here on Saturday. She’d been here earlier, with her mother, and she came back later with Mrs. Spratt-Williams. Mrs. Spratt-Williams had been worried about Amy and wanted to make sure she was all right.”
“That’s what I would expect from her,” Van Orner said.
“Don’t you see? She was there, too, so she also knew I was taking Amy shopping this morning.”
“You can’t think that Mrs. Spratt-Williams would kill anyone,” Van Orner said, angry at her for even thinking such a thing. “And why would she want to kill Vivian, who was her closest friend?”
“Because Vivian was going to destroy her life!”
The two men gaped at her. Frank found his tongue first. “How could she do that?”
“By telling the Charity Organization Society that she’d been sending them fake names.”
“Fake names?”
“Yes, we had to report the names of everyone we helped through Rahab’s Daughters. They keep very careful records, and none of the other organizations ever give charity to anyone without checking the records first. If they feel someone isn’t worthy, then that person gets nothing.”
Frank frowned. “Would they think women who’d been prostitutes weren’t worthy?”
“Of course! They’d think it showed moral weakness. So when she reported the names, Mrs. Spratt-Williams would change them, so if one of the women asked for help later, using her real name, there wouldn’t be a record of her.”
Frank considered that a very clever way of bypassing an unfair rule, but Van Orner obviously disagreed. “You mean Tonya lied? I can hardly credit it. But then there was that business with her husband.”
“What business?”
“He had some company that was digging for gold . . . or maybe it was silver. I can’t remember. He told everyone he was going to make a fortune, and a lot of his friends invested. They lost every penny.”
Murder on Sisters' Row Page 23
