Their cook was only too happy to dish up their supper, and Hattie served them in the breakfast room because Sarah didn’t want to sit in the giant dining room with just the two of them. She managed only a few mouthfuls. She noticed that Maeve didn’t seem very hungry either.
“Are you sure this professor is the killer?” Maeve asked.
“Not positive, of course, but the more I think about it, the more I think we missed some important clues. Irene Raymond had told me that Abigail said she’d discovered a scandal. It concerned one person at the school, and people would be shocked. She also said that President Hatch would have to take some action.”
“If this professor was just pretending to be French all these years, then that would fit everything she said.”
“I know. I feel like such a fool for not realizing it before.”
“How could you, though? Without the information in the letters, I mean. Abigail herself didn’t take any action until she got the final letter. You said that was only a few days before she died.”
“It had to have been. That would fit with all the other things we know, too. She had an argument with Miss Wilson the day before she died. She was going to reveal something scandalous about someone at the school, and Miss Wilson was trying to stop her.”
“Did she tell Miss Wilson what it was, do you think?”
“Miss Billingsly and Bathsheba didn’t think so, and Miss Wilson might’ve thought she was the one who was going to be humiliated.”
“Imagine how upset Miss Wilson would’ve been to think that Abigail was going to betray her.”
“She must have been terrified,” Sarah agreed. “If only Abigail had told Miss Wilson who was really involved. Maybe Miss Wilson could have advised her on how to handle the situation better.”
“She could hardly have handled it worse than ending up murdered,” Maeve said.
Sarah was just about to agree when the shrill ring of the telephone pierced the stillness of the house.
* * *
Frank instinctively grabbed for his throat while his brain scrambled to make sense of what was happening. The figure behind him jerked harder and the constriction on his neck increased, pulling him up onto his toes while his gloved fingers clawed desperately at the fabric at his throat.
He tried to cry out but no sound could escape. Some tiny, still-functioning part of his brain reminded him that this was how Miss Wilson had died. What had he thought she could have done to save herself?
She couldn’t have done much, but he was bigger and stronger and he began to thrash around, swinging his elbows to strike his assailant. His elbows hit only air, but his assailant lost his grip for a moment, and Frank caught a gasp of air before the noose tightened again. His toes struggled for purchase on the slick cobbles, desperate for a foothold he could use for leverage. But his slipping jerked his attacker off-balance, too. He staggered, loosening his grip again, and Frank lunged forward, carrying his attacker with him.
Both men fell into the inky blackness with a thud. Pain exploded somewhere, but Frank had no time to register where. His attacker was moving again, trying to escape now, but Frank grabbed a handful of his coat with one hand and drove his other fist blindly into the body, eliciting a grunt of pain.
“Mr. Malloy, where are you?” Gino’s voice called, frantic.
“Here!” he replied, driving home another punch. This one went to his attacker’s face and something crunched beneath his fist.
Pelletier cried out and tried to fight back, but Gino was suddenly there. He needed a few seconds to sort out who was who in the darkness, but then he ended the fight with a single blow.
“What did you do?” Frank asked when he realized Pelletier had gone limp.
“Blackjack,” Gino said.
* * *
Hours after Malloy’s telephone call informing her he’d be even later than he’d thought, when he had finally returned home, Sarah had installed Malloy upstairs in their private sitting room and allowed Maeve and Gino to join them. She’d stripped him out of his filthy clothes, which were ruined from rolling around in the garbage-filled alley, and bandaged his injured knee and a few other abrasions and brought him a hot toddy. In fact, all of them were enjoying hot toddies as they shared the day’s adventures. Sarah was sure that Malloy’s encounter with Pelletier had been harder on her than it had been on him.
“So it looks like your French lady was right,” Malloy said when Sarah had told them what Madame de Béthune had said. “Pelletier told us everything when we got him to the police station.”
“The cops up in Morningside Heights weren’t too happy to see us,” Gino said. “But then we told them they could take all the credit for arresting Pelletier, so they cheered right up.”
“How generous of you,” Sarah said.
“As long as Hatch and the Northrups know we were responsible, that’s all that matters,” Malloy said.
“So how did Pelletier get the idea to pretend he was French?” Maeve asked.
“He’d been trying to earn a living as a tutor and not having much luck,” Malloy said. “He’d always been pretty good at French, so he tried getting a job teaching that, but nobody wanted to hire him. Someone at some school made a remark that if he were French, he could get a job easily, since Americans love France so much. But that’s only because they haven’t been there,” Malloy added to Gino and Maeve, making them smile.
“So he started using that phony accent,” Gino said, continuing the story. “It was pretty easy, I guess, so long as he avoided real French people.”
“But he had to invent some kind of life story, I guess,” Sarah said.
“Yes, people kept asking him where he was from, so he chose this little town nobody ever heard of,” Malloy said.
“And his plan worked beautifully for years, until Abigail came along,” Sarah said.
“He’s still furious at her,” Gino said. “Do you know what he’s the maddest about, though? He’s mad because she said he was a bad teacher. She told him how real French people couldn’t even understand her, and it was his fault for pretending to be French and not being able to speak it properly.”
“So I suppose she must have confronted him when she got the letters from France telling her they never heard of him in the town where he was supposed to have been born,” Sarah said.
“Yes. She was going to go straight to Hatch that morning, I gather, but he wasn’t available,” Frank said. “She had to wait all day, but I guess her secret was just too exciting and she couldn’t help letting something slip to Pelletier.”
“Why were they outside in the gazebo, though?” Maeve asked. “They shared an office, so why not just talk there?”
“Pelletier had an idea of what she was going to say,” Gino said. “He knew she’d been to the town, after all. And they couldn’t have a private conversation in their office. Students were always coming and going, and they couldn’t close the door when they were in there together.”
“Oh yes, for propriety’s sake,” Sarah said.
“That’s right. They’re very strict about that at the school. So he suggested they go outside to the gazebo. Nobody would overhear them there,” Gino said.
“I think Pelletier thought he could talk Abigail out of betraying him,” Malloy said. “That’s what he was hoping, anyway, but she refused.”
“Her sense of right and wrong wouldn’t allow her to forgive him,” Sarah said.
“He claims he didn’t mean to kill her,” Gino said. “He cried like a baby when he told us that part. He just saw his whole life ruined. He’d lose his career and be laughed out of the city. He was so furious, he doesn’t even remember picking up the screwdriver. He said he just wanted to make her stop smiling so smugly at him. And then she was dead.”
“Or so he says,” Malloy said. “Who knows what really happened, and it doesn’t matter. He killed he
r.”
“Did he kill Miss Wilson, too?” Maeve asked.
Malloy nodded.
“But why?” Maeve asked.
“He said she figured out that he killed Abigail,” Gino said. “We’re not sure how, though.”
“It may have had something to do with the ring,” Sarah said.
“What ring?” Maeve asked.
“You remember, Abigail was wearing a ring on a chain around her neck when she died. We found out that Miss Wilson had given it to her because she was in love with her. She didn’t know Abigail was wearing it until I told her, though. Until then, she probably believed—and feared—that Abigail was going to betray her to President Hatch, but when she found out Abigail was wearing the ring, she realized Abigail loved her in return. That may have gotten her thinking about who else Abigail might know something about.”
“She probably didn’t even know what it was,” Maeve said.
“She would’ve known Abigail got letters from France and may have figured it out, though,” Sarah said.
“Then she made the mistake of saying something to Pelletier,” Gino said.
“How did he kill her, though?” Maeve asked.
“He met her at a restaurant to talk,” Malloy said. “She must’ve realized she shouldn’t be alone with him if he killed Abigail, but she thought she’d be safe in a public place.”
Sarah gave Maeve a meaningful look that made her shrug apologetically.
“Then he followed her home,” Gino said. “When she was in the alley behind her house, he threw his scarf around her neck and killed her.”
“Just like he tried to kill Malloy,” Sarah said with a shudder.
“He never stood a chance with me,” Malloy said. “He didn’t realize how much harder it would be to kill a man.”
Sarah wasn’t so sure about that. “I just don’t understand why he attacked you in the first place.”
“Oh, I guess that wouldn’t make sense unless you knew how I lied to Pelletier,” Malloy said. “I had told him that afternoon about the letters written in French that I’d found in the book. When he called our office later, he offered to translate them for me. You know, I didn’t think of it at the time, but he should have also offered to translate the other letters, but he’d already read them, so he knew there was nothing in them he needed to worry about.”
“Didn’t you tell him you already had someone reading the letters?” Sarah asked.
“No, because I was curious about why he was being so helpful suddenly. So when he asked me if I had the letters, I told him I did, and he suggested that we meet so he could read them for me.”
“But then he didn’t meet you,” Sarah said.
“No, all he wanted was the letters, and he didn’t want to be seen with me, so he waited outside until I figured out he wasn’t coming.”
“He was pretty frozen by then,” Gino remarked.
“I’m sure he was,” Sarah said.
“And when I left,” Malloy continued doggedly, “he attacked me. He planned to steal the letters and destroy them once and for all.”
“And kill another person in the bargain,” Sarah said, furious.
“Luckily, Mr. Malloy had his trusty bodyguard to save him, though,” Maeve said with a sly grin.
Gino groaned, his humiliation complete.
“It wasn’t his fault,” Malloy said. “He did exactly what I told him to do.”
“You told him to go off and leave you alone to get murdered?” Maeve asked with fake innocence.
Poor Gino groaned again, and Malloy couldn’t help chuckling. “He was in the tavern with me the whole time, and he knew to wait a few minutes before he followed me out, in case Pelletier tried to sneak up on me outside.”
“I saw Mr. Malloy cross the street, but I didn’t see him go into the alley,” Gino hurried to explain. “So when I came out and he was gone, I thought he’d just gotten ahead of me. I hurried off, but when I didn’t catch up to him and still didn’t see him anywhere, I figured something was wrong and I went back.”
“Thank heaven you did,” Sarah said.
“Oh, Mr. Malloy had him under control by then,” Gino said. “I just used my blackjack on him because I was mad I’d missed all the fun.”
“What a sad story,” Maeve said. “Two women dead just because a man lied and was ashamed to admit it.”
“Murder is always a sad story,” Sarah said. “No one ever has a really good reason for it, or at least not a reason I ever think is good enough.”
“But at least we found the killer, so Gino doesn’t have to worry about going back to the police force,” Malloy said, earning a scowl from him.
“Have you sent word to the Northrups yet?” Sarah asked.
“I sent a telegram telling them Pelletier had been arrested and that I’d be coming up to see them in a day or two. I’ll telephone Hatch’s office in the morning, and then go see him.”
“I don’t think he’s going to be happy to find out what really happened,” Sarah said.
“I can’t do anything about that. He wanted to avoid a scandal, but he also wanted the killer caught and removed. All things considered, this scandal isn’t much at all. The man was a good actor and he fooled lots of people for a long time. It’s embarrassing, but I think the school will survive.”
“I’m sure it will,” Sarah said. “And now I think we should get to our beds. Gino, it’s far too late for you to go home, so Maeve will show you to one of our spare rooms. We’ll sort everything else out in the morning.”
* * *
Over the next few days, Sarah read with interest the newspaper accounts of Pelletier’s crimes. In these versions, Abigail and Miss Wilson were tragic heroines for having discovered the evil professor’s secret. No hint of scandal touched either of them, and they were described in the printed accounts as friends and colleagues. Pelletier was generally considered a fool for committing two murders to cover up such a venial offense as lying to protect his career. President Hatch managed to elicit sympathy for himself and the school, and he actually gave Malloy a bonus for handling the case so well.
The Northrups were still heartbroken over the loss of their daughter, but at least they had managed to protect her memory by hiring Malloy to investigate.
The following Tuesday morning, Sarah sat in her private sitting room, looking through the various newspapers Malloy had brought her. She was happy to see no further mention of Pelletier or the murders. Malloy sat nearby, also perusing the newspapers.
“Did you see this? It’s snowing in Florida,” he said.
“Really?” She took the paper he offered her. On the front page was a line drawing of a photograph taken on the Florida Capitol’s front steps in Tallahassee. It showed legislators having a snowball fight. “That’s amazing.”
“It’s apparently never snowed there before, at least as far as anybody knows.”
“I saw something yesterday about the storm. It’s supposed to be a really bad one.”
“And it’s heading for us,” Malloy said. “It should start snowing sometime today, they say.”
“The snow is always bad, but this terrible cold makes it so much worse.”
“At least you don’t have to worry about going out to deliver a baby,” Malloy said.
“That’s true, and they always seem to arrive when the weather is at its worst.”
Someone tapped on the door, and their maid, Hattie, came in. “A girl from the Mission brought this message for you, Mrs. Frank.”
Sarah took the envelope. Mrs. Keller’s note was short and to the point.
“What is it?” Malloy asked.
“That girl at the Mission who is pregnant, Hannah, she’s apparently gone into labor.”
“I didn’t think her baby was due for months.”
“It’s not. She’s having a miscarria
ge, and Mrs. Keller has asked me to come at once.”
“Can’t she call another midwife?” Malloy asked.
“I suppose she could, but . . .” She gave him what she hoped was an appealing look.
He sighed. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m going with you at least.”
“What on earth for?” she asked in surprise.
“Because of the weather. With this cold and a snowstorm coming, I don’t want to have to worry about you being stranded out there somewhere alone.”
He was right, of course. Even in a city, a person could be lost, and danger lurked everywhere. “Hattie, please make the girl comfortable. I need to dress and make sure my medical bag is packed.” She turned to Malloy. “When is it supposed to start snowing?”
“Oh, the girl said it’s been snowing awhile now,” Hattie reported.
* * *
The city had taken on an oddly festive air with the snowfall. Children were running and sliding and throwing snowballs. Adults were bustling about, shopping to prepare for a few days indoors, if it came to that. It rarely did in the city, where so many hands were available to clear the streets and sidewalks.
Malloy had found them a cab, although the driver wasn’t happy about their destination in the slums of Mulberry Street. The girl who had brought the note—her name was Iris—was pathetically grateful she didn’t have to trudge back to the Mission through the deepening snow.
The cold was bitter, sharp, and angry. The city had already frozen solid from it, and the snow would make it worse. Sarah thought of all the little street arabs, abandoned homeless children who roamed the city with no shelter. She thought of the poor who lacked fuel for heat. How many of them would die before the snow melted?
Malloy tipped the driver generously, but he still wouldn’t wait. He didn’t want to sit long in this neighborhood or in this weather. If Malloy wanted to leave, he’d have to find another cab later.
Mrs. Keller welcomed them warmly. “Mr. Malloy, I didn’t expect to see you, but it’s always a pleasure.”
“He wouldn’t let me come alone, what with the snow,” Sarah said.
Murder in Morningside Heights Page 26
