Decker took the glass and put it to her lips. She wrapped her hands over his while she sipped, coughed a bit, then sipped again before looking up at him. “Thank you, Mr. Decker. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s the shock, I’m sure,” Decker said.
It might be more than that. Frank had never seen anyone laugh when they found out a loved one was dead.
“The shock, of course,” Mrs. Devries said. Frank noticed she’d forgotten she was supposed to be crying. “I feel rather faint myself. Poor Chilly. And what an undignified way to go. Stabbed, you say? I can hardly credit it.”
Garnet’s head came up. “Stabbed? What do you mean, stabbed?”
“They think someone stabbed Father.”
“Stabbed him where?” she asked.
“In the back, apparently,” Paul said.
She sighed. “No, I mean where was he when it happened?”
Paul and his mother exchanged a glance, then looked at Decker, who turned to Frank.
“We don’t know when or where it happened. The wound was small. He probably didn’t know he was seriously hurt, but he died later from the injury.”
“Who are you?” she asked, and Frank noticed the abrupt question didn’t sound rude coming from her.
“Frank Malloy.”
“He’s a policeman,” Paul added.
Garnet looked Frank over but showed none of the disdain her mother-in-law had exhibited. “He doesn’t look like a policeman. Where’s his uniform?”
“I’m a detective sergeant with the city police.”
“Mr. Malloy is investigating Chilly’s death,” Decker added.
She considered this information. “If you don’t know when or where he was stabbed, how are you going to investigate?”
“It won’t be easy,” Frank admitted with a small smile.
To his amazement, she smiled back. For a second he was afraid she might start laughing again, but she didn’t. “I think you like things that aren’t easy, Mr. Malloy.”
Frank wasn’t sure what he should say to that. Luckily, Decker saved him from having to think of something. “Perhaps you could arrange for Mr. Malloy to question Roderick and the other servants, Lucretia.”
“Must he do it now? They’ll be no good to anyone for the rest of the day if he upsets them.”
“They’ll be upset when they hear about Chilly anyway,” Decker said. “Might as well get it all over with at once.”
“I’ll ring for the maid.” Paul moved to the bell rope.
“I’ll need a room where I can see them alone,” Frank said.
“The receiving room should do nicely.” Mrs. Devries rose. “I think I shall retire. All of this excitement is bad for my nerves. My doctor told me I should never become upset, you know. It’s the very worst thing when you have bad nerves.”
“I’m sorry to have distressed you, Lucretia,” Decker said, “but someone had to tell you about Chilly. I thought it would be easier from me than from a stranger.”
Paul stepped forward. “You were very kind to come yourself, wasn’t he, Mother? I know the truth of it hasn’t really sunk in for me yet. There’s so much to do, isn’t there? A funeral and…and …” He gestured vaguely.
“We’ll need mourning clothes, I suppose,” his mother said. “I detest wearing black, but there’s no help for it, is there?”
“No, Mother Devries, there’s no help for it.” Garnet sighed again and turned as the maid came in.
Frank waited as Paul told her that Mr. Malloy would like to speak with Roderick in the receiving room, and then he would like to see some of the other servants, too. Roderick would take care of all that. Her eyes were like saucers at the strange request, but, of course, she couldn’t question him. She’d have to wait for the gossip to make its way through the household.
“Are you going to tell this Roderick that Mr. Devries is dead?” he asked Paul.
The young man blanched. “Oh, uh, well, you can tell him, can’t you? I’m not good at that sort of thing, you know.”
Nobody was good at that sort of thing, but Frank just nodded. He hoped this Roderick wasn’t too fond of his master. He’d certainly resent having to find out about his death from a policeman, in any case.
Decker was expressing his condolences to Mrs. Devries, who managed to look stricken even though she obviously didn’t give a fig. She, in turn, thanked him for his concern and promised to let him know immediately if he could do anything to assist her. Frank figured she would think of a lot of ways he could do that. Mrs. Devries and Paul didn’t seem like the kind of people who could accomplish much on their own.
Garnet, however, was another matter entirely. She apparently had more brains than the other two put together. How had she ended up married to an idiot like Paul Devries? Frank would never understand the rich, who seemed to sell their daughters off to the highest bidder with no thought to whether they would be happy or not.
Then again, both of Felix Decker’s daughters had run off with men of their own choosing and neither of those marriages had ended so well, either.
Decker shook her hand and moved toward the door. “I’m sure Elizabeth will call on you as soon as she hears the news.”
Frank wished he could talk to Decker’s wife, Elizabeth, before she made that call. She had once assisted him on an investigation, and surely she could learn some useful information on this one if he told her what to ask. Unfortunately, Decker had no idea his wife had been involved in a murder case, and Frank wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.
Paul rang for the maid again to show him out.
“Mr. Malloy can walk out with me and wait downstairs for the valet,” Decker said.
Frank thanked them for their help, although they hadn’t helped him at all, and followed Decker out. He had the feeling Decker wanted a minute alone with him, but when they reached the front hallway, a man who could only be the valet Roderick was already waiting.
Decker took his hat from the maid and turned to Frank. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
Frank figured he would.
SARAH BRANDT WAS ENJOYING A RARE DAY AT HOME. AS A midwife, she had to be available night or day to go on a delivery, but no babies had seen fit to enter the world today, leaving her free to enjoy her foster daughter, Catherine. Her mother had also stopped by for a visit, although Sarah knew she had mostly come to see Catherine, who filled her need to have a grandchild.
They were all in the child’s bedroom, sipping make-believe tea from a tiny china set, when the front doorbell rang.
Catherine’s bottom lip immediately popped into a pout.
“I’ll answer it.” Her nursemaid, Maeve, jumped up from her place on the floor. “Maybe it’s not a birth. Maybe it’s Mr. Malloy,” she added with a wicked grin. Catherine clapped her hands and Sarah smiled. The child adored Frank Malloy.
“Have you seen Mr. Malloy lately?” Mrs. Decker asked from where she sat on Catherine’s bed.
Sarah wasn’t fooled by her mother’s seemingly innocent question. “No, not lately.” She pushed herself up from the floor. Whoever was at the door would probably want to see her even if they didn’t need her for a delivery.
A man’s voice rumbled below.
“Heavens, that sounds like your father,” Mrs. Decker said.
“What would he be doing here?” Sarah couldn’t remember the last time her father had been to her modest home. Surely not since her husband, Tom, died, over four years ago.
“Maybe he’s looking for me. Oh, dear, I hope nothing bad has happened. Sarah, you really should get a telephone. You have no idea how convenient they are.”
“And you have no idea how expensive they are, Mother.” Sarah left the room with her mother and Catherine close behind. From the stair landing she caught Maeve looking up, her expression mirroring her own astonishment.
“Father, what a nice surprise.”
“I hope it is.” He blinked. “Elizabeth, I didn’t know you were here.”
“You didn’t? We thought you might have come looking for me.”
“No, I…I needed to speak with Sarah, but I’m glad you’re here. It will save me having to tell it twice.”
Sarah felt a tug as Catherine peered from behind her skirts. “Darling, you remember Mr. Decker, don’t you?”
The child nodded.
“I’m very pleased to see you again, Catherine,” he said. “I believe you’ve grown since I saw you last.”
Catherine looked up at Sarah.
“I believe she has.” Sarah couldn’t blame Catherine for not answering. Her father spent his life intimidating his own business associates. Even when he was trying to be charming, he could seem frightening to a child.
“Should I take Catherine upstairs, Mrs. Brandt?” Maeve asked.
“Yes, please.”
“We won’t be long, I’m sure,” Mrs. Decker said with a smile that held all the warmth her husband’s did not. “Then I’ll be back to finish our tea party.”
Sarah saw her father’s eyebrows rise, but he said nothing as his wife stroked Catherine’s smooth cheek before Maeve took the child’s hand and led her back up the stairs.
“Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ll make some coffee.” Sarah led them to the kitchen, her home’s main gathering place. Her front room had long since been converted into an office for her late husband’s medical practice and where she still consulted with her own patients.
“I hope you aren’t here to tell us something horrible,” her mother said as her parents took seats at the well-worn kitchen table. Sarah doubted her father had sat in many kitchens in his life, but she offered no apologies. She started making the coffee.
“Chilton Devries died.”
“Good heavens! Was it an accident?”
“No, I believe it was on purpose.”
Sarah looked up. “On purpose?”
“Your Mr. Malloy believes he was murdered.”
Sarah didn’t bother to point out that he wasn’t her Mr. Malloy. “Is Mr. Malloy investigating?”
“I called him in, yes.”
Any reply she made would be wrong, so she busied herself with filling the coffeepot.
“You were very wise to choose Mr. Malloy, my dear,” her mother said. “Now tell us everything.”
While her father explained, Sarah set the pot on the stove to boil, then took a seat at the table.
“So then Mr. Malloy and I called on the Devrieses to break the news.”
“Dear heaven,” her mother said. “I suppose Lucretia became hysterical.”
“Oddly enough, no. She merely seemed put out.”
Sarah frowned. “Put out? You mean she was annoyed that her husband had died?”
“Yes, and not nearly as grief-stricken as I hope you would be if I died,” he added to his wife.
“I would be inconsolable,” she replied.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I’m trying to remember who the Devrieses are,” Sarah said.
“You remember their son, Paul, I’m sure. You’re of an age, I believe. Mousey little boy with yellow hair. Never had much to say for himself.”
“Which hardly makes him memorable, but I think I may have danced with him a time or two when we were growing up. Is he married?”
Her mother nodded. “Yes, but I don’t think his wife is anyone you’d know. I don’t think I even know where she came from. I can’t seem recall her name, either.”
“Garnet,” her father said. “She started laughing when she heard Devries was dead.”
Elizabeth Decker’s eyebrows rose. “Laughing?”
“I’m sure it was hysteria. The shock.”
“I’m sure.” She didn’t sound it.
“Why did you feel you needed to make a special trip here to tell me all this?” Sarah asked.
To her surprise, her father didn’t answer right away. He glanced from her mother to his well-tended hands. He finally looked up, and Sarah had never seen her father look so uncertain before. “I know you have assisted Mr. Malloy with his investigations in the past.”
“Felix—”
Without turning away, he raised a hand to silence her mother. “I have not always approved of your involvement with him. You have, at times, even put yourself in danger.”
Sarah felt her hackles rising. She had fought against his will her entire life, even estranging herself from both her parents for years. She wasn’t going to submit now. “Father, I’m a grown woman and—”
“I know, I know. I don’t want to argue with you, Sarah. Just hear me out. I don’t believe you have any reason to involve yourself in this investigation. You hardly know the Devries family, but I was hoping you would accompany your mother when she makes a condolence call tomorrow.”
Both women gaped at him. Sarah found her tongue first. “A condolence call?”
He turned to his wife. “I’m afraid I already promised Lucretia you would call.”
“Of course I will. She may be insufferable, but we’ve known them all our lives. But why do you want Sarah to go with me?”
Sarah caught his glance. “Because something is very strange in that house, and I doubt Mr. Malloy has the slightest chance of finding out what it is.”
RODERICK WAS A MAN OF MIDDLE YEARS, AND FRANK could see he took his position as valet to the master of the house very seriously. His suit and shirt were impeccable. His neatly parted dark hair, lightly touched with gray, lay smoothly against his head. His suspicious glare also said he didn’t appreciate being called away from his duties by the likes of Frank Malloy.
“Mary Catherine said you wanted to speak with me,” Roderick said when Mr. Decker had taken his leave.
“Yes.” Frank led him into the ugly little receiving room and closed the door. “Would you like to sit down?”
Roderick stiffened, not giving an inch. “I don’t think that …”
“Mr. Devries is dead.”
Frank’s words had the desired effect. Roderick blinked a few times, and the color drained from his face, along with all resistance. Frank took his arm and put him into one of the wooden chairs that formed practically the only furnishings in the room.
He looked up, his face slack. “Dead? But how…?”
“We think he was murdered.” Frank sat down across from him and waited. The man who had risen to the exalted position of valet had been serving wealthy people most of his life. He’d overheard every intimate detail of their lives. Frank hoped Roderick would blurt out his opinion of someone’s guilt, but the silence grew deafening. He was far too well trained for that. He wouldn’t be where he was if he hadn’t learned to keep the family’s secrets to himself.
“How? When?” he finally asked. To his credit, he was the only one in the house so far who had reacted as if he cared what had happened to the dead man.
“We don’t know exactly. That’s why I need to talk to everyone who might’ve seen him today. I’m trying to figure out where he was and who he might’ve been with.”
Roderick stiffened again and color flooded back to his face. “I’m sure I have no idea where he was after he left the house today.”
“He didn’t mention where he was going? Maybe he had a business meeting or an appointment with somebody.”
“Mr. Devries kept his own counsel. He wasn’t one to confide in his servants.”
Frank nodded as if he understood perfectly the habits of wealthy men. “You knew him better than anyone, though. Did he seem anxious or worried about anything?”
“I’m sure I couldn’t say.”
“Don’t know or just couldn’t say?”
Roderick blinked again. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. Look, Roderick, here’s what happened. Somebody stabbed Devries in the back.”
The valet gasped.
“But he didn’t die right away. We don’t know what he got stabbed with, but the wound was small, and he must not have known how badly he was hurt. He went on about his business fo
r a while, and when he got to his club this afternoon, he sat down in a chair and died. So now we need to figure out where he was today so we can figure out who could’ve stabbed him.”
“No one here would have harmed Mr. Devries.”
“I didn’t say anybody did. I asked you to tell me where else he might’ve been today.”
Roderick’s dark eyes narrowed. “You said he was injured a long time before he died.”
“That’s right.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
“Could it have been…early this morning?”
“Maybe. What happened early this morning?”
“I don’t know. I mean, Mr. Devries wasn’t here.”
“Where was he?”
“He…He spent the night elsewhere.”
Frank leaned forward in his chair. “Do you know where?”
“As I said, Mr. Devries keeps his own counsel…or, at least, he did.”
“But you’re pretty sure you know where he was.”
Roderick’s lips tightened as if he were trying to hold back what he wanted to say. “He owns a house down on Mercer Street, near Washington Square.”
“And you think he was there last night?”
“He stays there frequently.” Roderick sighed. “I don’t suppose it matters now, but…someone else lives there.”
“Who?”
“His mistress.”
“I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE IT,” ELIZABETH DECKER SAID TO Sarah as they stood together in the entryway, having just seen Felix Decker out. “Your father has given both of us permission to investigate Chilly Devries’s murder.”
“I believe he actually ordered me to do it, but I don’t think he has the slightest expectation that you will do anything except escort me.”
“You may be right, but I feel obligated to misunderstand him if it serves my interests.”
“Until he finds out and locks you in the cellar.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t find out.”
“Did Mr. Decker leave?” Maeve called from the top of the stairs.
“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Decker replied. “Could you get the tea things ready again? I’ll be right up.” She turned back to Sarah. “I’ll stop by for you in the morning, and we can make our plans on the way over to Lucretia’s house. This evening, I’ll try to find out what else your father knows.”
Murder on Fifth Avenue: A Gaslight Mystery Page 3
