“Somebody stabbed her.”
“Dear heaven,” Maeve murmured.
Sarah still could not make sense of it. “Who? Why?”
“I don’t know that yet. I went to see her first thing this morning, and I found her dead. She was alone in the house, and whoever killed her had probably just left.”
Sarah glanced at Maeve. Her face was white, her eyes wide with shock. Guilt tore at her. “You were right,” she told Malloy. “We should never have gone to see her alone.”
He waved away her contrition. “It’s too late to argue about that now. There’s more, a lot more, and none of it is good news. I found Catherine’s father.”
Sarah’s breath felt like a shard of glass in her chest. How could she bear this? “Who is he?”
“His name is David Wilbanks. Does that mean anything to you?”
Sarah shook her head. “No. Miss Murphy said he was a wealthy man. I thought I might know him, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name before.”
“Maybe your father knows him, or at least knows of him. He wants Catherine.”
Sarah covered her mouth to hold back a sob, and Maeve threw an arm over her shoulder.
“We won’t let him have her,” the girl said, tears spilling down her cheeks.
But Sarah could only shake her head. He was Catherine’s father. How could she keep his child from him? Fighting her own tears, Sarah said, “How did you find him?”
“Anne Murphy had written him a letter. I found it in her room.”
“So she did know who he was,” Sarah said, grasping on to anger like a lifeline to keep her from slipping into despair. “What did the letter say?”
“She was offering to tell Wilbanks where Catherine was if he was willing to pay her for the information. I’m not sure why she wrote it but hadn’t mailed it. Maybe she would have sent it if Emma didn’t show up or something. We’ll probably never know, but it led me right to Wilbanks.”
Fury swelled in her chest. “Did you tell him where Catherine was?”
“Of course not, but he’s her father. He has a right to at least see her. And he’s dying.”
“Dying? What do you mean?”
“He’s got cancer, he said. He told me he only has a few months to live.”
Sarah wanted to feel pity for this unknown man who could destroy her world, but instead she hated herself for feeling relief that he might not live to do so. “But he still wants Catherine.”
“He told me he wanted to marry Emma Hardy so he could raise Catherine to be a respectable young lady.”
“I thought he was already married,” Maeve said.
“His wife died over a year ago. Remember Miss Murphy said that Emma and Wilbanks had an argument right before Emma ran away? Wilbanks said it was because she didn’t want to marry him.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Sarah said.
“None of this makes any sense,” Maeve said. “And why would somebody want to kill Miss Murphy, of all people?”
Sarah didn’t know, and right now, all she could think about was losing her daughter. “How did you leave it with Wilbanks?”
“I told him that until I find out who killed Miss Murphy and why she thought Catherine might be in danger, too, I wasn’t going to tell anyone where she is.”
“And he agreed to that?”
“He did. He wasn’t happy about it, but he doesn’t want any harm to come to her either.”
Tears stung Sarah’s eyes. How could she hate a man who loved Catherine that much? “But if he’s dying . . .”
“I know. He won’t wait very long.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We find out who killed Miss Murphy,” Maeve said.
Malloy gave her a half grin. “That’s a good idea, but first, Sarah, I think we need to speak to your father.”
4
SARAH HAD SUGGESTED MALLOY MEET HER AT HER PARENTS’ house, but he came to fetch her that morning in a hansom cab. They would have made faster progress if they’d walked to the elevated train station and ridden it uptown, but Sarah didn’t mention this. She suspected Malloy wanted to deliver her to her parents’ house in the best possible style.
Whatever his reasoning, Sarah leaned back in the cozy confines of the vehicle and sighed, grateful for the opportunity to spend some time with Malloy before facing her parents.
“Are you all right?” he asked when they were on their way.
Sarah had seen the dark circles under her eyes this morning, so she wasn’t insulted by his concern. “I haven’t been sleeping very well. At first I was worried about Catherine’s mother taking her away, and now I’m worried about her father.”
“I wish I could tell you not to worry.”
She smiled. “I know you do. Do you think there’s anything my father can do to help?”
This time Malloy sighed and not with contentment. “It’s been my experience that money and power can solve an awful lot of problems.”
“But this time both sides have money and power, so whose problems will be solved?”
Malloy’s dark eyes held no answers.
“What kind of a man is Wilbanks?” she asked after a moment.
“Are you asking if he’s ruthless? I’m sure he is when he needs to be. You don’t get rich by being kind to other people.”
Sarah wished she could disagree with him. “Could he have sent someone to kill Anne Murphy?”
“Of course, but I don’t think he did. He was too surprised to find out she was dead. Besides, why would he kill someone who could help him find Catherine?”
“I suppose you’re right. The question is, who would?”
“I know, and I don’t like any of the answers.”
“Like Wilbanks’s son?” she said.
“If he killed Anne Murphy to keep her from producing Catherine . . .”
He didn’t have to finish that thought. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears.
To her surprise, Malloy took her hand in his. “It’s too soon to give up, Sarah.”
Suddenly, she didn’t feel like crying anymore. “You’re right. It is.”
By the time they reached her parents’ town house, Sarah had regained her courage. Surprised to see visitors so early in the day, the flustered maid escorted them to the rear parlor—the family parlor—to wait. Sarah took a seat on the sofa while Malloy prowled the room restlessly.
In a remarkably short time, her parents came in together. Her mother, she could tell, had dressed in haste, not even taking the time to let her maid do her hair. It still hung down her back, tied with a ribbon. She went immediately to Sarah and took both her hands. “Do you have news?”
“Were you expecting this visit, Elizabeth?” her father asked with an unmistakable hint of annoyance.
“I was hoping for it, yes,” she said. “I’m so glad to see you, Mr. Malloy.”
“And you told me nothing about it?” her father said.
“No. I thought you should hear it all from Sarah. Shall we sit down?”
Even in her distracted state, Sarah thought her father was behaving strangely. Then again, she’d never brought Malloy with her on a visit before either. She resumed her seat on the sofa, and her mother sat beside her. Malloy, she noted, took a chair at a respectable distance from her, leaving her father the nearer one.
“What is all this about?” her father asked when they were settled.
Even though he had addressed the question to Malloy, Sarah said, “It’s about Catherine.”
Her father frowned. “Catherine? The little girl?”
Sarah wanted to say, “My little girl,” but she knew this was no longer true. “Yes, the other day a woman went to the Mission looking for her. She claimed she was the child’s nursemaid and was returning to claim her.”
Her father considered this information for a moment, then turned back to Malloy. “I thought perhaps you were here because you’d changed your mind.”
Changed his mind about what? Sa
rah wondered, but before she could ask, her father said, “Elizabeth, we’ll discuss why you chose to keep this information from me at a later time. For now, I think you had better tell me everything, Sarah.”
Sarah did, beginning with her meeting with Mrs. Keller up to her and Maeve’s visit with Anne Murphy. He listened patiently to that point, then turned to Malloy, furious. “And you permitted her to see this woman alone?”
Malloy never batted an eye. “What makes you think I have any more control over her than you do?”
Her mother made a strange little choking sound that might have been a smothered laugh and which Sarah refused to acknowledge.
“Malloy didn’t know about it,” Sarah said. “I didn’t tell him anything at all until I’d already met with Miss Murphy.”
This had the desired effect of drawing her father’s ire back to her. Ignoring his scowling disapproval, she continued the story, telling him everything she had learned from Anne Murphy. “That was when I decided to ask Mr. Malloy for assistance.”
Her father seemed almost relieved. “And what have you done about this woman?” he asked Malloy.
“I went to see her yesterday.”
“And?”
Malloy glanced apologetically at her mother. “She was dead. Somebody had murdered her.”
Sarah had underestimated the horror her parents would feel at this news. They naturally assumed that Sarah had come perilously close to meeting the same fate with her reckless disregard for her own safety in visiting Miss Murphy unprotected. She had to allow them to be furious with her for several minutes before they could continue.
“You’re absolutely right, I should never have done it,” she said at last, “and Mr. Malloy has already taken me to task for it. However, I was not murdered along with Miss Murphy, and along with the question of who murdered her, I still have the problem of Catherine’s parents wanting to claim her.”
“Parents?” her father said. “I thought it was just her mother.”
Malloy picked up the story from there and told them about finding the letters and going to meet David Wilbanks. “Do you know him?” he asked her parents.
Her mother shook her head. Her father said, “I’ve heard of him.”
“Good things or bad?” Sarah asked.
“Business things. I don’t know the man himself, but I will by tonight. I suppose he wants Catherine back.”
“He does, but he also told me he’s dying. He has cancer, and he said he only has a few months to live.”
Sarah could actually see her father registering this weakness as something to use to their advantage. “He can’t possibly imagine he can take care of a young child then.”
Malloy explained Wilbanks’s plan to marry Emma Hardy and give Catherine a life of privilege.
“I’m afraid we must admire him for that,” her mother said.
“If we can admire a man who broke his marriage vows with a strumpet, then I suppose we must,” her father said. “Mr. Malloy, will you be the one to investigate this woman’s murder?”
“I’ve gotten myself assigned to the case, yes. No one else is interested in it, so I’m not sure how long they’ll let me work on it, but I’ll have a few days, at least.”
“I don’t suppose this Wilbanks would use his influence.” This, Sarah knew, was a polite way of asking if Wilbanks would pay the necessary bribes to ensure police department cooperation.
“He didn’t offer,” Malloy said.
“Perhaps he doesn’t understand his responsibility in the matter. I’ll explain it to him.”
“Father! You’re not going to see this man, are you?”
“Of course I am.”
“Then he’ll know where Catherine is.”
“Mr. Malloy said he’d already hired a private investigator to find her once, and now he knows Mr. Malloy’s connection to her. Even the most incompetent operative would be able to learn of his friendship with you and that you have a foster daughter. I imagine someone will be at your door tomorrow to claim her.”
Instinctively, Sarah jumped to her feet. “I’ve got to get home!”
“Of course you do, dear,” her mother said. “I’ll go with you.”
“And you’ll bring Catherine back here,” her father said. “That girl who takes care of her, too.”
“Her name is Maeve,” Sarah said, furious at him for taking over her life and especially for being right to do so.
“Yes, Maeve. They’ll be safe here, and your mother will love having them.”
“I certainly will.”
“I will go to my club and find out who knows this Wilbanks fellow, and Mr. Malloy will find out who killed this Murphy woman. Does that plan meet with your approval, Mr. Malloy?”
Sarah glanced at Malloy and caught a momentary flash of surprise at her father’s demonstration of confidence, but he recovered instantly. “Yes, sir, it does.”
“You must call upon me for whatever you need. Elizabeth, go finish dressing. I’ll have the carriage brought around for you and Sarah. Mr. Malloy, I’m sure you will want to be on your way, so we won’t keep you any longer.”
“Wait!” her mother said when Malloy would have taken his leave. They all looked at her in surprise. “There’s one thing about this that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Just one thing?” her father asked.
“Oh, most of it is very strange, to be sure, but one thing struck me as completely unbelievable. Why wouldn’t this Emma person marry Mr. Wilbanks after his wife died?”
“I wondered about that myself,” Sarah said. “I guess I forgot about it with everything else, though. Did Mr. Wilbanks know why she refused?”
Malloy shook his head. “He thought she didn’t want to give up acting to be tied down with an old husband and a child.”
“Nonsense!” her mother said. “No woman in her right mind would refuse an offer like that.”
“Maybe she didn’t love him, Mother,” Sarah argued.
“He was the father of her child and rich into the bargain, and women marry men they don’t love every day. What kind of a life did she have to look forward to? She wasn’t a great actress, just a chorus girl, and she was already getting close to the end of that career.”
“How can you know that?” her father asked.
“Think about it. She’d taken up with Wilbanks at least six years ago. When she went back to it a few years later, she was still only in the chorus. Now we think she’s in a touring company, where you only find the actors who can’t get work in the city. How would she support herself and her child when she’s too old to kick up her heels anymore? And who would choose that over a life of luxury with a rich husband, no matter how old he is?”
“His being old would actually be an advantage,” Sarah realized. “She’d figure to outlive him by many years.”
“Exactly!” her mother said.
The two men exchanged a horrified glance.
“So you see, she must have had a very good reason for refusing him,” her mother said. “One she didn’t want to share with Wilbanks.”
Her father still looked skeptical, but Malloy said, “She’s right.”
Now they all turned to him in surprise.
“I just remembered something Mrs. Dugan said.”
“Who’s Mrs. Dugan?” her mother asked.
“The landlady at the boardinghouse where Emma and Anne Murphy lived at different times through the years. I went there after I saw Wilbanks. Remember Anne Murphy told you that when Emma went back into the theater, she would stay in the city during the week? I asked Mrs. Dugan if she stayed at her boardinghouse. She told me that Wilbanks paid her to keep a room for her, but she never actually answered my question about her living there.”
“But if she had a room there . . .” her father said.
“That’s what I thought, too, but now I remember another woman who lives there said she hardly knew Emma. If Emma had lived there for several years, even if she didn’t stay there all the time, the other peop
le in the house would have known her well.”
“Maybe this woman didn’t move in until after Emma ran away from Wilbanks,” Sarah said.
“Or maybe this Emma was staying someplace else entirely when she came to the city,” her mother said, earning a surprised look from her husband and an admiring one from Malloy.
“That’s what I was thinking, too, Mrs. Decker,” Malloy said. “Maybe she just wanted Wilbanks to think she stayed there.”
“But where else would she have stayed?” her father asked.
“Oh, Felix, use your imagination. She had a lover! She probably told Wilbanks she wanted to go back to acting so she’d have an excuse to come to the city to see him. She could have stayed with him when she was here.”
“Because no respectable boardinghouse would allow her to entertain a man there,” Sarah said.
Her mother nodded. “And she didn’t want to marry Wilbanks because then she would be living with him all the time and would no longer have had the freedom to see her lover. She wanted Wilbanks to support her, but she couldn’t marry him without giving up the man she really loved.”
Her father was looking at her mother as if he had never seen her before, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy grinning at Malloy, who was grinning right back.
“And that man might not have wanted Emma to be reunited with her child because that could have gotten her back with Wilbanks, too. Thank you, Mrs. Decker. I’m going back to see Mrs. Dugan right now.”
This time her father said, “Wait!” when Malloy would have taken his leave. “We need to meet this evening to share information.”
“Come to my house,” Sarah said.
“Why not here?” her mother asked. “Won’t you be coming here with Maeve and Catherine?”
“No, I think I should stay at my house in case someone needs to find me. I also don’t want to take a chance of Catherine finding out what’s going on. She’s already noticed that I’m not myself, and I don’t want her to be frightened.”
“All right. We’ll meet at your house at eight o’clock,” her father said and rang for the maid to show Malloy out and order the carriage.
For the first time in days, Sarah felt the tiniest bit hopeful.
Murder in Chelsea Page 6
