Murder in Chelsea

by Victoria Thompson

  “Is that something Emma would do, kill Annie and try to blame you for it?”

  Vaughn’s eyes widened as he considered the question, and Frank could see the answer—the real answer—before he said, “No, of course not.” But the fear in his eyes said that he could easily believe it of her.

  Frank pretended to believe him, though. No sense upsetting him when he still had more questions. “What made the two of you come back to the city now?”

  For a second Vaughn looked confused, but he recovered himself pretty quickly, considering his condition. “The tour was over. We had to come back to get another show, and Emma, she says we don’t have to do this anymore anyway. She says we can get money from the old man if we give him the kid.”

  “But you had to be quick, because the old man was dying,” Frank said.

  “That’s right.”

  So Emma had lied about that. She did know Wilbanks was sick. “How did she know he was dying?”

  Vaughn had to think about that for a minute. “Some fellow told her, I think.”

  “What fellow? When?”

  “I don’t know who he was. It was in Chicago, I think. Or maybe later. Cleveland? I don’t know.”

  “While you were still on tour?”

  “Yeah, he came to her after the show and told her the old man was looking for the kid and he was real sick and wanted to see her before he died.”

  “Who was he?”

  “How should I know? I never even saw him. But that’s when she said we had to go back to the city. She said Wilbanks would give us some money for the kid. So she wrote to Annie and told her we were coming.”

  Frank knew the rest of the story. What he didn’t know was who the man was who found Emma in Chicago or maybe Cleveland, although he had a pretty good idea.

  Before he could decide if he had any more questions for Vaughn, the door flew open and Emma Hardy burst into the room.

  “Get up and get dressed! We’ve got to—” She froze when she saw Frank straddling the chair in the middle of the room. “What are you doing here? What did you tell him?” she demanded of Vaughn.

  Vaughn glanced at Frank and then back at Emma, as if trying to decide who was the bigger threat. “I didn’t tell him anything. Where have you been?” Plainly, he had decided Emma was the bigger threat. Frank looked at her with new respect.

  “It’s none of your business where I’ve been,” she said, eyeing Frank warily. “He’s got Catherine and won’t tell me where she is.”

  “He does? That’s kidnapping!” Vaughn said.

  Frank rose slowly to his feet. “No, it isn’t. So, Miss Hardy, who was the man who told you Wilbanks was looking for you?”

  She gave Vaughn a furious glance, then said, “I don’t know. Some detective he hired to find me.”

  Frank nodded as if he understood, except he didn’t quite understand it all, because Wilbanks had said his detective hadn’t found Emma. “Why didn’t he take you to Wilbanks, then?”

  “Because . . .” Her gaze darted around the room, as if she hoped to find an answer there. “How should I know? You’ll have to ask him,” she said finally.

  Frank thought she did know, and he was pretty sure he knew, too. “Because you didn’t have Catherine. That’s the reason, isn’t it? Wilbanks wasn’t interested in you, just the child. So you decided to go back to New York and make your own deal with Wilbanks.”

  She straightened her spine and gave him the kind of glare that actresses usually gave the villain of the piece. “The detective said he was dying and wanted to see her. How could I refuse that? So I wrote to Annie right away and told her we were coming back. I even warned her to move to a different place, where nobody could find her. I was afraid Catherine might come to harm.”

  “I don’t think so. I think you were afraid the detective would find Catherine himself, and you’d miss your chance with Wilbanks.” He waved away her sputtered protests. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t come straight back to the city when you found out Wilbanks was looking for you.”

  “Don’t you think I wanted to?” she asked, trying to appear indignant, but she wasn’t a good enough actress to fool Frank. “I would have done just that but I didn’t have any money. They don’t pay the actors until the end of the tour. That’s the only way they can be sure we’ll stay for the run of the play. So the only way we could get back here was to travel with the show.”

  Now Frank was pretty sure he had the answers to all his questions. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you both,” he said and started for the still-open door.

  “Where are you going? When am I going to get my daughter back?” she asked.

  “We’ll talk about that after I find out who killed Anne Murphy,” he said. “If you have any ideas about that, just leave me a message at Police Headquarters on Mulberry Street. Meanwhile, you should stay right here where I can find you. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on your deal with Wilbanks.”

  He’d gone only a few steps down the hall when Emma started screaming, “What the devil is wrong with you, you drunken bum? I told you not to talk to anybody!”

  She slammed the door, so Frank missed Vaughn’s reply.

  * * *

  SARAH HAD JUST FINISHED TELLING HER PARENTS ABOUT her and Malloy’s visit to the Mission and their meetings with Michael and Lynne Hicks and Emma Hardy when Malloy arrived.

  He gave her a small smile of greeting, but she knew from his eyes that he hadn’t discovered anything that would solve Anne Murphy’s murder. She led him into the kitchen, where her parents were seated at her kitchen table. They exchanged somber greetings, and Malloy took a seat.

  He claimed he’d grabbed something to eat from a street vendor, but she noticed how quickly he devoured the cake she put in front of him, and she doubted it. Without asking, she gave him a second slice and filled all the coffee cups before joining everyone at the table.

  “Mr. Malloy, why don’t you tell us what you learned from this actor fellow,” her father said. “And then I’ll tell you what I learned from Wilbanks.”

  Malloy gave them an account of his visit with Vaughn and the actor’s surprising revelations. Sarah listened in astonishment. “The detective, that must be the one Mr. Wilbanks hired.”

  “I don’t think so,” Malloy said. “Wilbanks said the detective he hired couldn’t find Emma.”

  “But who else would have hired a detective?” her mother asked.

  “Someone who wanted to find the child as badly as Wilbanks,” her father said. “But perhaps not for the same reason.”

  Malloy nodded. “Emma says she didn’t tell the detective where Catherine was, but even if she let something slip, it wouldn’t have been much help, because she had no idea Catherine wasn’t with Anne Murphy.”

  “If this fellow found Emma, he might have found Anne Murphy, too,” Sarah said. “Could he have killed her?”

  “I doubt it. I don’t have much respect for private investigators, but they don’t usually go around killing innocent women. Besides, she was the only one who might help him locate Catherine.”

  “If that’s what he wanted to do,” her father said.

  They all turned to him in surprise.

  “Although none of us wants to think about it, whoever hired this other detective was probably trying to keep Catherine from being found at all, at least by Wilbanks,” he said.

  “You’re right,” Malloy said. “And killing Anne Murphy might prevent anybody else from finding her, too. So I guess we can’t rule out the possibility of a hired killer.”

  “Or the person who hired the detective, who might have gone to see Anne himself after learning where she was,” Sarah added.

  “Or Emma Hardy,” Malloy said. “She’s got a temper. Vaughn himself said she might’ve attacked Anne Murphy when she found out Catherine was missing.”

  “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” her mother said with a sigh. “Felix, what did you find out from Mr. Wilbanks?”

  “Nothing as useful
as Sarah and Mr. Malloy, but at least I convinced him not to insist on seeing Catherine just yet.”

  “How did you manage that?” Sarah asked.

  “I suggested that one of his other children might want her out of the way.”

  “Now that I’ve met his older daughter, I can’t believe she’s responsible for Anne Murphy’s death,” Sarah said.

  “Don’t be so hasty,” her father said. “Wilbanks admitted to me that Hicks had an investigator trying to locate her.”

  “Which is probably the same one Wilbanks thinks couldn’t locate Emma,” her mother said.

  Malloy nodded. “But maybe the investigator did find her and reported that to Hicks, but Hicks didn’t tell Wilbanks.”

  Sarah remembered Mrs. Ellsworth’s comments about attorneys and almost smiled. She still couldn’t think of Michael and Lynne Hicks as killers, but she remembered what Lynne had said about her brother. “Mr. Wilbanks also has a son. Did you see him when you were there, Father?”

  “No, but I learned a lot about him today. He’s got a reputation for gambling, and his father keeps him on a short leash.”

  “Mrs. Hicks said he married a Van Horn,” Sarah said.

  Her mother perked up at that. Marriages among the older families in the city were her special interest. “Really? Which one?”

  “Gilda.”

  They watched as her mother searched her phenomenal memory. “Oh, yes, Gilda. A lovely girl, but a bit headstrong, if I recall correctly. Her family is one of the oldest in the city, of course, but well . . .” She gestured helplessly.

  “They don’t have a penny to their names,” her father said, completing her thought for her. “Mrs. Decker thinks it’s bad manners to talk about money,” he added to Malloy.

  “And what my father means,” Sarah said with a smile, “is that the Van Horns have allowed their fortunes to dwindle to the point that they must maintain their homes with just three servants.”

  “They’ve tried putting their sons to work,” her father said, “with mixed results, and they marry their daughters off to newly minted millionaires who don’t expect a dowry.” He turned to his wife. “Whose daughter is this Gilda?”

  “Ralph, I believe. I remember hearing something about her when she married, but I can’t quite recall exactly what.”

  “A scandal?” Sarah asked, wondering if it could have anything to do with their situation.

  “No, I’m sure I’d remember a scandal. I’m thinking it was just a rumor or a story someone told me. I’d forgotten whom she married. His name would have meant nothing to me then, I’m sure, but I do recall she wasn’t entirely happy about the match, even though it was highly advantageous for her financially.” She gave Malloy a little shrug, as if to apologize for mentioning money.

  “Do they live with Wilbanks?” Malloy asked.

  “I believe so,” her father said.

  “Mrs. Hicks told us that Ozzie Wilbanks is his father’s only heir, so he has the most to lose if Wilbanks decides to claim Catherine,” Malloy said. “I need to pay him a visit.”

  “And perhaps Sarah and I should visit Gilda,” her mother said, earning a scowl from both men.

  “Elizabeth, just because I permitted you to assist Mr. Malloy with an investigation once before does not mean I will ever allow it again.”

  Her mother stared back at him in wide-eyed amazement. “Are you saying you felt it was permissible for me to assist Mr. Malloy in investigating the murder of a virtual stranger but not in a matter that involves our only grandchild?”

  Sarah didn’t know what astonished her more, her mother’s open defiance of her father or the fact that she had referred to Catherine as her grandchild. She realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it with a snap. She braced herself for her father’s response, knowing it would not be loud but would be no less withering for all of that.

  The color that rose in her father’s face wasn’t anger, however, and his expression could only be called chagrin. “Forgive me, Elizabeth. You’re right, of course. Sarah, I know I can depend on you to keep your mother from any situation where her safety might be in jeopardy.”

  “I will do my best, Father,” she said, managing not to sound as shocked as she felt.

  “So we only need Mr. Malloy’s approval of your scheme then,” her father said.

  To his credit, Malloy replied without any trace of surprise. “Wilbanks already knows Mrs. Brandt has Catherine and that she’s your daughter, but the son may not. He didn’t even realize his older children knew about Catherine until the past few days. Mrs. Hicks knows about Mrs. Brandt now, but if the son doesn’t, the son’s wife also may not. What were you going to talk to her about, Mrs. Decker?”

  Plainly, her mother hadn’t thought that far ahead, but she would die before admitting it in front of her husband. After only a moment’s hesitation, she said, “I thought we might pretend we feel compelled to allow Mr. Wilbanks to take custody of Catherine. She is, after all, his daughter, and he has a legal right to her. We can pretend we’re distressed about this, of course, since Sarah is so fond of the child, and I was hoping to allay her concerns by obtaining Gilda’s assurance that she will love Catherine as her own when Mr. Wilbanks is gone.”

  Her father was too surprised at the brilliance of this plan to speak, but Malloy said, “Do you really think you can convince her you’d be that obliging?”

  “Oh, heavens, yes, Mr. Malloy. Women of my social class are experts at pretending to be totally witless when the occasion demands it.”

  This time both men were too surprised to speak.

  Sarah bit back a smile. “I think this is an excellent plan, Mother. I’ll even manage to shed a few tears if necessary.”

  Malloy had to clear his throat. “Well, at the very least you’ll find out how much this Gilda knows about Wilbanks and his mistress, and how she and her husband feel about it.”

  “And how she feels about her husband and her father-in-law, and how eager she is for her husband to inherit the family fortune,” her mother said. “I think I’ll even try to find out what that gossip was about her when she married Ozzie Wilbanks, unless I happen to remember between now and then.”

  “Yes, well,” her father said with uncharacteristic uncertainty. “Uh, Mr. Malloy, is there any way I can assist you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I was just thinking that maybe you should go along with me when I visit Ozzie Wilbanks. There’s no reason he’d agree to meet with a police detective, and I can’t force him to, but he might see you out of curiosity, and if I happened to be with you . . .”

  “Excellent plan. I’ll be happy to use whatever influence I have.”

  The four of them spent a few minutes deciding where and what time to meet the next day.

  “Our carriage is waiting,” her father said. “May we drop you somewhere, Mr. Malloy?”

  “Thank you, no. It would be out of your way, and I don’t have far to go.”

  Sarah couldn’t help thinking of the sensation her parents’ carriage would cause if it pulled up in front of Malloy’s tenement.

  Her parents put on their coats and started to go, but for a moment, Sarah realized her father was hesitant to leave her there alone with Malloy. Then he appeared to shake it off and the two of them left.

  Sarah turned to Malloy, wanting to reach out for the comfort of his arms and knowing she didn’t dare. Pretending they were just friends was difficult enough already. Instead she smiled. “Did my mother surprise you?”

  “Your mother always surprises me. Just when I think I know what to expect from her, she does something completely amazing. I actually feel sorry for your father.”

  “I know. I expected him to be angry at her and instead he apologized.”

  “He thinks of Catherine as his grandchild, too.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Malloy, what will I do if they take her away?”

  “Nobody is going to take her away, even if I have to pack the two of you up and put you on a train t
o California.”

  This surprised her so much, she forgot she wanted to burst into tears. “California?”

  “I’m sure your father will have a closer hideout, but if it comes to that, then yes, California. You’re not going to give Catherine to those people, I promise you that.”

  “Thank you, Malloy. I don’t know how I’d bear this without you.”

  He looked surprised for a moment, and then he said, “You’re your mother’s daughter. You’d bear it somehow.”

  With that he left, leaving her staring after him as he disappeared into the night. Yes, he was right. She’d bear it somehow, even without him, but she was so very grateful that she didn’t have to.

  8

  FRANK HAD LAIN AWAKE FOR A LONG TIME LAST NIGHT, going over everything he’d learned yesterday. To his chagrin, he remembered that he’d never gotten an answer from Vaughn to one of the most important questions he’d asked, the one about why he and Emma had suddenly decided to flee the city. The only clue he had was Wilbanks’s claim that he had proposed marriage to Emma and that she had refused. Marriage to Wilbanks would have given Emma everything she could have ever wanted in life, so Frank found it impossible to believe she would have turned it down. Even if she truly cared for Vaughn, which she must if she was willing to tolerate his drinking and stay with him all these years, she could have kept him as her lover. No, Emma had another reason for leaving town, and Frank was pretty sure it involved Ozzie Wilbanks.

  By the time he arrived at the Decker home late the next morning, he’d worked out a plan for getting Ozzie to tell him everything. To his credit, Decker was waiting for him, as eager as Frank to confront the person who might give them the information they needed to find Anne Murphy’s killer.

  Decker’s carriage took them the few blocks to Wilbanks’s house. Frank didn’t complain or point out they could have walked the distance faster. If he’d learned nothing from Sarah Brandt, he’d learned the importance rich people put on appearances. Besides, it gave them a chance to make their plans for how their interview with Ozzie would go.