Murder on Amsterdam Avenue

by Victoria Thompson

Another rich couple with separate bedrooms. Frank would never understand it.

  “I may have upset her by talking about Charles yesterday,” Sarah said.

  “Jenny isn’t usually prone to the vapors, though,” Gerald said, walking over to the sideboard where the liquor decanters sat.

  Zeller cleared his throat. “If you’re finished with me, Mr. Malloy, I have work to do.”

  “Yes, thank you, Zeller. If you think of anything else, please let me know.”

  He nodded and hurried out.

  “May I get you something? Coffee or tea?” Gerald asked, returning with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

  “No, thank you,” Sarah said. Frank caught her frowning her disapproval, although Gerald didn’t seem to notice. “I understand Hannah is still here.”

  “Yes, she ranted and wept, but I told her I wasn’t going to get the carriage out for her until this morning. Do you think she’s the one who killed Charles?” He looked almost hopeful.

  “We don’t know yet,” Frank said.

  “Mr. Oakes,” Sarah said, “did you know that Daisy had been a slave on Jenny’s plantation?”

  “What?” Gerald seemed genuinely confused, and Frank wondered if he could be drunk already.

  “Jenny and Daisy grew up on the plantation together.” Frank noticed Sarah wasn’t mentioning the possibility that they were sisters. “In fact, Daisy had come to New York looking for Jenny. She thought Jenny would take care of her, I think.”

  Gerald seemed to be giving the matter some thought, and Sarah let him think. “Now that you say it, I do remember Jenny mentioning that one of her father’s slaves had shown up looking for a place. And you say that was Daisy? The one who just died?”

  Frank remembered Jenny’s claim that Gerald couldn’t even tell the Negro maids apart. What would he do if he found out Jenny was a Negro, too?

  “That’s right,” Sarah said.

  “Do you think that had something to do with Charles’s death? But how could it?”

  A tap on the door saved them from replying. Zeller stepped in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but I thought you’d want to know. Mrs. Gerald seems to be missing.”

  “Jenny?” Gerald asked in that puzzled way that made Frank sure he was drunk. “What do you mean, she’s missing?”

  “Patsy went into her room to wake her, but she wasn’t there, and her bed hasn’t been slept in.”

  “That’s impossible. She must be here somewhere.”

  “Patsy and the other girls have looked all over the house, but they haven’t found her.”

  Frank exchanged a glance with Sarah. Could they have been wrong about her? Could Jenny have killed Daisy after all? Had she run away to escape punishment?

  “Could she have gone out somewhere?” Sarah asked.

  “Not this early,” Zeller said.

  “But you said her bed hadn’t been slept in. Maybe she went out last night.”

  “Surely someone would have seen her.”

  “And where could she have been all night?” Gerald asked with growing alarm.

  “Can you take me to her room?” Sarah asked.

  “I’ll have one of the maids show you up,” Zeller said, stepping out to fetch one.

  Frank pulled her aside. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’ll check to see if she took anything with her or packed a bag, but I can’t imagine she’d run away. Even if she did kill Daisy, it was because Daisy had killed Charles, and Gerald would never allow her to be punished for it.”

  “You’re right, but where could she be?” Society matrons didn’t just vanish.

  Patsy came in and escorted Sarah upstairs. Jenny’s bedroom door stood open, and Zeller was right, her bed was still neatly made. She checked the dressing room and found it just as tidy. “Is anything missing?” she asked Patsy.

  “What do you mean?”

  “A suitcase or some kind of bag? Any of her clothes?”

  “Do you think she went on a trip someplace without telling anybody?” she asked doubtfully.

  “I’m just trying to think of any possible explanation.”

  But when Patsy finished her search, she said, “Nothing’s missing except the clothes she was wearing yesterday.”

  “When you say you looked all over the house, did you check the servants’ rooms?”

  “Why would she be up there?”

  “I don’t know, but she’s not anyplace she’s supposed to be, so it won’t hurt to look, will it?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Sarah followed Patsy upstairs and they peered into every one of the rooms. Sarah had harbored some hope that they might find her in Daisy’s old room. Maybe she’d gone there to mourn her sister and fallen asleep, but that room stood empty, the bed stripped and the mattress rolled up. Jenny wasn’t in any of the other rooms either.

  “Did you check with Mrs. Charles? Maybe she knows something.”

  Patsy’s eyes widened in alarm. “We don’t disturb Mrs. Charles until she rings for us, ma’am.”

  So Hannah was truly the harridan she appeared to be. “I’m not afraid to disturb her. Maybe Mrs. Gerald went to help her pack.”

  Patsy’s horrified expression told Sarah she didn’t believe that for a moment, and of course Sarah didn’t believe it either, but if Jenny had thought Hannah killed Charles, she might have gone to her room last night and taken some vengeance. Since they had exhausted all the logical explanations for Jenny’s disappearance, the real reason must be something they would never have considered.

  Patsy took Sarah to the door of Hannah’s bedroom, but she stopped there.

  “I wouldn’t want to be the one to wake her,” Patsy whispered.

  “Then walk down the hallway, out of sight. I’ll go in by myself,” Sarah said.

  She waited until Patsy was gone. Then she tapped on the door and opened it without waiting for a reply. Hannah was sleeping soundly and hadn’t even moved. Sarah made a quick sweep of the room, then checked the two adjoining dressing rooms without success. When Hannah still hadn’t stirred, Sarah crept over to make sure she was breathing.

  She was. She also looked absolutely lovely with her face relaxed in sleep. No wonder Charles had married her. Sarah fervently hoped she’d marry some wastrel who would make her as miserable as she made other people.

  As soon as Sarah closed the door behind her, Patsy reappeared and hurried toward her.

  “Is there any place you haven’t looked? Anyone you haven’t asked besides Mrs. Charles?”

  Patsy shrugged. “Old Mrs. Oakes. I didn’t want to bother her, and what would Mrs. Gerald be doing in her room anyway?”

  What, indeed, but it wouldn’t hurt to look. “Which room is it?”

  Patsy led her down the hallway to the very end. She apparently wasn’t as terrified of the old woman as she was of Hannah. She knocked loudly. “Mrs. Oakes? Are you awake?”

  They waited, but heard nothing.

  “She’s a little hard of hearing,” Patsy explained. She tried again, and when she still got no reply, she smiled apologetically and tried the door. “That’s funny,” she said when it didn’t open. “She never locks it.”

  Sarah stepped up and pounded much more loudly. “Mrs. Oakes, are you in there? Are you all right?”

  They still heard nothing, but Sarah had noticed a familiar odor. Just a whiff, probably coming from under the door, but she knew only too well what it meant. “Do you have a key?”

  “Mr. Zeller does.”

  “Go get him.”

  • • •

  Frank paced the parlor while Gerald sipped his morning whiskey, as if fortifying himself for some dreadful news. Frank figured he was wise to do so. Whatever they found out this morning was going to be awful.

  A tap on the door announced Zeller’s return. “Mr. Malloy, t
hat young man—” he began, but Gino pushed his way into the room before he could finish.

  “Mr. Malloy, I found out who bought the arsenic. You won’t believe it when I tell you!”

  “Who was it?” Frank asked.

  Gino opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Patsy rushed in behind him. “Mr. Zeller, come quick. We can’t rouse Mrs. Oakes and her door is locked.”

  Zeller gave Oakes a questioning glance, but Gerald waved him on. “Go with her.”

  Zeller hurried out behind her, and Malloy followed with Gino behind him and Gerald trailing them all.

  • • •

  After Patsy left, Sarah kept knocking and calling, until Hannah came stumbling out of her room, still tying the sash of her robe.

  “What on earth is going on?” she demanded. “Mrs. Brandt, is that you?”

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” Sarah lied. “But Mrs. Oakes isn’t answering and her door is locked.”

  “She’s nearly deaf,” Hannah said. “She probably can’t hear you.”

  Sarah knew the old woman wasn’t that deaf. She knocked again, even though she was sure by now that she would receive no response.

  After what seemed an hour but was probably only minutes, Patsy and Zeller came running up the stairs and down the hallway, with Malloy and Gino and Gerald Oakes right behind.

  Gino? Where had he come from?

  Zeller had a ring of keys, and he nearly dropped them as he struggled to find the right one.

  “She never locks her door,” Gerald was saying. “None of us lock doors. Why would we?”

  No one answered him.

  Finally, Zeller found the right key, fitted it into the hole, and turned it. “There,” he said and stood back, obviously unwilling to be the one to open the door.

  Perhaps he smelled it, too, the stench of sickness and death. Sarah reached out and turned the knob and threw the door open.

  “What’s that smell?” Gerald gasped.

  Sarah remembered that he hadn’t visited his son’s sick- room the night he died. She hadn’t either, but she’d been at the Nicelys’ home and in Letty’s room, so she knew it well.

  She stepped into the room. The draperies were drawn so she needed a moment to adjust to the dimness. The old woman lay on the bed, still and white.

  Jenny Oakes sat in a chair by the fireplace looking as composed as she always did. She looked up at Sarah, smiled slightly, and said, “She’s dead.”

  15

  Sarah had to check, of course. Prudence Oakes truly was dead. She lay as her daughter-in-law had left her, in her own vomit and waste. A small silver tray sat on her bedside table. On it was a cup and saucer. The cup had once contained something that looked like hot chocolate. Sarah was fairly certain it had also contained arsenic.

  For some reason, no one else had entered the room behind her. She saw Gerald Oakes had come to the doorway, his puzzled gaze darting between his mother and his wife, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to cross the threshold. “What happened here, Jenny?” he asked.

  “She killed Charles. And Daisy. She confessed it all to me, at the end.”

  “That’s what I was going to tell you,” Sarah heard Gino say to Malloy. “It was the druggist on the next street. He told me an old woman bought the arsenic. She gave another name, but he recognized her as Mrs. Oakes.”

  Sarah pulled the coverlet over Mrs. Oakes’s face. Then she went to Jenny and put her arm around her. “Jenny, come with me.”

  For a moment, Sarah was afraid she wouldn’t obey, but then she slowly rose and allowed Sarah to lead her from the room. The crowd that had gathered around the door parted for them to pass.

  Gerald reached out to his wife, but Malloy stopped him.

  “Let them go,” Malloy said. “Mrs. Brandt will sort it out.”

  Sarah didn’t think anyone could sort this out, but she might finally be able to make some sense of it, at least. Jenny went meekly, allowing Sarah to escort her into her bedroom. Sarah closed the door behind them and led Jenny to one of the two slipper chairs that sat beside the cold fireplace.

  “Can I get you anything?” Sarah asked.

  She shook her head, but Sarah saw a carafe of water on the bedside table and poured her a glass. She drank it gratefully. Sarah noticed her hands were perfectly steady.

  “Did you poison her?” Sarah asked.

  “Of course. It was pathetically easy. She always has a cup of hot chocolate at bedtime. I’d found the arsenic hidden in her room while she was downstairs at supper, so I mixed it in her regular chocolate. I had Patsy bring it to her so she wouldn’t suspect.”

  “How did you know she’d done it?”

  “When you told me about the flask, that’s when I knew. And the candy. Gerald gave his mother a box of the candy, too.”

  “And she’d given Charles the flask for his birthday.”

  “She’d planned it all, for weeks. She didn’t know Daisy would be the one taking care of Charles, but when she did, she realized she had to kill Daisy, too.”

  “Do you know why she did it?”

  Jenny’s head jerked up and her eyes were cold. “No.”

  “I think you do. I think I do, too. It was because you and Daisy were sisters.”

  Something flickered in Jenny’s eyes, but she never even blinked. Sarah realized she would keep her secret until the day she died.

  “Let me tell you what I know,” Sarah said. “You and Daisy were sisters, but not the usual way that white children would have a Negro half sibling. Your mother was a slave and your father owned the plantation. When the Union soldiers came, you somehow passed yourself off as the only surviving member of the family. Then you married Gerald and he brought you here, and you kept your secret all these years, until Daisy showed up. You must have been horrified to see her after all those years, the one person who could ruin the life you’d built here.”

  “No!” she cried, and Sarah watched transfixed as Jenny’s icy calm disintegrated. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to tremble. “No, it wasn’t like that!”

  Jenny wrapped her arms around herself and began to sob. Sarah hurried over to the door and was not surprised to find Patsy waiting outside. “Bring us some tea and some brandy. Hurry!”

  Then she returned to Jenny. She knelt beside her chair and put her arms around her, offering her what comfort she could as she wept scalding tears that seemed to come from her very soul.

  By the time the tea tray arrived, Jenny was calmer, and Sarah mixed a liberal dose of brandy into the tea she urged her to drink. When the cup was empty, Jenny looked up again, her eyes red-rimmed and still full of pain.

  “You don’t understand at all. I was happy to see Daisy. So very happy.”

  Sarah sat down in the other chair and leaned forward to encourage her. “Tell me. Why were you so happy?”

  “Because I finally had someone I could talk to. Someone who knew who I was and loved me anyway.”

  “Who are you, Jenny?”

  Her smile was achingly sad. “I’m not Jenny. Jenny was her child.”

  “Whose?”

  “The mistress. Jenny was my other sister. Half sister. She was born a month after me, and my mother nursed us both together. We grew up together and did everything together all our lives, up until the day she died.”

  “You were raised as sisters?” Sarah asked.

  “Oh no, not sisters. I was her slave. We slept in the same room, but she slept in the big bed, and I slept in the trundle. And when we got older, I learned how to comb her hair and dress her. That was our life until the war came.”

  “And then she died?”

  “They all died. The master and Jenny’s older brother, they died in the war. The mistress and the younger boy, they got sick, and my mother was supposed to take care of them. I sometimes wonder if she really did or i
f she just let them die, but I never asked. Then Jenny got sick, too. We’d just buried her when we heard the Yankees were coming. We didn’t know what they’d do to us, but my mother got the idea that they’d treat us better if one of the family was still there, so she dressed me up in one of Miss Jenny’s dresses.

  “I’ll never forget. ‘Lily,’ she said. That’s my real name, Lily. ‘You can talk just like Miss Jenny. I’ve heard you mimic her a thousand times. You tell them your family is dead and you need their protection.’”

  It was, Sarah had to admit, a brilliant plan. “And you fooled them.”

  “I fooled them all. The captain offered to take me to a neighbor’s, but they would’ve known I wasn’t really Jenny, so I asked them to take us with them instead. They already had a whole bunch of runaway slaves following the army, so we joined them. The captain, he didn’t like the idea of a white girl going in with all those slaves, though, so he kept me close and found a tent for me to sleep in. I kept my mama and Daisy with me. For protection, I said. Gerald was his lieutenant, and he was assigned to look after me.”

  “And you fell in love,” Sarah said.

  “He fell in love. My mama told me what to do to get him to love me. After, I cried and told him I was ruined, and he’d have to marry me. I didn’t really think he would, but my mama did, and she was right.”

  Not exactly the romantic story Sarah’s mother had heard. “So you had to leave Daisy and your mother behind.”

  “My mama was an octoroon, but she couldn’t pass for white, and Daisy’s father was one of the slaves. She was younger than me, and darker. I didn’t want to leave them, but Mama said I should go because this was my only chance. She said I could send for them later.”

  “So you really were going to do that?”

  “I thought so. She must’ve known I’d never be able to find them, but she couldn’t tell me that, or I never would have gone. As it was, it about broke my heart. I’d never been so scared in my life, before or since.”

  “And you fooled everyone.”

  “Not everyone. Not completely,” she said, her expression hardening again. “I never fooled the old woman. She knew something was wrong, even though she never knew what until Daisy came.”