Murder on Amsterdam Avenue

by Victoria Thompson

  “How did she figure it out?”

  “She didn’t. Oh, she sensed that I was hiding something all those years, but she always believed Charles wasn’t Gerald’s son. She thought that was my terrible secret, but she never dared accuse me to my face or to Gerald.”

  “How on earth did you manage to make people believe you were Jenny?”

  “I learned early on to keep my mouth shut and just watch how everyone else behaved. When I made a mistake, I’d just tell them we did things differently in the South.”

  “If she never figured it out, why did she . . . ?”

  “She didn’t figure it out, but Charles did. He . . . There was some kind of instant bond between him and Daisy. It was as if he’d been waiting for her all these years, too. She had a son who died young, only fourteen, and she doted on Charles. If only . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut and two tears ran down her face.

  Sarah waited for her to regain her composure. “Did Charles tell his grandmother?”

  “Oh no, but he did tell Hannah. He never saw her for who she truly is, you see, and he thought she loved him as much as he loved her.”

  Just as Gerald thought Jenny had loved him, Sarah thought, but she didn’t say it.

  “He was upset,” Jenny continued. “He didn’t know how to feel about this knowledge, and he didn’t know who to tell. He thought he could trust his wife, so he told her.”

  “And that’s when she refused to share her bed with him anymore,” Sarah said.

  “She wanted to leave him, but what reason could she give? She was afraid if she revealed our secret, she would be tainted as well. She’d married a Negro, after all, the son of a slave.”

  “Who told your mother-in-law then?”

  “I’m not sure. She may have just pieced it together. Charles and Hannah were quarreling, and she probably offered each of them a sympathetic ear until she’d gotten all the information she needed.”

  Sarah could just imagine the old woman asking probing questions while sympathizing with the young people. “But why on earth would she poison Charles?”

  “Instead of me, you mean?” Jenny asked. “Because she wanted to protect her precious family name, and she knew I was never going to tell anyone my secret. She couldn’t trust Charles, though. He’d already told his idiot wife. Hannah wasn’t going to speak of it outside the family, of course. She was too afraid of ruining her social standing. But there was no telling who Charles might tell next. One of his friends at his club, perhaps, when he was too drunk to be careful.”

  “And I understand he was drinking very heavily.”

  “Like his father,” Jenny said bitterly.

  “But to kill her own grandson,” Sarah said.

  “I told you, she never believed he was her grandson. Never mind that he looked just like Gerald or that they were too much alike not to be father and son. She also knew how much losing Charles would hurt me, every day for the rest of my life. Killing me, too, would be a mercy, and she had no mercy.”

  “And Daisy?”

  “She was merely protecting herself. Daisy might have figured out that the poison was in the flask and told someone. Besides, she couldn’t trust Daisy not to tell anyone about us either. With Daisy dead, she thought she had eliminated everyone who might reveal my secret.”

  “And killing Daisy was another way to hurt you.”

  Jenny smiled mirthlessly. “That would never have occurred to her. She could never have understood that I loved a slave woman. She probably believed killing Daisy was no different than killing a dog or a cat.”

  “Do you know how she did it? I mean, we think she put the poison into some candy, but—”

  “Oh, she thought that was so clever. She could have bought a fancy candy box, but she wasn’t going to waste that on a darkie, she told me. Oh no, she bought some cheap candy and cut it open and mixed the cream filling with arsenic, and then stuck the pieces back together and put them in the empty box. It wasn’t neatly done, but she was sure someone like Daisy wouldn’t know the difference, and of course she didn’t.”

  Sarah found she had no more questions, and she was glad of it. The answers were too painful to hear.

  “What are you going to do with me now?” Jenny asked.

  “We aren’t going to do anything. We aren’t the police. Your husband hired Malloy to find out who killed Charles. It’s up to him to decide what he wants to do with the information.”

  “I wonder what he’ll do with me when he finds out I was a slave. He already knows I killed his mother.”

  “He knows you killed his mother, and he knows you did it because she killed Charles, but no one is going to tell him your secret unless you decide to tell him yourself.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I am. Right now, I’m the only one who knows for sure, so I can promise you that.”

  “Hannah knows.”

  “Then be sure she understands that you have no intention of ruining her reputation either. She’ll keep your secret to protect herself.”

  Jenny leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. Sarah realized she must have sat up all night watching her mother-in-law dying and making sure she couldn’t call for help. Sarah wondered how she herself would have reacted if she found out someone had murdered her child. She didn’t think she could have done what Jenny had, but she could also understand why Jenny had done it.

  “Would you like to rest now?” Sarah asked.

  “I need to speak with Gerald. I need to tell him what she did.”

  Sarah nodded and stepped out into the empty hallway. She found Malloy and Gino downstairs in the parlor with Gerald. Gerald jumped to his feet when he saw her.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s very upset, as you can imagine, but she’d like to speak with you.”

  Gerald hesitated. Then he glanced at Malloy, as if seeking approval. Malloy nodded and Gerald hurried out.

  Sarah closed the door behind him.

  “Did the old woman really kill them all?” Gino asked.

  “Yes, just like we thought. She put the arsenic in Charles’s flask.”

  “The one she gave him,” Malloy said grimly.

  “Yes. Jenny thinks she planned it that way. I guess everyone knows he drank too much, and if he had a fancy flask, he was bound to carry it around and use it from time to time.”

  “What about the candy?” Malloy asked.

  “Gerald had given his mother a box of Valentine candy, too, so she used the empty box. Mrs. Oakes bought some chocolates and cut them open and mixed the arsenic with the filling. She thought Daisy might figure out that the poison was in the flask and guess she was behind it.”

  “But why did she kill Charles in the first place?” Gino asked.

  What could she tell him that would make sense? “After Daisy came, Charles figured out that she and his mother were half sisters. He told Hannah, which is why she moved him to the dressing room. Old Mrs. Oakes found out, probably from Hannah, and she decided to kill Charles so he wouldn’t tell anyone else. I guess she didn’t want her society friends to find out.”

  “Would people have really cared?” Gino asked.

  “Many of them would,” Sarah said. “I guess she didn’t want to take the chance.”

  “Her own grandson? Just to keep a secret like that?” Gino asked incredulously.

  “She never believed Charles was really her grandson,” Sarah said. “I think . . . She must have been getting senile or something. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to understand why she did it.”

  Malloy came over and put his arm around her. “Are you all right?”

  Sarah shuddered. “I will be. What is Gerald going to do?”

  “He told the maids to wash the old woman and burn the bedclothes. They’re going to put her in her clean bed and say they
found her like that and she must’ve died in her sleep.”

  “I can’t believe it!”

  “Someone in this house killed three people to prevent a scandal and almost killed a few more. Why wouldn’t they burn a couple sheets to prevent one now?”

  “Can he really forgive Jenny for killing his mother?”

  “The woman killed his son,” Malloy said.

  Suddenly, Sarah felt unutterably weary. “Can we go home?”

  “We certainly can.”

  “What about Gerald and Jenny?”

  “If they need us, they know where to find us. Let’s go.”

  • • •

  Sarah’s mother had shown up on her doorstep early that evening. Word of Mrs. Oakes’s sudden death had reached her, and she couldn’t wait until morning for the details.

  “Why couldn’t you have told me yourself,” her mother scolded her as they sat at her kitchen table. “I had to hear it from strangers!”

  “Did an actual stranger tell you Mrs. Oakes died?” Sarah asked skeptically.

  “Well, no. It was one of my oldest friends, but still . . . I’m your mother, Sarah. You must remember where your loyalties lie. Now tell me the whole story.”

  Sarah couldn’t tell her the whole story, so she told the version she’d given Gino, with one small alteration they had decided to make.

  “We assume she couldn’t live with what she’d done, so she killed herself. They found her dead in her bed this morning.”

  “How horrible!” her mother exclaimed. “Poor Gerald. She couldn’t have been in her right mind.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Sarah lied. The fact that she’d given the druggist a false name when she bought the arsenic proved she knew exactly what she was doing. But she wouldn’t mention that to her mother.

  “I’m sure Gerald and Jenny are grateful to Mr. Malloy for figuring out what happened.”

  Sarah wasn’t too sure about that, but she said, “He was glad to help, although I wish we’d found out Charles died from a tragic accident.”

  “Gerald never would have needed Mr. Malloy if he thought that,” her mother pointed out.

  Maeve came into the kitchen and sat down next to Sarah at the table. “Catherine is asleep,” she reported.

  “Are you going to go over to the house again tomorrow to help Malloy with the workmen?” Sarah teased.

  But instead of making a face, as Sarah expected, Maeve said, “Didn’t he tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Oh, I guess he hasn’t had a chance yet because he got home so late. Did you know he went to see an attorney after he brought you home?”

  “An attorney?” her mother echoed. “Whatever for?”

  “He went to see the attorney who used to be Ella Adderly’s guardian. He wanted to make sure someone knew that her cousin was trying to take advantage of her and steal her fortune.”

  “That was very nice of him,” her mother said.

  “Yes, it was, but I still want to know what Malloy hasn’t told me yet,” she reminded Maeve.

  “Maybe I should let him break the news.”

  “What news?” Sarah’s mother said, her lovely eyes lighting with curiosity.

  “Yes, what news?” Sarah pressed.

  Maeve gave them a smug smile, and for a minute Sarah was afraid she might have to beat it out of the girl, but finally she said, “The house is finished.”

  “What do you mean, the house is finished?” Sarah asked.

  “Just that. I think the workmen were just dragging things out so they could charge Mr. Malloy more money. He told me he suspected that’s what they were doing, and so I asked the foreman to walk me through the house and show me what they still needed to do. He’s really a terrible liar.”

  “He lied to you?” Sarah’s mother said. “Right to your face?”

  Maeve shrugged. “He thought I was some idiot girl who didn’t know anything.”

  “What do you know about construction?” Sarah asked.

  “Nothing, but I know what houses are supposed to look like, and I know a lie when I hear one. I had a nice little talk with the man about how angry Mr. Malloy might be if he knew he was being swindled, and he decided they’d done all they could. Then they packed up and left.”

  “Maeve, that’s wonderful!” Sarah said.

  “And if the house is finished, that means you and Mr. Malloy can be married,” her mother said.

  For a moment, Sarah couldn’t get her breath.

  Married.

  Everything seemed to be happening so fast, which was ridiculous because for weeks they’d been complaining about how slowly things were going. And, of course, they’d waited for years, never even suspecting they might ever get to this place in their lives. But now, suddenly, there were no more barriers.

  “Sarah?” her mother said. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course. I just . . . We need to make some plans.”

  “Indeed we do. I’m thinking we only need a week to arrange the wedding breakfast. You’ll have it at our house, of course. You’ll want to be married from your parents’ house.”

  “Mother, there’s something we need to discuss.”

  “What’s that, dear?”

  “We . . . Malloy is Catholic.”

  “Mr. Malloy might argue with you on that,” Maeve said with a knowing smile.

  “He might,” Sarah said. “He hasn’t been to church in years, so he doesn’t really care, but his mother is definitely Catholic. Unless we’re married in that church, she won’t consider us legally married.”

  Her mother considered this for a long moment. “I don’t suppose it matters what church you get married in.” Sarah could hear the disappointment in her voice, though. She was most certainly planning to have her own minister marry them at her house.

  “But you’re not a Catholic, Mrs. Brandt,” Maeve said. “Will they even let you get married in their church?”

  “Actually, no. We’ll have to get married in the rectory. That’s the house where the priests live, I’m told.”

  Her mother frowned. “That doesn’t sound very big.”

  “I don’t know how big it is, but we were planning just to have our witnesses with us, and maybe Mrs. Malloy.”

  “But what about your other guests?”

  “We aren’t having many, and they’ll all be invited to the breakfast. We would be very happy if you planned that for us.”

  “We can certainly do that,” her mother said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

  “I know,” Maeve said with another smug smile. “Why don’t you get married twice?”

  “Twice?” her mother echoed, obviously intrigued.

  “Yes. Get married by the priest with your witnesses, then have another wedding at your mother’s house with all your guests.”

  “Aren’t there laws about getting married twice?” her mother asked.

  “Only if you marry different people,” Maeve said, grinning. “What do you think, Mrs. Brandt?”

  Sarah could see one possible obstacle. “I think we’ll have to ask Malloy if he’s willing to go through that twice.”

  “He’ll do anything you want him to,” Maeve said with more confidence than Sarah felt.

  “What a wonderful plan, Maeve! Who are you going to ask to stand up with you?” her mother asked.

  Sarah had been waiting, not quite ready to believe it was really going to happen, but now she thought it was finally safe to say the words. “Maeve, I was hoping you would be my maid of honor.”

  Maeve gaped at her so long, Sarah was afraid she was going to say no. Then she burst into tears. The next thing she knew, Sarah was crying and so was her mother, and that was how Malloy found them when he came over for his nightly visit.

  They tried to explain t
hat they were crying happy tears, but he didn’t look like he really believed it.

  “Gino didn’t cry at all when I asked him to stand up with us,” he reported.

  • • •

  The morning of the weddings dawned bright and cool. Felix Decker sent his carriage to carry his daughter, Maeve, and Mrs. Malloy to the rectory for the Catholic ceremony. Frank and Gino took a cab so the groom wouldn’t see the bride before the wedding, because Mrs. Ellsworth had warned them sternly more than once how much bad luck that would bring.

  “Are you nervous, Mr. Malloy?” Gino asked as the cab wound its painfully slow way through the city streets.

  “No, I’m terrified,” he replied, wishing he was exaggerating. What in God’s name had ever made him think he deserved a woman like Sarah Brandt?

  “What do you have to be scared of? Mrs. Brandt is beautiful and smart and a real lady.”

  “That’s what I’m scared of.”

  Gino only needed a minute to figure it out. “Oh, because you’re”—he gestured vaguely—“not like her.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “But you’re rich now. Maybe richer than her father, even.” Gino smoothed the lapel of the tailor-made suit Frank had bought him for the wedding.

  “Money doesn’t make you a gentleman.”

  “You’re right. I’ve met a lot of rich men who were bums.”

  Frank looked at Gino in amazement at his insight. “So have I.”

  “And I don’t think Mrs. Brandt would marry a bum.”

  Frank felt the knot of fear in his chest loosen just a bit. “You’re right, Gino. She wouldn’t.”

  “Now tell me again what I’m supposed to do, because I really am terrified. I’ve never been a best man before.”

  • • •

  The ceremony at the rectory had been mercifully brief. The priest had explained during their earlier meeting that because Sarah wasn’t Catholic and they couldn’t hold the service in the sanctuary, he could dispense with a lot of the rituals. Even without them, Sarah thought the ceremony was beautiful. She remembered making those same vows when she married Tom Brandt, but she hadn’t really understood what they meant then. Now she did. When she looked into Malloy’s dark eyes as he slipped the ring on her finger, she knew he did as well.