“Please sit down, Jane,” Mrs. Prince said. “Mrs. Malloy has some news for you.”
“I hope it’s good news,” Jane said, taking a seat as far from the other two women as she could.
“I’m afraid it isn’t,” Sarah said. “You see, Mr. McWilliam has confessed to killing Nunzio Esposito.”
As Sarah had expected, Jane was genuinely surprised. “He has?”
“Yes. He went to the police and they have charged him with the murder. He is locked up in the Tombs.”
“The tombs? He’s not dead, is he?”
Sarah had forgotten Jane wasn’t a native New Yorker. “No, that’s what we call the city jail. Because . . . Well, it doesn’t matter. We’re hoping he can be released on bail until we can get everything straightened out.”
“What do you need to get straightened out?”
“The fact that Mr. McWilliam is innocent. We are very certain that he didn’t kill Mr. Esposito.”
Jane considered this for a moment and her eyes narrowed. “Why would he say he did, then?”
“That really is difficult to understand, isn’t it? But knowing Mr. McWilliam as you do, I’m sure you can believe that he might have confessed in order to protect someone whom he loves very much.”
Jane didn’t need any more information than that. “Do you think Christopher is protecting me?” she scoffed. “Does he think I killed that man?”
“We don’t know what he thinks because he won’t admit it, but as strange as it sounds, we think he does believe he is protecting you.”
Several emotions flickered across her face, fear and alarm and near panic, but she finally settled on anger. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Of course it is,” Sarah agreed, quite reasonably. “But you can see how tragic this is for Mr. McWilliam if he confesses to a murder he didn’t commit in order to keep you from being punished for a murder you didn’t commit either.”
If Sarah had expected to see empathy from Jane Harding, she was disappointed. “Christopher is a fool, and a stupid fool at that.”
“And yet he’s also a good man who loves you.”
Jane sighed. “I suppose you expect me to do something, but I’m certainly not going to confess to killing that man just to save Christopher.”
“I doubt the police would believe you in any case,” Sarah said with more truth than she wanted to admit. “But if you can convince Mr. McWilliam that you are innocent, then he will no longer feel the need to protect you.”
Plainly, Jane had no enthusiasm for this suggestion at all. “How am I supposed to do that? You can’t expect me to go visit him in this tombs place, I hope.”
“As I said, we are trying to get him out on bail. Perhaps he could call on you here and—”
“Heavens no,” Jane said with feigned horror. “We can’t have an accused murderer paying calls at my respectable cousin’s house. What would people say?”
“No one would know he’s an accused murderer, Jane,” Mrs. Prince said gently, breaking her promise not to speak.
“Well, I won’t see him here,” Jane insisted. “He’s such a stupid man, he deserves to be locked up. I’m not sure I can forgive him for thinking I’m a murderer either.”
“But Jane, he’ll go to prison. He might even be executed,” Mrs. Prince argued.
“It’s his own fault, isn’t it? No one asked him to do such a stupid thing.”
“But Miss Harding,” Sarah said, “do you really want anyone thinking you’re a murderer?”
“It’s such a simple thing, Jane,” Mrs. Prince said. “And people who know Christopher will find it hard to believe he could do such a thing. They may guess his motives just as Mrs. Malloy and her husband did and blame you.”
Jane turned her anger on her cousin. “And if they don’t guess, I’m sure you’ll be happy to tell them, Lisa.”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” Mrs. Prince insisted, but Jane had already jumped to her feet.
“All right,” she said furiously. “I’ll tell him, if it will even do any good, but I’m not going to the jail and he’s not coming here. Arrange something suitable, Mrs. Malloy, and let me know. If I’m still feeling charitable by then, I’ll speak to him.”
With that, she turned and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
“I see what you mean about her being volatile,” Sarah said.
Mrs. Prince was rubbing her head. “When I tell Joe all this, he’ll want her gone, I know, and I can’t keep it from him.”
“No, you can’t, and I won’t blame him at all. I’ll try to arrange for her to meet with Mr. McWilliam, but now I’m not even sure she will do it when the time comes.”
“I can’t understand what’s gotten into her. Why would she refuse to save Christopher from making such a terrible mistake?”
Should she tell Mrs. Prince what she was now almost positive was true? That Jane Harding had not been an innocent victim and that she might even be a killer? But no, knowing that would only put Mrs. Prince in danger. “You should probably write to her parents at once and ask them to take her home.”
“But if she needs to meet with Christopher—”
“He can go to Saratoga, if necessary. You don’t need to feel guilty about sending her home. You’ve done far more than anyone could expect.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I’m sorry to have gotten you involved in all this. I never would have delivered that note in the first place if I’d had any idea—”
“Please, don’t blame yourself, Mrs. Malloy. Jane would simply have mailed the note and I would still have felt obligated to take her in.”
“Don’t wait,” Sarah said. “Write the letter to Jane’s parents as soon as I’m gone. That way you can tell your husband you’ve already taken steps to be rid of her.”
“Yes, that should placate him. Quite frankly, we’ll both be glad when she’s gone.”
Sarah couldn’t help thinking they would also both be safer.
* * *
* * *
When Sarah returned home, Malloy had already gone to the office, and for the first time in a week, Gino went with him. With Christopher McWilliam charged with killing Esposito, the Black Hand couldn’t possibly be interested in him anymore. The children had come home from school, so she spent the rest of the afternoon with them. After her encounter with Jane Harding and realizing all that it meant, she needed to spend some time with people who were still truly innocent.
Brian, Malloy’s son from his first wife and now Sarah’s son by adoption, was signing so quickly now that Sarah could hardly keep up. Thank heaven Catherine could understand most of what he said and could help her if she missed something. Her own signing skills were still rudimentary, but Brian was patient and would show her if she didn’t know the sign for something.
“Nobody at Miss Spence’s School knows how to sign except me,” Catherine informed her. She was also signing for Brian’s sake, and from his smile, Sarah knew this was something they had previously discussed.
“Maybe you could teach them,” Sarah said.
Catherine grinned mischievously. “I’m thinking about starting a secret club. We could sign to each other and nobody else would know what we are talking about.”
“Would that be nice to the other girls?”
Catherine gave this some thought. “They could learn if they wanted.”
“Maybe you could teach all the girls,” Sarah suggested.
Catherine smiled beatifically. “That would be wonderful. Then the teachers wouldn’t know what we were saying!”
* * *
* * *
Sarah had put off telling anyone what she had learned at Lisa Prince’s house until they could speak uninterrupted. After the children were in bed, the adults gathered in the parlor, as usual. Gino had already told them he was planning
to move back home the next day, since he probably wasn’t in danger anymore, so this would be their last evening together like this. Sarah deeply regretted having to ruin it.
“What did Mrs. Prince want to see you about?” Malloy asked when they had taken their places around the cold fireplace. The electric lights cast a warm glow in the twilight gloom, making the room she had furnished so carefully seem even more cozy.
“I actually thought that perhaps Jane Harding was the one who wanted to see me, to ask me about Christopher McWilliam’s arrest, but she wasn’t even in the room when I arrived. I asked Mrs. Prince if Jane had received any word from the settlement house, and she had not, so I had to tell her about McWilliam. She was shocked, as you can imagine. She has known Mr. McWilliam for most of her life, I gather, and she couldn’t believe him guilty of murder.”
“That makes several of us,” Malloy said.
“Did she agree that McWilliam might be protecting Jane?” Maeve asked.
“She did think it likely, although she was as reluctant to believe Jane could be guilty as we were.”
“Were?” Malloy knew her too well to miss that hint.
“Yes. Mrs. Prince had asked me to come because she had something very important to tell me. You see, her maid discovered that Jane is hiding something in her room.”
“A bloody butcher knife?” Maeve guessed slyly.
“No,” Gino said. “She left that sticking out of Esposito’s stomach.”
“Children, behave,” Mrs. Malloy snapped from her corner, reminding them she was there.
Maeve and Gino exchanged a chagrinned glance and turned back to Sarah expectantly.
“Jane Harding is hiding a diamond necklace in her room.”
That elicited just as much shock as Sarah had felt herself this afternoon.
“It’s a necklace,” Maeve said. “No wonder the wife was so mad!”
“How did she get it?” Gino wanted to know. “Did Esposito give it to her after all?”
Maeve gave him a pitying look. “Men can be pretty stupid where women are concerned, but I can’t imagine a man giving such an extravagant gift to a woman in hopes that she’d forget he’d kidnapped and abused her.”
“I can’t either, Maeve,” Malloy said with an approving nod.
“Think about it,” Sarah said. “To whom does a man give something as expensive as a diamond necklace?”
“To his wife,” Gino said, “because we know he did.”
“Or to his mistress,” Maeve added, “in appreciation for her, uh, favors.”
“Not to win her,” Malloy said, “but because he has already won her.”
“And perhaps in Jane’s case, in order to keep her,” Sarah said. “Jane has spent her entire life being jealous of rich girls who had pretty things that she could never have.”
“That still doesn’t mean she killed Esposito, though,” Gino reminded them. “She was at the settlement house that night. Besides, why would she kill a man who had given her a diamond necklace? He would probably give her lots of other nice things as well.”
“Gino’s right,” Maeve said. “Also don’t forget, she’d left him by then, of her own accord.”
Sarah sighed. “You didn’t see Jane’s reaction when I told her McWilliam had confessed, though. She was surprised but not nearly as dismayed as I had expected when I suggested that he might believe he was protecting her. In fact, she didn’t seem eager at all to convince him to recant his confession if he had made it on her behalf.”
“Maybe she’s just a selfish witch who enjoys seeing other people suffer,” Maeve suggested.
“Or maybe she’s mad because she thinks he really did kill Esposito and she was still hoping to get more nice things from him,” Gino said.
“And maybe we need to find out exactly what McWilliam knows, and why he really confessed to the murder,” Malloy mused.
“I thought we decided he did it to protect Jane,” Gino said.
“That’s what we decided, but what convinced him she needed protection?” Malloy asked.
“I did,” Maeve said. “Remember, I was telling him all the reasons why she might have done it.”
“But all those reasons didn’t convince us that she did it,” Gino said.
“No, they didn’t,” Malloy said, “so I think I need to pay Mr. McWilliam another visit to see if he has a reason we don’t know about.”
* * *
* * *
Frank had to make some telephone calls the next morning to locate Christopher McWilliam. Nicholson’s office informed him that they had successfully bailed him out last evening, but they had no idea where he had gone. Someone at the settlement had no knowledge of McWilliam’s whereabouts either, but promised to get back to him. After waiting an hour, Frank tried again. This time he was informed tersely that McWilliam was there but would be leaving soon. Apparently, the settlement house staff didn’t want him there, as Frank and his crew had theorized.
Gino was only too happy to drive Frank up to Italian Harlem. They arrived just as McWilliam was leaving the building with his suitcase in hand.
“Where are you off to, McWilliam?” Frank called.
McWilliam did not seem happy to see them. “None of your business.”
“Make it my business and we’ll give you a lift.”
McWilliam stood there for a long moment, obviously undecided.
“I may have some good news for you,” Frank tried. “Come along. What have you got to lose?”
Plainly, he realized he had nothing left to lose and trudged over to the motorcar. Gino hopped out and opened the door to the back seat, which was a good foot higher than the front seat and had its own doors. McWilliam hefted his suitcase into it and climbed in without giving Gino so much as a glance.
“Where are we going?” Frank asked amiably.
“I have no idea,” McWilliam said grimly.
“Let’s take him home,” Frank told Gino.
“I can’t go home. My parents know nothing of this,” McWilliam protested.
“I meant my home,” Frank said. “We can talk privately there.”
McWilliam offered no word of protest, so Gino drove on.
“Why are you doing this?” McWilliam shouted from the back seat after a while. Conversing in the motorcar over the noise of the engine was challenging.
“Because I’m a nosey do-gooder,” Frank said. “Like you.”
McWilliam had nothing else to say, so they made the trip back to Greenwich Village in silence.
Frank and Gino escorted McWilliam into the house and Sarah came to meet them. Maeve, it appeared, had gone on to the office after taking Catherine to school.
“Mr. McWilliam was no longer welcome at the settlement house,” Frank explained.
“I’m sorry to intrude, Mrs. Malloy, but your husband insisted,” McWilliam said with little grace.
“I’m sure he did. You’ll stay for luncheon, of course. I’ll tell my cook and I’ll have some lemonade brought in for you. You must be parched.” After giving Frank a knowing glance, Sarah retreated, leaving them to it.
Frank led McWilliam into the parlor, where he sank wearily into the chair Frank indicated. The man looked even worse today than he had in the Tombs, even though his clothes were now clean and pressed. His face was gray and his eyes sunken.
They waited for Hattie, the maid, to bring in the lemonade, and then Frank and Gino took their seats. Frank said, “McWilliam, my partner and I are baffled by your behavior.”
“Why should you be?” he asked, apparently confused.
“Because we know you didn’t kill Esposito, so naturally we can’t understand why you are claiming that you did.”
“What makes you think I didn’t kill him?”
“For one thing, because people who know you can’t imagine you doing such a thing, but
mostly because you don’t even know how he was killed.”
“He was stabbed. I told you, I stabbed him.”
“But the way you told me you stabbed him is not the way he was killed. I can understand,” Frank hurried on when McWilliam would have argued, “that you hated Esposito after what he did to Miss Harding. You must have been filled with rage by what she told you.”
“I was!”
“Of course you were. Any man would be. But you didn’t go out that night, full of hate, and attack an unarmed man and murder him, did you?”
“Yes, I did. I confessed! Why would I say I did if I didn’t?”
“Because you’re protecting Miss Harding.”
McWilliam stiffened in his chair. “That’s . . . ridiculous.”
“Is it? My assistant, Miss Smith, believes that she convinced you that Miss Harding was the real killer and that’s why you decided to confess instead.”
“No, I . . . That’s not why,” he protested weakly.
“Then why?”
“I just . . . When Miss Smith said those things about Jane, I realized she might be blamed, so I decided I had to admit I had done it.”
“But Miss Harding was locked in her room at the settlement house that night. No one even thought she could have done it. Miss Smith was just baiting you.”
Frank waited, but McWilliam had nothing to say to that. Nothing at all. His desperate glance darted from him to Gino and back again.
“But you know something else, don’t you? Something we don’t,” Gino said. The boy was learning. “You must, because we didn’t really think she could have done it. Why would a respectable young lady leave the safety of the settlement house and return to the place where she had been held and assaulted to face the very man who had assaulted her?”
“You’re right, she wouldn’t,” McWilliam said with false confidence.
“And yet she did go back there,” Frank guessed. “She went back there and you knew it somehow.”
“No, that’s crazy,” he tried.
“It’s not crazy at all,” Frank said. “Well, maybe her going back there seemed crazy to you, but you knew she did. That’s why you confessed, because you knew she did. How did you know she went back there?”
Murder on Pleasant Avenue Page 23
