Authors: Victoria Thompson

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Women Sleuths

Murder on Sisters' Row (25 page)

BOOK: Murder on Sisters' Row

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This was going to be more difficult than Frank had expected. Van Orner was going to pretend he didn’t know about his wife’s drinking. “According to Miss Yingling and some of your wife’s friends, Mrs. Van Orner carried a silver flask in her purse which contained crème de menthe.”

“What on earth for?”

“To drink,” Malloy said, hoping Van Orner wouldn’t decide to throw him out for speaking ill of his poor, dead wife. “According to Miss Yingling, Mrs. Van Orner would use it to . . . to calm herself when she became upset about something.”

“Good God, no wonder . . . You know, she always smelled of mint. I thought it was those dammed peppermints she was always popping in her mouth.” At least he wasn’t going to tell Frank he was a liar.

“A fatal dose of laudanum is only two or three spoonfuls, and the strong taste of the crème de menthe would have covered the bitterness of the laudanum, according to the medical examiner.”

“So that’s what killed her. I’d been wondering.”

“She might have been saved, but because she was alone in the carriage, and nobody knew she’d taken laudanum—she didn’t even know herself—she died within an hour.”

This still wasn’t making sense to Van Orner. “But who could’ve done it?”

“Someone who had access to her purse and the flask.”

“Her maid,” Van Orner offered. “She has access to everything Vivian owns.”

“Did her maid have any reason to want her dead?”

Van Orner frowned. “Oh, I see. No, probably not. She was devoted to Vivian, too. She’s been hysterical ever since she got the news. Had to call in the doctor to give her something. Laudanum, probably,” he added with a trace of irony.

“Would anyone else in your house . . . who lived in your house
then
,” Frank amended, “have any reason to harm your wife?”

“Not that I can think of. She was never . . . She was always too easy with the servants. I told her a hundred times they took advantage of her.”

“So no one here had a grudge against her?”

“No, no one. But who else could it have been?”

“She was at her office that day, but nobody else was there except Miss Yingling. Then they went to the rescue house.”

Van Orner curled his lip in distaste. “Are you saying that’s where it happened?”

“Anyone at that house could have had access to her purse,” Frank said, choosing not to answer the question. “From what I’ve been told, she always left it on a table in the hallway.”

“And did they all know about the flask?”

“I’ve been told they did.”

“Who was there?”

“Miss Yingling, of course. Mrs. Spratt-Williams—”

“You can count her out. They’ve been lifelong friends.”

Frank had already eliminated her. “Miss Biafore.”

“Who’s that?”

“She manages the rescue house.”

“Vivian gave that responsibility to an Italian woman? What was she thinking? Those people will steal you blind!”

Knowing better than to respond to that, Frank said, “And three women whom Mrs. Van Orner and her friends had rescued.”

“It had to be one of them, then. Everyone knows a whore would kill her own mother for fifty cents.”

“One of the rescued women was Amy Cunningham.”

S
ARAH AND MAEVE GOT UP EARLY ON MONDAY MORNING to do the wash. The day was raw but fair, and they had everything on the line well before noon. They were sitting in the kitchen, warming themselves with hot tea, when Mrs. Ellsworth came to the back door with an offering of a freshly baked cake.

“Ever since Nelson insisted we start taking our clothes to the Chinese laundry, I never know what to do with myself on Monday mornings,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, referring to her son.

“Baking a cake was a good idea,” Maeve said, admiring the finished product.

“We still have half of the cake Maeve and Catherine made on Saturday,” Sarah reminded them.

Mrs. Ellsworth accepted the cup of tea Sarah had poured for her. “I’m sure you’ll find a good use for it, Mrs. Brandt. It’s good luck to give someone a cake. Has Mr. Malloy found the murderer yet?”

“He thinks he knows who it is, but he had to go meet with Mr. Van Orner first.”

“You didn’t tell me he knows who the killer is,” Maeve complained. “Who is it?”

“I said he
thinks
he knows.”

“Why does he need to talk to Mr. Van Orner?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

“Because Mr. Van Orner might not want the killer arrested.”

“Good heavens, why not?”

“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” Maeve asked eagerly. “The one who had the baby.”

“As I said, he’s not sure.”

Maeve wasn’t fooled. “But if it is her, Mr. Van Orner might not want her punished. He might be in love with her, and she’s the mother of his baby into the bargain.”

“How can he be sure it’s his baby?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

“I don’t know,” Sarah said. “Maybe he
can
be sure or maybe he doesn’t care. At any rate, Mr. Malloy doesn’t want to arrest her unless Mr. Van Orner wants her punished.” She explained the practice of pigeonholing cases.

Mrs. Ellsworth was outraged. “You mean they just let murders go free?”

“Murderers and thieves and anybody else who has the money,” Maeve said, not at all surprised to hear about the practice. “My grandfather always used to say it was
better
not to get caught, but if you did, it’s
best
to have your bail money socked away.”

“Do you think this Amy is the killer?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

“I’m not sure what I think. She may have thought she had a reason for wanting Mrs. Van Orner dead. She knew Mrs. Van Orner drank and carried a flask with her. She had the opportunity to put the laudanum in her flask.”

“Other people knew about the flask and the drinking,” Maeve said.

“Yes, but who had a reason for killing her? Not Mrs. Spratt-Williams, who was her oldest friend. Not Miss Yingling, who owed her everything.”

“Sometimes gratitude is a good reason to kill someone,” Mrs. Ellsworth observed.

Sarah looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen it happen where a person starts to resent the one who’s helped them the most. Sometimes people don’t want to remember how much help they needed or how little they deserved it.”

Maeve nodded enthusiastically. “The person who helped is always a reminder of how low you were, too. Nobody likes to remember that.”

“Especially if how low you were was working as a prostitute,” Mrs. Ellsworth added.

“So you think Miss Yingling might have wanted Mrs. Van Orner dead?” Sarah asked them both.

“I can’t judge, not knowing her myself,” Mrs. Ellsworth replied. “But I wouldn’t rule her out just because Mrs. Van Orner has raised her up.”

“I see what you mean. Do you have an argument for why Mrs. Spratt-Williams might have killed her?”

“Old friends know our secrets,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.

“And we know theirs,” Maeve added.

Sarah considered this. “My mother said she thought she remembered some old scandal involving Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s late husband, but if she knew about it, so would everyone else. No secrets there.”

“Maybe she has another secret,” Maeve said. “Maybe she was stealing money from the rescue house.”

“She was
giving
money to the rescue house. Besides, I don’t think she would have had an opportunity. She only helped with the rescues.” Sarah suddenly remembered Amy’s accusations. “When I was at the Van Orner house on Saturday with Mrs. Spratt-Williams, Amy was hinting that she knew a secret about Mrs. Spratt-Williams, but I don’t think the poor woman even knew what she was talking about.”

“Maybe Mrs. Spratt-Williams was jealous of Mrs. Van Orner,” Maeve offered.

Sarah was happy to consider this possibility. “Why?”

Maeve thought for a moment. “Mrs. Van Orner had a rich husband, and she doesn’t.”

“Does she have a husband at all?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

“She’s a widow, and there’s my mother’s memory of a scandal, but we don’t know that for certain. On the other hand, Mrs. Van Orner’s rich husband had a mistress half his age who gave birth to a child when Mrs. Van Orner couldn’t. Does that make you jealous of her?”

Maeve and Mrs. Ellsworth had to agree that it didn’t.

“Mrs. Van Orner must’ve had lots of enemies,” Maeve decided after a few minutes of thought. “What about all the madams she rescued prostitutes from?”

“None of those people were at the rescue house the day she died. They don’t even know where it is.”

“Could one of them have allowed one of their girls to be rescued so that person would have the opportunity to take revenge on Mrs. Van Orner?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

“Oh, Mrs. Ellsworth, that’s a wonderful plan!” Maeve exclaimed. “There were other rescued women in the house, weren’t there?”

“Yes, but both of them were scared witless. Neither of them would have the courage to poison someone like Mrs. Van Orner. The only rescued woman who would is—”

“Amy,” Maeve supplied.

“So we’re back to her.” Mrs. Ellsworth sighed.

“
A
RE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME YOU THINK AMY POISONED my wife?” Van Orner asked, none too pleased by the thought.

“The person who poisoned your wife was in the same house with her sometime shortly before she died. You don’t think it was any of your servants, and neither do I. We know who was at the rescue house. You’ve already told me Miss Yingling and Mrs. Spratt-Williams wouldn’t have done it. Only one person in that house really had anything to gain from your wife’s death.”

“Amy had nothing to gain!”

“Mr. Van Orner, I know Amy is living here with you now. I know she was your mistress before she went to Mrs. Walker’s brothel. She has said she knew about Mrs. Van Orner’s flask because you told her about it, and I know she named her baby boy after you.”

Color flooded Van Orner’s face. “That doesn’t mean she killed Vivian.”

“I know it doesn’t, but it doesn’t look good for her either. What I need to know from you, Mr. Van Orner, is what you want me to do if she did kill Mrs. Van Orner.”

Van Orner’s breath caught in his throat, and he let it out in a long sigh. “You have to understand about Amy. She’s had a difficult time of it.”

Frank made no comment. He just waited.

“Her father was in business, but he’d invested his savings in a project that went bankrupt, and he blew his brains out because he couldn’t face the shame of it. Her mother tried renting rooms in their house, but then she got consumption. She was going to die and leave Amy alone and penniless, so when one of her husband’s friends offered to take the girl as his mistress, what could she say?”

Frank could think of a number of things, but he just shrugged, not wanting to interrupt the flow of the story.

“He paid Mrs. Cunningham’s medical bills and buried her when she died. Then he set Amy up in her own establishment. She was fourteen.”

Frank thought of the girls even younger than that whom he’d seen sleeping in alleys and servicing bums for a few pennies to keep themselves alive. He had only limited sympathy for Amy.

“She blossomed into a lovely young woman, and when I saw her one evening at the theater . . . Let’s just say her protector was more anxious for my goodwill than he was for Amy’s company. He was handsomely compensated, and I got Amy.”

“How did she end up at Mrs. Walker’s?”

Van Orner didn’t even flinch. “Amy was amusing at first. I enjoyed satisfying her whims, but
she
was never satisfied. Her parents had spoiled her, you see, and her first protector had done nothing to remedy that. By the time she came to me, she had learned that whining and pouting would get her what she wanted. After a while, I found it more annoying than otherwise.”

“She named her baby after you.”

Van Orner shifted uneasily in his chair. “I didn’t know about the child. She claims she didn’t either. I tend to believe her, because if she’d told me, I would never have taken her to Mrs. Walker.”

“You believe it’s yours, then?”

“Six months ago, she was still under my protection. I have every reason to believe the child is mine. My wife was barren, Mr. Malloy. Even if I were to remarry, I have no guarantee I’ll ever have another child.”

“I wonder why Mrs. Walker didn’t let you know about the baby.”

“I told her I didn’t want to hear anything else about Amy. I assume she took me at my word. She may even have thought I’d sent Amy to her because I didn’t want the child.”

“Could Amy have thought you’d marry her if your wife was gone?”

“I certainly never said anything to make her believe that, but you know how women are, Mr. Malloy. One never knows what goes on in the female mind.”

Frank could attest to that, at least. “You still haven’t told me what you want me to do if I find out Amy poisoned your wife.”

The sounds of raised voices, women’s voices, and running feet distracted them both. Van Orner rose, his face twisted with fury at the disturbance and ready to call out a reprimand when the parlor door flew open and Miss Yingling burst in.

“Greg, they’ve kidnapped Amy!”

Then she saw Frank, but instead of being chagrined, she appealed to him. “Mr. Malloy, you have to do something. Mrs. Walker has kidnapped Amy!”