Now IT WAS SARAH’S TURN TO BE STUNNED. SYLVESTER Mattingly! A vision of the man she had seen on the VanDamm’s doorstep such a short time ago flickered before her mind’s eye. Then she tried to picture that elderly gentleman with dewy, young Alicia VanDamm, but even her usually vivid imagination rebelled at such a blasphemy.
“Good heavens,” she murmured.
“Exactly,” her mother said. “I take it you are acquainted with Mr. Mattingly.”
“I’ve… seen him.”
“He’s old enough to be Alicia’s grandfather,” her mother said, confirming Sarah’s impression. “No one could believe her family was seriously considering a marriage between them, which is why no one did believe it. Someone must have started the rumor as some sort of joke. At least that’s what we decided. And when there was no engagement announced, we were sure of it.”
Sarah’s mind was reeling. She could hardly think what to ask next. “Was there…? Did anyone know Alicia had disappeared?”
“I hadn’t heard anything, and I doubt anyone else had, either. She wasn’t out yet, so she would hardly be missed from society. Many families send their young daughters away for months at a time, to school and such. No one would even notice her absence. Oh, Sarah, this business with Alicia is all so horrible,” she said, taking Sarah’s hand in hers. “But I don’t care how awful the tragedy was if it brought you back to us. Does that make me evil?”
Sarah smiled and squeezed her mother’s hand. “I don’t think so. Bringing us back together again might be the one good thing to come from Alicia’s death.”
Her mother stared at her for a long moment, giving Sarah the opportunity to notice subtle changes that she’d been too preoccupied to observe before. Her mother had always been plump, as women of her class were expected to be, but she seemed thinner now, as if time had chiseled off the outer layer of softness. Her eyes were still blue but not as bright as Sarah remembered, and the gold of her hair was now mixed with a generous amount of silver. While she had been blessed with good skin and had taken great pains all of her life to preserve her complexion, time had scratched her a bit. The creases from her nose to her mouth were deeper than Sarah remembered, and the firm line of her jaw had blurred. Sarah couldn’t help wondering how much of this was just the normal ravages of time and how much of it might have been caused by the loss of both her daughters. At least Sarah still had it within her power to give one of them back to her.
“I haven’t even asked how you are,” Sarah said. “You look very well.”
“I look older,” she corrected primly. “How could I not? But you’re right, I’m well. Your father will be so sorry he missed you. He’s in Albany, you know.”
Sarah did know. She’d read it in the Times. He was addressing the legislature about something or other, which was why Sarah hadn’t felt the slightest qualm about coming here today, knowing she wouldn’t have to see him just yet. “How is he?”
Her mother gave her a glance, as if trying to judge the sincerity of her inquiry. “He’s not as well as I am, I’m afraid.”
Sarah felt a pang, although she wasn’t sure if it was concern or simply guilt for not being quite as concerned as she should have been. “Is something wrong? Has he been ill?”
“It’s his stomach. He… Well, I think he worries too much. You know how he takes everything to heart.”
There had been a time when Sarah was sure her father didn’t even have a heart, but she wouldn’t mention that now. “Has he seen a doctor? What do they say?”
Her mother shrugged one shoulder helplessly. “You know how they are. Sometimes I don’t think doctors know anything at all.”
Sarah could have agreed. She’d seen far too many childbirths botched by supposedly expert physicians. On the other hand, she knew how caring her husband had been. “Medicine isn’t an exact science. There’s so much we don’t know about the human body. But most doctors are competent,” she pointed out.
Her mother was instantly contrite. “I didn’t mean… Oh, my dear, I hope I haven’t stirred any painful memories for you.”
“Don’t be silly. And Mother, we’ll drive each other to distraction if we keep imagining we’ve given offense about things that happened in the past. We have to put all of that behind us now and go on.”
“Of course,” she agreed eagerly. “It’s just… I’m not sure what to say to you anymore. You seem so… so different.”
“I am different. I’m older, too, and I have my own life. But I’m still your daughter. And I’m not fragile or bitter.” She hoped that was true, at least. “Don’t worry about offending me. You never used to worry about that before,” she reminded her gently.
Her mother managed a small smile at that. “I didn’t, did I? But I never really intended to offend you. I was only concerned with your well-being, Sarah. I still don’t think it’s proper for a woman to live alone and to… well, to do the things you do.”
“Women have been delivering babies since the beginning of time, Mother.”
“But not women of your class, Sarah. You were intended for better things.”
“For visiting my neighbors and attending parties and teas and ordering servants around?” she scoffed.
Sarah saw at once she’d gone too far. Her mother’s face seemed to crumble beneath the weight of Sarah’s contempt.
“Oh, Mother, I’m sorry!” she said quickly. “I didn’t come here to quarrel. I came here to make up with you.”
“I was hoping that was true. When Milly told me you were here, I hardly knew what to think. Or what to expect. Sarah, what can I expect? Are you going to vanish from my life again, or will I see you regularly now? Should I tell your father you were here? Will you come to dinner next week?”
“Of course you can tell Father I was here,” Sarah said with a bravado she didn’t exactly feel. The thought of facing him again, after the harsh words they had exchanged at their last meeting, made her own stomach slightly sick. “And of course I’ll see you regularly now. I’d love to come to dinner, too, but I can’t make plans very far in advance, I’m afraid. I never know when I’ll be needed since babies don’t keep regular hours, but perhaps I could come by for tea one afternoon.” There, that would guarantee a brief visit if things didn’t go well.
“That would be wonderful!” Sarah felt another pang at the longing she saw in her mother’s eyes. “I’ll be sure your father is here, if you’ll send word ahead.”
Sarah made no promises. She would have to wait a day or two to see how truly brave she was. Walking through the city alone at night was nothing compared to facing her father’s wrath again. Would he still be angry or would he have mellowed with the years? Somehow, Sarah could not imagine her father mellowing in a millennium.
They chatted for a while about people Sarah had known, her mother bringing her up to date on their lives and activities. She told Sarah about a trip to Paris her parents had taken and about some parties she had recently attended. Sarah listened politely and asked questions, recognizing her mother’s need to keep her there as long as possible. Perhaps she realized Sarah’s ambivalence about returning and was afraid to let her go. Whatever the reason, Sarah let her babble on for another hour before making her excuses.
Outside, the weather was even warmer than it had been earlier. They really were having an early spring. Sarah began to regret having worn such a heavy dress. She walked the few blocks to the Sixth Avenue elevated train station, trying not to exert herself too much in the heat, and gratefully took shelter on the shade of the covered staircase that led up to the platform.
As she climbed the stairs, she recalled what her mother had told her about Alicia and Sylvester Mattingly. Many people in the VanDamms’s social set would see nothing unusual in her father arranging a marriage for her, and while they might be shocked by his selection of a groom and the vast age difference between the couple, few would condemn such a choice outright. In many ways it would make a certain perverse sense to them. If Alicia’s father wanted to be certain she would be protected and financially secure, an older husband was the logical choice.
Or perhaps Mr. Mattingly had done VanDamm some favor or performed him some service for which Alicia was to be the reward. While this would give the matter a more cold-blooded, businesslike flavor, few would have condemned this motivation, either. Men had been paying debts and sealing bargains with their daughters for centuries. Just because the VanDamm house had electric lights and a telephone didn’t mean they had accepted every trapping of progress.
Sarah wondered what sort of debt would require the mythical virgin sacrifice, but then, Alicia hadn’t been a virgin. As Sarah stood on the platform watching the next train rumbling along the elevated track toward the station, she considered the possibility that perhaps Cornelius VanDamm wasn’t the debtor at all. Perhaps Mattingly had been the one who owed VanDamm a favor. And perhaps he had been prevailed upon to settle it by taking Alicia as his wife. Already pregnant, she would be soiled goods to be sure, and providing a name and respectability for her child would be enough to provide payment in full for just about any kind of debt. Still, her youth and beauty would provide more than ample compensation to Mattingly for having claimed her child as his own. And even if people doubted he had fathered that child, no one would ever admit it to his face.
The train stopped, and the passengers filed out. The cars weren’t terribly crowded at this time of day, so Sarah was able to find a seat in the first car she entered. There were still empty seats a few moments later when the train started again, and Sarah was glad she had gotten away from her mother when she did. In another hour, the platforms would be packed with workers returning to their homes in other parts of the city, and the conductors wouldn’t allow the trains to leave the station until they were so jammed that not another human body could be squeezed on board. The accidental contact one made with strangers under such circumstances was disconcerting enough, but far too many men took advantage of the situation to initiate more than accidental and far from proper contact. Sarah had made retaliatory use of her hat pin on more than one occasion under such circumstances, and she was grateful for the opportunity on this trip to simply sit and ponder the facts she had learned today.
She would have to contact Malloy again, although she should probably wait a day or two. Although he’d been fairly civil when he left her flat the other night, she didn’t want to try his patience too much. When she considered how well their last meeting had gone, she thought perhaps she should have tried feeding him much sooner. With a small smile, she even considered the advisability of carrying something edible with her at all times, just in case she encountered him. Barring that, she should at least have something substantive to tell him before tracking him down again. The news about a rumored marriage between Alicia and Mattingly hardly qualified unless she could verify it.
Or unless she could think of a reason why it might have caused Alicia’s death. That, she realized as she watched buildings and apartments speed by the train’s window close enough for her to reach out and touch if she’d wished to risk losing an arm, might take a little more thought.
FRANK KNEW SOMETHING was wrong the minute he stepped into the room. The detectives all had desks in one large room in Police Headquarters, and this afternoon, everyone who happened to be here was nonchalantly ignoring Frank. Too nonchalantly. They were merely pretending not to notice him and really watching him like hawks and waiting expectantly for something. Frank could feel it in the air like a vapor. What they could be waiting for, Frank couldn’t imagine until he reached his own desk and saw the envelope. The ivory vellum envelope addressed to him in a decidedly feminine hand.
Damn, no wonder they were watching him.
“Is it a love letter, Frank?” a falsetto voice inquired from across the room. Frank didn’t even glance up.
“O’Shaughnessy said she’s a real peach. A blonde,” someone else reported.
“A blonde!” The phrase echoed through the room as the rest of them repeated it incredulously.
“She’s an informant,” Frank said to the room at large, but of course they didn’t want to believe something so innocent.
“I never had a stool pigeon send me a love letter,” Harry Kelly said.
“You never had anybody send you a love letter,” Bill Broghan hooted.
“And you couldn’t read it even if they did,” Frank said, still staring at the envelope. He didn’t have to turn it over to see who it was from, and he certainly hadn’t needed to hear her description. Only one person in the world would be sending him a note like this. He was very much afraid he was going to have to strangle Sarah Brandt. His only regret would be that he would never make Captain.
But it might be worth it.
“Ain’t you gonna read it, Frank?” someone coaxed.
“Read it out loud,” Bill suggested. “Don’t be stingy.”
“I can’t read it out loud,” Frank said. “It would take me too long to explain all the big words to you.”
“Or all the dirty words,” Harry said slyly.
Frank gave him a look. “I thought you already knew all the dirty words.”
“He’s got you there, Harry,” Bill hooted.
“I thought you swore off women, Frank,” Harry said. “Where’d this blonde bit of fluff come from?”
“I told you, she’s an informant.” She’s also a pain in the backside, he added silently, fingering the envelope. The paper was quality, just like Sarah Brandt. Just like Alicia VanDamm. What the hell was he doing involved with any of them? He knew how to handle crooks and killers and con men. He didn’t know how to handle ladies, dead or alive. And he had no intention of handling Sarah Brandt at all.
With a resigned sigh, he picked up the envelope and broke the seal. He could feel the eyes of all the other detectives watching him intently, waiting for some reaction. Frank was going to do his best to disappoint them.
“Dear Mr. Malloy,” her note began. He should read them that part, if they were expecting a love letter. “I have learned some very interesting information about Sylvester Mattingly’s relationship with Alicia. It seems that rumors were circulating among the VanDamms’s acquaintances that Mr. VanDamm was arranging a marriage between Alicia and Mattingly. I have a theory that might explain Alicia’s circumstances which I would rather not put in writing. If you will call upon me at your earliest convenience, I will be happy to explain it to you.” It was signed, “In haste, Sarah Brandt.”
“That son of a bitch,” Frank muttered, recalling in great detail his conversation with Sylvester Mattingly. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to cooperate with Frank’s investigation. He was the one Alicia had been running away from all along! And when he thought about Mattingly so much as touching that poor girl…
“Bad news, Frank?” Bill asked with phony concern.
“She throwing you over for another fellow?” Harry smirked.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Frank agreed, wishing he would be that lucky. Unfortunately, he was afraid Sarah Brandt’s intense interest in him would continue as long as he was investigating Alicia VanDamm’s murder. And as for Mrs. Brandt and her theories, he would have bet a year’s salary that she’d have one, and an equal amount that it wouldn’t do him any good. So far, this case had been one blind alley after another, all thanks to Sarah Brandt and her useless information.
He was still debating the advisability of meeting with Mrs. Brandt again-could he be civil to her if he did? And would it be a complete waste of his time?-when one of the officers from downstairs came into the room. Frank hardly noticed until he realized the man was coming right up to him.
“Malloy?”
Frank nodded curtly.
“Got a message.” The fellow looked sort of smug, knowing the effect this message would have. “Superintendent Conlin wants to see you in his office right away.”
Once again a murmur went through the room as the other detectives reacted to the summons. This couldn’t be good news. Conlin didn’t interfere with individual detectives. In fact, he didn’t concern himself with their work at all, letting Chief of Detectives Steers have a free hand with them, so this wasn’t any kind of routine consultation. This was something serious and probably dangerous, too. Dangerous for Frank, that is. If he did or said the wrong thing, he could forget about making Captain. He could even forget about working for the police department anymore.
And why was he so sure that Sarah Brandt’s interference was somehow to blame for this summons?
Chief Conlin’s office was on the second floor, with all the other important offices. Roosevelt himself kept one here, complete with his girl secretary, the only female ever to work in such a capacity in the history of the New York City Police. Frank hoped Sarah Brandt didn’t find out about the girl secretary. Next thing he knew, she’d be Roosevelt’s right-hand man. Or woman.
Conlin kept a male secretary, as was proper, and the fellow showed him into the inner sanctum immediately. Frank wasn’t sure if he should be apprehensive or not, so he settled for wary. The office was comfortably furnished, but nothing like Sylvester Mattingly’s. Conlin sat behind his desk in a large chair. He was a man of middle years, of medium height and slight build with light blue eyes and a sallow complexion. He might have been considered nondescript, except for the power he wielded in his new position.
“Sit down… Mallory, is it?”
“Malloy,” Frank corrected him. He took the offered chair. It wasn’t as comfortable as the one in Mattingly’s office, either.
“I understand you’re working on the murder of Miss Alicia VanDamm,” Conlin said, leaning back and stroking his mustache thoughtfully.
“That’s right.” Frank waited, not a bit surprised. This was the only case he had that might have caused anyone concern.
“An ugly business. A young girl like that, cut down in her prime.” He shook his head sadly, his face expressing his profound distress as such an event.
Frank was impressed. He’d heard that the new superintendent had been trained in public speaking by his brother who was an actor, and Conlin certainly exhibited the grace and style of a professional actor. Those skills would stand him in good stead in his current position, but Frank wasn’t fooled by this phony concern for Alicia VanDamm. Conlin would only be concerned with how the investigation of her case affected one person: himself.
Frank nodded once, to let him know he agreed so far. Every instinct was rebelling, however, warning him something bad was going to happen. Something really bad. Wariness gave way to dread.
“Do you know the VanDamm family?”
“I’ve met them. During the investigation.”
The chief frowned, looking down at the polished surface of his desktop as if weighing his words carefully. Just the way an actor would play a man of power. “Then perhaps you can understand their concerns, which are different from what many people would consider standard in this situation.”
“I’d guess their main concern would be finding out who killed their daughter,” Frank tried.
“Most people would,” the chief agreed, folding his hands on his desk and leaning forward to give Frank the impression he was confiding in him. “Most people want revenge, Malloy. They call it justice, but revenge is what they really want. It won’t bring their loved one back, but it gives them some measure of comfort.”
Frank knew this was true, but he also knew the superintendent hadn’t yet made his point, although he was becoming more certain by the moment he knew what that point would be. He continued to wait, anger forming an acidic ball in his stomach.
“The VanDamms aren’t like most people, however. They are much more intelligent than most people, and they understand that revenge won’t bring their daughter back. They also know that bringing her killer to justice might compound the damage that has already been done by blackening their daughter’s good name and reputation.”
Not to mention their own, Frank thought, but of course he didn’t say it aloud. He’d never make Captain by talking back to the superintendent. In fact, he’d be back to pounding a beat, if he wasn’t careful.
“Because the VanDamms might well have to endure even more distress if you continue your investigation, Malloy, I’m taking you off this case. I think your chances of actually finding the killer are very slim, and since even doing so wouldn’t accomplish anything constructive, there’s no point in proceeding.”
“It would get a killer off the streets,” Frank couldn’t resist pointing out. The hot ball of anger had become molten fury, and he had to close his hands into fists to keep from slapping them down on the superintendent’s shiny desk in frustration.
“Hundreds of killers walk our streets every day, Malloy. We can’t catch them all. And we won’t be trying to catch this one.” Steer’s voice was hard, leaving no room for negotiation. “Do you understand?”
Frank understood completely. Someone important didn’t want the case solved, and because of Sarah Brandt’s note, he understood even more than the superintendent. “I already have some feelers out. What if I accidentally find the killer?”
The chief’s gaze was razor sharp when it met Frank’s. “You won’t.”
IT WAS THE hottest day of the year so far, and Frank’s mood was just as hot as he made his way through Greenwich Village. He didn’t even think of knocking when he reached the front door of the office. He simply pushed it open and marched in. Still furious, he needed a second to realize that Mrs. Brandt was not alone. Another woman was sitting with her, an elderly lady.
Was she a patient? No, the two of them appeared to be only talking, thank God, and they both looked up in surprise.
“Well, now, looks like somebody put his hat on backward this morning,” the old woman said with some amusement.
“Mr. Malloy,” Mrs. Brandt said in that cultured voice of hers, as if he hadn’t just made a complete fool of himself. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
The old woman was looking him over as if judging his suitability for being there. “You look like you’ve been rushing, sir,” she observed wryly. “A man your size should be more careful in this heat. You could bring on apoplexy.”
If he hadn’t been so furious, he might have simply fled. Ordinarily, he didn’t relish being a source of amusement for elderly females, but he needed to speak to Sarah Brandt, and at this point, he was even willing to apologize, if that was what it took.
“I didn’t know you had company,” he managed to say in a fairly civil tone. “I’ll wait outside.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” the old woman said, rising from her chair. “You must have something very important to talk to Sarah about. I’ll just be on my way, Mr…” She let her voice trail off expectantly.
“Mrs. Elsworth, this is Detective Sergeant Malloy of the New York City Police,” Mrs. Brandt said, rising to her feet as well. “Mr. Malloy, this is my neighbor, Mrs. Elsworth.”
The old lady was still looking him over very carefully, obviously feeling he needed to pass inspection before she’d leave him alone with Sarah Brandt.
“I dropped a knife this morning,” she said, as if that should mean something. When no one responded, she continued, “That’s how I knew I’d be getting a visitor soon. Although I guess you’re really Sarah’s visitor, aren’t you? So perhaps I’d best be on my way. So nice to have made your acquaintance, Detective Sergeant.”
Frank didn’t return the compliment, although he did hold the door open for her, if only to hurry her on her way. No one spoke until the old woman was gone.
“Mr. Malloy,” Mrs. Brandt said again, but this time she wasn’t surprised. This time she was eager, if only to learn why Frank had come barging into her office. “What is it? Have you found out something?”
“You could say that, but I doubt it’s what you think.”
Now she was intrigued. “Please, sit down,” she said, offering him the chair in which the old woman had been sitting a moment ago.
Frank didn’t much like the idea of sitting in a chair reserved for her patients, and he didn’t feel much like sitting anyway. He wouldn’t be here that long anyway.
“They’ve taken me off the case,” he announced baldly.
“What? Who did it? The VanDamms? Surely, they don’t have the authority-”
“It was probably them behind it, but the order came from the Superintendent. Directly. I’m not to do any more investigation. The VanDamms don’t care who killed their daughter, and they don’t want her memory tarnished by me finding him.”
“That’s preposterous!”
Her outrage made him realize that he’d sought her out as much to share his own fury as to inform her of the circumstances that had caused it. “I thought so, but my opinion didn’t count for much.” Frank wanted to pace, but space in the small office was at a premium. He could only manage a few steps in any direction before encountering something too substantial to push out of the way.
“But surely… I mean… Oh, dear…” she stammered, bringing Frank up short. For the first time he really looked at her. She seemed stricken.
“What is it?”
“I… I learned something about Alicia and… and Sylvester Mattingly. Did you get my note?”
“Yeah, I got it. In fact, I’m pretty sure Mattingly is why I was taken off the case. I went to see him yesterday, at his office.”
“Yesterday? That was even before I knew about him and Alicia. Why did you…? Oh, to ask him about Hamilton Fisher,” she recalled. “Why, he might have hired Fisher to find Alicia for himself and not for the family at all! What did he say when you questioned him?”
“Nothing. He’s a lawyer. They don’t tell the police anything, as a general rule, and especially not if it would hurt them. Who told you about this marriage business? Any chance it isn’t true?”
“I told you, it was a rumor, but my… my mother told me about it. She didn’t really believe it, but everyone had heard it. Everyone in her social circle, that is,” she clarified when he frowned at her.
Things were starting to fall into place. “All right, this is what happened: The girl found out her father was going to marry her off to an old geezer-somebody she hated, according to Harvey the groom, who knew her pretty well-so she runs away and hides, hoping her father will change his mind. No wonder Mattingly didn’t tell me anything. Not many men would want a story like that going around.”
“Maybe it’s even worse than that,” she said, surprising him.
“What could be worse?”
“Have you forgotten Alicia was with child? Who was the father of that child?”
Frank hadn’t forgotten. Well, maybe just for a second. “Probably the groom, Harvey. It has to be. Nobody else ever got near her.”
“What about her fiancé?”
“Mattingly?” Frank was incredulous. “Why would he…?”
“To force her to marry him,” she said. “It wouldn’t be the first time a reluctant woman has been persuaded to marry a man she wouldn’t otherwise choose. He ruins her and makes her believe no other man will ever have her. And if she conceives a child, she has no choice but to accept him.”
“But she did conceive a child,” Malloy said, forgetting in the heat of the moment to be embarrassed by the subject. “And her family knew it. If that’s what happened, why didn’t she marry Mattingly?”
“Perhaps she kept it a secret until it was too late. By the time she ran away, she was too far along to pretend the child was conceived in wedlock, so her family had sent her to the country until after it was born. They could dispose of the child and still marry her to Mattingly. She’d be even more compliant, knowing the price she’d already paid.”
“That’s crazy,” Frank protested. “Why would they be that eager for her to marry that old son of a…” He caught himself just in time, although he doubted Sarah Brandt would be too shocked to hear him swear.
“I suspect it’s some kind of a debt. A debt of honor, perhaps, that would be even more binding than a financial debt. Or it might even be some type of blackmail. If Mattingly handles Mr. VanDamm’s business affairs, he would know things that might better be kept secret. Powerful men have been using their daughters to settle business arrangements for centuries, Mr. Malloy.”
Frank pushed his hat back on his head and took a few more paces, wishing he had some room to really walk. He needed to walk to figure this out. None of it was making any sense, at least to him.
“But it’s useless to think about it now,” she said after a moment.
He looked up in surprise, pausing in mid-stride. “Why?”
She looked just as surprised. “Because you’ve been taken off the case. I guess this means that no one else will be investigating it, either.”
“No one in the department,” he said, watching her closely to see if she would get the implication.
Another woman would have looked away, but Sarah Brandt met his gaze steadily, her blue-gray eyes dark with questions. She did not disappoint him. “Who else would be investigating it, then?”
“Maybe somebody who has a personal interest in finding Alicia VanDamm’s killer. Somebody who wants to see justice done and who maybe wants a little revenge, too. Somebody who knew her when she was a kid.”
Her eyes grew wide with surprise. “I’m not a detective!”
Frank couldn’t hide his disgust. “You’ve been working as hard on this case as I have,” he reminded her. “Finding out a lot of information, too.” He was amazed to realize that admitting this caused him no discomfort at all.
And she wasn’t as difficult to convince as he had thought. In fact, she seemed pleased. “Do you really think…? I mean, what could I do?”
That was the question, of course. Frank scratched his head, then settled his hat more firmly. “You could keep asking questions, just like you have been. You could go back to the VanDamms and find out what they’re saying. Tell them how distressed you are that the police aren’t looking for Alicia’s killer anymore. You could even go to some of the abortionists and see if they’ll tell you anything they wouldn’t tell me.”
She was staring at him now. Not merely listening intently to what he was saying but openly staring, as if she’d suddenly noticed something about him she’d never seen before. Somehow resisting the urge to make sure he was all buttoned up properly, he glared at her. “What’s the matter?”
She smiled like a cat with its head in the cream pitcher, setting Frank’s teeth on edge. “I just realized that you must want to see Alicia’s murder solved as much as I do.”
“Is that so hard to believe?” Frank hated the tone of defensiveness he heard in his own voice.
“I already told you, I know how the police work, Mr. Malloy. They aren’t interested in solving crimes unless there’s something in it for them. I’m not accusing you of anything,” she said quickly, when he would have protested. “I’m just stating a fact. I even understand it. Police officers aren’t paid very handsomely, so naturally, ambitious men will always be eager to improve their lot. Didn’t you say something about making Captain?”
What did she know about it? Frank wished he could afford the luxury of simple ambition. His motivations for gaining advancement were far more ordinary. She didn’t need to know that, though.
“That’s right,” he said. “I want to be a captain, and I’m improving my chances by not investigating this case anymore.”
“Yet you still want to see it solved. May I ask you why?”
Frank didn’t have to tell her a thing, he knew, but if he didn’t, she might not want to do what he was asking. And he very much wanted her to, although he didn’t allow himself to consider his real motives too closely. “Probably for the same reason you do, Mrs. Brandt. As far as I can tell, Alicia VanDamm was a nice girl who deserved a chance in life. She never got that chance, and I want to find out why. I’d also like to see the person who killed her get punished, especially if it’s any of the people I’ve met so far.”
His answer seemed to please her. “I’d like to see them all punished,” she admitted. “I think when we find her killer, we’ll discover that more than one person was involved in her death, even if it was just because their selfishness put her in danger in the first place. But suppose I do find out who killed her or at least find some information that would help. What good will it do if the police won’t arrest the killer?”
“I’ve been thinking about this, and I guess there’s only one thing you can do. You can take your story to Commissioner Roosevelt.”
“Roosevelt? Why?”
“Because he’s determined to clean up the department. He’d love a scandal like this, and he’d love forcing the superintendent to investigate the murder of a poor, innocent girl, especially if he didn’t want to. The press would love it, too.”
“The newspapers?” Plainly, this did not please her. “Why would we have to involve them?”
“Because Roosevelt loves publicity. Why do you think he travels around the city at night with a newspaper reporter?” he asked, referring to Roosevelt’s habit of prowling in the darkness accompanied by Jacob Riis, checking to make sure policemen were at their posts. “Not only is he trying to find cops neglecting their duty, he wants to have his own personal reporter with him to put the story in the paper. Alicia’s story would rouse public opinion like nothing else he’s done so far, so the police couldn’t ignore Roosevelt, even if they wanted to. They’d have to take some action, and Roosevelt would look like some kind of champion.”
“And justice will be done.”
Frank only wished he believed in justice. Then he remembered what Conlin had said, and he knew what he really wanted was revenge. “Alicia’s killer will be punished,” he corrected her.
She nodded, understanding his unspoken message. “Alicia will still be dead, so there can be no true justice. But at least there can be some punishment.”
Frank fervently hoped so. He could think of so many people who deserved it. “Then you’ll do it?”
She looked surprised that he would even ask. “Of course I will. I just… I’m not sure I know where to start.”
“You’ve already started, Mrs. Brandt. You just have to keep on.”