Murder On Fifth Avenue

10

SARAH FELT A LITTLE SILLY STEALING DOWN THE STAIRS with her towel-filled basket after Garnet had so unceremoniously sent her packing, but she hadn’t wanted to wait for a maid to escort her out. Garnet truly did look unwell, and Sarah didn’t have the heart to upset her any more today. She had reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs when a maid emerged from a door that must lead to the servants’ stairway and hurried to the parlor.

Sarah froze, hoping to escape notice. The maid didn’t even glance in her direction, but her luck didn’t hold. When the girl opened the parlor door, her mother and Mrs. Devries were standing just inside, obviously waiting for a servant to show her mother out. Both of the older women saw Sarah at once.

“Mrs. Brandt, whatever are you doing out there all by yourself?” Mrs. Devries asked, her displeasure obvious.

Sarah saw no reason to lie, although she also didn’t see any reason to tell the entire truth, either. “Hello, Mrs. Devries, Mother. I stopped by to see Garnet.”

“Whatever for?” Mrs. Devries’s eyes narrowed as she took in Sarah from head to foot, focusing finally on the basket.

“When I was here before, I got the impression she would welcome some advice.”

“What kind of advice could you possibly give her?”

“Do you really need to ask, Lucretia?” her mother said. “You made it very clear how disappointed you are that Paul and Garnet have no children. Sarah is a midwife.”

The maid’s wide-eyed gaze kept darting back and forth as each woman spoke, and Mrs. Devries finally noticed her rapt attention. “Run along, Mary Catherine. Mrs. Decker isn’t leaving just yet. Mrs. Brandt, please, come inside and tell me what advice you’ve given my daughter-in-law.”

Sarah had no intention of doing any such thing, but she accepted Mrs. Devries’s invitation and joined the two older women in the parlor. Sarah couldn’t help noticing Mrs. Devries wore a new gown of black bombazine with jet buttons. Her dressmaker had done well in providing her with stylish mourning clothes.

When they were seated, Mrs. Devries looked at Sarah expectantly. Sarah returned her stare with what she hoped was a maddeningly blank expression. Apparently, it was.

“Really, Mrs. Brandt, I’m waiting.”

Sarah smiled politely. “What exactly are you waiting for?”

“For you to tell me what you and Garnet talked about.”

“Oh, my, so many things…Let’s see, she told me her mother had been to visit her. Her mother lives in Virginia, I believe,” she told her own mother.

“Mrs. Brandt, what did you tell Garnet about having a baby?” Mrs. Devries asked.

“Oh, I told her not to give up hope. Sometimes it takes years, but she’s still young, so she has plenty of time.”

Mrs. Devries frowned, her eyes fairly glittering with rage, but her mother had to cover a smile.

“We also spoke about Mr. Devries’s death. She wanted to know if I’d heard anything about the investigation.”

“Why would you hear anything?” Mrs. Devries asked.

“Because of my father, I suppose. He’s the one who asked the police to investigate in the first place.”

“A lot of nonsense, if you ask me,” Mrs. Devries said. “How can someone die from a pinprick?”

“I gather it was more than a pinprick,” her mother said. “Didn’t Mr. Malloy say something about an ice pick?”

This time, Sarah had to cover a smile when she saw Mrs. Devries’s expression. “How on earth did you hear such a thing, Elizabeth?”

“From Mr. Malloy, of course. Didn’t I just say so?”

Sarah noticed Mrs. Devries was turning an unbecoming shade of purple. “From the policeman himself? I can’t believe Felix allows you to associate with someone like that!”

“Mr. Malloy is a family friend,” her mother said.

“A policeman is a family friend?”

Sarah felt the heat rising in her own face at the sting of Mrs. Devries’s contempt. How dare she judge Frank Malloy? But, of course, most everyone in the city would judge him exactly the same way. The police were, in many ways, no better than the criminals they chased. How was anyone to know that Frank Malloy was any different from the beat cop who collected protection money from the brothels or the police chief who collected bribes from politicians?

“Mr. Malloy has assisted my father on several important matters,” Sarah said. “Father specifically asked him to find out what happened to your husband.”

“And you see how much good it did,” Mrs. Devries said. “Five days have gone by, and we don’t know any more than we did before.”

“We know he was stabbed when he was naked,” Sarah said, taking perverse pleasure in Mrs. Devries’s shock.

“How can you possibly know that?”

“You’ll have to discuss that with Mr. Malloy, I’m sure,” her mother hastily replied, giving Sarah an exasperated glance.

“But he must have told you why he thinks so,” Mrs. Devries said. “What a horrible thing to say, and if it’s true…” She looked from Sarah to her mother and back again. “If it’s true, then Roderick must have done it.”

“Who’s Roderick?” her mother asked.

“His valet. That’s it. He’s the one who dressed Chilly every day. He’s the only one who ever saw him undressed.” Mrs. Devries sat back in her chair and folded her hands with a satisfied nod.

“Are you quite sure?” Sarah’s mother asked with a confused frown that didn’t fool Sarah for an instant. “I understand he wasn’t yet dressed when he had a rather heated discussion with Paul that morning.”

Mrs. Devries started turning purple again. “Who told you such a thing? Your policeman, I suppose.”

“Yes, but I don’t know who might have told him,” Sarah lied. She knew Mrs. Devries had also visited her husband when he was undressed, but she waited to see if the woman would admit it.

“No one would have told him such a thing!” she said instead.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have made it up,” Sarah said.

“Paul himself probably told him,” Sarah’s mother said, apparently trying to be helpful.

Mrs. Devries glared at her. “Nonsense! It was Roderick! He’s always been a sly one. I’ve never trusted him myself, and now look, he’s spreading all kinds of lies about our family.”

“Why would he do that?” her mother asked.

“Why do people like him do anything? They hate us, that’s why. They’re jealous of anyone who’s better than they are.”

Sarah doubted the Devries family was truly better than their servants in any way, but she didn’t think Mrs. Devries would appreciate hearing her explain why she thought so.

Sarah’s mother was shaking her head. “I would sleep with one eye open if I thought my servants hated me.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, you know I’m right. I told you, I think Roderick is the one who stabbed Chilly, and the more I think about it, the more convinced I am. And here I’ve kept him on even though he no longer has a thing to do with Chilly gone. I should have turned him out the instant I heard Chilly was dead. That’s what I get for being so softhearted.”

Sarah was sure no one had ever accused Mrs. Devries of being softhearted, and she certainly had no reason to accuse the poor valet of murdering her husband. “I can’t imagine Mr. Devries would have allowed his valet to stab him and not have raised an alarm.”

“Sarah’s right,” her mother said. “That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense to me,” Mrs. Devries said. “That was Chilly. He allowed the servants too much freedom. He left it to me to enforce whatever trace of discipline we managed to maintain here. I doubt he would have raised an alarm if one of the servants tried to cut his throat!”

Sarah and her mother exchanged a horrified glance, but Mrs. Devries didn’t appear to notice. She had noticed Sarah’s basket again. Sarah had set it on the floor at her feet, hoping it wouldn’t attract attention, but Mrs. Devries frowned at it.

“What on earth do you have in that basket?”

“Nothing.” Before Mrs. Devries could pursue the matter, Sarah rose and snatched up the basket in question. “I’m afraid I must be going, Mrs. Devries. I have another appointment. Mother, I don’t suppose you could give me a lift?”

Sarah’s mother rose as well. “I’d be delighted, my dear. I was just leaving myself when we saw you on the stairs. Lucretia, thank you again for your hospitality.”

Left with no choice, Mrs. Devries got up and rang for the maid again. “I suppose I’ll see you at the funeral, Elizabeth.”

“Of course.”

“I’m dreading it so. I only hope I can hold up. I’m nearly prostrate with grief, you know. You can’t imagine how shocking it was, losing Chilly in such a way.”

“I’m sure it was difficult for Paul, too,” her mother said, reminding Sarah what Malloy had told them about the way Paul and his mother had reacted to the news of Chilton Devries’s death.

Mrs. Devries looked at her sharply, as if trying to judge her sincerity. “Of course it was, but Paul will be fine. Men don’t feel things the way women do, do they?”

“I don’t know about that,” Sarah’s mother said, but just then the maid knocked and opened the door. The ladies made their farewells to Mrs. Devries and managed to escape without having to answer any more awkward questions.

When they were back in the carriage, Sarah asked, “Were you able to learn anything interesting from Mrs. Devries?”

“Heavens no, not until you came in. She just kept complaining about the funeral arrangements and how tedious it all was. Can you believe she accused the poor valet of stabbing Chilton?”

“I’m feeling guilty about that, and Malloy will probably be furious.”

“Why would he be furious?”

“Because I revealed that we suspect Devries was naked when he was stabbed.”

Her mother frowned. “Why would that matter?”

“Because it narrows down the circumstances and the times when he could have been stabbed, which means Malloy knows it probably happened at his home or when he was with Miss English.”

“If Lucretia even knows about Miss English.”

“Do you think she does?”

“I’m sure she’d never admit it to me if she did, but I don’t know how she could have failed to notice how many nights he spent away from home.”

Her mother was probably right. But Miss English was the least of her worries. “What Malloy will chasten me about is that if the killer is someone at the Devrieses’ house, I revealed that we know it was someone who was with Devries when he was undressed.”

“I see, and because the number of people who did is small, the killer will know we suspect him.”

“Or her.”

“Oh, yes,” her mother agreed. “We mustn’t eliminate Lucretia as a possible killer. I can too easily imagine her plunging an ice pick into Chilton.”

“Mother!”

“Oh, come now, Sarah. Can’t you?”

Sarah had to admit she could, but she said, “I’m just afraid she’s going to dismiss the valet now that I’ve reminded her of him.”

“Oh, I’m sure she will. You heard what she said. I’d wager he knows more about Chilton’s death than he admitted to Mr. Malloy, too.”

“If anyone knows anything, he’s the one. We should let Malloy know she’s thinking about letting him go. He might be difficult to find if she did, and I’m sure Malloy doesn’t want to waste time tracking him down later.”

The carriage stopped, then swayed as the driver hopped down from his perch and opened the door. “We’re here, Mrs. Decker.”

Sarah and her mother stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of one of the dozens of tearooms that had sprung up around the city. They provided safe, respectable places for ladies to gather to gossip with their friends, which wasn’t so very different from what they were planning to use it for themselves today.

Inside they found Frank Malloy trying to be inconspicuous behind a newspaper and failing miserably. As the only male on the premises, he would have been an object of curiosity to the other patrons, but because he also happened to be so obviously not the sort of gentleman the ladies here encountered, he had become fascinating. The room was abuzz with conversation and sly glances in his direction, but when the other ladies realized Sarah and her mother were heading for him, the room fell eerily silent.

Spotting them, Malloy lowered his newspaper and folded it with exaggerated care as they approached his table at the far back of the room. He laid it down and stood to greet them.

All the other women in the room began whispering behind their hands again, and Malloy rolled his eyes.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Sarah said, trying very hard not to grin at his obvious discomfort.

“At least a day and a half.” He nodded at Mrs. Decker, who grinned in unabashed delight at his predicament. He pulled out chairs for them. They were delicate and gilt. Sarah wondered that any of them could hold his weight.

A young girl hurried over and took their order for tea and scones. Malloy requested a refill on his coffee.

When she was gone, Sarah said, “I did something stupid.”

He raised his eyebrows and leaned back as far as he dared in the fragile chair. “Is that right?”

“I let it slip to Mrs. Devries that we know her husband was undressed when he was stabbed.”

“And how did that subject happen to come up?”

Sarah winced a bit at the memory. “Mrs. Devries was annoying me.”

He smiled slightly. “How did she do that?”

“If you must know,” her mother said, “she was criticizing your ability to solve the case, and Sarah came to your defense.”

“I’m touched.”

He didn’t look it. “She said you hadn’t made any progress, so without thinking, I informed her that you certainly had and you knew Devries was undressed when he was stabbed, and I know it was foolish because if the killer is in that house, he’ll know-”

“Or she’ll know,” her mother said.

“Mother wants Mrs. Devries to be the killer,” Sarah explained.

“So do I,” Malloy confided to Mrs. Decker, making her grin.

Sarah sighed. “At any rate, now she knows that you know Devries was naked.”

“That isn’t exactly true,” Malloy said.

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

“It means we haven’t found any of his clothes with a matching hole, but maybe the killer got rid of them. Or maybe he wasn’t wearing any. So we don’t really know for sure.”

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Decker said. “No wonder you enjoy this so much, Sarah. It’s quite challenging to figure it all out, isn’t it?”

“I don’t enjoy this,” Sarah said.

Her mother glared at her with disapproval, the way she used to do when Sarah was small and told a lie.

“At any rate, I told her,” Sarah continued doggedly. “I know I shouldn’t have.”

He shrugged, as if it was of no consequence. “Did you find out anything useful from Garnet?”

Sarah described her conversation with the young woman.

“She’s a very strange girl,” her mother said.

“I’m sure I’d be acting strangely in her situation, too. She must feel she has no one to whom she can turn.”

“Surely, her mother will be a comfort to her.”

“I’m sure she’ll try, but she can’t offer much more than that.”

“I wish I could feel more sympathy for her, but a woman who doesn’t want her own child…It’s unnatural.”

“I’ve been trying to see things from her perspective, but the more I think about it, the more confused I become. She knows about Paul’s, uh, preference for other men and is apparently appalled by it, so much so that she can’t bear the thought of having his child. Yet when she speaks of him, she seems actually fond of him.”

“As I said, she’s a strange girl.”

Sarah realized Malloy had made no comment about Garnet. “What are you thinking?”

“Something unthinkable. Did you find out anything interesting from Mrs. Devries?”

“Oh, my, yes. Sarah, tell him about the valet.”

“Mrs. Devries said she thinks the valet stabbed Devries.”

“Why would she think that?”

“Oh, I don’t believe she really does,” Sarah’s mother said. “I think she has decided that solution would cause her the least inconvenience.”

“She also said she should have dismissed him as soon as Devries died, since he doesn’t have anything to do now, but Mother and I think he probably knows more than he’s told you so far, so if you’re going to question him again, you should do it before she puts him out.”

“I didn’t think about her dismissing him,” Malloy said. “Wouldn’t Paul need a valet?”

“He probably has his own.”

The girl arrived with their order, and they spent a few minutes pouring tea and buttering scones.

“What will you do now, Mr. Malloy?” Sarah’s mother asked.

“Go back to the Devrieses’ house, I suppose. I’ll need to put the fear of God into Roderick and find out what he hasn’t told me so far. And then-”

“If you need someone to question Miss English again, Sarah and I would be happy to do so.” Sarah’s mother smiled innocently.

Malloy looked aghast, and Sarah almost choked on her tea.

“You’ve done more than enough already, Mrs. Decker,” Malloy said after taking a moment, probably to choose the right words.

“Nonsense. I’ve hardly done anything at all.”

“You’ve done more than your husband would approve of,” he said.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t be shocked to discover that, Mr. Malloy. I’ve often done more than he approves of.”

“Yes,” Sarah said, “but this time he will blame Malloy, not you.”

That silenced her, but if she were concerned about getting Malloy in trouble with her husband, her expression did not reflect it.

“I suppose I should wait until after supper to call on the valet,” Malloy said, checking his pocket watch.

“You’ll attract less attention from the Devries family that way, I think,” Sarah said. “They won’t be going out this evening since they’re in mourning, but they won’t be making many demands on the servants at that hour, even if they’re at home, so they won’t even have to know you’re there.”

With that settled, Malloy finished his coffee and took his leave, thanking them for their assistance.

“I’m so sorry to have subjected you to the scrutiny of so many ladies,” Sarah’s mother said with another of her innocent smiles. “Perhaps next time we should arrange to meet you in a saloon.”

“I’ll be sure to suggest that to your husband, Mrs. Decker,” he replied.

BY THE TIME FRANK RETURNED TO THE DEVRIESES’ HOUSE, the winter darkness had settled over the city in earnest. The gaslights cast puddles of gold in the gloom, making little impact on it and doing nothing to alleviate the numbing cold. He hunkered in his overcoat, hands shoved deep into his pockets, as he waited for someone to answer his knock at the kitchen door.

The scullery maid opened it, peering out suspiciously, then taking a step back when she recognized him. “It’s that policeman again,” she reported to someone over her shoulder.

Frank could have easily pushed his way inside, the way he had at Miss English’s house, but here he waited, showing respect for the servants until forced to do otherwise.

“What’s he want now?” a woman asked. He recognized the cook’s voice.

“I’d like to see Roderick again, if he’s available.”

“If he’s available,” the cook mocked. “He’s always available now that Old Devries is dead.”

The girl smirked and stepped aside to admit him. He wiped his feet ostentatiously before entering, showing consideration for those who’d have to clean up after him if he didn’t.

“Tess, go fetch Roderick,” Mrs. O’Brien said. She was sitting at the kitchen table, her feet up on another chair and a plate with the remnants of her own dinner in front of her. “Have you eaten, Mr. Malloy?”

“Yes, thank you, although I’m sure it wasn’t as good as I’d have gotten here.”

“You’re right about that,” she said. “Sit yourself down. Roderick won’t be in no hurry to see you, I’m sure. Tell me, do you think he’s the one what did for Old Devries?”

Frank pulled out a chair and sat. “I doubt it. I’m thinking the old man would’ve raised an alarm if his valet stuck him with something.”

“You’re right there. He’d have called the coppers if Roderick had nicked him shaving.”

They both laughed at that.

“Who do you think might’ve done it?” he asked.

She sobered instantly. “I wouldn’t like to guess.”

“I understand. You don’t want to get anybody in trouble.”

“No, I don’t want to see no one punished for it. Whoever stuck the old man done us all a service.”

Before Frank could manage a reply, the sound of running feet on the back stairs distracted them.

The scullery maid burst out of the stairway, breathless. “Roderick’s taken sick. We’d best send for a doctor!”

“He couldn’t be that sick,” the cook said, swinging her feet to the floor. “He was just fine at supper.”

“He’s taken real bad, I tell you!”

“Let me see him,” Frank said.

At a nod from the cook, the girl started up the stairs again, with Frank at her heels. The servants’ rooms were on the top floor, and Frank was panting by the time they reached it. The warmth of the other floors had only seeped up here and could barely cut the winter chill. The girl stopped outside an opened door and gestured helplessly. Frank could hear the man moaning before he even reached the door.

Roderick lay on his bed, fully clothed and curled in a ball, writhing in pain. The chamber pot held a malodorous stew of vomit and excrement.

“How long since he ate supper?” he asked the girl.

“I don’t know!” she cried.

“Think! It’s important.”

“I…an hour maybe. No more than that.”

“Did he come straight upstairs after that?”

“I…I think so.”

Frank glanced around the Spartan room. Besides the plain iron bedstead, there was a wooden chair, a washstand with an enamel bowl and pitcher, and a small table. On the table sat a crystal decanter nearly full of amber liquid and an empty glass tumbler. Frank picked up the decanter and sniffed. Whiskey.

“Where’d this come from?” he asked.

“It was Mr. Devries’s,” the girl said. “He must’ve pinched it.”

“No!” Roderick cried between groans.

“Where’d you get it then?”

“Gave it…”

“When?” Frank asked.

“Tonight,” he gasped as another spasm shook him.

“What in heaven’s name?” Mrs. O’Brien cried, having just arrived.

“Get a doctor here, right away,” Frank said. “Tell them he might’ve been poisoned.”

“Poisoned! I won’t say no such thing!”

“Do you want him to die?”

The girl cried out. Other doors in the hallway were opening as the rest of the servants came to see what the commotion was.

“Somebody send for a doctor,” Frank said. “Tell him Roderick will need his stomach pumped.”

“I’ll go,” a young man said and hurried off.

“I never heard of such a thing,” Mrs. O’Brien muttered.

“Get rid of this and bring in a clean one,” Frank said, gesturing to the chamber pot. “And tell everybody to get back to their rooms.”

The scullery maid reluctantly took charge of the chamber pot, and the cook started ushering the rest of the staff downstairs as they muttered and murmured their many questions.

When they were gone, Frank stood over the writhing man. “Who gave you the whiskey?”

Roderick looked up, his face twisted in agony. His lips moved, trying to form words, but no sound came out.

Frank leaned closer. “Tell me, man. Who gave it to you?”

Roderick’s eyes glittered with rage, but as Frank waited, silently willing him to speak the name of his killer, the glitter faded and flickered out. The eyes rolled back. Roderick was dead.

FRANK USED THE DEVRIESES’ TELEPHONE TO CALL THE medical examiner and Felix Decker. Decker arrived first. By then, Frank had enlisted the cooperation of all the servants to keep the death a secret from the Devrieses for the time being, and the maid showed Decker into the receiving room where Frank was waiting for him, without announcing his arrival to the family.

“How in God’s name did something like this happen?” Decker demanded as soon as the door closed behind him.

“This afternoon, Mrs. Brandt let it slip to Mrs. Devries that I knew her husband was naked when he was stabbed.”

“How would that result in a servant getting poisoned?”

“The three people who were with Devries when he was undressed were the valet, Paul, and Mrs. Devries. She would know that, too, which means either Paul or his mother stabbed him, and they must have been afraid Roderick knew it.”

Decker scowled. Frank could see how little he liked this. “But didn’t you also think the mistress might have done it?”

“I did, but if she was the killer, why would anyone need to get rid of Roderick?”

Decker muttered a very ungentlemanly curse. “But are you absolutely sure he was poisoned? Could it have been unintentional?”

“You mean something he ate? Not likely. All the other servants ate the same food he did for supper, and none of them are sick.”

“Then how…?”

“I found a decanter of whiskey in his room, and he’d apparently been drinking out of it. He could barely speak when I found him, but he managed to say someone had given it to him.”

“No servant would have done that.”

“No.”

Decker sighed. “How did Paul and Lucretia behave when you told them?”

“I haven’t told them yet. In fact, they don’t even know I’m here or that Roderick is dead.”

“You were waiting for me, I assume.”

Frank hated himself for having to say it. “I need to know how you want this handled.”

The muscles in Decker’s jaw flexed. “You must have a low opinion of me, Mr. Malloy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean because you felt you needed to ask that question. Yes, I wanted Chilton’s death handled discreetly, but only because it might have been unintentional. This servant’s death, however, is no accident. Someone killed the poor man with calculated cunning to cover their own guilt. I can’t allow something like that to pass.”

The knot of tension in Frank’s belly loosened. He nodded. “I’m waiting for the medical examiner, and I’ll need to tell the family. You don’t have to stay for that.”

Decker studied Frank for a long moment. “I won’t have you think me a coward, either, Mr. Malloy. We’ll tell them together.”

The medical examiner arrived a few minutes later, and the noise of the man and his orderlies clomping up the stairs alerted the family that something was wrong, leaving Frank no choice but to go to them at once. He gave Doc Haynes his instructions, then followed Decker and the maid into the back parlor, where Mrs. Devries and her son had been spending a quiet evening.

“Felix, what on earth is going on?” she asked. “And what is that policeman doing here at this hour?”

“I’m afraid I have some more unpleasant news, Lucretia,” Decker said.

“About my father’s death?” Paul asked. He stood behind his mother’s chair, as if they had determined to present a united front against the intruders.

“No, about someone else’s death,” Decker said.

“Someone else?” Paul said. “Don’t tell me there’s been another unfortunate accident.”

“I’m not so sure it was an accident, but your father’s valet is dead.”

Paul seemed genuinely shocked. “Roderick? But that’s impossible. I saw him just after supper, and he was perfectly fine.”

“Be quiet, Paul,” his mother said. “Don’t say another word. What happened to him?”

“We aren’t sure yet,” Frank said, according to the plan he and Decker had made. “I came here tonight to ask him some more questions and found him very ill with gastric fever. We sent for the doctor, but Roderick died before he arrived.”

“I knew it,” Mrs. Devries said.

Frank and Decker gaped at her.

“What did you know?” Decker asked.

“Roderick. I knew he was the one who stabbed Chilly. I told Elizabeth exactly that this afternoon when she came to see me.”

Her son looked down at her as if he thought she was insane. “Why would Roderick have stabbed Father?”

“Your father was a difficult man, my dear. You must know that. I confess, I can’t blame the poor fellow for wanting to put an end to his misery.”

“You can’t really believe that,” Paul said.

“Paul, didn’t I ask you not to say another word?” She looked at Decker again. “I’m afraid Paul was often blind to his father’s faults, but we know, don’t we?”

“Mother!”

She silenced him with a gesture. “He was poisoned, wasn’t he?”

“That is what Mr. Malloy suspects,” Decker said. “How did you know?”

“What else could it be? He must have been unable to bear the guilt for what he’d done to Chilly, and he took his own life. I’m surprised your Mr. Malloy hasn’t figured that out himself.”