Murder On Fifth Avenue

6

“THAT’S NOT VERY FLATTERING, OLD MAN,” ZELLER SAID. “I wonder you’d admit such a thing to a stranger.”

Paul didn’t even acknowledge him. He was watching Frank, who didn’t quite know what to make of this. “Your wife wanted to divorce you?”

“She’s not like us. She didn’t come from here, and she hated all the rules and restrictions. She hated living here with my parents.”

“That part I can understand,” Zeller said.

“Why didn’t you just get a house of your own?” Frank asked.

“Because I don’t have any money of my own, and Father would never have allowed it. He wanted to keep me under his thumb.”

Now this was getting interesting. “So as long as your father was alive, you had to depend on him for everything.”

“Exactly,” Paul said.

Zeller sighed dramatically. “Old Man, I think you just admitted you had a reason to want your father dead.”

“Oh, no,” Frank lied. “I think most young men feel like that about their fathers. Tell me, Mr. Devries, how was your father dressed when you went to his room the day he died?”

Paul shifted uneasily. “Dressed?”

“Yes, what was he wearing?”

Paul glanced at Zeller again. His friend was smiling, as if this whole thing amused him tremendously. “He had on a robe.”

“Was he wearing it the entire time you were with him?”

The color rose in Paul’s face. “What does that matter?”

“I thought you might have noticed a wound on your father’s back. Did he remove his robe while you were there?”

“Yes.” He spit the word out as if it tasted vile.

Zeller muttered something that might have been an oath.

“He liked to show off,” Paul said, angry now. “He thought himself a fine specimen of a man, and he knew I could never compare, so he’d do it to make me feel inferior.”

“And did you?” Frank asked.

“Did I what?”

“Feel inferior?”

“Mostly I just felt furious. What kind of a thing is that to do? Who displays himself like that?”

Frank didn’t know the answer, so he said, “And did you notice anything unusual?”

“I didn’t look at him. I never do. I wouldn’t have noticed if he’d cut off one of his arms.”

Frank wanted to ask if he’d stabbed his father, but he’d wait on that. “And did he agree to stop being cruel to your wife?”

“Of course not. He just laughed at me. He knows…knew I couldn’t do anything about it. And poor Garnet, she couldn’t do anything about it either.”

“And now you’re both free,” Frank said.

Zeller leaned close to Paul and pretended to whisper. “He’s thinking you killed the old bugger.”

“Well, I didn’t. I almost wish I had. At least then Garnet would respect me.”

“Now you’ve got all your father’s money,” Frank said. “Or at least I assume you’re his heir. I know rich families sometimes don’t like to divide up the family fortune, so they only leave the money to one of the sons, like Vanderbilt did, but you’re the only son.”

“I haven’t thought about it,” Paul said.

“You should,” Frank said. “Women usually respect men with money.”

“He’s right, Old Man,” Zeller said. “You can buy her that house now. That’ll cheer her up.”

Paul didn’t look too sure of that. “Not having Father around anymore will cheer her up.”

Frank thought Paul would have to dispose of his mother, too, if he really wanted his wife to be happy, but he didn’t say so. “What did you do when you left your father’s room?”

“I…uh, I went to my mother’s room,” he replied as if he needed a second to catch up with the change of subject.

“What did you talk about?”

“I told her how angry I was at Father.”

“Did she offer any advice?”

Paul sighed. “She didn’t know how to handle him either.”

“But she went to see him just the same.”

“Oh, yes, she stormed off and gave him what for, but it didn’t do any good. It never does. He knows…knew he could do whatever he wanted to us and there was nothing we could do about it.”

“That’s true,” Zeller said. “He’s even threatened to put his wife in an insane asylum if she caused him too much trouble.”

Frank wished he could be shocked by the revelation, but other men had done that very thing. The law gave them absolute power over wives and children, and many a man had gotten away with murder just because the victim shared his house and his name.

“Did he threaten your wife, too?”

“My wife didn’t kill him, either, Mr. Malloy. You’re wasting your time here. You should be talking to that woman he kept.”

Ah, so Paul knew about the mistress, too. “Don’t worry, I will.” Frank managed not to sigh. He didn’t think he’d learned much in this interview, but at least he’d managed to fill some time. Maybe when he got back to Police Headquarters, he’d have a message from Donatelli.

“YOU’VE GOTTA HOLD YOUR TEMPER, MR. MALLOY,” Donatelli told Frank for at least the fourth time. “No matter what he says, you just let it pass.”

“If you tell me that one more time, I’m not gonna let it pass,” Frank said. He instantly felt bad for alarming Donatelli, who was obviously terrified of this Angotti character. “Don’t worry, I know how to act.”

“I think if you treat him like you do Mr. Decker, you’ll do fine.”

Frank didn’t think Decker had ever burned down somebody’s store or had them killed because they didn’t show him enough respect, but he understood the connection. Felix Decker’s techniques might be more refined, but he could ruin a man just as effectively as Angotti.

“What is this place you’re taking me?” Frank asked. They’d been walking through Little Italy for a couple blocks now, and they stopped to let a gaggle of ragged children race by, running from a street vendor whose wares they had pilfered.

Donatelli had to shout over their screams. “It’s a club. Normally you have to be a member to get in, unless you’re a guest of Mr. Angotti.”

This was too much like the Knickerbocker Club-only members were welcome, and no Irish need apply.

The similarities ended there, however. This club met in a nondescript building on a narrow side street with no sign alerting passersby to what went on inside. A burly fellow stood outside, ready to keep out unwelcome visitors. He eyed Frank and Gino suspiciously.

“This is Detective Sergeant Malloy. Mr. Angotti is expecting him,” Donatelli said.

The fellow grunted and rapped on the door. Another unfriendly-looking fellow opened it a crack. The two men exchanged some words in Italian, and the door swung wide. Donatelli let Frank go in first. Frank suspected it wasn’t out of courtesy.

Little sunlight penetrated into the main room. Dark curtains covered the windows, shielding the occupants from observation by anyone passing by on the street outside. Gaslights illuminated tables where men played cards or other games of chance. He felt as much as saw the players peering at him through the haze of cigarette smoke. All conversation ceased. Frank felt their hostility like a force as he followed his guide through the room to another door on the far side.

“Wait here.” The man knocked, then went inside.

Frank couldn’t help thinking how easy it would be to stick a knife in him and dump his body in the river. Would Donatelli defend him or would he side with his own people? Was he a cop first or an Italian? Frank didn’t know. He didn’t even know if he was a cop first or an Irishman.

The door opened and his guide beckoned them inside.

This smaller room was furnished like a parlor, with sofas and chairs and side tables arranged around a fireplace. A gaming table stood off to one side, almost as an afterthought. The light in here was better, and the cigarette smoke not so thick. Several somber men stood around, their attention focused on Frank and Donatelli. Frank soon realized his host was the well-dressed man seated on one of the sofas.

“Gino,” he said, reaching out a languid hand.

Donatelli stepped forward and took the hand, nodding respectfully. “Thank you for seeing us, Don Angotti.”

“How is your mother?”

“She’s very well. She said to tell you she is baking you a cassata to thank you for your help.”

“I should tell you that isn’t necessary, but I like your mother’s cassata too much to do that.”

They both chuckled.

“You have brought someone to see me,” Angotti said.

Angotti’s accent was slight but unmistakable. Frank suddenly realized they were speaking English for his benefit.

“Yes, Don Angotti. This is Detective Sergeant Malloy, the man I told you about.”

Frank stepped forward and waited for Angotti to size him up. Angotti wasn’t a big man, but his dark eyes were shrewd and cunning. He didn’t have to use his muscles to get what he wanted. The suit he wore probably cost more than Frank made in a month, and Felix Decker probably didn’t own a finer one. His shirt was pristine.

“Gino speaks highly of you, Detective Sergeant Malloy.”

“Officer Donatelli is one of our finest men.”

Angotti’s lip curled. “It is a pity to waste him on the police department.”

Frank refused to be baited. He merely nodded.

Donatelli cleared his throat. “Mr. Malloy would like to ask you some questions.”

“And I will decide if I answer them or not.”

“Of course,” Frank said. “You know we are investigating the death of Chilton Devries.”

“So Gino tells me.”

“He had an appointment with you the day he died.”

“Did he?”

“He thought so. The question is, did you see him that day?”

Angotti’s gaze was sharp as broken glass. “And if I did?”

“Mr. Angotti, Chilton Devries died because somebody stabbed him in the back.”

“Gino told me he died at his club. Have you questioned the men he saw there?”

“He died there, but he was stabbed someplace else. He was stabbed with something long and thin…like an ice pick.”

“Or a stiletto, Gino tells me.”

“Or a stiletto. He probably didn’t know how badly he was injured, and he didn’t bleed much on the outside. But he did bleed to death, and he died at his club, but he’d been stabbed earlier in the day.”

“And you think I stabbed him?” He seemed only mildly concerned.

“No, but Mr. Devries was a wealthy man with lots of powerful friends. His family is telling them that he came to see you that day, and then he died. I believe his family and his friends would be happy to blame you for killing him.”

“Because I am a foreigner.”

“Because you’re not one of them.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want to find out who did kill him, and I need your help.”

Angotti frowned. “I do not understand you, Mr. Malloy. Why do you not want to blame me when everyone else does?”

“I told you, I want to find out who really did it.”

“And you do not think I did?”

“No, I think you’re too smart to kill someone like Chilton Devries, even if you wanted to, and I can’t figure out any reason why you would.”

“That is because you did not know Mr. Devries very well. If you did, you could figure out many reasons.”

“Are you saying you had a reason to kill him?”

“Not personally, but I know things about him that make me glad he is dead.”

“Could you tell me what those things are?”

“Why should I?”

“So I can find out who really killed him and make sure nobody bothers you about it.”

“Why would you do this for me?”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it because I want to find out the truth.”

Angotti chuckled again. “No man cares so much for the truth, Mr. Malloy. Why are you really doing it?”

“Because one of Devries’s powerful friends asked me to, and he does care for the truth.”

“Would this friend not be happy to find out a foreigner killed Mr. Devries?”

“He would be very happy, but only if it was true.”

“I would like to meet this friend. He sounds like a man worth knowing.”

Frank let a moment go by, in case Angotti had something else to say. “So, did you see Devries yesterday?”

“He came here, yes.”

“I know he’d seen you before. Can you tell me what he wanted?”

Angotti studied Frank with his sharp gaze. “He wanted me to kill someone.”

Frank blinked, and Gino Donatelli gasped.

“Who? Why?”

Angotti smiled, amused by their reaction. “I would be very foolish to tell you who I killed, would I not?”

He would, indeed, even though Frank knew he wouldn’t have done the work himself.

Before Frank could figure out how to answer him, Angotti said, “Yes, I would be foolish to tell you if I had killed someone, but I did not, Mr. Malloy. Would you like to know why?”

“Yes, I would.” Frank was glad to hear his voice didn’t sound as flustered as he felt.

“Mr. Devries came to see me. He thought I was a man who would do anything for money. He did not have respect for me. He told me a story about a woman. He told me she was evil and had done terrible things. He wanted me to have her killed.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I did not believe Mr. Devries. I thought the story he told me about this woman was a lie, but I did not say this to him. Instead I went to see this woman. She told me a very different story, and I believed her.”

“So she’s still alive.”

“She was when I last saw her.”

“When was that?”

“A few days ago. Then Mr. Devries came to see me yesterday. He was going to pay me for killing this woman, but I told him I did not kill her. I told him he was a liar.”

Frank couldn’t help grinning at the image of Angotti calling Devries a liar. “I guess he was mad.”

“Yes, but he could do nothing about it.” Angotti gestured to indicate the men standing around the room.

“And a few hours later, he was dead.” Then Frank had an unsettling thought. “Could he have gone to see this woman himself?”

Angotti’s eyes widened. “You think he may have killed her himself?”

“And maybe she was the one who stabbed him. Do you remember what time he left here?”

Angotti looked over at his men, who had a brief discussion in Italian. “Around noon.”

Frank wasn’t sure exactly when Devries had arrived at his club, but if he’d had the time…“Can you tell me where to find this woman?”

Angotti gestured to one of his men who gave Frank an address not too far from where Norah English lived.

“What is this woman’s name?” Frank asked.

“Mrs. Richmond. I am sure you will enjoy her story as much as I did.”

FRANK DIDN’T REALLY EXPECT FELIX DECKER TO BE AT home yet. In fact, he was hoping he wasn’t. He really wanted to talk to Mrs. Decker. She apparently wanted to speak to him, too, because she only kept him waiting a few minutes in the small receiving room before the maid escorted him up to the parlor. Not the front parlor, either, but the one the family used for every day. Mrs. Decker no longer considered him company.

“Mr. Malloy, how delightful to see you,” she said, giving him her hand when the maid had shown him in. “I’m sorry my husband isn’t home yet, but I expect him within the hour if you’d like to wait.”

“Thank you, I would.”

She smiled conspiratorially. “Good. I ordered coffee, unless you’d like something stronger.”

“Coffee is fine.”

“Please, have a seat and tell me what you’ve been up to. I went to Sarah’s house earlier today, but she’s out on a delivery.”

She sat with him on one of the comfortable sofas, her lovely face alight with interest. Frank couldn’t help noticing how much she and Sarah looked alike, except for the spark of spirit that made Sarah different from all the other rich women he’d met. He thought maybe living a lifetime in luxury killed that spirit, and Sarah had escaped just in time. Then again, maybe she was the only one who had it, and that’s why she had escaped in the first place.

“I’ve been learning some things about Mr. Devries that aren’t very nice.”

“Oh, dear. But I guess that isn’t surprising. Nice people seldom get murdered, do they?”

Frank couldn’t help grinning. “No, they don’t. I haven’t had a chance to find out how your visit with Mrs. Devries went.”

“I’m afraid we didn’t learn very much that will be of use to you.”

“Did you learn anything at all?”

Mrs. Decker frowned. “Let me see. We learned that Garnet and Paul have been married for two years but have no children. This is a source of disappointment for Mrs. Devries, who wants to see the family name continue. Oh, and Garnet expressed a desire to get to know Sarah better. She was very interested in Sarah’s work.”

“Her work as a midwife?”

“Yes, she may hope Sarah can help her have a child, although Sarah insists she can’t.”

“Did she tell Garnet Devries that?”

“No. We didn’t actually discuss the subject, you understand. This is all conjecture, the part about her wanting Sarah’s help, I mean. Sarah disagrees.”

“What does she think Garnet wants?”

“She doesn’t know, but Maeve told me Garnet visited her earlier today, just before Sarah went out to the delivery, so perhaps we’ll find out when she returns. Oh, and we learned Garnet’s family is from the south, Virginia I believe she said. Her father moved the family here because of his business and tried to join the Knickerbocker Club, which is how he met Chilton. I gather Chilton met the rest of the family and decided Garnet would be a suitable wife for Paul.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“What? Trying to join the Knickerbocker?”

“No, parents choosing a mate for their child. I thought only kings and queens did that.”

Mrs. Decker smiled. “I never thought of it that way, although…Well, you probably remember poor Consuelo Vanderbilt’s marriage to an English duke last year. That was certainly an arranged marriage. Consuelo was only eighteen and most likely had no desire to marry a man a foot shorter than she was who lived all the way across the ocean from her friends and family, but Alva-Alva is her mother, you know-insisted she was doing it so Consuelo would have an opportunity to live a much more interesting life.”

“How would her life be more interesting?”

Mrs. Decker shrugged delicately. “I’m not sure, having never actually met a duchess, you understand, but according to Alva, upper-class women in Europe have many more interests than American women. They are even active in politics. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“This will sound silly, but maybe I should have married Sarah off to a duke.”

Frank could see her point. If Sarah had found her prospects as the wife of a rich man the least bit interesting, she probably wouldn’t have married a poor doctor and become a midwife. “And she wouldn’t be an embarrassment to you now.”

“Oh, Mr. Malloy, you mustn’t think I’m ashamed of her,” she said, the color rising in her fair cheeks. “I’m very proud of her, in fact. I just…I worry about her, you know, traveling around the city at all hours. She does without so many things, too.”

“I don’t think she minds.”

“Of course she doesn’t, but…You must think me very shallow.”

“No, not at all.” Once he had. Now he knew her better.

“I didn’t really mean that, about marrying her to a duke. But sometimes I think how different things might have been if she could have been content with her lot in life. But you didn’t come here to listen to my regrets. To answer your question, no, we don’t typically arrange marriages, at least not in America, but parents do take a hand in these matters.”

“How?”

“By making sure our children socialize with only the right people. By pointing out a certain young man’s good qualities. By letting the child know how happy such a union would make us. Parents can be very influential.”

“So you think that’s what happened with Paul and Garnet Devries?”

She had to consider this. “I suppose at first I just assumed that when Chilton met Garnet, he thought Paul would like her, too, so he brought them together. Then the two young people fell in love on their own, as attractive young people often do.”

“Do you still think that?”

“Now that you’ve asked me about it, no, I don’t. The way Garnet told it, I got the idea she and Paul-or at least she-didn’t have much say in the matter. She certainly doesn’t seem very happy, either, although that might not be Paul’s fault. I haven’t seen them together, so I can’t judge.”

“I have, and he’s sure not doing much to help.”

Before she could reply, the coffee arrived. Mrs. Decker served them both, and then said, “I know you’ve been investigating, too. What have you discovered?”

Which reminded Frank of why he’d come here in the first place. “Do you know a woman named Mrs. Richmond?”

“Richmond?” She frowned, then rose and went to a desk on the far side of the room. She returned with a small book bound in rose-colored leather. As she flipped through it, he saw it contained names and addresses. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I didn’t think the name sounded familiar, but I wanted to be sure. Who is this Mrs. Richmond?”

Frank told her about Devries having an appointment with Salvatore Angotti on the day he died and what Angotti had told him about Devries wanting to have Mrs. Richmond murdered.

“Oh, my,” she said for at least the third time during his narrative. “Do you think this Italian gentleman could be lying? Maybe he stabbed Chilton himself and is just trying to divert your attention.”

“Anything’s possible, but a man like Angotti always looks after his own best interest first. Killing a man like Devries would not be in his own best interest, especially because Devries was no threat to him.”

“Yes, I see. What would Mr. Angotti get out of killing Chilton except a lot of trouble?”

Frank nodded, glad to see Mrs. Decker was as insightful as her daughter.

“Would you like me to go see this Mrs. Richmond?”

“No!” Frank saw the flash of disappointment in her eyes and instantly felt guilty for his vehement response. “I mean, that won’t be necessary. I just wanted to find out everything I could about her before going to see her. If she’s a society lady like you, I’d have to be more careful about how I approach her.”

Mrs. Decker sighed. “I should so love to help you with something, Mr. Malloy. Couldn’t you at least pretend you need it?”

For a second, Frank didn’t know what to say, and then he saw the twinkle in her eyes and burst out laughing. They were still laughing when Felix Decker walked in.

Frank sobered instantly, jumping to his feet and feeling oddly guilty, as if he’d been caught doing something unseemly with another man’s wife.

Decker had hesitated in the doorway, and he looked more disturbed now than he had when he’d been telling Frank about finding a dead man in his club.

Mrs. Decker gave him a dazzling smile. “Hello, my dear. I’ve been telling Mr. Malloy about our visit to Lucretia while we waited for you to arrive.”

“I had no idea your visit had been so hilarious,” Decker said with some asperity. “Mr. Malloy, you could have come to my office.”

“But he wouldn’t have been able to see me at your office,” Mrs. Decker said. “And he needed to hear my report, didn’t you, Mr. Malloy?”

Frank wasn’t sure what the proper response to that should be, but he said, “I also needed to consult with Mrs. Decker about another matter.”

“Yes,” she said. “He was hoping I knew the lady Chilton Devries wanted to have murdered so I could make an introduction.”

The usually unflappable Decker looked positively apoplectic. “Really, Mr. Malloy-”

“Oh, Felix, the expression on your face,” his wife said, enjoying it immensely. “You can’t really think for a moment that Mr. Malloy would do any such thing, but I couldn’t resist teasing you.”

Decker gave Frank an accusing glare.

“I did ask Mrs. Decker if she knew Mrs. Richmond, but I would never-”

“Richmond? Did you say Richmond?” Decker asked.

“Yes. Do you know her?”

“No, not a Mrs. Richmond, but…Did you say Chilton wanted to have this woman murdered?”

Frank was beginning to feel sorry for the man.

“Come and sit down, dear,” his wife said. “We’d better start at the beginning.”

“I think that would be an excellent idea,” Decker said. “By the way, Mr. Malloy, you haven’t inquired, but I thought you’d like to know that we have asked everyone who was at the club the day Chilton died, and he didn’t speak with anyone except to exchange a greeting.”

Frank nodded his acknowledgment as they all took their seats. He’d held out little hope the club members would have any helpful information anyway.

Mrs. Decker graciously allowed Frank to tell Decker the story while she served her husband a cup of coffee, for which he seemed grateful, even though it was probably cold by now.

“You didn’t tell me you’d seen Angotti at his club,” Mrs. Decker said when he’d finished. “How funny to think a man like that has a club. Is it very much like the Knickerbocker?”

“Not in any way,” Frank said, deciding not to mention his observation that the Irish would not be welcome in either establishment.

She started to ask another question, but her husband stopped her with an impatient gesture. “Mr. Malloy, how can you possibly believe this Angotti was telling the truth?”

“I can’t, but I’m going to see Mrs. Richmond tomorrow and find out.”

Decker glanced at his wife.

“No, I won’t leave you two alone,” she said. “And you might as well let me stay. It will save you the trouble of telling me everything later.”

Decker sighed, and Frank had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. “Mr. Malloy, I can’t believe Chilton Devries would ever associate with a man like Angotti, much less that he would try to arrange for a woman-any woman-to be murdered.”

Frank could have predicted that Decker wouldn’t have the stomach for this kind of business. “Do you want me to stop investigating?”

“Heavens no,” Mrs. Decker said, earning a glare from her husband.

“This is not your decision, Elizabeth.”

“Forgive me,” she said with mock sincerity. “I forgot myself for a moment. But you can’t allow Mr. Malloy to quit now.”

“I most certainly can.”

“Mrs. Decker,” Frank said in an attempt to rescue Decker from his wife’s wrath, “considering what I’ve found out about Mr. Devries so far, I think we can guess that the rest of it will be even worse. I might find out things that will disgrace his family and still not be able to figure out who killed him. A lot of innocent people might suffer.”

“Apparently, a lot of innocent people have already suffered,” she said. “What about this Mrs. Richmond? What if Chilton hired someone else to kill her? Shouldn’t she at least be warned? Felix, I can’t believe you’d stand by and-”

“Elizabeth, enough!” Decker said. “Of course I won’t stand by and allow this woman to come to harm. Mr. Malloy will go see her tomorrow no matter what else we decide to do.”

“And do you agree that Mr. Malloy should stop his investigation to protect the family?” she asked.

Decker turned to Frank. “I think I’d like to find out what this Mrs. Richmond has to say before I make my decision.”

“If she’s still alive,” Frank said.

Mrs. Decker gasped.

“What do you mean?” Decker asked.

“I mean if Devries wanted her dead and Angotti wouldn’t do it, he might’ve done it himself.”

“I don’t believe it!” Decker said.

“Why not?” his wife asked. “Because you wouldn’t do it yourself? I don’t think you would’ve tried to hire someone to do it either, but Chilton apparently did.”

“We only have that Italian’s word for it.”

“Honestly, Felix, just because the man was a member of your club doesn’t mean he was a saint.”

“And if he killed Mrs. Richmond, or tried to, and she put up a fight, that could explain how he got stabbed,” Frank said.

“Oh, my goodness, you’re right,” Mrs. Decker said.

Decker frowned, but he said, “It would also explain why he didn’t tell anyone he’d been injured.”

Mrs. Decker smiled at her husband with apparent approval. “Of course. How could he have explained it?” To Frank, she said, “Shouldn’t you go right over to see this Mrs. Richmond instead of waiting until tomorrow?”

“I don’t think there’s any hurry. If she’s dead, I can’t help her, and if not, I don’t want to alarm her by calling on her after dark.

“But if Chilton hired someone else to kill her-”

“He didn’t find out Angotti wouldn’t do it until a few hours before he died, so I doubt he had time to arrange anything else. Finding someone to commit murder isn’t that easy, even in New York.”

“But you’ll let us know immediately what you find out, won’t you?” she asked.

“Elizabeth, Mr. Malloy will report to me in good time.”

She didn’t even acknowledge him. “You will, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Before Decker could object, he added, “Now tell me, was the English duke really a foot shorter than Miss Vanderbilt?”

“Oh, dear, did I say that?” she asked, her face lighting with delight. “Not a whole foot, surely, but at least half a foot. She’s quite tall, you see, and he is…a bit runty.”

“Elizabeth, really,” her husband said.

“Well, he is, even if he is a duke. He was rather penniless, too, so he came out on the better side of the bargain. They had to honeymoon for a year while he used her dowry to refurbish his castle because it wasn’t fit for human habitation.”

Frank couldn’t wait to tell Sarah her mother thought she should have married her off to a duke. “Mr. Decker, I’ll report back to you as soon as I know anything important. Mrs. Decker, thank you for your hospitality.”

The Deckers murmured all the appropriate responses as Frank took his leave. Just as the maid showed him out, he heard Decker say to his wife, “Now tell me what Mr. Malloy said to you that was so funny.”