Murder On Gramercy Park

4

CALVIN BROWN! SARAH THOUGHT. HE’S THE ONE Potter thinks killed Dr. Blackwell! But he was just a boy, hardly more than sixteen or seventeen, and he certainly didn’t look like a killer. Besides, if he’d killed Dr. Blackwell, he’d hardly be demanding admittance to his house today, would he?

Sarah heard Amos Potter gasp, and then he said, “That’s him! The one I told you about. Arrest him, Malloy!”

The boy’s face blanched, but he didn’t look particularly intimidated. Quite the contrary, he looked even more defiant than he had before. “Arrest me for what?” he challenged. “Ain’t no crime to come to see your old man!”

“Who is his father?” Sarah asked of anyone who would listen.

Young Calvin was the only one listening. “He’s Eddie Brown, but that’s not what he calls himself these days. Calls himself Edmund Blackwell, but that don’t change who he is, does it?”

It took Sarah only a moment to judge that the woman upstairs, who was the current Mrs. Blackwell, could not possibly have given birth to this boy. She was no more than five years older than he, if that. Dr. Blackwell had a very interesting history, if Sarah was any judge, but she could tell from the look Malloy was giving her that she’d better not inquire too closely into the subject just now.

Malloy stepped forward, forcing Granger to stand aside so Malloy could confront the boy. “Dr. Blackwell is dead,” he said baldly.

Sarah winced at the coldness of it. If the boy was truly Blackwell’s son, this was needless cruelty.

The boy blinked in surprise, not yet comprehending what Malloy had said. “Dead? How could he be dead? Wasn’t nothing wrong with him a couple days ago.”

“There wasn’t nothing wrong with him at all until somebody shot him on Tuesday,” Malloy replied.

The boy’s jaw dropped, but he still wasn’t ready to believe. He glanced around wildly until his gaze settled with desperation on Sarah. “Is that true, ma’am?”

Sarah was touched. He’d chosen her as the most trustworthy person in sight. “I’m afraid it is, Mr. Brown,” she told him as gently as she could.

They all watched as the emotions played across his young face-shock, confusion, despair, and finally anger. “Well, that’s just something, ain’t it?” he asked of no one in particular as he blinked back tears. “He’s run out on us twice now, and this time it won’t do no good to find him.”

The story was coming clearer to her now. Dr. Blackwell-or whatever his real name was-had abandoned this son and the rest of whatever other family the boy had, changed his name, and made a new life for himself. Somehow the boy had found him, though, and… Oh, dear heaven! No wonder Potter thought Calvin might have killed his father. Potter had said the boy held a grudge against Dr. Blackwell, but this was far more than a grudge. Could such a young, innocent-looking boy have fired a bullet into his father’s brain, no matter what that father had done to deserve it?

“Mr. Malloy, are you going to do your duty and arrest this boy?” Potter was asking, his tone outraged.

Malloy gave him a quelling look that silenced him, then turned back to the boy. “Why don’t you come into the parlor with me, son. I’ve got some questions to ask you.”

“You think I killed him?” the boy asked, even more outraged than Potter had been. “My own father?”

“I didn’t say that,” Malloy reminded him, taking his arm in his strong grip.

The boy instinctively tried to pull away, but the resistance lasted only a moment, until he saw the expression in Malloy’s dark eyes. He seemed almost to shrink with his surrender to Malloy’s superior strength and power. His bravado evaporated, and he was an uncertain boy again.

“Excuse us, please,” Malloy said with uncharacteristic courtesy as he forced Sarah and Potter to give way and allow him and the boy to enter the parlor.

Sarah had a powerful urge to follow them in. Only her knowledge that Malloy would immediately-and not very politely-order her out prevented her from acting on it. She sighed as the parlor doors closed in her face.

“Will he arrest him?” Potter asked her anxiously.

Sarah glanced at the butler, who was listening to every word with the discretion to which he had been bred. His expression betrayed nothing, but Sarah imagined he was mentally recording every word and would repeat it belowstairs to all the servants as soon as he got the opportunity.

“Perhaps we should step into another room,” she suggested. She could simply have brushed off his question and taken her leave-she had no real answer to give him, after all-but she felt certain he had a lot of answers to give her, if she simply asked the right questions. She wasn’t going to ask them in front of the butler, however.

“Oh, yes,” Potter said, instantly realizing they needed some privacy for their discussion. “We could use the study, if you don’t mind…”

The room where Dr. Blackwell had been murdered. Little did Potter know a woman had been murdered in the parlor they had just left, and Sarah had found the body. Sarah wasn’t afraid of the dead. “Not at all,” she said, and allowed him to precede her and open the door.

Sarah looked around with interest at the room which Edmund Blackwell/Eddie Brown had made his own. The furnishings were decidedly masculine: dark woods polished to a bright sheen, overstuffed chairs, several built-in bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, English hunting scenes hanging in heavy frames on the walls. Nowhere did she see any signs of the man himself, though. The desk had been cleared, of course, and it may have held some personal items that would have given her a clue as to his character. Nothing of him now remained except a dark stain that had been ineffectively scrubbed away from the carpet, so she was left to reconstruct his personality from what others said about him.

“Will Mr. Malloy arrest him?” Potter asked again when they were safely behind closed doors.

Sarah had an urge to check to make sure Granger wasn’t eavesdropping, but she resisted it. “If he decides that the boy killed Dr. Blackwell, he will,” she hedged. “What makes you think he did? He’s awfully young.”

“A viper doesn’t have to be large to be deadly, Mrs. Brandt,” he said with some force. “I suppose you have surmised the relationship between the boy and Dr. Blackwell.”

“Dr. Blackwell was his father,” she said, confirming his suspicion. “And I gather Dr. Blackwell must have deserted the family.”

“Yes, he… he left his first wife and children several years ago. It wasn’t intentional,” he assured her quickly.

Sarah raised her eyebrows, wondering how such a thing could be unintentional, but she didn’t have to ask the question aloud. Mr. Potter anticipated her.

“He explained it all to me. You see, he was always a healer by profession, but he was doing very poorly in Virginia. That’s where he lived then. He couldn’t support his family, so he traveled to Boston to study with a well-known practitioner of the art of magnetic healing there. He thought if he could improve his talents, he could be more successful. He worked as much as he could and continued to send money home to his family. He never intended to leave them permanently.”

“At some point he apparently changed his mind,” Sarah pointed out. “Was it when he met Letitia Symington?”

“Oh, it wasn’t like that at all! Letitia would never… She’s much too… Oh, no, it had nothing to do with her at all!”

“Then what did it have to do with?” Sarah prodded, wondering why Potter felt he had to justify Blackwell to her but glad for his need nonetheless.

“He became quite proficient in the new art of magnetic healing, and so he came here to the city and began to build a following. He lived frugally, still sending money home when he could and depending on his satisfied patients to recommend him to their friends. One of those patients recommended him to Mr. Symington.”

“For his daughter,” Sarah said. “I understand she’d been severely injured in a riding accident.”

“Yes, and her father was desperate to see her whole again. Letitia’s mother had died years earlier, so she was all he had. He’d called in every doctor he could find, but nothing had made her any better. Edmund was the only one who was able to help her at all, and within days she was out of her bed for the first time in a year. It was like a miracle.”

“I’m sure the Symingtons were very grateful to him,” Sarah said, encouraging him in his tale.

“You can’t know how grateful. Mr. Symington would have done anything to repay Edmund, but all Edmund wanted was for them to help spread word of what he had done for Letitia. Mr. Symington offered to rent a hall for Edmund so he could give a public lecture about his techniques, and when Edmund explained that he needed someone to speak who could personally testify to Edmund’s abilities, Mr. Symington eagerly gave his permission for Letitia to do so.”

“How did she feel about that?” Sarah asked, already knowing but wondering what Potter would say.

“Oh, she’s very refined, and it was difficult for her, but she was so grateful to Edmund, she overcame her natural reserve. People openly wept when she told the story of how he had cured her. After that, Edmund’s success was assured.”

“I’m sure it was. He must have treated many wealthy people after that.”

“Well, it’s not so easy as it sounds. Many people were still skeptical, of course. His practice grew slowly at first.”

“So he felt the need to do more lectures,” Sarah guessed.

“It’s important to educate people. You would be amazed at how many people distrust medical treatment of any kind.”

“No, I wouldn’st, Mr. Potter. I’m a nurse and a midwife by profession, remember.”

“Oh, of course,” he corrected himself quickly. “I did not mean any offense.”

“You gave none. So I’m assuming that Blackwell didn’t become an overnight sensation.”

“It may have seemed like it to some, but he struggled for months before he could consider himself comfortable. By then he’d fallen in love with Letitia, and she with him. You may wonder that so young a girl was taken with a much older man, but Edmund is… was a very attractive and charming man, and women are often attracted to maturity. It was all very romantic, as you can imagine.”

“I’m sure Edmund’s first wife wouldn’t agree,” Sarah pointed out.

“Oh, you’re right, I’m sure, but sometimes… Well, while I cannot condone what Edmund did, forgetting about his first wife and family, I can certainly understand it. Letitia is like no other woman. Her beauty and charm are irresistible, and knowing how much she adored him, Edmund couldn’t bring himself to disappoint her.”

“Wasn’t he afraid she’d be even more disappointed when she found out he was already married and she was living in sin with a man who had cruelly deceived her?” Sarah asked in amazement.

“I’m sure he intended that she never find out,” Potter assured her defensively. “Edmund would have died rather than hurt her.”

“He did die, and he still hurt her,” Sarah pointed out.

For a moment Potter was nonplussed and stammered around for a reply. Sarah waited patiently, knowing there was virtually nothing he could say that would excuse Blackwell’s behavior, and while she waited, a new thought occurred to her.

“Who else knew about Blackwell’s other family?” she asked.

Potter stared at her stupidly. “No one. I am the only one in whom he confided.”

“Are you sure? Did Letitia know? Or her father?”

“I can’t imagine Edmund would have told anyone at all, particularly Letitia or her father,” he sniffed. “A scandal like this would have ruined him. He intended to pay Calvin off and thus buy his silence. I’m sure he wouldn’t have spoken of it to anyone else.”

“Why did he tell you, then?”

Potter was beginning to dislike Sarah. She could see it in his tiny, mud-brown eyes. “I was Edmund’s business associate and dearest friend. He needed advice from someone, and I was the only one he could trust.”

Sarah was sure she now understood. “And you helped him get the money to bribe Calvin.”

“Really,” Potter huffed, so thoroughly offended that Sarah knew she had guessed the truth. “I’m sorry to have bothered you with this, Mrs. Brandt. You must think me terribly inconsiderate. A female must find this entire business extremely distressing.”

Sarah wanted to tell him she’d seen birth and death and murder and murderers enough that hardly anything shocked her anymore, but she simply smiled sweetly, playing to Potter’s prejudices. “You needn’t worry that you have distressed me, Mr. Potter. I’m simply concerned for Mrs. Blackwell’s health. A scandal could be very detrimental to her recovery.”

“Oh, dear, of course. I should have thought of that. I was merely concerned with her mental state. I never thought… But you needn’t worry, Mrs. Brandt. I am completely trained in the healing arts that Edmund practiced. If Letitia suffers a relapse, I am more than competent to attend her.”

“I’m sure she’ll find that a comfort, Mr. Potter,” Sarah said, although she believed no such thing. “And speaking of comfort, I should check on Mrs. Blackwell. I want to make sure she wasn’t disturbed by Calvin’s arrival. The less she knows about this the better, as I’m sure you’ll agree.”

Potter did not protest her departure. He obviously had grown uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. And clearly, she had gathered all the information he had to give her at the moment, although she doubted the accuracy of some of the details. Potter’s version of events was colored by his loyalty to Blackwell-or his eagerness to whitewash Blackwell’s reputation so he wouldn’t be hurt too much by his association with him. At least she knew the bare facts now, however. Blackwell was a bigamist who had deceived a wealthy young woman from a powerful family. If that wasn’t a motive for murder, Sarah would dance naked down Fifth Avenue.

CALVIN BROWN DID not resist when Frank pushed him down into one of the overstuffed chairs in the parlor. The boy’s clear blue eyes were wide with fear, although he was doing his level best to pretend he wasn’t afraid at all. Frank had to admire his spirit.

“Now, Calvin,” Frank began, taking a seat opposite him, “tell me what you’re doing here today.”

“I come to see my father,” he said defensively, suspicious of Frank’s mildness. He blinked a few times as if trying to hold back tears.

“It was my understanding that you had an appointment with him two days ago. What kept you?”

Frank’s sarcasm was wasted on the boy. “I did come two days ago, just like he’d said for me to. He said he’d… Well, never mind. I was to come then, in the afternoon. At two o’clock. I waited until I heard the big clock in the tower chiming, then I went up to the front door and knocked. But didn’t nobody answer. I pounded for a long time, but nobody come. Houses like this, they got servants and such. I couldn’t figure why nobody come, so I waited awhile and knocked again. Then some copper come and told me to be on my way, he didn’t like my looks, and I was scared he’d arrest me. I figured I must’ve got the wrong day or something, so I left.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t come inside and you didn’t see your father that day?”

“No, sir. I didn’t see nobody in the house at all.”

“If you had an appointment with your father, why did you wait two days to come back?” Frank asked, keeping his tone gently inquiring. He saw no sense in frightening the boy so long as he was talking freely, even if he didn’t like his answers.

“I didn’t. I come back yesterday, but I seen that copper again. He didn’t see me, but he was walking around the park, acting like he wasn’t going nowhere very soon. I figured if he sees me, he’ll give me his stick, so I kept going. Today I didn’t see him, so I come up to the door and asked to see my father. That’s when that snooty fellow tried to throw me out.”

“I see. Now tell me, Calvin, how you came to be in the city in the first place.”

The boy frowned. He wasn’t eager to share this story, but he knew he had no choice. “I told you, I come to see my father.”

“You came an awfully long way, and it’s my understanding he’d been gone a long time. How did you even know he was here?”

Calvin shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I seen his picture. It was a drawing. On a poster for one of his lectures. Someone sent it to my ma.”

“Who?” Frank asked, perking up.

“Don’t know. Whoever sent it didn’t write no letter or anything. It was just the poster in an envelope addressed to my ma. We could see right off it was him. It was a good likeness, even though they said his name was Edmund Blackwell. Pa was named Edward Brown. Ma said it was like him to change his name to sound more uppity.”

“Or so his family couldn’t locate him,” Frank suggested.

The boy snorted. “Likely he could’ve still called himself Eddie Brown and we couldn’st’ve found him either. How could we? Last we heard he was in Boston. Boston’s a big place. He could hide there forever without us finding him.”

The boy was right. “You could have hired a detective to locate him,” Frank suggested.

“You mean you can pay coppers to find somebody for you?” Calvin asked in amazement.

Frank forgot the boy was from the country. “No, there’s private detectives you can hire to do things like this.”

Calvin looked at him like he was crazy. “And how could we pay somebody to do that? Pa used to send us some money from time to time, but he quit a couple years ago. Must’ve been about the time he come here. Even when he did send money, it was never enough, though. There’s three of us kids. I’ve got two little sisters. Ma had to take in washing to put food on the table. I worked at whatever I could, selling newspapers and chopping firewood and whatever I could find until I got big enough to get steady work. Sometimes we didn’t even have enough to eat, so how could we hire somebody to find Pa?”

“But you had enough money to come to New York from Virginia,” Frank pointed out. “Exactly where do you live there?”

“A place called Lynchburg. I… well, there was something else in the envelope besides the poster. No letter or nothing, like I said, but there was a train ticket.”

“Someone sent you a train ticket to New York?” Frank asked in amazement. This was growing more interesting by the moment.

“Yeah, and… and a little bit of money, too.”

Frank stared at the boy. He’d been lied to by thousands of people in the course of his work, and he liked to think he could spot a lie a mile away. This boy was either telling the truth or he was the best liar Frank had ever encountered. “Sounds like someone wanted you to come to New York and find your father.”

The boy shrugged. “I guess so. Ma, she thought someone was mad at Pa and wanted to get even or something.”

“They must have wanted to get even very badly to go to all that trouble,” Frank suggested. “How did you find your father when you got to the city?”

“I just went to the place where he was going to be, where it said on the poster he was going to be. There was lots of people there. I sat way in the back so he wouldn’t see me, and then he come out on the stage. It was him, all right. I ain’t seen him for almost five years, but I was eleven when he left, so I knew him right off.”

“Did you confront him that night?”

“No. I didn’t want to warn him off. And besides, there was this man who talked that night. He said Dr. Blackwell was married to his daughter. I didn’t think that could be right. He’s married to my ma! I was confused, and I needed to think about things some, so I waited around, after the lecture. I was gonna follow him home, but he got in one of them hansom cabs. I didn’t know they was called that then, but I do now. Anyways, I heard him telling the driver where to take him. Gramercy Park. It was easy to find out where that was. I just asked somebody at the place where I’m staying.”

“And so you called on your father. When was this?”

“I don’t know. About five days ago, I guess.”

“What was his reaction?”

Calvin frowned, his youthful face revealing every emotion. Plainly, he found the memory painful. “I don’t know what I expected, but for certain it wasn’t what happened. He pretended he was real happy to see me. Asked how everybody was doing and all. I thought he’d be mad or maybe act a little guilty, but he didn’t. It was like he’d just forgot all about us, and I’d reminded him. Said he knew he’d been neglecting us, and he wanted to set things right. I thought he meant he’d bring all of us up here to live with him. That’s what he should’ve done, and he’s got plenty of room in this house, don’t he? The reason he left was so he could do better and give us a better life. This was his chance.”

“But he wasn’t going to do that, was he?”

“He said the city wasn’t the right place for us because it was so dangerous. He said we’d be better off to stay in Lynchburg. He was making money now, for the first time, and he’d start supporting us again. He’d even come to visit. But he had to stay here because that’s where his business was.” Calvin’s tone clearly expressed his bitterness.

“What did you say?”

“I said I knew he had another wife now, and what would people think if they found out about us?”

“Did that scare him?”

“It made him real mad. He said if I did anything to hurt him, he wouldn’t be able to make a living anymore, and we’d never get anything from him again. If I kept quiet, he’d send me back with some money, and he’d start sending us money regular again, too.”

“Did you believe him?”

“I didn’t know, but he was real mean. He scared me, like he might do something worse than not support us if I made any trouble for him.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“Not right out, but he made it real clear he could make sure I didn’t never get back to Lynchburg if I made trouble.”

“So you didn’t make any trouble,” Frank guessed.

“I told him I wouldn’t. He said to come back in a few days, and he’d have the money for me. I thought maybe if I had some money, I could do something. I didn’t know what, but maybe Ma would know. At least it would make things easier for her if he started supporting us again. So I left.”

“And you didn’t come back again until day before yesterday.”

“Yes, sir. And like I said, nobody answered the door. I thought maybe he had to go out or he forgot I was coming or something, but shouldn’t somebody have answered the door anyway? That snooty fellow was here the other times I come and today. Seems like it’s his job to answer the door.”

“All the servants had the afternoon off that day,” Frank told him. “Apparently, he didn’t want anyone to know you were here or to see you again.”

“No, I guess he wouldn’st,” Calvin said after he thought about it.

“And someone shot him while he was here alone.”

Calvin’s smooth face creased into a puzzled frown. “Then he’s really dead? But why would somebody shoot him?”

Frank leaned back in his chair, ostensibly unconcerned. “Perhaps because he’d deserted his family and then refused to pay the promised sum of money to them.”

“But why-” he started, and then stopped when Frank’s meaning sank in. “You think I shot him? Why would I do a thing like that? He was my father!”

“The father who deserted you and caused your family great hardship while he was living in luxury. The father who took another wife and now refused to acknowledge you.”

Now Calvin was angry. “I might’ve hated him, but he was still my father! And besides, if he was dead, he couldn’t help us none, now could he? Killing him would be stupid!”

“But what if he’d decided not to give you the money he’d promised? What if he told you to go back home and forget about him or some harm would come to all of you? I know that would make me mad enough to shoot somebody.”

“But I didn’t even see him that day! I wasn’t even in the house. And I don’t have a gun, either!”

Frank was inclined to believe him. Calvin didn’t even know Blackwell was killed with his own gun, so the killer wouldn’t have had one. The story about the policeman sending him on his way was easy enough to check, in any case. And his theory about Blackwell refusing to pay the boy seemed farfetched. Blackwell wouldn’t dare take a chance on offending Calvin and having him spread his story. Paying him off was a simple solution to a very complicated problem, one that Blackwell would have been a fool not to accept. Frank didn’t think Blackwell was a fool.

Besides, if Calvin had taken the money and killed his father, he’d be miles away by now, just as Amos Potter had suggested. He certainly wouldn’t have come knocking on the door and drawing attention to himself.

Now the boy was looking really frightened. “Are you gonna put me in jail?”

It would be so easy. The boy was penniless and alone. No one except his mother would care what happened to him, and she was miles away and powerless to help him. Frank could stick the boy in jail, beat him until he confessed, close the case, and collect his reward from Potter and Symington. That’s what most of the detectives on the force would do. Frank had done it a time or two himself, although never with an innocent boy. The people he usually dealt with were criminals, guilty of something or another, even if it wasn’t the crime he was investigating. If they went to jail, they deserved it, and the world was a better place with them behind bars.

But Calvin Brown was guilty of nothing.

“Did you kill your father, Calvin?” he asked.

“No, sir! I already told you.”

“If I don’t arrest you, what will you do?”

His eyes widened. Frank could see the fear and the hope mingled in them. “I… I guess I can’t do nothing much. I’m about out of money, so I’ve got to go back home soon. The ticket was just one way, so I’ll have to hop a freight or something, but I got to get back home to help my ma.” He thought a minute. “I sure would like to find out who killed my pa, though. I kinda feel like it’s my duty or something.”

Frank wanted him to stay, too. He might need to ask him more questions when he found out more about the case. And he did need to know who had sent the poster to Mrs. Brown. Someone, it seemed, was trying to cause Dr. Blackwell trouble. If he could find out who, he’d be a lot closer to finding the killer.

“If I pay your rent for another week, would you stay in town?” Frank asked. A few dollars was cheap enough for the help the boy might be able to give him. Besides, he wanted the boy close so he could keep an eye on him. “If you do, I’ll even buy you a ticket back home when you’re ready to leave.”

Now the boy was thoroughly confused. “You ain’t gonna arrest me?”

“I don’t think you killed your father, Calvin, but you may be able to help me find out who did.”

“How?”

“You can start by showing me the poster that was sent to your mother, if you still have it.”

“I do. I even have the envelope, but it won’t help you none.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Let’s go to your lodging house. I’ll take care of your rent while we’re there.” The boy might be innocent, but Frank didn’t trust him not to run if he had the means, so he wasn’t going to give him money directly.

They went out into the hall to find Amos Potter waiting on a bench in the entrance hall. He jumped to his feet.

“Where are you taking him?” Potter demanded. “Are you arresting him?”

“Not yet, Mr. Potter,” Frank said, noticing the boy’s alarm.

“Why not?” Potter was outraged. “You know he’s the one who killed Edmund! He’s the only one who had a reason.”

“I don’t think we can be sure of that. But don’t worry, Mr. Potter, Calvin will be in safekeeping in the meantime. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.”

Plainly unhappy, Potter reluctantly stepped aside and allowed them to leave. Frank was sure he’d have a few choice words to say later about the way Frank was handling the case, but he’d worry about that when it happened.

WHEN SARAH CAME downstairs after checking on her patients, she was furious to discover that Malloy had left with the boy. She’d intended to comer the detective and demand an account of what he’d learned. Now she’d have to find out later.

She collected her things, and Granger asked if he should summon the carriage for her.

“That won’t be necessary. It’s a lovely day, and I’d prefer to walk. I’ll be back in the morning to see how the baby is doing,” she told him.

“That wouldn’t be a convenient time,” Granger told her. “Dr. Blackwell’s funeral is being held here at ten o’ clock.”

Why hadn’t she expected this? Now she’d be sure to be here tomorrow. She wouldn’t miss Blackwell’s funeral for anything. “Thank you, Granger,” she said, not telling him of her plans.

On the way home, Sarah mulled over the things she had learned from Amos Potter. She would have to share this information with Malloy, although she thought he probably knew most of it already. What he might not know was the difference in the versions of the truth that she had heard today. Potter insisted that Letitia had been happy to speak at Blackwell’s lectures, and Sarah knew that Letitia had hated it so much she’d needed to use morphine just to get through them.

Did Potter know her true feelings? Was he trying to protect her, or did he honestly believe she was that devoted to her husband? Fortunately, it wasn’t her job to find the answers. She could simply collect observations and pass them along to Malloy. He hadn’t wanted her involved in this case, but here she was, in up to her eyebrows just the same. She hoped he’d be grateful for her help after all, but if he wasn’st, it didn’t matter. She was going to help him anyway.

A quarter of an hour later she reached Bank Street, and as she strolled toward her front steps, she saw her elderly next-door neighbor, Mrs. Ellsworth, come out with her broom and begin to sweep.

No dirt ever had a chance to collect on Mrs. Ellsworth’s front steps because she was out there ten times a day sweeping. She used this activity as an excuse to encounter everyone who passed by. Sarah wondered when she had a chance to do her inside housework since she always seemed to be watching out her front window for any activity that required her attention in the neighborhood.

“Hello, Mrs. Brandt!” she called cheerfully.

“How are you today, Mrs. Ellsworth?” Sarah replied. Since Mrs. Ellsworth had once saved her life, Sarah would indulge her whenever she could.

“Oh, I’m feeling quite cheerful, Mrs. Brandt. My apron fell off this morning, and that gave me quite a laugh.”

This didn’t seem particularly funny to Sarah, but she knew Mrs. Ellsworth well enough to know there must be some hidden meaning in the event. Mrs. Ellsworth found hidden meaning in just about everything that happened. “And why did you find this so funny?”

“Because when an apron falls off, it means the wearer is going to have a baby within the year!”

Even Sarah had to laugh at this, too. Mrs. Ellsworth was in no danger of having a baby this or any year. “Perhaps someone is going to leave one on your door-step,” she suggested.

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I don’t think I’d even remember what to do with a baby, it’s been so long. It’s a nice thought, though.”

“Or maybe it means you’re going to be a grand-mother,” Sarah said, teasing her. “Has your son been keeping company with anyone special lately?”

“Lord, no,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “All Nelson does is work at the bank, day and night. I tell him it’s making him old before his time, but does he listen? Of course not. He tells me he needs to get ahead. I tell him he needs to get a wife. I want some grandchildren to spoil before I die.”

“I don’t blame you. But sooner or later he’ll meet a nice girl and fall in love. Don’t give up hope.”

“And where have you been this lovely day? Delivering someone else’s grandchild?”

“No, I was just visiting one of my patients who…” Suddenly Sarah realized Mrs. Ellsworth might know the deceased. She was always following the latest in medical cures. “Have you ever heard of Dr. Edmund Blackwell?”

“Blackwell? Yes, indeed. He’s getting quite famous. I went to one of his lectures. Nelson always tells me I’m a fool for believing these charlatans, but how do you know that one of them might not have really discovered something that will help cure people?”

Sarah wasn’t about to agree with something so outrageous. “What did you think of him?” she asked instead.

“A lovely man,” she said, really meaning it. “Quite handsome and tall, and his voice was like velvet. Just looking at him made me feel better,” she added with a sly grin, “so I imagine his treatments are quite effective.”

Sarah couldn’t help smiling back. “I had no idea he was so attractive,” she said. This probably explained why Letitia had married him, in spite of the difference in their backgrounds and their ages.

“And I’m not the only one who noticed, either, as you can imagine. Ladies tend to get sick more frequently if their doctor is handsome and charming, so Dr. Blackwell was in great demand. I even heard… Well, that’s of no matter.”

Sarah glanced around to see if anyone else was in earshot and stepped closer to Mrs. Ellsworth’s porch. “I guess you haven’t heard about it yet, but Dr. Blackwell was murdered two days ago.”

“Good heavens, no! I can hardly believe it!” She leaned her broom up against the house and came halfway down the steps so they could speak more quietly. “Did you say he was murdered? How on earth did it happen?”

“Someone went into his house and shot him. I understand the killer tried to make it look like suicide but-”

“But that nice Mr. Malloy wasn’t fooled,” she guessed. Mrs. Ellsworth thought very highly of Frank Malloy. “Does he know who did it?”

“Not yet. It seems Dr. Blackwell had a mysterious past that might have given someone a reason to kill him.”

Mrs. Ellsworth snorted derisively. “I don’t know what kind of a past he had, but I can assure you, if what I’ve heard about him is true, he has a present that might have given someone a reason to kill him, too.”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked eagerly.

“What I mean is that rumor has it Dr. Blackwell’s treatments sometimes involved intimacies that other doctors would have considered… uh… unprofessional.”

“Intimacies?” Sarah echoed.

Mrs. Ellsworth glanced around this time, making sure she would not be overheard. “It’s said he sometimes seduces his patients, Mrs. Brandt. Not that the patients were unwilling. I’m sure they were actually quite eager. But some of them, I’ve heard, have jealous husbands who resented their wives’ devotion to the good doctor, even if they didn’t know how deep that devotion went. Perhaps one of them found out about his wife’s involvement and decided to rid the world of his rival.”