Murder On Mulberry Bend

15

IN THE END, SARAH HAD TO LEAVE THE MESSAGE FOR Malloy herself. She hadn’t felt she could ask either Maeve or Gina to do an errand for her after breaking up their fight. And she certainly couldn’t ask Mrs. Wells for a favor after informing the poor woman that one of her cherished girls was probably a killer. Knowing everyone at Headquarters would hear what her message had been, she’d simply asked Malloy to contact her immediately about something very important concerning Emilia Donato’s death. She could tell the desk sergeant didn’t believe her, but she didn’t care if they thought she was chasing Frank Malloy.

Perhaps they should give in and pretend to be a courting couple. At least Malloy wouldn’t suffer any more teasing as a result, and he might suffer less. She couldn’t help smiling at the thought. Then she went home to wait.

By evening, Sarah had begun to regret accepting Richard’s invitation to dinner. What if Malloy didn’t arrive before Richard came for her? How could she enjoy an evening out when an innocent woman languished in jail for a murder she hadn’t committed? And how could she live with herself if Maeve harmed someone else before Malloy could arrest her – assuming she was even the killer?

She changed her clothes into something appropriate for her scheduled engagement more to occupy herself than because she truly wished to look nice. Even still, the time dragged. Too distracted to read or sew or do anything constructive, Sarah simply sat by the front window, watching for Malloy by the light of the gas streetlamps.

The watch on her lapel said seven-thirty when she saw a familiar figure hurrying down the street, but not the one she’d been expecting. She rushed to the front door and threw it open.

“Gina!” she called, and the girl turned toward her voice.

“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I’m so glad to see you!” she cried. She ran over and stumbled in her haste to climb Sarah’s front steps. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you.”

“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked as she ushered the girl inside.

Gina needed a moment to catch her breath. “Mrs. Wells sent me. I’ve got a message for you.” She searched in her pocket and produced a crumpled envelope. Her name had been scrawled on it. “Mrs. Wells told me you lived on Bank Street,” she explained as Sarah tore it open. “She said to just go up Seventh Avenue and ask people until I found the street. She said someone there would tell me which house was yours.”

Sarah quickly scanned the note. It was from Father Ahearn. He said he’d found out who the killer was, and he needed her help. She remembered him saying he couldn’t reveal the secrets of the confessional. Had the real killer confessed to him? Maeve was Irish and had most certainly been raised Catholic. She might have felt compelled to confess her guilt, if she was the killer. Father Ahearn certainly wouldn’t be able to tell the police what he’d learned, but perhaps he hoped Sarah could help him convince the girl to surrender herself.

“How did you get this note?” Sarah asked her.

“Somebody brought it to Mrs. Wells. It’s from a priest, she said. He didn’t know how to find you, but he thought she would. What does he want?”

“I have to go meet him.” The note urged her to come as soon as possible, since he was worried the killer might harm herself or someone else. “I’m expecting some visitors, though, so I need to leave them a message before I go.”

Gina sat down to rest from her frantic mission while Sarah found paper and a pencil and began to compose her notes to Malloy and Richard. The one to Malloy was the most difficult. How could she explain in a few words that Mrs. Donato was innocent and someone else – she suspected it was Maeve but wasn’t completely sure – was guilty and that she’d gone to see a priest about finding out for certain? She understood it all, and the story still sounded unbelievable to her. She could just imagine Malloy’s reaction.

The note to Richard was easier. She apologized for her rudeness and explained she had to meet with someone to save an innocent woman’s life. He might consider her foolish, but he’d forgive her.

When she had inserted the notes into envelopes and addressed them to each man, she was ready to leave. “How did you get here?” Sarah asked.

“I walked,” Gina said. No wonder she was tired.

Sarah put on her hat and took her cape from the hook by the door. “Let’s see if we can get a Hansom.” She didn’t think a cab would take them all the way to the mission, but they could probably get a lot closer than the El would take them. She stuck the notes in the door for the men to find and then led Gina down the street toward Seventh Avenue, where they would be most likely to find a cab.

Frank knew he should feel at least a little guilty, but he didn‘t, not one bit. Sarah had sent for him, so he had a perfectly legitimate reason to be calling on her. He’d happened to hear Richard Dennis make an engagement with her for eight o’clock this evening, and he knew she’d be home at this hour, waiting for him. He should have gone earlier, of course, so he wouldn’t interfere with their plans. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten her message until he returned to Headquarters after investigating a fatal knife fight in one of the neighborhood’s stale beer dives. He could have waited until morning, of course, but she obviously thought her news too important to wait. He’d calculated that he had just enough time to reach her before Dennis carried her away in his carriage. And just enough time to interrupt Dennis’s plans. Perhaps he could even spoil them altogether. He was smiling as he turned the corner onto Bank Street.

Even though the city clocks hadn’t yet struck eight, Frank could see Dennis’s carriage waiting outside Sarah’s house. He quickened his pace. He didn’t want to have to flag them down as they drove by. But as he approached, he saw Dennis standing beside the coach and no sign of Sarah. Dennis appeared to be reading something by the light of the coach lamp.

As Frank reached him, he looked up. His puzzled frown dissolved into recognition. “Mr. Malloy,” he said. “Good evening. Mrs. Brandt has left you a message, too.”

Frank glanced up and only then realized the lights were out in her flat. He saw what appeared to be an envelope stuck in the crack between the front door and its frame. He realized she must have gone out and left a similar note for Dennis, and that’s what he had been reading.

Frank quickly retrieved his own message and carried it back to the coach light. His feeling of satisfaction had long since evaporated. Now he was uneasy and growing more so by the minute. By the time he’d finished the note, he was deeply troubled.

“What does she say?” Dennis asked anxiously. “If you can tell me,” he added when Frank looked at him sharply.

“She’s gone off to meet some priest,” Frank said, wondering if he’d have any trouble getting Dennis to reveal her message to him. “What does she say to you?”

“She apologizes for canceling our engagement. We were going to have dinner together,” he explained, either rubbing it in or having forgotten that Frank knew their plans. Frank didn’t bother to decide which it was. “She says she has to meet with someone who has information about that girl’s murder. I thought you were going to settle all that yesterday.”

Frank could have taken offense, but Dennis sounded genuinely concerned about Sarah, so he overlooked the provocation. “I arrested the girl’s mother yesterday. She confessed, or at least it sounded like she did. She doesn’t speak English very well. But Mrs. Brandt’s note says she can prove the woman is innocent.” The thought was difficult to contemplate. Even if the woman hadn’t confessed, she hadn’t protested her innocence either, not even when they locked her up. She’d behaved as if she was guilty. What was Frank supposed to think?

“If the mother isn’t the killer, then who could it be?” Dennis asked.

A good question. “Mrs. Brandt thought it might be someone at the mission, or at least she did until it looked like the mother did it.”

Frank could see that Dennis was trying to make sense of all this. “What priest is she going to meet?”

“She doesn’t say, but I know she went to St. John’s the other day to ask them to pay for the girl’s funeral. That must be where she’s gone.”

“How would a priest know who the killer is, especially if it’s someone at the mission?”

Frank had been trying to figure that out himself. “Maybe the killer made a confession to the priest. A lot of those girls are Catholic, or they were before Mrs. Wells got them. But priests aren’t allowed to tell anyone what they hear in the confessional.”

Dennis frowned as though something was bothering him. “Mrs. Brandt said that the murdered girl looked as if she’d suffocated. How would that make someone look?”

Frank considered the question. From the tone of Dennis’s voice, he knew it wasn’t idle curiosity. “The girl’s skin was blue and her eyes were open real wide.”

Something changed very slightly in Dennis’s expression. He’d already been worried, but now he looked alarmed. “Would she have been gasping for breath before she died?”

Now Frank knew it wasn’t idle curiosity. “I’m not sure, but it seems likely.”

Dennis had unconsciously crumpled the note he still held as his hands closed into fists. “Sarah… Mrs. Brandt said the girl had been stabbed in the back of the neck.”

“That’s right,” Frank said, watching the other man’s face carefully.

“The wound… Did it bleed a lot?”

“Hardly at all. In fact, it was so small, we almost didn’t notice it.”

Dennis closed his eyes and sucked in his breath, as if he’d sustained a great shock and couldn’t quite absorb it. “Mr. Malloy,” he said in a strangled voice, “I think I may know who your killer is.”

Gina had never ridden in a Hansom cab before, and she enjoyed it thoroughly. Fortunately, the traffic was much lighter at this hour than usual, and they traveled relatively quickly down Seventh Avenue. The driver refused to go into the tenement section of the city, however, so she and Gina were forced to walk the rest of the way. If Gina felt any apprehension at walking through the neighborhood after dark, she gave no indication. She was probably used to it, and Sarah certainly was, too.

After what seemed an eternity, they finally reached the mission. Sarah saw Gina safely inside, where Mrs. Wells anxiously awaited them, with Aggie clinging to her skirts. The little girl rushed to Sarah and threw her arms around her legs as usual. Sarah stooped and gave her a hug.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Aggie,” she told the child, who looked at her with such longing, she thought her heart might break. She knew Aggie was becoming too attached to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything about it.

“Thank you for finding Mrs. Brandt, Gina,” Mrs. Wells was saying. “You did a good job.” Gina fairly beamed with pleasure, reminding Sarah how desperate these girls were for approval of any kind. “Now you can go on upstairs with the other girls and get ready for bed.” She glanced at the child Sarah still held. “And take Aggie, too, please.”

Aggie struggled a bit, but a stem look from Mrs. Wells defeated her. As soon as they were gone, Mrs. Wells closed the parlor doors and asked, “What did the message say?”

“The priest thinks he knows who Emilia’s killer is,” she said. “I’m going to see him right now.”

“Are you sure he can be trusted?” Mrs. Wells asked with a worried frown.

Sarah almost pointed out that the man was a priest, for heaven’s sake, but then she realized that was probably exactly why Mrs. Wells wouldn’t consider him trustworthy. “I believe so,” she said instead. “I’m at least going to hear what he has to say.”

“You’re going tonight?” She seemed surprised.

“I think we need to learn the truth as soon as possible.” Sarah didn’t point out that she wanted to find the killer before anyone else was murdered, but she could see that Mrs. Wells understood just the same.

“I can go with you, if you’d like,” Mrs. Wells offered tentatively. “Although they might not welcome me there.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Sarah said. “I can’t imagine any place safer than a church.”

The city was settling down for the night. The hoards of people who congregated in the streets during the daylight hours had gone to seek their beds or some indoor entertainment. Saloons catering to every pocketbook would be crowded with patrons who had no place they’d rather be, while those fortunate enough to have a job would be at home in bed, in anticipation of another long workday.

St. John’s sat forlornly on the comer, its steeple towering over the surrounding neighborhood. Only a feeble light from within illuminated the stained glass windows. Church, she realized, was a daylight activity. She was glad she’d chosen to come this evening, when Father Ahearn would be free to give her his full attention, and no one would be around to overhear what he was going to tell her.

The heavy front doors of the church were unlocked and moved silently on their hinges. Inside, she saw that one source of the light was a display of candles sitting in a wooden rack. They lit the foyer with a welcoming glow, and Sarah stepped inside. She moved forward, letting her eyes become accustomed to the shadows. Stopping behind the last pew, she scanned the sanctuary. She saw no sign of Father Ahearn, or anyone else, for that matter.

Of course, he couldn’t have any idea how quickly she’d receive his message. He’d hardly be sitting here waiting for her. She’d have to find the door that led to the priests’ private offices and see if he was there.

The church seemed cavernous in the semidarkness. The light from the candles in the foyer could not penetrate the depths of the sanctuary. Some solitary lights burned up near the altar, too, and Sarah used them to mark her progress down the long aisle. She was halfway to the door she was seeking when she heard a sound behind her.

“Father?” she called, turning. But the shadowy figure who had entered the door through which she’d come wasn’t a priest.

Frank didn’t like the idea of bringing Dennis along, but the man had offered the use of his carriage. Besides, Frank figured he wanted to see the confrontation that was coming. If Dennis was right in his theory about who the killer was, he certainly deserved the opportunity.

The carriage stopped in front of the mission, and the two men climbed out. Frank could see the driver looking around nervously, wondering how safe he’d be in this neighborhood. Curious eyes were probably already peering out at him from every building.

Frank climbed the front steps and pounded on the door. “Police, open up!” he shouted. The windows were dark, but he couldn’t believe everyone inside was already asleep. Even if they were, he’d soon have them awake again. He needed to pound a few more times before someone finally unbolted the door and opened it a crack.

Without waiting for an invitation, Frank pushed it open, forcing whoever was behind it to back up or be knocked over. Once he was inside, he saw it was the same red-haired girl who had opened the door to him before. This must be Maeve, the girl Sarah suspected of being the killer. She wore a nightdress and carried a candle. “You can’t come in here,” she tried, but her voice trembled. Her face had gone so pale, her freckles looked almost black.

“Where’s Mrs. Wells?” Frank demanded. Several other girls had come to see what the disturbance was about, and they stood on the stairs, staring down at him in wide-eyed terror.

“She’s in her room, asleep,” Maeve said. The candle she was carrying trembled.

“Then get her up,” Frank said. “I need to speak to her.”

For a second, he thought she might refuse, but then she obviously realized the futility of it. She nodded at a dark-haired girl, who took off running down the hallway, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floor.

“What do you want? Is something wrong?” the girl asked, but Frank just glared at her.

They stood like this for a minute or two. All the girls seemed to be holding their breath, sensing something awful but having no idea what it might be. Then they heard the sound of the girl’s running feet returning. She stopped beside Maeve, her dark eyes wide with terror. “She ain’t there.”

Maeve turned on her in exasperation. “What do you mean she ain’t there?”

“I mean, she ain’t there. And she ain’t in the kitchen. I looked.”

“Where else could she be then?” Frank asked, his voice gruff and as frightening as he could make it without terrifying the girls into total silence.

“Nowhere,” the dark-haired girl offered before Maeve could speak. “She told us all to go to bed, that she was going to her room to pray.”

“When was this?” Frank asked.

“Just a little while ago,” the dark-haired girl said. “Right after Mrs. Brandt left.”

“Mrs. Brandt was here?” Frank nearly shouted, grabbing her by the arm.

Her eyes widened in terror and the color drained from her face. Instantly, Frank realized he’d made a tactical error. If the girl was too frightened, she wouldn’t tell him a thing.

“There now,” Dennis said calmly, coming to his rescue. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re Gina, aren’t you? I remember you were at the party the other night.” Frank carefully released the girl’s arm, allowing Dennis to use his charm. “Can you tell us why Mrs. Brandt was here?”

The girl started rubbing her arm where Frank had held her, but she was looking at Dennis now. Her face was still white, but she said, “She brought me home, and then she talked to Mrs. Wells – ”

“What do you mean, she brought you home?” Frank asked too gruffly. The girl took a step back, but once again Dennis distracted her.

“Why did she bring you home, Gina?” he asked in his gentleman’s voice.

“She wanted to see I got home safe.” She glanced at Frank, but only for a second before looking back at Dennis. “Then she talked to Mrs. Wells and left. I expect she went to see the priest.”

“How did you know she was going to see the priest?” Frank asked, and this time he managed to keep his voice fairly gentle.

She might even have answered him, but Maeve beat her to it. “Because the priest sent Mrs. Brandt a note, except he didn’t know where she lives, so he sent it here and asked Mrs. Wells to get it to her. Gina carried it.”

Frank’s mind was racing. Dear God, why hadn’t he seen it before now? “Who brought the note here? Did anyone see the priest?” He looked up at the faces staring down at him. No one responded.

“Mrs. Wells said a boy brought it,” Maeve offered after a moment.

“Did you see the boy?” She shook her head. “Did anyone see the boy?” Silence. “Did anyone even hear him knock?” More silence.

“Malloy, what is it?” Dennis asked frantically.

Frank turned to face him. “Mrs. Wells was the one who sent the note, and now she’s gone after Sarah.”

“Mrs. Wells, is that you?” Sarah called to the woman emerging from the shadows. “I told you that you didn’t need to come with me.”

“Oh, but I did need to come, Mrs. Brandt.” Her voice sounded strange. It gave Sarah chills.

She knew she was only being fanciful. The eerie stillness of the church had spooked her. “I suppose you’re as anxious as I am to find out who killed Emilia. I hope you won’t be too disappointed if it turns out to be Maeve or one of the other girls.”

“I won’t be disappointed at all,” Mrs. Wells assured her.

Sarah wished she could see the other woman’s face, but it was too dark. The tone of her voice was frighteningly calm, even though Sarah knew she must be extremely upset. She wanted to send her home and spare her the pain of hearing the priest tell her what would surely be horrible news. But she couldn’t spare her forever. “All right, then,” Sarah said. “The priest’s office is this way.”

She turned and started to walk toward the front of the church again. Behind her, she heard the chillingly familiar rasp of a hat pin being pulled from a hat and then the patter of running feet coming up behind her, and in that instant, she understood everything.

Sarah threw herself into the nearest pew as Mrs. Wells dove for her. The woman stumbled, her momentum carrying her forward when she missed Sarah, so that she fell headlong to the floor.

Catching herself on the back of a pew, Sarah kept her feet and started for the opposite aisle as quickly as she could. The space between the benches was too narrow for real speed and her skirts kept trying to tangle with her feet, but she lurched on, knowing her attacker would be hindered the same way if she tried to follow.

She should scream. Someone would come if she screamed, but she didn’t have the breath to do it. She’d have to concentrate on getting away instead.

She heard Mrs. Wells scrambling to her feet. Sarah risked a backward glance. The woman’s hat was askew, and she held the hat pin like a knife, ready to plunge it into flesh. For a second Sarah thought the other woman was going to come after her, but then she turned and started running back down the aisle, toward the rear of the church. That’s when Sarah realized she was planning to cut her off before she could reach the door and make her escape.

Sarah’s only chance was to beat her there. Terror propelled her out from between the pews and into the opposite aisle. Lifting her skirts with both hands, she raced toward the rear of the church. Watching her adversary out of the corner of her eye, she saw that she stood a good chance. If she didn’t fall, if she didn’t stumble, if she didn’t slip…

Her breath gasping, she reached the last pew, and she saw that she was going to make it. She was closer to the door, and she would escape into the street and then she would -

“No!” a shrill voice cried, and Sarah saw a tiny wraith streak from shadows near the doors straight for Mrs. Wells, who was running toward Sarah. The woman caught herself just in time to keep from sprawling over the tiny figure, who grabbed her around the legs as she had done to Sarah only a short time ago.

“Aggie, run!” Sarah cried, freezing in her tracks, but she was too late. The child cried out in pain as Mrs. Wells clutched a handful of her hair and held her fast with one hand while she raised the hat pin threateningly with the other. She looked up at Sarah in triumph. “Don’t hurt her!” Sarah pleaded desperately.

“Why not?” Mrs. Wells asked, her voice icily calm. “She’d be better off, just like the rest of them. She’d be in heaven.”

Oh, dear God! Sarah had to think, to plan. She had to figure out how to save Aggie, so she had to keep Mrs. Wells talking until she thought of something. “Why?” she asked, her voice hoarse with terror. “Why did you do it?”

“I had to save them,” she said, as if that made perfect sense. “Before the devil got them again.” Aggie was whimpering softly, but thank heaven, she wasn’t struggling.

“Were there others, before Emilia?” Sarah asked in an effort to distract her.

“Oh, yes. Once I realized how many of them would weaken and fall away, I knew I had to do something to save them.”

Sarah’s heart was pounding, and she felt the gorge rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down. “Please, let Aggie go.”

Mrs. Wells considered the request. “All right,” she said, and for a second Sarah’s heart leaped with hope. “But you must stay.”

“My life for hers, is that it?” Sarah asked unsteadily.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Brandt, but I can’t allow you to interfere. My work is too important. Those girls will go to hell unless I save them. I can’t let anything stop me.”

The woman wasn’t thinking clearly at all, Sarah realized. She was bound to come under suspicion. But Sarah didn’t think there was any chance of reasoning with her. She could never recall being so frightened. She could barely breathe, but she had to be strong for Aggie. The child kept trying to turn her little head to look at Sarah, but Mrs. Wells held her too tightly, the hat pin poised to strike if Sarah made a false move.

“It will be over quickly,” Mrs. Wells promised. “You won’t suffer.”

Drawing a deep breath, Sarah somehow managed to keep her voice steady. “All right, Mrs. Wells. But you must let Aggie go.”

“Not until… it’s over,” she said quite firmly. “I’m afraid I don’t trust you to keep your part of the bargain if I release her. And she’ll never be able to tell what happened, so it doesn’t matter if she knows or not.”

Sarah thought she heard something outside, but she was afraid to call for help. Mrs. Wells might panic and stab Aggie. She’d have to rely on her own wits and strength to save them both. She took a step toward the madwoman, and then another. Aggie was sobbing now. Another step, measuring, trying to decide how she could grab the hand that held the pin before -

“Sarah!”

The church doors slammed open, and Sarah instinctively looked to see Richard Dennis charging through them.

“She’s got Aggie!” she cried and lunged for the other woman.

All Sarah could see was the hand holding the hat pin raised over Aggie’s tiny neck. If she could grab it and stop it -

But Richard got there first. He snatched Aggie away just as the hat pin plunged downward. Someone else was calling Sarah’s name, but she didn’t have time to even look up. She was too busy wrestling Mrs. Wells, both of her hands wrapped around the fist that still clutched the hat pin.

Then suddenly someone was helping, overpowering Mrs. Wells and wrenching the hat pin from her fingers. A rough arm pushed Sarah away, and she recognized Malloy. He thrust the hat pin into Sarah’s hand and shoved Mrs. Wells to her knees, twisting one of her arms behind her back. She cried out in pain, but Malloy didn’t release his grip.

“What’s going on here!” an outraged voice shouted. “Get out of here or I’ll call the police!” Father Ahearn was running down the aisle toward them. He wore only an undershirt and trousers and looked very unpriestly.

“I am the police,” Malloy shouted back. “This woman is a murderer, and she’s very dangerous. Get me something to tie her up.”

The startled priest stared at the tableau for only a moment before hurrying to obey.

Malloy turned to Sarah. “What the hell were you trying to do?” he demanded, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Take that other pin away from her!” she added, suddenly horrified to realize Mrs. Wells had another one still in her hat.

Malloy relieved the woman of that one, too, and handed it to Sarah as well. Mrs. Wells’s hat slipped off and fell to the floor in front of her. Malloy continued to hold her firmly and painfully in place.

“Can you help me here?” Richard asked, his voice oddly strained.

Sarah hurried to his aid. He lay on the floor where he had fallen in the scuffle, and he held a terrified Aggie to his chest. Still clutching the hat pins in her left hand, Sarah reached out her right one and Aggie grabbed it. Scrambling out of Richard’s arms, the child threw herself at Sarah and fairly climbed up her body until her little arms were wrapped tightly around Sarah’s neck and her legs around Sarah’s waist. Sarah managed to stagger over to one of the pews and sit down, setting the hat pins on the seat beside her so she could hold the child with both arms. Her little body was trembling, and Sarah crooned meaningless words of comfort into the soft cloud of her hair.

Father Ahearn came running back with what appeared to be drapery cords. Malloy looked at them askance, but he used them to bind Mrs. Wells’s hands securely behind her back. Then he hauled her roughly to her feet and shoved her down into the nearest pew.

Richard was a bit slow getting to his feet.

“Richard, are you all right?” Sarah asked in alarm when she noticed, remembering how Mrs. Wells had been wielding the hat pin.

But Richard wasn’t listening. He was staring in horror at Mrs. Wells. “You killed Hazel, didn’t you?”

Sarah gasped as Mrs. Wells looked up, her eyes bright with the fires of fanaticism. “She was very unhappy here, Mr. Dennis. I sent her to heaven.”

Father Ahearn caught Richard when he would have attacked her and held him back.

“Let the law take care of her, Dennis,” Malloy warned him. “She’ll die for her crimes. There’s nothing worse you can do to her.”

Richard was shaking with fury, but after a moment, he allowed the priest to push him back a few steps.

“Father,” Malloy said, “can you go to the nearest call box and have them send a wagon over for this woman?”

Father Ahearn nodded, probably only too glad to escape the nightmarish scene. Portly Father O’Brien came lumbering down the aisle, wheezing from the effort of running, just as Father Ahearn bolted away to do Malloy’s bidding. He’d taken the time to put on his cassock, so he looked more professional than his young colleague. He recognized Mrs. Wells at once. “What are you doing here?” he demanded breathlessly.

“Trying to cause you some trouble, I expect, Father,” Malloy said. “She’s the one who killed Emilia Donato, and she just tried to kill Mrs. Brandt right here in the church.”

Father O’Brien’s gaze shifted back to where Mrs. Wells sat, bound and helpless. He stared at her as if the jaws of hell had suddenly opened up to reveal their horrors. “I knew something was wrong at that place,” he murmured, and Sarah remembered his accusation about other missing girls. She didn’t even want to think about how many others the woman had “sent to heaven.” She hugged Aggie more tightly and was relieved to realize the child had stopped trembling.

Richard still glared at Mrs. Wells, but he seemed calmer now. Then Sarah noticed he was rubbing his chest.

“Richard, you are hurt!” she cried. “Did she stab you?”

“Just a little jab,” he said. “It’s not even bleeding.”

Only a tiny drop of blood had stained his shirt beneath his vest, but Sarah remembered how Emilia’s wound hadn’t bled either. “Are you sure? How deep did the pin go in?”

“Not deep at all. I told you, it was just a jab.”

Sarah knew even a shallow jab could become infected, and there was always a danger of lockjaw. He did seem pale, and he was sweating. “You should sit down. You look as if you’re going to faint.”

He took a seat in the pew in front of hers and half turned to face her. He was grinning boyishly, as if he’d done something a bit naughty and was proud of it. “I did do a bit of running to get here.” He looked over at Malloy, who was still guarding Mrs. Wells. “In the end, I beat you here,” he bragged.

Malloy frowned, but he didn’t deny it. Then Sarah realized how amazing it was that they were here at all.

“How did you know I’d be in danger? And what are the two of you doing here together?” she demanded.

“I was on my way to your house, and we ran into each other,” Malloy said unhelpfully.

Sarah turned to Richard expectantly.

“I’d just found your note and was reading it when Mr. Malloy arrived.” His smile faded. “We started discussing that girl’s murder, and I remembered something you’d said about how she looked after she died.”

“You mean Emilia?” Sarah asked, still confused.

“Yes, you said she looked as if she’d suffocated. I asked Mr. Malloy to describe it and then I realized – that’s the way Hazel looked. Mrs. Wells had come to visit her that last day, and when she left, we found Hazel gasping for breath. She died a short time later.”

His gaze drifted to Mrs. Wells, who sat staring back at him, unrepentant.

“She went to heaven, Mr. Dennis,” Mrs. Wells said. “That was her wish.”

Richard looked as if he would have cheerfully broken her neck, but he managed to restrain himself.

“She’ll be punished now,” Sarah said, reaching up to pat his shoulder reassuringly. “And nothing you do to her can bring Hazel back.”

He continued to glare at the woman, rubbing his chest absently.

Father Ahearn came running back into the church and reported that a police wagon was on its way and that a carriage had pulled up outside.

“A carriage?” Sarah echoed in amazement, looking at Richard for an explanation.

“We took my carriage from your house to the mission. Mr. Malloy was expecting to find Mrs. Wells there and accuse her of the murders. When she wasn’t there… Well, that’s when we realized she was the one who had sent you the note to lure you here. Mr. Malloy said it would be faster to go on foot, so we left Sydney to follow as best he could. It looks as if he found us,” he added to Malloy.

Father O’Brien turned to Malloy. “Can someone tell me what happened here?”

Malloy looked at Sarah. “I received a note from Father Ahearn this evening,” she began, but Ahearn interrupted her.

“I didn’t send you a note!”

“I know that now,” Sarah said. “Mrs. Wells sent it and claimed it had come from you. It said you had discovered who the killer was and asked me to come to the church as soon as possible.”

“But you went to the mission first,” Richard said.

“Gina, one of the girls there, had brought the message. I had to see her safely home and tell Mrs. Wells the good news,” Sarah added bitterly.

Mrs. Wells refused to meet her gaze, but Malloy said, “So that’s how she knew exactly when you’d be at the church. Then she followed you over here.”

“And Aggie must have followed her,” Sarah said, looking down at the child, who had gone very still. Sarah realized with amazement she was asleep. “I can’t imagine why. Look at her! She’s in her nightdress and barefoot.”

“She was trying to save you,” Mrs. Wells informed her, although it gave her no pleasure. “She’s a clever girl, and she understands more than you’d ever imagine.”

“She understood that I was in danger, I guess,” Sarah continued, “and she tried to stop Mrs. Wells from stabbing me with the hat pin. Mrs. Wells grabbed her and threatened to kill her if I didn’t allow her to kill me instead.”

Father O’Brien’s expression was incredulous, but he couldn’t seem to think of a question to ask that would shed any light on the unbelievable story. Father Ahearn wasn’t quite as stunned. “How did you get the child away from her?”

“Mr. Dennis arrived. He snatched Aggie away, and Mr. Malloy and I disarmed her. That’s when you got here.”

The two priests just stared at her for a moment, and then Father O’Brien lowered himself into one of the pews, as if his legs had decided not to hold him anymore.

Sarah remembered her own questions about Emilia’s death and looked at Mrs. Wells. “You killed Emilia in the park because you thought that’s where her mother sold flowers, but you didn’t know her mother hadn’t been there in months.”

She gazed back with guileless eyes. “You’re wrong. I did know it. Emilia didn’t, though. She went there eagerly so her mother could see her new dress. But I wanted it to happen there so no one would recognize her. She would never be identified.”

“Just like the others,” Father O’Brien murmured, turning to Sarah in horror. “I told you other girls had disappeared. If no one knew who they were, they would never have been traced back to the mission.”

“And no one would ever ask Mrs. Wells any embarrassing questions,” Malloy added in disgust.

Sarah tried to make sense of this. How could this mild-mannered woman who quoted scripture be a heartless killer? “I should have known something was wrong when I caught you in a lie,” she berated herself. “You said Emilia told one of the girls she wanted her lover to see her in her new dress, but she never said that. She really wanted her mother to see her. And you used that to murder her.”

Sarah glared at her, but the eyes looking back held no hint of remorse. That was when she realized that even execution wasn’t a great enough punishment for what the woman had done. If God was merciful, Mrs. Wells would burn in the hell from which she’d tried to save those poor girls.

Her heart aching, Sarah looked at Malloy again, and found him staring at her with a longing she easily recognized. She realized the fear he must have felt when he learned she had gone to meet the killer. The thought of him racing to her rescue touched her heart and brought the sting of tears to her eyes. Thank heaven they weren’t alone, or Sarah was very much afraid she might have thrown her arms around Malloy and hugged him.

A policeman burst into the church. “Where’s Malloy?” he shouted.

“Here,” Malloy replied, “and show some respect. This is still a church.”

The officer hurried toward him. “Sorry, sir. We’ve got a wagon outside, just like you wanted.” He was looking around, probably trying to figure out which one was the criminal.

Malloy took Mrs. Wells’s arm and jerked her roughly to her feet. “Come along, lady,” he said. She gave him a withering glare, but he ignored it.

“That’s who we’re arresting?” the officer asked in astonishment. “Ain’t she the lady from the mission?”

“Yeah, but don’t let that fool you. She’ll kill you quick as look at you,” Malloy said.

Richard rose, too, and Sarah saw that he winced and grabbed at his chest.

“Malloy,” she called in alarm, “Richard is badly hurt.”

“I thought she just jabbed him,” Malloy said, a question in his voice.

“It’s nothing,” Richard insisted, but Sarah picked up the hat pins that lay on the pew beside her and looked at them closely. The blood smear on one of them indicated far more than a jab.

“We need to get him to a hospital right away,” she cried, although she was afraid even that wouldn’t be enough. The wound must have been deep and may well have injured a lung, or even his heart.

“Don’t be silly,” Richard tried, but with less conviction than before.

Malloy turned to the police officer who was waiting to help with the prisoner. “That’s his carriage outside. Help him get into it. Hurry!” he added when the man hesitated.

The officer rushed over and took one of Richard’s arms. “It’s really nothing,” Richard protested, but his face was ashen.

Sarah looked around frantically for someone to take Aggie from her. “Father Ahearn? I’m a trained nurse. I should go with him. Can you – ” she asked, and he understood instantly. He took the sleeping child and shifted her gently to his own shoulder.

“I’ll take her back to the mission and get someone to stay with the girls tonight,” he promised.

Sarah thanked him and ran to help the officer with Richard.

“Make your peace with God, Mr. Dennis,” Mrs. Wells warned as they passed her.

Sarah would have slapped her if she hadn’t been holding Richard upright.

Malloy muttered a curse and shoved her back down into her seat.

Richard’s driver hurried to help them when they came out of the church, and somehow they got him into the carriage. The officer told the driver to take them to the nearest hospital, as Sarah helped Richard stretch out on one of the seats. Although it was much too short for him to recline, at least she could make him reasonably comfortable.

When the carriage lurched into motion, Sarah took a seat on the opposite side. After she’d covered Richard with the lap robe, she laid a hand on his chest and found his heartbeat slow and labored. Rage roared inside her. How could that woman have managed to stab him in the heart?

“She’s killed me, too, hasn’t she?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, Richard, we don’t know that,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “We’ll get you to a doctor and – ”

“No, that won’t help,” he said. Oddly, he didn’t sound frightened or even upset. “I know I’m going to die, Sarah.”

Sarah felt her eyes filling with tears and his image blurred. She blinked them away determinedly and squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry, Richard.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t you,” he told her with a weak smile. “Or that child. I saved her, didn’t I?”

She thought of how he’d thrown himself at Mrs. Wells to save Aggie. “Yes, Richard, you saved her life,” she agreed. She would make sure everyone knew he’d died a hero. “Now you’ll see Hazel, and you’ll be able to tell her that you loved her.”

His breathing was growing labored. “Yes,” he said, his voice raspy. “And that I’m sorry.”

“And that you brought her killer to justice,” Sarah whispered as his eyes closed.

She held his hand tightly, tears rolling down her cheeks. His breaths became more and more shallow until a shudder wracked his body, and he finally lay still.