Murder On Mulberry Bend

3

SARAH HARDLY HAD A MOMENT TO REGISTER THE implication before Mrs. Wells rose to lead them out into the hall. She hadn’t been aware of any needs of her own in making this visit, but she couldn’t help admiring the fulfillment Mrs. Wells seemed to feel. Perhaps Mrs. Wells had sensed something of which Sarah herself had been unaware.

“We don’t work on Sunday, of course,” Mrs. Wells was saying, “but I can let you see where we do our other activities during the rest of the week.”

She took them to the room where the girls had been singing earlier. They sat in rows and were bowed over their Bibles now, struggling with various degrees of success to read them. They all looked up when their visitors entered. Sarah scanned the faces and saw they represented many nations of origin and ranged in age from about twelve to perhaps sixteen or seventeen. Girls much older than that were either safely married or hopelessly lost – either to prostitution or death. The choices in life for impoverished females were severely limited.

These girls were as well scrubbed as the hallway, their hair braided or pinned up, their clothes neat and clean, if not new or stylish. The blond girl who had met them at the door, Emilia, sat on a stool at the front of the room, and she smiled at them. Again Sarah noticed how the smile brightened her face.

“These are the girls who live here with us at the present time,” Mrs. Wells explained. “They have no place else to go except back to lives of sin and abomination, but they are safe here with us.”

Sarah winced at the fact that she’d said this in front of them, but if any of them minded, they gave no indication. Probably, they’d heard it before. Sarah had to admit it was also true. A ministry that saved destitute girls from the streets was a haven indeed.

Mrs. Wells then took her visitors through the kitchen, a large room as spotless as the rest of the house, and out to the small plot of ground behind the house that had been turned into a playground. Here a couple dozen children played on swings and slides and seesaws, things that existed no place else in this part of town. They weren’t as clean or as well dressed as the girls inside. Obviously, they were children from the neighborhood who had come to this amazing refuge to enjoy a few hours of idyllic childhood. Then Sarah noticed other small faces pressed longingly against the slats on the other side of the fence, peering in at their fellows.

True, the yard was already swarming with children, but Sarah couldn’t imagine locking others out and cheating them of this unique opportunity. “How do you decide who gets to come in to play and who doesn’t?” Sarah asked, indicating the pathetic onlookers.

“We can’t allow them all in at once, of course,” Mrs. Wells explained, her gaze settling lovingly on the children. “If we did, none of them could enjoy the yard. So we let a group of them come in for an hour, and then we send them out and admit the next group. It’s the only fair way.”

Sarah looked at the older woman with admiration. She might be a bit rigid in her religious views, but she obviously cared deeply for the people in the neighborhood.

A few adult women stood around, watching over the children as they played, stepping in to settle disputes and helping the smaller children when they needed it. Their clothes identified them as belonging to a higher social class than the children they tended, so Sarah assumed they were volunteers. She imagined Hazel Dennis standing in this yard, doing the same thing. Had she found being with the children fulfilling or had they only reminded her of what she did not have? Surely, visiting the mission couldn’t have been painful, or she wouldn’t have continued to come.

Sarah glanced up at Richard and wondered what he was thinking as he watched the grubby children at their play. Could he imagine his wife finding joy and satisfaction here?

“Would you like to go upstairs and see the work rooms and the dormitory?” Mrs. Wells asked.

“Yes,” Richard said, still deep in thought. “Yes, I would.”

When they reentered the house, they found Emilia waiting for them. “The bambini are happy here,” she said, the words almost a question, demanding they agree.

“They certainly appear to be,” Sarah said. The girl seemed eager for their approval, and Sarah knew how much attention from outsiders could mean to someone in her position in life. “How long have you been here, Emilia?”

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise that Sarah knew her name. “I am here five months,” she said carefully, glancing at Mrs. Wells for confirmation. “I learn to sew.”

“Emilia hopes to find a job making clothes,” Mrs. Wells explained. “She’s been doing very well.”

“I’m sure she is,” Sarah said with an encouraging smile. The girl beamed.

“Are the girls finished with their Bible study, Emilia?” Mrs. Wells asked.

“Si, they have gone to eat.”

Sarah hoped Mrs. Wells would invite Emilia to join them upstairs, but she left the girl standing in the kitchen, staring longingly after them. Mrs. Wells didn’t speak again until they reached the top of the stairs. Then she turned to face Sarah and Richard.

“Emilia is a perfect example of what we have been able to accomplish here,” she said softly, so no one could overhear. “She was seduced by a wicked man who had no intention of marrying her. When her family found out, they disowned her for her wantonness. You can imagine what she had to do to survive. By the time she came to us, she was completely degraded, but I’m happy to say that she has since repented both of her sins and of her popish ways. She is now a true child of God.”

Dennis nodded in approval, but Sarah couldn’t help wondering what her Irish friend Malloy would have to say about Mrs. Wells’s opinion of Roman Catholics. Of course, the prejudice was practically universal among Protestants, so Sarah couldn’t single the woman out for disapproval.

Upstairs they saw the workrooms where the girls learned various skills. Mrs. Wells pointed out the two sewing machines she’d been able to provide for the girls to practice on. The attic had been converted into a dormitory where the residents slept on rows of identical cots under the sloping roof, all neatly made up with identical blankets.

“What exactly did my wife do when she came here?” Richard asked as they made their way back down the stairs to the first floor.

“Let’s see,” Mrs. Wells said, considering. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m not sure, but I believe she led the singing. She had a fine voice, if I recall.”

“Yes, she did,” Richard confirmed eagerly. “Our friends always enjoyed hearing her sing.”

“I seem to remember she may also have taught sewing. Did she do needlework?”

“She… I believe she did.” He was less confident of this.

They had reached the front hallway, and Mrs. Wells turned to face them. “Mr. Dennis, what your wife did here exactly really isn’t important. The fact that she came at all is what matters. The work she did here helped to save young girls from the streets and prepare them for heaven. You can comfort yourself with knowing her life had meaning and purpose, even if it was shorter than we might have wished. You may also comfort yourself that she is with God. I’m certain of that.”

Her words transformed Richard, finally giving him the consolation he’d sought. “Thank you, Mrs. Wells,” he said gratefully. “You’ve been very kind.”

“Not at all, Mr. Dennis. I’ve simply told the truth,” she said. “Do you have any other questions that I can answer?”

Richard glanced at Sarah, giving her the opportunity to respond. She couldn’t think of any questions, but she did remember something else. “I brought a few things of mine that I thought your residents might be able to use,” she said, indicating the bundle that still sat on the floor in the front parlor.

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Brandt. I know the girls will appreciate your generosity,” Mrs. Wells said with her sweet smile.

“I didn’t bring anything with me,” Richard said, “but you will be receiving a donation from me very soon.”

“That really isn’t necessary, but we will accept it gratefully, in your wife’s memory, Mr. Dennis,” Mrs. Wells said. She could not have said anything that could have pleased Richard more, and to Sarah’s amazement, her voice held no hint that she considered Richard’s money any more important to her ministry than Sarah’s old clothes.

As they walked back down Mulberry Street after taking their leave of Mrs. Wells, Sarah allowed Richard some time to reflect on what he had learned. The noise and activity in the neighborhood didn’t allow for much conversation anyway, so he didn’t really say anything until they were back in the relative quiet of the El station, waiting for the next train to arrive.

“I had no idea,” he finally said. “What would happen to those girls if the mission wasn’t there?”

“Many of them would probably become prostitutes,” Sarah said. “And most of those would die young.”

He frowned, probably not certain whether he should be shocked by the facts or by hearing Sarah say them aloud. Ladies of her class studiously avoided acknowledging that prostitution existed. “I still can’t imagine Hazel in a place like that. I guess you’re right, I didn’t know her at all.”

“I didn’t say that,” Sarah hastily reminded him. “Sometimes we hide things from the people we love. She might not have allowed you to see that side of her. Maybe she thought you’d disapprove.”

“Or maybe she thought I just didn’t care,” he said with a sigh.

“Since we’ll never know for certain, why don’t we decide that you weren’t as much to blame as you are trying to be,” Sarah suggested with a small smile. “I think your grief over losing her is deep enough without punishing yourself with guilt that you might not even deserve.”

“You’re generous, Sarah,” he said, returning her smile with a sad one of his own.

“I’m not generous at all,” she corrected him. “I’m just being reasonable. I thought men appreciated that in a female.”

“I’m learning to,” Richard said with a smile as the train pulled into the station.

Sarah had to stop and catch her breath for a moment before she could tell the nurse what she wanted. She’d practically run most of the way to Dr. Newton’s office in an effort to get there in time for Brian’s appointment to get his cast off. “Is Mr. Malloy still here?” she finally asked.

The nurse smiled in recognition. “Oh, yes, I remember now! You came in with Mr. Malloy the first time. They’re still in with the doctor. Would you like to join them?”

“If it’s all right.”

“I’m sure it is.” The nurse led her back to the examining room.

She opened the door to a strange tableau. Dr. David Newton was hunkered down with one knee on the floor. Malloy was in the same position, facing him and holding Brian, who was making pathetic whimpering sounds and struggling to get free. He was deaf, so he hadn’t learned how to howl in his unhappiness.

Sarah saw at once that the cast was off his foot. There were some angry red lines where Dr. Newton’s knife had cut in order to make the necessary repairs, but otherwise the foot seemed almost perfectly normal in size and shape.

Both men looked up when the door opened, and Dr. Newton instantly rose to his feet. “Sarah,” he said in greeting. “How nice to see you. Mr. Malloy didn’t think you were coming.”

Sarah glanced at Malloy, who was rising more slowly since he had a squirming three-year-old to contend with. He avoided meeting her eye, and Sarah wondered why he looked so angry.

“I had a birth last night,” she explained to David, who had been an old friend of her husband’s. “I got here as quickly as I could,” she added for Malloy’s benefit. Could he be angry because she was late?

Brian had finally noticed her arrival, and now he was reaching out for her, anxious to escape his father. Brian was particularly fond of Sarah because she often brought him presents.

“What have you been doing to the poor boy?” she scolded the men, gladly taking Brian’s small body into her arms. He clung to her fiercely.

“We’ve been trying to get him to put his weight on his foot,” David explained. “He’s never walked, and his foot has been sore for a while, so naturally, he’s reluctant.”

Sarah turned to Malloy. “He’s probably just stubborn, like his father,” she said with a smile. He didn’t smile back. Maybe he really was angry at her. Or maybe he was just upset about Brian and didn’t want to show it. She didn’t bother to wonder how she knew that about him.

Brian was still clinging to her tightly. “Let’s see if we can give him a reason to walk,” Sarah suggested. “Malloy, take him back.”

“He’ll throw a fit,” Malloy protested.

“And he’ll want to get back to me,” Sarah said. “When he does, set him on his feet and let him go.”

“Wonderful idea, Sarah,” David said, moving out of the way to give them room.

Malloy’s dark gaze was unfathomable as he reached out and wrenched Brian away from her. The boy did pitch a fit, arms and legs flailing as garbled sounds erupted from his throat. Malloy held him at arm’s length until Sarah could step back a bit and stoop down, her long skirts pooling around her.

“All right,” she said to Malloy, who slowly lowered the boy to the floor.

“Brian, come here,” Sarah said, forgetting he couldn’t hear her. He didn’t need to hear to know what her outstretched arms meant, though. He tried to drop to his knees so he could crawl across the distance that separated them, but Malloy held him up, allowing his feet to touch the floor but letting him go no farther down.

His normal foot planted on the floor, but he kept drawing up the damaged one each time it touched.

“Come on, Brian!” Sarah urged him, beckoning him with her hands, her smile bright and encouraging. “You can do it!”

Malloy let him move forward a step when his damaged foot came down in front of the other one. The boy looked down in surprise and instantly drew the foot up again. This time, however, he stared at it, as if trying to figure out what it had done.

All the adults in the room held their breath as he tried to decide what to do next. After what seemed an hour, the boy gingerly lowered the damaged foot to the floor again, and this time Malloy quickly reached down and scooted his good foot forward, forcing him to take a step with his weight on the damaged foot. His knee buckled, but Malloy didn’t let him fall.

Brian turned his angel blue eyes to Sarah beseechingly, but she just kept smiling and beckoning. “Come on, sweetheart! You can do it!” she insisted.

He looked down at his foot again and this time lifted it tentatively and placed it down a step ahead. Sarah clapped her hands, and Brian smiled when he looked up and saw it. He wanted desperately to please her. She pointed at his normal foot and motioned for him to move it forward.

His beautiful face screwed up with mingled apprehension and determination. He tried one more beseeching glance, but Sarah nodded and beckoned again. “That’s right, you can do it!”

As quickly as he could, he threw his good foot forward a step, putting his weight on the damaged foot for only the briefest of seconds. But when he looked up, he saw Sarah was laughing and clapping again, cheering him on. Two more halting steps, and he had almost reached her. Frantically, he pried Malloy’s fingers from his hips, then lunged forward on his own, walking unaided for the first time in his life, and collapsed into Sarah’s arms.

She hugged him to her, fairly squealing with delight. David’s strong hands helped her to stand upright, and she swung Brian around in joyous celebration.

“Never underestimate the power of a beautiful woman, Mr. Malloy,” David was saying.

Sarah turned to Malloy to share this wonderful moment, but he wasn’t smiling. Could he possibly be unhappy that Brian could finally walk? Instinctively, she knew she had to make him part of this. “Now I’ll send him back to you, Malloy,” she said.

She carefully untangled the boy’s arms and legs from around her and turned him to face his father, then bent down and set him back on his feet. Malloy hesitated only an instant before going down on one knee again and reaching out for his son.

This time Brian knew what he was supposed to do. The damaged foot tentatively found the floor again, and when Malloy reached out, Brian began lurching clumsily toward him. Sarah held on to keep him from falling, but after a few steps, he impatiently pushed her hands away. He wanted to do it himself!

She let him go, hands still hovering only inches away, to catch him if he fell. But he didn’t fall. He staggered triumphantly into his father’s arms. Malloy enveloped him, burying his face in the sweet curve of the boy’s neck. Sarah felt the sting of tears as she stepped back.

Brian could walk. The wonder of it washed over her, leaving her weak with gratitude. “You’ve done a miracle, David.”

“All in a day’s work,” he demurred. “Bring Brian into the office when you’re ready, Mr. Malloy,” he added. Taking Sarah’s elbow, he guided her into his adjoining office and drew the connecting door almost shut behind them, allowing Malloy a measure of privacy to deal with his emotions.

For herself, Sarah could hardly hold back her own, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what Malloy must be feeling. Brian would be able to walk. Soon he could run and play in the street like other children. His world would no longer be limited to the small flat where he lived with his grandmother.

And he would never become another cripple begging on the streets for his livelihood.

“Anne is angry with you,” David was saying as he seated himself behind his desk. Anne was his wife and a dear friend of Sarah’s.

“I hated breaking our dinner engagement, but I can’t plan my schedule the way you can,” she reminded him. “Babies come when they want to.”

“I was instructed to tell you that we expect you for dinner tomorrow evening, no excuses.”

“I’ll be there if you promise to allow me to come early so I can play with the children.”

“I’m sure we would all be delighted,” David assured her. They chatted for a few more minutes, and Sarah was grateful for the distraction. By the time Malloy brought Brian into the office, she had regained her composure.

But she almost lost it again when she saw that Brian was walking. Malloy held his hand and was giving him more than ordinary support, but he was taking his own steps, however uncertain. His small face was a study in determination and pride as he glanced up to see her reaction.

This time she didn’t try to hold back the tears. Her eyes filled and overflowed even as she laughed in delight. “Oh, Malloy, isn’t it wonderful?”

But when she looked up at him, his expression remained grim. “He’s still deaf,” he reminded her.

She felt as if he’d slapped her. She stared up at him, but he didn’t even glance at her as he took the other chair and hoisted Brian into his lap.

David had been shocked, too, but he was too professional to let it to show. He explained to Malloy what to expect and answered his questions. All the while, Brian kept examining his new foot, tracing the scars with his finger and poking and prodding and wiggling his toes, then comparing his two feet and silently marveling at how alike they now were.

His wonder was enchanting, but Sarah still felt the sting of Malloy’s rebuke. What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he overjoyed? And why on earth was he taking his anger out on her?

When David was finished and Malloy had no more questions, Malloy gathered Brian up and rose. He shook David’s hand and thanked him. Then he turned to Sarah, nodded, and took his leave. Brian reached back longingly. Plainly, he wanted her to come along with them, but Malloy didn’t even glance back.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” David said to Sarah, pretending not to notice how rude Malloy had been. “Come as early as you like. Anne will be glad for the company.”

Sarah made her own escape as quickly as propriety would allow and hurried out into the street, hoping to catch up with Malloy and confront him. Luckily, the traffic had stopped them at the corner, so she was able to simply encounter them without resorting to any unseemly behavior, such as running after them or calling out.

Brian saw her first, and he squealed with joy and flung himself toward her. Caught by surprise, Malloy would have dropped him, but Sarah saved the boy from falling to the pavement and took him into her arms.

“I’m happy to see you, too, Brian,” she said, settling him on her hip. He was touching her face and looking up at her new hat. He seemed to approve of it. “It seems the operation was a success,” she tried on Malloy.

“My mother will be glad,” he replied, not quite meeting her eye. “You didn’t have to come today,” he added gruffly.

“I told you I’d be here if I could,” she reminded him.

“You’ve got better things to do than worry about the likes of us.” His jaw was set in the stubborn line she’d seen too many times before.

She’d thought he was upset because she was late for the appointment, but could he possibly be angry that she’d come at all? “If you didn’t want me here, you should have said so,” she said.

This time he looked straight at her, his eyes as dark as she’d ever seen them. “You should be with your own kind, Sarah.”

At that moment, there was a break in the traffic, and he snatched Brian from her and hurried across the street. Brian’s small arms were still reaching back for her when they disappeared behind the closing wall of carriages and hacks.

Stunned, Sarah could only stand there staring until the people walking by began to make remarks about her blocking the way. Then she started blindly down the street, walking in the opposite direction, as much to get away as to get to someplace else.

The worst part was that she didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt. Other people had certainly advised her that she should confine herself to associations with people of her own social class. Her parents had done so many times, as had her old friends. Some were well meaning, and others were snobs. She had ignored them all and done what she pleased.

What she pleased was to continue the work that her husband Tom had begun, providing medical services to everyone who needed it, regardless of their ability to pay. Sarah wasn’t a physician, but she could save the lives of mothers and their babies, so that’s what she did.

In the six months she’d known Frank Malloy, she thought he’d come to respect her, and even to approve of her. The last thing she’d ever expected was to hear him say she should be with her “own kind.” An hour ago, she would have said that Frank Malloy was her own kind! Now he was warning her away from him.

She had to admit it: he’d hurt her. She hadn’t known until this moment how much she valued his opinion of her. When the people she loved most in the world begged her at every opportunity to turn her back on all that she found fulfilling in life, he had accepted her as a competent professional, someone whom he consulted on matters of importance. She’d even helped him solve a number of murders. Just last week, she’d kept an innocent person from being executed, and all on her own, she’d made sure her neighbor’s son got to keep his position at the bank Richard Dennis owned. Even Malloy couldn’t have influenced Richard the way she had!

The thought stopped her in her tracks and caused the gentleman behind her to nearly fall in his hasty effort to avoid colliding with her. She apologized profusely as he regained his balance and sidled around her, not certain what to make of a woman so lost in thought she was paying no attention to anything else.

Only then did she realize she was back on the corner where Malloy had left her. She’d made a complete circle of the block.

“Malloy, you’re jealous!” she whispered to the spot where he had disappeared with Brian into the traffic. She really shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d been quite upset when she told him she was going to the opera with Richard. She’d thought they had parted on good terms last Friday, but his behavior today proved she was wrong. Now all she had to do was figure out if he really did think she should stay with her own kind.

And if he did, what she should do about it.

Frank should have been pleased. A woman had been found dead in City Hall Park, and he’d been selected for the case because of his reputation for handling difficult situations with care. Nobody knew who the woman was, but she’d been well dressed. Nobody knew how she’d died, either, but if she’d been killed – in broad daylight on the doorstep of City Hall – nobody wanted a scandal. Unlike many of his colleagues, Frank could be counted upon not to offend the wrong people and not to let the press hear anything they shouldn’t.

The Elevated Train ran right down to City Hall, so Frank got on at Bleeker Street. The morning rush was over, and he got a seat all to himself and a few minutes to collect his thoughts. Unfortunately, he didn’t particularly want to collect his thoughts, because every time he did, Sarah Brandt turned up in them.

He hadn’t admitted to himself how badly he’d wanted her there when Brian got his cast off. She’d gone to so much trouble to make sure her friend operated on his son, but it was more than that. He’d needed her there. He’d needed to share the anxiety and the joy with her. She was the only one who could truly understand.

Of course, he’d told her she didn’t have to come. He didn’t want her to feel any sense of obligation. Or pity. He and Brian were nothing to her, after all. Yet still he’d been hoping…

And then she’d come. Breathless from hurrying, her cheeks rosy and her eyes shining, she’d looked like a goddess. Brian had thrown himself into her arms, and Frank had longed to do the same. Jealous of his own son, jealous of the doctor whose friendship entitled him to call her Sarah, and jealous of Richard Dennis, whose position in life gave him the right to court her, Frank had hardly dared look her in the eye for fear he would betray the feelings to which he had no right.

As the train lurched to a stop at the next station and passengers began to come and go in the car, Frank rubbed his head. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Every time he closed his eyes, he’d see her face and the hurt in her eyes just before he’d snatched Brian from her arms and fled.

She’d never speak to him again, but that was as it should be. She never should have spoken to him in the first place. He never should have gotten to know her. He never should have allowed her to help him solve any murders. And he never should have let her help Brian.

But he had. She’d done him a favor, her good deed for the year. She’d been repaying him for the cases he’d solved for her, because she was the only one who cared if they ever were or not. They were even. Or at least she needn’t feel she was in his debt.

But each time his son took a step, he realized he would be in her debt forever.

That probably also meant he’d remember her forever. It couldn’t be any harder than losing Kathleen, he reasoned. He’d thought the pain of losing his wife would kill him, and here he was, three years later, alive and well. Of course, Kathleen had died, so he didn’t have any choice about accepting that. He couldn’t see her again, and she wasn’t there somewhere in the city, living without him. He’d certainly never had to worry about meeting her accidentally and not knowing how he’d react if he did. He’d had no choice but to let Kathleen go.

Sarah Brandt was another story, at least until one of them was dead. Maybe then he’d be able to stop thinking about her. And wondering if things might have been different if… if everything about them had been different.

Finally, the train stopped at City Hall, and Frank rose wearily from his seat and made his way out of the station. Glad for the distraction from his own, painful thoughts, he let himself be caught up in the roar of the street. People of all descriptions milled and mingled in the shadow of the city’s government. Each day, hundreds of them took the train or walked across the bridge from Brooklyn. Dozens of street vendors waited, ready to sell them whatever they might need. The crowds ebbed and flowed around the government buildings and those nearby on Newspaper Row, where the major papers had their offices.

City Hall itself sprawled for a block, its marble front gleaming in the morning sunlight. Wide steps led up to the columned portico, inviting all who were not too intimidated to enter and be heard.

For several years the politicians had been talking about building a new City Hall. This one was too small for such a large city, and the cheap brownstone they’d originally used on the back of the building was crumbling. Nearly a hundred years ago, no one had imagined the city growing northward beyond that point, so the back of the building hadn’t seemed important. Now, of course, the city stretched northward for miles, and thousands of people saw the back of City Hall with its crumbling brownstone every day.

The report had said the dead woman had been found in the park across from City Hall. Frank crossed the busy street and entered the relative sanctuary of the park. Recent rains had stripped most of the leaves from the trees, but the grass was still green, or at least what he could see of it beneath the leafy covering. He quickly spotted his destination. A small crowd had gathered and several uniformed officers were keeping them back, guarding the place where the body lay.

One of the officers had covered the woman with his coat. She was lying on the ground in front of a bench, as if she’d been sitting there, tried to rise, and fallen down dead. Frank saw no signs of a struggle. The leaves on the ground around her were undisturbed. He pushed his way into the circle the officers were maintaining.

“Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy,” he told them, showing his badge.

The three young men seemed relieved to finally have someone in authority present.

“ ’Morning, sir,” the one without a coat said. He was Jewish. Another one of Commissioner Roosevelt’s innovations. Frank wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to seeing Jews on the force, but he supposed as long as they did their job, it was all right. “I’m Eisenberg.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“Well, now, I was walking my beat this morning, just like usual, when this fellow comes up and says a woman is laying on the ground over here. I thought it might be a whore or something, passed out drunk. They don’t like that kind of thing in the park, so I goes over to take a look.” He glanced down at the body. “She was just laying there. Her face was all blue like. I knew she was dead. Couldn’t be that color and still be alive, could you? Her eyes was open, too, just staring.”

Frank glanced at the body again. “Had she been interfered with?”

Eisenberg glanced at the body, too. “I didn’t look for that,” he said, appalled.

Frank sighed. “I mean, were her skirts down like that when you found her?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, sir. She was just like that. We didn’t touch her or anything. Just threw my coat over her, so people wouldn’t be gawking.” He gave the gathering crowd a derisive glance. “Didn’t stop ’em, though.”

“I sent for an ambulance to take her to the morgue,” Frank said. “But I want to have a look at her before they get here.”

“Wasn’t a mark on her that I could see,” Eisenberg reported as they stepped over to the body. Frank would have them sift through the leaves when the body was gone, to make sure nothing had been dropped or left behind.

“She was probably strangled,” Frank said.

“I thought that, too, but like I said, didn’t see no bruises on her neck or anything.” Eisenberg gingerly lifted his coat from the body, which lay facedown in the leaves, the head turned away from him. “I never saw nobody turn that color blue when they was strangled, either.”

Frank stared down at the woman for a long moment, his mind unable quite to comprehend what he was seeing. A woman. Blond hair. An ugly hat he knew well, lying nearby where it had been jarred loose when she fell. Brian had tried to pull that flower off the last time he’d seen it. Frank heard a strange roaring in his ears, as if the El were running right through his head.

“Sir? Are you all right?” Eisenberg’s voice seemed to come from very far away.

Frank opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He wasn’t all right, and he would never be all right again.

The dead woman was Sarah Brandt.