Murder on Sisters' Row

8

FRANK WHISTLED. “I DON’T SUPPOSE SHE WAS JUST SHOWING her respect for Mrs. Van Orner.”

“Not that I noticed. In fact, I got the feeling she knew exactly how much she was hurting Mrs. Van Orner when she announced it.”

“Could Van Orner really be the baby’s father?”

“Only two people know that for sure, and I doubt Mr. Van Orner will be very happy to discuss the matter with us.”

“I think you’re probably right. If he is the father, though, then this Amy had a good reason to want Mrs. Van Orner dead.”

“That’s what my mother said, too, but Amy would be foolish to do something so dangerous. She was a prostitute. She surely can’t expect Mr. Van Orner to marry her, even if the baby is his.”

“She’s young, isn’t she? Young women get foolish ideas.”

“I suppose they do. Is that what you want me to find out?”

“I want you to find out who spent time with Mrs. Van Orner yesterday, what they talked about, and what her state of mind was. I also want you to find out where her purse with the flask in it was while she was meeting with these people.”

“To find out if someone could have put the laudanum into it while she was busy doing something else.”

“Yes, but don’t ask anybody if they did it.”

The look she gave him would’ve curdled milk. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I know you’re not, but one of those women is a murderer, and I don’t want you to be next.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t even like crème de menthe.”

“They could put it in anything,” he said, exasperated.

“I won’t eat or drink anything in that house. Will that make you happy?”

“I wouldn’t say happy, but it’s a start.”

“Is there anything else you want me to find out?”

“If you think I should talk to any of them myself, see if you can get them to come out and meet with me.”

“I doubt any of them will be particularly interested in meeting with a police detective.”

“Then lie to them.”

She pursed her lips to hold back a smile, an expression he knew well. “Where will you be?”

“A coffee shop on the next block. We’ll pass by it on our way, so you’ll know where it is. I’ll wait for you there.”

“I just happened to think, I doubt Mrs. Spratt-Williams will be at the house today. Maybe you can see her at her own house.”

If this Spratt-Williams woman was as rich as Van Orner, he doubted she’d be particularly happy to see him. “Maybe.”

They crossed another busy street, and Frank went over some of the questions he wanted her to ask of the women in the house. Then he showed her the coffee shop where he’d be waiting, and accompanied her to her destination, standing out on the sidewalk to make sure they let her in. Then he walked back to the coffee shop, prepared for a long, boring afternoon.

LISA BIAFORE ANSWERED SARAH’S KNOCK. THE POOR girl looked frazzled, her dark hair straggling down out of its bun, her eyes red-rimmed and sad. “Oh, Mrs. Brandt, isn’t it? I almost didn’t recognize you. Have you heard about poor Mrs. Van Orner . . .” Her voice broke, and she pressed a hand to her lips to hold back a sob.

“Yes, I did,” Sarah said, taking this opportunity to step inside. “I’m so sorry. I came to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

“I don’t know of anything,” Lisa said, using the tail of her apron to wipe her eyes. “Unless you can tell us what’s going to happen to Mrs. Van Orner’s work now that she’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“This house and all of us. Will they shut it down? Where will we go? Nobody’s told us anything, and there’s not enough money here to keep us for more than a week. After that . . .”

Her concerns were legitimate, and Sarah couldn’t imagine Mr. Van Orner continuing to finance a houseful of former prostitutes. “Have you seen Mrs. Spratt-Williams?”

“No, not yet. Just Miss Yingling. She came by late last night to tell us about Mrs. Van Orner. She looked so different, I hardly recognized her. Acted different, too, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She didn’t seem sad at all about poor Mrs. Van Orner either.”

“I’m sure she was just trying to put on a brave front,” Sarah said. “Mrs. Van Orner wouldn’t have approved of any displays of grief.”

“You’re right about that, Mrs. Brandt. I never saw her even look angry until yesterday and then just for a minute, before she caught herself.”

“When was that?” Sarah asked, trying not to sound too interested.

“After she had a talk with that Amy. What a piece of work she is. I don’t know why Mrs. Van Orner didn’t throw her out into the street.”

“I can see this has been very hard on you, Lisa. Can I make you some tea?”

“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I couldn’t let you do that!”

“Of course you could. That’s what friends are for. Come along and let me take care of you.”

The girl allowed Sarah to escort her back to the kitchen, but she insisted on helping prepare the tea things, since Sarah didn’t know where anything was. After a few minutes, they were seated at the kitchen table, waiting for the tea to steep.

“Can you tell me what happened here yesterday?”

“You mean about the fight Amy had with Mrs. Van Orner?”

“I mean everything, from the time Mrs. Van Orner arrived until she left.”

“I suppose,” the girl said doubtfully.

“I’ll help you remember,” Sarah said. “What was the first thing Mrs. Van Orner did when she arrived?”

Lisa screwed up her face with the effort of remembering. “What she always did. She went into her office with Miss Yingling, and they looked over the accounts.”

“She kept track of how much you spent here?”

“Oh, yes. Her husband didn’t give her any money for this house, you see. He didn’t like her doing this sort of work at all.”

“How did she pay for it then?”

“She had some money of her own, I think, and her friends helped. But we had to be very careful. Sometimes she had to bring us food from her own house so we’d have enough.”

“So she and Miss Yingling were in her office together. Was anyone with them?”

“They called me in and asked me some questions about some things I’d bought, but just for a minute. Then I told her Amy wanted to see her.”

“Why did Amy want to see her?”

“I don’t know, probably to complain. That’s all she ever did. She didn’t like the food, she didn’t like her room, she didn’t like the clothes we got for her. Nothing was ever good enough for her. You’d think she’d forgot she’d been a whore when she came here with nothing but the clothes on her back.”

“How is her baby doing?” Sarah had to ask.

“Oh, he’s doing fine. Fat little thing, cute as a button. Not that she cares. She complains about having to feed him, too. If it was up to her, he’d never have a clean diaper either. The other girls and me, we look after him.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“It’s only natural, ain’t it? To want to take care of a baby, even if it’s not yours?”

“Yes, it is, or at least it should be.”

Sarah checked the tea and judged it to be ready. She poured each of them a cup, remembering too late her promise to Malloy not to eat or drink anything. Of course, she’d prepared this with her own hands, so she thought it was pretty safe. “Where are the rest of the girls?”

“There’s only two here now, and they’re in their rooms. I think they’re scared of what’s going to happen to them. We’ve all been real quiet today.”

“So Amy and Mrs. Van Orner had a talk. Was Miss Yingling with them?”

“Oh, no. Mrs. Van Orner sent her out. Amy wouldn’t have nothing to do with Miss Yingling, and Miss Yingling didn’t have much use for Amy neither.”

“Did you happen to overhear anything?”

“Do you mean were they shouting? Oh, no, Mrs. Van Orner was too well bred to shout. Not like my family was. They’d scream about every little thing. I had a hard time of it when I first come here. Mrs. Van Orner always says a lady doesn’t raise her voice. Took a long time for me to learn that.”

“I still have a difficult time with it,” Sarah confided. “So you didn’t hear anything they said. How did Amy act when she came out?”

“You mean was she mad or something?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“She wasn’t mad, that’s for sure.”

“Happy?”

“No, not that. I never seen Amy happy. Seems like nothing pleases her.”

“Sad? Disappointed?”

“Oh, no, just the opposite. She . . . she looked like the cat who swallowed the canary.”

“Satisfied?”

“That’s it. Satisfied, like she got her way about something.”

“Did she say anything about it?”

“Her? Not likely. She kept to herself. Never wanted nobody to know her business. Of course, we all figured she didn’t have any business. She liked to pretend she had secrets, but nobody ever coaxed her to tell them.”

“What do you think her secrets were about?”

“I don’t know. She called her baby Gregory. That’s Mr. Van Orner’s name, and she knowed it, too. That’s why she did it, I’m sure. She was mean that way.”

“Maybe she named her baby after Mrs. Van Orner’s husband out of gratitude for what Mrs. Van Orner had done for her.”

Lisa snorted rudely. “Not likely. If she was grateful, she never let on. No, I think she did it to be mean. It hurt Mrs. Van Orner, too. You could tell, even though she never said a thing. She never had children of her own, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“She never talked about it to me, of course, but Miss Yingling told me never to mention it to her. Said it was one of the biggest disappointments of her life.”

“I was here the day Amy named her baby,” Sarah reminded her. “She said she was naming him after his father.”

“Oh, law, did she? That little witch! I don’t suppose she’s ever set eyes on Mr. Van Orner neither. I’m glad she’s gone.”

“You’re glad Mrs. Van Orner’s gone?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“Oh, no, I’m glad Amy’s gone, and good riddance to her, too.”

“She’s gone? What happened to her?” If Mrs. Van Orner had thrown her out . . .

“She packed up and left this morning right after breakfast. Never said nothing to nobody.”

“Did she take the baby?”

“Oh, yes. She wouldn’t part with him. She said he was her future, whatever that meant. I just wonder who’s gonna change his diapers now. Not her, I’m sure.”

“Where would she have gone?”

“Lord knows, maybe back to that house where she worked before. Girls always think they’ll take them back, but they never do. They can’t trust them no more. I don’t see why it matters, since they never trusted them to start with, but that’s how it is. She’ll be on the street, I suppose.”

Sarah thought of the poor, innocent baby, and her heart ached. They were getting off the subject, though. Malloy would never let that happen. “So you thought Amy looked satisfied after her meeting with Mrs. Van Orner. How did Mrs. Van Orner look?”

“That’s when I told you she looked mad. Not like a normal person would, mind you, but mad for her. She had her mouth all pinched together and her eyes was all bright, like she had a fire inside of her. Then she saw me looking at her, and she quick went back in her office and shut the door.”

Sarah remembered the way Mrs. Van Orner usually calmed herself down. “Did she have her purse in the office with her?”

“Her purse?”

“Yes, her purse. I know it doesn’t sound important, but it is.”

Lisa looked confused but she gave the question some thought. “I don’t know for sure. I wasn’t looking for it.”

“Where did she usually put it when she was here?”

“Oh, I know. She usually put it on the table in the hall. I remember because the first time I saw her do it, I said she should keep it with her, considering the type of women who live in this house, and she said to me—I’ll never forget—she said, ‘Miss Biafore, we must treat these women the same way we would treat them if they was respectable if we ever hope they will become respectable.’ ”

“So she usually left her purse out where anyone could have found it?”

“Yes, and as far as I know, nobody ever bothered it.”

Sarah didn’t mention that someone had undoubtedly bothered it yesterday. “So what else did Mrs. Van Orner do after she met with Amy?”

“She was only in the office alone for a few minutes before Mrs. Spratt-Williams went in to see her.”

“Had Mrs. Spratt-Williams just arrived?”

“Oh, no, she was here for a while. She’d brought over some things for the baby and some clothes she’d collected at her church. For the women. They never have decent clothes when they come here.”

“Do you know what she talked with Mrs. Van Orner about?”

Lisa stiffened slightly. “No. They don’t tell me their business.”

“But you have an idea.”

“How could I have an idea? They don’t tell me nothing.”

“Miss Yingling said you were the last one to speak with Mrs. Van Orner before she left the house yesterday.”

“I guess I was,” she said unhappily.

“Did she seem angry or upset about anything?”

Lisa shook her head. “She was always kind to me. I told her Amy was causing all kinds of trouble, and she said I shouldn’t worry about it. She said Amy would be gone soon.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yes, she seemed like she was in a hurry, and she left right after that. Miss Yingling came asking after her a few minutes later and was real surprised that she’d left without her. I was, too.”

“So she must have had something on her mind that distracted her. Can you think of what it might have been?”

Lisa stared at Sarah for a long moment, as if trying to judge her intent, and then she shook her head.

Sarah knew she was lying. She reached over and laid her hand on Lisa’s arm. “You’ve been in charge of this place for a long time. I’m sure you know everything that goes on here. You’re not being disloyal to talk about it now, and you might help us find out who killed Mrs. Van Orner.”

Lisa’s dark eyes widened. “Killed? You don’t mean she was murdered!”

Sarah wanted to bite her tongue. “Well, they don’t know for sure,” she hedged quickly.

“Miss Yingling never said nothing about murder. She said Mrs. Van Orner died real sudden, that’s all.”

“That’s all she knew then. As I said, we aren’t really sure yet.”

“What do they think killed her then?”

“She may have eaten something that . . .” Sarah gestured vaguely.

Lisa’s eyes widened with horror. “She was poisoned?”

“It’s possible.”

“Not from something she ate here. She never ate nothing here. She and Miss Yingling, they was always real careful not to use up our supplies. She’d hardly drink a cup of coffee here.”

“Did she drink any yesterday?”

“Not that I know of. She was pretty busy. No, if somebody poisoned her, it was probably somebody at her own house.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because that’s where she ate her food, isn’t it? She didn’t get no poison here.”

“Do you keep anything here that could be poisonous?”

“You mean like rat poison?”

“Yes, or . . .” Sarah pretended to think. “Or medicines. Some medicines can be dangerous if you use too much.”

“We keep Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, of course. When you’ve got a houseful of females, you need to be prepared for female complaints. We’ve got Dr. Morse’s Indian Root Pills, I think, and I know we’ve got some Pine Toothache drops. I used them myself last month.”

“Mrs. Van Orner mentioned laudanum to me when Amy first came here. I remember because I told her I didn’t like to use it because it passes through the milk and makes the baby sleep too much.”

“Oh, yes, I think we do have some.”

“Could you check and see?”

Lisa frowned. “I told you already, it don’t matter. Mrs. Van Orner never got poisoned here.”

“I know, but could you check anyway? Just to be sure? We don’t want anyone here to be falsely accused of anything.”

This was something Lisa could understand. “I never thought of that! I’ll check right away.” She jumped up and went to the pantry. Reaching up to the top shelf, she pulled down a small wooden box that contained an assortment of patent medicine bottles and started sorting through it. “Here it is.” She pulled out a small brown bottle and held it up. Then she shook it and looked at it more closely. “That’s funny.”

Sarah felt the hairs on her arms prickling. “What?”

“It’s empty.”

FRANK HAD READ THREE NEWSPAPERS AND FELT NO BETTER informed than he had been before. He looked up automatically when the coffee shop door opened and was surprised to see Sarah. For a minute, he thought she might have brought someone for him to question, but she was alone. He rose from his chair and pulled out another at his table for her. “That didn’t take long.”

“There was a bottle of laudanum at the house, but it’s empty. Miss Biafore is certain it was nearly full the last time she noticed it. She would have bought more if she knew someone had used the last of it.”

“So that could be what killed her. Did you find out where her purse was?”

“Not for certain, but Miss Biafore said she usually just laid it on the table in the hallway. She wanted the women who lived there to think she trusted them.”

“But you don’t know for sure?”

“No. I’ll have to ask Miss Yingling and Mrs. Spratt-Williams if they remember.”

“Either of them could be the killer, you know.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Miss Yingling is the one who convinced Mr. Van Orner to let you investigate, and I can’t think of any possible reason why Mrs. Spratt-Williams would want to kill her friend.”

“Just because you can’t think of it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. What did that girl Amy have to say for herself?”

“I didn’t see her. She’s gone.”

“What do you mean, she’s gone?”

“I mean she packed up herself and her baby and left this morning.”

“Where did she go?”

“They don’t know. She didn’t even tell anyone she was leaving. Lisa—Miss Biafore—thinks she may have gone back to Mrs. Walker’s house.”

“Why would she go there? Mrs. Walker was going to give her baby away.”

“I didn’t say she did. I said that’s all Lisa could think of. I don’t think Amy had any money of her own, and if she had family, why didn’t she go there before? Nothing else makes sense.”

“What about the other women in the house?”

“I talked to both of them, but they’re too frightened to be much help. They don’t remember anything that happened yesterday or even who was in the house. They never noticed Mrs. Van Orner’s purse or who she talked to. I can’t imagine either of them would want to kill her. Without her, they don’t have any hope at all.”

“You’re probably right, and Amy running away doesn’t look good for her,” Frank said.

“But we still don’t know any reason why she’d want Mrs. Van Orner dead, and if she did have one, wouldn’t she stay around to benefit from it?”

“Maybe she’s afraid of getting caught.”

“When Miss Yingling came over last night to tell them the news, she didn’t say Mrs. Van Orner was murdered, only that she’d died suddenly. It’s possible nobody would have ever figured out she was poisoned. Why run away until there was real danger?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t think we’ll figure out the answer until we find Amy.”

“And if she killed Mrs. Van Orner, we may never find her.” Sarah sighed. “What should we do next?”

Frank flinched inwardly at the “we,” but he had to admit he still needed her help. “Would Mrs. Spratt-Williams see you?”

“I’m sure she would. She may not even know Mrs. Van Orner is dead yet. I think a condolence call would be in order in any case. I can even express concern about the future of Rahab’s Daughters. The women at the rescue house are terrified they’ll be turned out.”

“They probably will be unless this Mrs. Spratt-Williams is willing to keep it going.”

“Even if she’s willing, she may not be able. According to Miss Biafore, Mrs. Van Orner supported it with money of her own, not what she got from her husband, and also some she got from friends. Even still, they were often short of funds.”

“So that’ll give you a reason to call on Mrs. Spratt-Williams. Miss Yingling gave me her address.”

“What will you do?”

“I’ll call on those two fellows who helped with the rescues.”

“Potter and what was the other man’s name?”

“Quimby.”

Sarah frowned. “Neither of them were with her at all yesterday. What could they possibly tell you?”

“I won’t know that until I talk to them.

“Where shall we plan to meet later?”

“I’ll come by your house tomorrow.”

Sarah took her leave, so she’d arrive at Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s house in time to make a socially acceptable afternoon visit. Frank watched her go with a sick feeling in his stomach. How the hell did she always mange to get mixed up in his cases?

MRS. SPRATT-WILLIAMS LIVED IN A TOWN HOUSE A FEW blocks from Sarah’s parents’ home on the Upper West Side. It was furnished modestly but in good taste. Mrs. Spratt-Williams received Sarah in the family parlor. She wasn’t dressed for company, and she looked as if she might have been crying.

“What a surprise, Mrs. Brandt. Please excuse my appearance, but I suppose you’ve heard about poor Vivian.”

“Yes, I did. What a shock. I’m so very sorry.”

“You can’t imagine how distraught I am. I’ve known Vivian for years and years. She was like a sister to me.”

“I’m sure she must have felt the same way. I know she appreciated your help with Rahab’s Daughters.”

“Oh, yes. I was the first one she came to when she got the idea for it. She said to me, ‘Tonya’—she always called me Tonya. My real name is Antonia, but she shortened it to Tonya when we were girls—she said, ‘Tonya, we must do something for all these unfortunate women in the city.’ ”

“It seems a very unusual thing for ladies like you to be concerned with,” Sarah observed.

“Vivian was an unusual woman, and . . . well, she had her reasons, I suppose,” she added with what might have been a hint of distaste.

Sarah decided not to mention the rumors about Mr. Van Orner, at least not yet. “I understand she supported the work with her own money.”

“Yes, she had a small inheritance, from an aunt, I think. She used the income from that and some of her allowance, I’m sure.”

“And her friends helped, too, I suppose.”

“Those of us who were involved, of course. I gave her what I could. I’m a widow, you see, and I have limited resources. I believe the gentlemen were more generous.”

Sarah knew what it cost to run a house like this, and she suspected Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s resources were limited only by her own choices. “I was just at the rescue house to see if there was anything I could do to help. Miss Biafore is quite concerned about what will become of Rahab’s Daughters now.”

“Oh, dear, I’m sure no one has given that a moment’s thought. I know I just heard about Mrs. Van Orner this morning.”

“How did you hear?”

“Miss Yingling sent me a note. I assume she notified the others as well. Isn’t that how you heard?”

Sarah chose to ignore the question. “I believe you were with Mrs. Van Orner just before she died.”

“Was I? I had no idea. I didn’t know when it happened. Or even where. Was it at the rescue house?”

“No, shortly after she left, I believe. In her carriage.”

“In her carriage? How horrible. But of course, Miss Yingling was with her, so at least she wasn’t alone.”

“Miss Yingling wasn’t with her.”

“She wasn’t? How strange.”

“Why was it strange?”

“I . . .” She had to think about that. “Wasn’t Vivian going home? Miss Yingling lives with the Van Orners, so naturally I assumed she was with her. They always leave together.”

“Not that day. After she spoke with you, Mrs. Van Orner was upset about something, and she didn’t wait for Miss Yingling. Do you have any idea what she was upset about?”

The color rose in Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s face. “I hope you aren’t accusing any of us of causing her to have apoplexy or something.”

“Apoplexy?” Sarah asked in confusion.

“Or heart failure or whatever she died of. I assume from your questions that they believe something that happened that day caused her to die very suddenly. A shock of some kind, perhaps.”

“Did she have a shock that day?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she insisted, even though her face was scarlet.

“You were one of the last people to speak with her before she died,” Sarah reminded her. “Did she seem to be in shock?”

“I . . . I have no idea. Vivian was . . . She wasn’t one to let her emotions show.”

“Did she seem out of sorts? Not herself?”

“I don’t remember.”

Sarah took a chance. “Was she drinking more than usual?”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s eyes widened and the color drained from her face. “Drinking? What are you talking about?”

“Everyone knows about the flask she carried with her,” Sarah lied. “And how she would take a sip or two to calm herself.”

“You’re mistaken!”

“Drinking alcohol when you’ve had a shock can sometimes cause a . . . an unfortunate reaction,” she tried. “If that’s what happened to Mrs. Van Orner, then it’s no one’s fault, is it?”

There, she’d given Mrs. Spratt-Williams a chance to clear her conscience, if she’d been blaming herself.

“Do you think that’s what happened?” she asked, almost hopefully.

“It would make sense.”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams closed her eyes and sighed, as if a weight had been lifted from her. “I’m afraid that Vivian and I did have words yesterday. I’ll never forgive myself if that caused her death.”

“What did you discuss? Maybe it wasn’t really that upsetting to her,” she added, lest she be thought simply nosy.

“Oh, dear, I don’t know if it was or not. With Vivian, it was so hard to tell. She never allowed her true feelings to show. Her mother always taught her it was unladylike.”

“I’d be happy to give you my opinion,” Sarah said, fighting the urge to shake the story out of her.

“Oh, I don’t suppose it could matter now. I was only trying to help, you see. She wanted to put Amy out of the house. She was so unpleasant, and the other girls hated her. She even refused to look after her baby, but . . . Well, Amy has had a difficult time of it. I know because she told me her story. When you know what she’s been through, you can understand why she’s so angry. I’m afraid I’ve become quite fond of the girl and her darling little boy.”

“Did Mrs. Van Orner argue with you?”

“No, not really. She just . . . She simply refused to discuss it. I tried every argument I could think of, but she wouldn’t budge.”

“And did you see her with her . . . her flask?”

“No, I didn’t. I never saw her actually drink from it, not once in all the years I’ve known her. I could smell it on her, though. She used those peppermints, and they fooled most people, I suppose, but not those of us who knew.”

“And who else knew?” Because, Sarah realized, only someone who knew about the flask would have thought to poison it.

Mrs. Spratt-Williams stiffened at the question, offended in some way Sarah certainly hadn’t intended. “I thought you said everyone knew.”

Lying always got her in trouble. “I was guessing. As far as I know, only one other person knew.”

“Poor Vivian. She’d be mortified to know people were talking about her this way. What difference could that possibly make now anyway?”

Malloy would be furious, but Sarah knew instinctively that she must tell Mrs. Spratt-Williams the truth if she hoped to get any more useful information out of her. “Because Mrs. Van Orner didn’t die of shock or apoplexy or heart failure. She was poisoned.”

“Poisoned!” The hand Mrs. Spratt-Williams lifted to her heart trembled. “How on earth could she have been poisoned?”

“Someone put the poison in her flask, and when she got into her carriage, she took a drink from it, as she often did when she was upset. By the time she arrived home, she was dead.”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams went white to her lips and her eyes rolled back in her head. Sarah was beside her at once, chaffing her wrists and lightly slapping her cheeks to keep her from losing consciousness.

“Some . . . brandy . . .” the poor woman managed, indicting a sideboard.

Sarah hurried over, found the right bottle, and poured her a medicinal dose. She held the glass to Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s lips, and after a few sips and a round of coughing, the woman no longer looked as if she was going to faint.

“I’m very sorry,” Sarah said. “I shouldn’t have been so blunt, but we need your help if we’re going to find out who killed Mrs. Van Orner.”

This only distressed her more. “Who is this ‘we’ you’re talking about?”

“The police. They’re investigating. I’ve helped them before, and we thought it would be more acceptable to you to answer questions from me than from them.”

“It may be more acceptable, but I can hardly imagine it being any more shocking,” she said, prompting Sarah to apologize all over again.

“But you can see how important it is to find out who knew about Mrs. Van Orner’s flask. Only someone who did could have killed her.”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams considered this very carefully, leaning back in her chair and watching Sarah closely as she thought it over. Finally, she said, “It was a well-guarded secret, as you can imagine. Only two others knew of it—her husband and Tamar Yingling.”