Murder on Sisters' Row

13

SARAH GATHERED UP HER THINGS, GETTING READY TO leave the rescue house. Lisa thanked her again for the cake as she handed Sarah the now-empty basket.

“I’ll be happy to return the plate to you in a day or two.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll be back to visit in a few days. I’m going to be helping Mrs. Spratt-Williams, remember.”

Lisa frowned. “You won’t tell her what I said, will you?”

“Oh, no. I appreciate your honesty, and I wouldn’t dream of betraying your trust in me.”

“Thank you. And I hope you’ll remind Mrs. Spratt-Williams that we’re running short of supplies. The girls are getting nervous, and I’m afraid they might be tempted to run away.”

“Please assure them that they’ll be taken care of.”

Lisa sighed. “I will. At least I don’t have to worry about keeping Amy happy anymore, now that she’s gone.”

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, I know where Amy went after she left here.”

Lisa made a face. “To the Devil, I hope.”

Sarah managed not to smile. “She went to Mr. Van Orner’s house.”

Lisa gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. “You aren’t teasing me, are you?”

“No, I’m not. Apparently, she really did name her baby after his father.”

Lisa crossed herself. “Poor Mrs. Van Orner. She didn’t deserve that, not at all! Do you think she knew?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure Amy was trying to make her suspect, but we’ll never know if Mrs. Van Orner believed it or not.”

“Oh, I hope not. I’d hate for her to have that hurt in her heart when she died, poor lady. And what’s going to become of Amy now?”

Sarah had a good idea, but she said, “I don’t know.”

“Oh, dear, is Miss Yingling still living there, too? They must be like two cats in a sack!”

If they weren’t yet, it was only a matter of time, Sarah thought. “Yes, she is.”

“Does Mrs. Spratt-Williams know she’s there? She’ll want to know, I’m sure. Amy was her pet,” Lisa added with distaste.

Sarah remembered what Lisa had said earlier, about one of the men Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s husband had cheated shooting himself... just the way Amy’s father had. Could that have been just an unfortunate coincidence? “I did notice that she took a special interest in Amy, but I suppose she did that for all the rescued girls.”

“Oh, no, she didn’t usually pay much attention to any of the women we rescued after we got them here. She was only interested in the rescues themselves. I think . . .”

“What?”

Lisa obviously didn’t like expressing an opinion about someone who might have power over her.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Sarah promised.

“I think she just liked the excitement of it. She didn’t seem to care if the women got jobs or if they found a place to live afterward. She didn’t even mind when we found out one of them had gone back to walking the streets. Mrs. Van Orner would be sad, but Mrs. Spratt-Williams wasn’t even disappointed. The only thing she cared about was when they were going out again to rescue someone.”

Which was, Sarah had to admit, the only thing over which Mrs. Van Orner and her friends had much control. Once the women were here and safe, the rescuers could only offer encouragement. Success or failure would depend on the women themselves.

Still, the unusual interest in Amy was interesting. “Do you suppose Mrs. Spratt-Williams singled Amy out because she had the baby?”

Lisa considered this. “I don’t think so. The rest of us fussed over him. He’s so cute. But Mrs. Spratt-Williams didn’t pay him much mind. She just fussed over Amy. You remember how Amy complained about everything?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Well, Mrs. Spratt-Williams, she kept trying to make her happy, finding her extra things to eat and apologizing that the place was so shabby. That’s what she called it, shabby. Mrs. Brandt, all the other women who come here are grateful for every little thing, but not Amy. And Mrs. Spratt-Williams just made it worse.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“You don’t need to be, and besides, Amy’s gone and not likely to be back, considering where she is now.”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK KILLED HER, DOC?” FRANK ASKED the medical examiner when he’d had a chance to look at the body. They were standing over where Amy still lay on the bed while Mrs. Walker glared at them, silently daring them to accuse her of murder.

“Not the chloroform,” Doc Haynes said, glancing at Mrs. Walker.

She nodded. “I told that quack it wasn’t.”

“How can you be sure?” Frank asked.

“Chloroform doesn’t work that fast, for one thing. She would’ve lingered for hours, maybe even a couple of days.”

“What else could it be, then?”

“Look at her eyes.” He raised one of her eyelids. “See the pupil?”

Frank peered at the filmy orb. “It’s really small.”

“We call it pinpointing. That’s what happens when you take an opiate.”

“My girls don’t take opium,” Mrs. Walker snapped. “I won’t allow it in my house.”

“Nevertheless, she died from an overdose of some compound of opium.”

“Like laudanum?” Frank asked, thinking of Mrs. Van Orner.

“Exactly. Women often use laudanum to commit suicide because it’s readily to hand. Could she have killed herself?”

Mrs. Walker snorted. “That one never killed herself, I guarantee you. She thought too much of herself to do something like that.”

Frank agreed. “I think she might’ve been poisoned.”

“She wasn’t poisoned here,” Mrs. Walker said, outraged at the thought. “She never had nothing to eat or drink since she walked in the door. She was too busy yelling and screaming and pitching a fit. Then she said she felt light-headed and sort of fainted. I sent for the doctor, but he said she was already dead when he got here.”

“Well, I’ll leave it up to you to figure out how it happened,” Doc Haynes told Frank. “If I find out anything more when I cut her open, I’ll let you know.”

Mrs. Walker made a strangled sound. “You’re not going to cut her up, are you?”

“I’m going to do an autopsy to find out the cause of death,” Doc Haynes explained patiently.

“You already told us the cause of death!”

“I told you my theory. Now I have to prove it.” He turned to Frank. “I’ve got an ambulance on the way.”

“Do you need me anymore?” Frank asked.

“No, I can handle it from here.”

Frank thanked him and hurried out. The arrival of the medical examiner had roused the other occupants of the house, and they hovered in the hallway in their silk kimonos, their hair tied up in rags, eyes bleary and heavy with sleep as they whispered to each other. None of them spoke to Frank as he passed by. Whores had no love for cops, he knew.

Out in the street, he saw the ambulance pulling up. He pointed to the correct house before setting off for Van Orner’s again.

SARAH HAD A LOT TO THINK ABOUT AS SHE MADE HER way to Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s house. If she was going to be of any help to the women at the rescue house, she’d have to convince Mrs. Spratt-Williams to take a more personal interest in all of them, the way she had in Amy.

Sarah kept thinking about the fact that Amy’s father had shot himself after losing all his savings and one of the men Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s husband had cheated had also shot himself. If Amy’s father was the man Mr. Spratt-Williams had cheated, his wife’s guilt over the damage that tragedy had done to Amy would certainly explain her special interest in the girl.

The maid remembered Sarah and admitted her at once. She took her straight to the front parlor, where the tea things had already been laid.

“Mrs. Brandt, how kind of you to come,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said, rising to greet her. The room was inviting, furnished in shades of gold and lit by afternoon sunlight. As Sarah took a seat on the sofa, she noticed some things she’d missed on her last visit. While the furniture was of excellent quality and everything was immaculate, the fabric showed wear in spots. Sarah couldn’t help remembering what Lisa had said about Amy thinking everything at the rescue house was “shabby.” Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s home wasn’t shabby but was certainly showing some wear. Maybe she’d been honest when she claimed her resources were limited.

The two women exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes.

“Have you heard anything from Amy?” Mrs. Spratt-Williams asked when they had exhausted the topics of each other’s health and the weather.

“No, not a thing, although I think the nurse was supposed to arrive today. She’ll be a big help, I’m sure.”

“Oh, yes, I remember Amy mentioned that when we visited her on Saturday, didn’t she?”

The maid tapped on the door and brought in the teapot. Steam coiled gently from the spout and an exotic aroma filled the room before the maid covered the pot with a padded, brocade tea cozy. No American tea service was complete without the use of this recent British import.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Mrs. Spratt Williams said. “I thought I’d serve you a special blend of tea I’ve discovered. It has an unusual flavor that I thought you’d find appealing.”

“It smells delicious,” Sarah said.

“Are you planning to attend Vivian’s funeral tomorrow?” Mrs. Spratt-Williams asked while they were waiting for the tea to steep.

“I hope to, unless I’m called to a delivery.”

“Oh, yes, I keep forgetting you’re a midwife. That’s how you met Amy, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” Sarah silently debated whether to pursue the subject and decided she had nothing to lose. “I appreciate your telling me about Amy’s hardships.”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams smiled slightly. “I ordinarily wouldn’t have violated a confidence, but I thought if you understood, you might feel kinder toward her.”

“I’m glad she chose to confide in you. She’d told me a few things about herself, but nothing to hint she’d had such a difficult time of it. For instance, she just told me her father had left them destitute.”

“I suppose his death did have that effect. And of course she’d be ashamed to admit he’d taken his own life. People often hold the family in contempt after an incident like that, instead of giving them the sympathy they truly deserve.”

“Did you happen to know Amy’s family?”

As she’d expected, her question startled Mrs. Spratt-Williams. “Whatever do you mean?”

“From what you said just now, I thought perhaps you’d known them. I understand she comes from a respectable family, and I thought your paths might have crossed back before . . . before she fell on hard times.”

Red blotches of color had bloomed on Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s face. “I’m sure I never knew her family. Respectable or not, they were hardly the type of people I would know.”

“And yet, you were so kind to Amy,” Sarah continued relentlessly.

“I’m kind to all the women we rescue.”

That was, of course, a lie. “I’m sure you are, but with Amy . . . Well, I couldn’t help noticing that no one else found it easy to be kind to her.”

“She was . . . Oh, perhaps you’re right, Mrs. Brandt. Amy was difficult, to be sure, but she isn’t like the other women we rescue. She was well bred and used to finer things, and she found life at the rescue house very confining. I suppose I couldn’t help thinking that there but for the grace of God go I.”

“I know what you mean. We aren’t shocked when a woman from a poor family is forced to sell herself to survive, but we never expect a girl from a good family to be reduced to such circumstances.”

“Yes, it was . . . tragic.” She reached over and lifted the tea cozy and peeked under the lid of the teapot to check on its strength. Apparently not satisfied yet, she replaced the cozy. “What else did Amy tell you about herself?” she asked, elaborately casual.

“Several things, but I’m not sure how much of it was true.”

“Such as?”

Sarah got the feeling Mrs. Spratt-Williams was testing her in some way. If Sarah’s suspicions about her husband having been the one who cheated Amy’s father were true, perhaps she wondered if Sarah knew the whole story. Mrs. Spratt-Williams had denied a connection, but she must be wondering why Sarah had asked in the first place. “Oh, she told me her baby’s father was named Gregory, but you knew that already.”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams squeezed her lips together in distaste. “I was hoping Miss Yingling was right, that the baby had been fathered by another man named Gregory.”

“I think we all were.”

“Yes, well, I suppose we must face the truth now, in light of Amy moving in with Mr. Van Orner.”

“Yes, we must.”

“What else did Amy tell you about herself?”

Sarah hesitated, carefully sorting out what Amy had actually told her and what she’d learned since. “She told me her lover had taken her to Mrs. Walker for safekeeping until her baby was born,” she recalled.

“Did she? How extraordinary.”

“I thought so, too. Mrs. Walker doesn’t run a refuge, after all.”

“Certainly not!”

“She also claimed that she wasn’t a prostitute—”

“Oh, yes, I remember that. She said it the first day she was at the rescue house.”

“Yet she’d told me before how much she hated what she had to do with the customers at the brothel.”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams nodded. “I suppose it would be difficult for a young woman to admit to having been a prostitute. As soon as she got away, she’d want to pretend it had never happened.”

“I imagine you’re right.”

“Did she say anything . . . ?” Her voice trailed off as if she realized she’d already questioned Sarah far more than good manners allowed.

“I visited the rescue house today,” Sarah said, hoping a change of topic now might allow her to return to the subject of Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s connection with Amy later.

She didn’t seem pleased. “Did you?”

“Yes, my neighbor had brought over a cake, and I thought the women there might enjoy it, so I stopped on my way over here today.”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams didn’t say a word, leaving Sarah to continue on her own.

“Miss Biafore told me she hasn’t seen you since Mrs. Van Orner passed away. I thought you said you were going to visit there yesterday.”

Plainly, Mrs. Spratt-Williams thought Sarah had overstepped. “I had other obligations yesterday,” she informed her coldly.

“Miss Biafore is getting quite worried about what will become of them. She’s running out of supplies and—”

“She needn’t worry. I’ll see they’re taken care of.”

“I know she would appreciate hearing that from you.”

“She will, in due time.”

Sarah didn’t like her attitude. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but I thought you’d invited me here today to talk about the rescue house.”

“Yes, I did, and I’m glad you mentioned the needs there. I’d hoped you would approach your mother about supporting it,” she said. “I didn’t expect to be interrogated about my oversight of the house, though.”

“I certainly didn’t intend to interrogate you. I was just trying to remind you of their needs.”

“We all have needs, Mrs. Brandt. Charity can extend only so far.”

This was just the opening Sarah had been looking for. “This is true, and I know you’ve always resisted the restrictions of the Charity Organization Society.”

“What?” she asked, the color draining from her face.

Sarah wasn’t sure what she’d said to cause her such a shock. “I know you don’t agree with their rules about not allowing people to obtain charity from more than one group, and I think you’re absolutely right.”

“Did Amy tell you that?”

“Tell me what?” Sarah asked, confused.

“What else did she tell you about me?”

Amy hadn’t told her any of this, but Sarah wasn’t going to betray Lisa Biafore. “I know you changed the names of the women you had helped when you wrote up the reports, so they wouldn’t be forbidden from getting help if they needed it again. I think that’s . . . commendable.” She really did, but Mrs. Spratt-Williams didn’t respond. Instead she checked the teapot again.

“Well, it looks as if the tea is finally ready.”

THE MAID AT VAN ORNER’S HOUSE ADMITTED FRANK without a word and took him straight upstairs to where Van Orner and Miss Yingling still waited in the parlor. Miss Yingling was drinking a cup of tea while Van Orner paced. They both froze when he stepped into the room.

Van Orner waited a moment then stepped forward and craned his neck to look past Frank into the hallway. “Where is she?”

“Mr. Van Orner, I’m very sorry to tell you this, but Amy is dead.”

Miss Yingling gasped and nearly dropped her teacup, but Van Orner just stared at him stupidly. “What?”

“She’s dead, Mr. Van Orner. She was poisoned.”

“That . . . that’s impossible,” he said, his face crinkling in confusion. “She was just here.”

“Maybe you should sit down,” Frank suggested. “Miss Yingling, can you get him some brandy?”

Miss Yingling set down her cup very carefully and went to the sideboard, where Van Orner had gone earlier to get her a stimulant. She poured a generous amount of whiskey into a lead crystal glass and brought it to where Frank had helped Van Orner sit in one of the wing chairs beside the fireplace. Whiskey wasn’t as calming as brandy, but he had to assume Miss Yingling knew Van Orner’s tastes.

Van Orner took the glass and drank deeply. When he looked up, he was still confused. “What happened to her?”

Frank glanced at Miss Yingling, but she didn’t seem the least bit apprehensive. All her attention was on Van Orner as she stood at his elbow, ready should he need anything. “Like Miss Yingling said, Mrs. Walker was the one who took Amy this morning. The man with her probably put a rag soaked with chloroform over her face. That’s why she went limp and didn’t resist. She was unconscious until she got to Mrs. Walker’s house. When she came to, she was furious.”

“Of course she was!” Van Orner said. “Who wouldn’t be? Imagine being snatched off the street like a . . . like a bag of laundry.” He looked to Miss Yingling for confirmation, and she nodded dutifully.

“Mrs. Walker said she started screaming and carrying on when she saw where she was, just like you’d expect. But then she started feeling faint, and she collapsed.”

Frank watched Miss Yingling, but she seemed as mystified by all this as Van Orner.

“She’s probably just sleeping, from the chloroform,” Van Orner said.

“Mrs. Walker called a doctor, but by the time he got there, Amy was dead.”

Van Orner’s eyes showed no sign of comprehension. “You say she was poisoned?”

“Yes.”

Van Orner glanced at Miss Yingling, who still looked as bewildered as he was, then back at Frank. “It’s the Walker woman, then. She did it. She poisoned Amy.”

“I don’t think she did.”

“Are you crazy?” Van Orner snapped. The color rose in his face as fury replace the confusion. “Who else would have killed her? Rowena Walker did it out of revenge because Amy left her, but if she thinks she’ll get away with it, she’s a bigger fool than I thought!”

“Mrs. Walker didn’t kill her.”

“Why did she kidnap her, then?” Van Orner demanded.

“She wanted revenge, I tell you. She’d know I’d never stand for her taking Amy. I would’ve torn her house down brick by brick if I had to! She couldn’t hope to keep her, so she must’ve intended to kill her all along. It’s the only explanation.”

Frank glanced at Miss Yingling. She still don’t look worried. “Mrs. Walker kidnapped Amy because she thought you wanted her to,” he said.

Now Van Orner was confused again. “How could she think that?”

Frank reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the note Mrs. Walker had received, and handed it to Van Orner.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded when he’d read it. He seemed completely baffled.

“She thought it was from you, telling her you were tired of Amy and wanted her to take the girl back.”

“I can see that! But I didn’t write it!”

“I know you didn’t. You wouldn’t have sent me to get Amy away from her if you did.”

Van Orner looked at the note again. “She probably wrote it up herself, to throw you off the scent.”

“I thought of that, too, but she wouldn’t have known I’d be coming after Amy. And besides, how would she have known exactly where Amy was going to be this morning?” Frank looked at Miss Yingling, and this time she took offense.

“Why do you keep looking at me? I didn’t tell her where Amy was going to be!”

“Someone did. Someone who knew. Someone who wanted to get rid of Amy because she was causing too many problems.”

“Amy always caused problems,” Van Orner said wearily.

“But she’d never caused problems for anyone close to you because she’d always been someplace else. First she was in the house you’d provided for her,” he reminded Van Orner. “Then she was at Mrs. Walker’s house. Then she was at the rescue house. But when she showed up on your doorstep with her baby in her arms, suddenly she was causing problems for someone new.”

“Who?” Van Orner demanded.

Once again Frank looked at Miss Yingling, and this time she took a step back. “Stop looking at me! I didn’t have anything to do with this!”

“Didn’t you?” Frank asked gently, the way he did when he wanted to disarm a suspect. “You’ve been waiting a long time to get Mr. Van Orner all to yourself, haven’t you?”

Van Orner had been staring at her, too, and now he jumped to his feet. “Tamar? What’s he talking about?”

“I have no idea!” she claimed.

“Mr. Van Orner, did you know that Tamar Yingling was the first prostitute your wife ever rescued?”

Miss Yingling winced, but Van Orner wasn’t shocked. “Of course I knew. Vivian brought her here so she could keep her under my nose, a constant reminder.”

“A reminder of what?”

“Of my weakness, or what she considered my weakness. She thought it abominable that I enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, Mr. Malloy. She thought having a reformed harlot in our house would torment and shame me.”

“And did it?” Frank asked, beginning to feel disgust.

“What do you think, Tamar?” he asked her with a sly grin.

She grinned a little herself. “You didn’t seem ashamed, although I think I managed to torment you.”

Now Frank really was disgusted. “You betrayed your wife under your own roof with a woman she was trying to save?”

“Yes, and it was quite enjoyable for a while, wasn’t it, Tamar?”

Tamar Yingling smiled. “Yes, it was, especially when Vivian would lecture me on how I had to conduct myself properly to avoid any suspicion of immorality. She never suspected a thing.”

Frank’s mind was racing. “You said it was enjoyable for a time . . .”

“Yes, but like everything else in life, it ceased to be a novelty. That’s when I met Amy, and I turned my attentions to her, leaving Tamar to become the respectable young woman Vivian believed her to be.”

Miss Yingling stared back at Frank serenely, as if she’d felt no pain at being rejected for a younger woman. But if she’d thought to convince him of her innocence, she was wrong.

“You must’ve despised Mrs. Van Orner,” he said to her.

He saw the emotions flicker across her face. “She was always very good to me,” she said, belying what Frank saw in her eyes.

“I’m sure she was, but that kind of goodness has a price, doesn’t it? You always have to earn it, and you never can be quite worthy enough, can you, no matter how hard you try?”

“What does any of this have to do with Amy’s death?” she asked, angry now.

“I’m coming to that, but first we have to think about Mrs. Van Orner’s death. She was poisoned, too, remember?”

“What does that have to do with this?” Van Orner asked.

“I don’t believe in coincidences, Mr. Van Orner, especially when two women living in the same house turn up dead from drinking the same poison.”

“You think Amy’s death has something to do with Vivian?”

Frank was starting to wonder how a man so stupid had managed to be successful enough to become rich. But maybe he’d just inherited his money. “I think somebody who wanted you all to herself decided to do away with your wife. That somebody slipped laudanum into your wife’s flask at the rescue house.”

“Amy!” Van Orner guessed.

“That’s what I thought at first. She had the opportunity to poison her and she wanted her dead. And the next day she packs up her baby and marches over here and presents herself to you, and you take her in. That made me think she’d planned it.”

“Of course she did!” Miss Yingling cried. “She planned the whole thing. Gregory had told her all about Vivian’s work, so she told the midwife her sad story and begged her to contact Vivian to rescue her. She was going to kill Vivian all along!”

“I don’t know what she planned to do, but even if she did plan it, somebody else beat her to it.”

“How can you know that?” Van Orner asked.

“Because the killer didn’t plan on Amy showing up on your doorstep or you taking her in. She intended for Amy to get blamed for the murder, because Amy had the perfect reason for wanting Mrs. Van Orner dead. But when you let Amy move in here, the killer couldn’t take the chance that you’d protect her. So Amy had to die, too.”

Now Van Orner was looking at Miss Yingling, his eyes filled with horror at what she’d done.

Her eyes widened with terror. “It’s not true! I didn’t do any of that!”

“Who else had something to gain by killing these two women?” Frank asked.

Miss Yingling looked around wildly, as if hoping to find someone to blame lurking nearby. “Mrs. Walker! She’s surely the one who killed Amy. She died in her very house.”

“That’s what you wanted us to think. That’s why you sent Mrs. Walker that note and signed Mr. Van Orner’s name. You knew you were taking Amy shopping this morning. You also knew Mrs. Walker would do what Van Orner wanted, because she’s afraid of him. In fact, she was too afraid of him to kidnap Amy unless she thought that’s just what he wanted.”

“She’s not afraid of him!” she tried, but they all knew it wasn’t true.

“And don’t forget, the person who killed Amy also killed Mrs. Van Orner,” Frank said.

“Mrs. Walker could’ve done that!” Miss Yingling cried. “She was here the morning Vivian died, remember.”

“But why would she want to kill Mrs. Van Orner?”

“I . . . Because she hated her. Because she’d stolen Amy right out of her house.”

“And isn’t it funny that you didn’t remember Mrs. Walker had visited Mrs. Van Orner until this morning.”

“That’s not true! I remembered all along.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me before?” Frank asked.

“Because I wanted you to think Amy killed Vivian!” she cried, then clamped her hand over her mouth in horror over what she’d just admitted. She looked to Van Orner for help, but he was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.

“What have you done?” he roared.

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything, I swear!” She was trembling now, her face white and her lips bloodless. She stared up at Van Orner, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “You’ve got to believe me!”

Van Orner started toward her. “You lying bitch! After all I’ve done for you!”

She gave a cry and her knees gave way. Frank caught her before she fell. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa, where he laid her down.

“I didn’t do it, Gregory,” she murmured. “You’ve got to believe me!”

“Get her something to drink,” Frank told Van Orner.

Reluctantly, Van Orner went to the sideboard and poured something into a glass and handed it to Frank. Frank pressed it to her lips, and she took a sip or two, then turned her head away. “You might as well give me some laudanum, too,” she said bitterly.

“You won’t get off so easy,” Van Orner said. “I’m going to see you hang!”

She gasped, her eyes wide with horror. Frank decided not to mention that in New York State, murderers died in the electric chair, figuring that wouldn’t ease her concerns at all.

She turned to Frank, tears flooding her eyes. “You’ve got to believe me! Why would I kill anyone?”

“Because you wanted me all to yourself,” Van Orner snapped.

“But I didn’t! I didn’t want him at all!” she told Frank. “I was so glad when he got tired of me, and Vivian was giving me a chance to have a real life! I never would’ve harmed her.”

“Then who did?” Frank asked reasonably, ignoring Van Orner’s disgruntled frown.

“I thought it was Amy! Truly, I did. That’s why I convinced Gregory to let you investigate. I was sure you’d find out she killed Vivian. If I’d killed her, why would I want you to investigate?”

Frank had to admit that did seem to support her innocence, but he still wasn’t convinced. “Maybe you thought you’d set it up well enough that I’d think Amy was the killer, but when she showed up here, you decided not to take a chance and got rid of her yourself.”

“That would be stupid! Why would I take a chance like that?”

“Who else would have wanted them both dead then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Of course you don’t. The person who did this had to hate both Mrs. Van Orner and Amy. She had to be in a place where she could sneak the laudanum to them. She had to know about Mrs. Walker and that she would do what Mr. Van Orner wanted. And she had to know where Amy was going to be this morning so she could set it all up. Who could that be but you?”

Miss Yingling was frantic now. Her eyes darted around as her mind raced in search of some way out.

“It’s no use, Tamar,” Van Orner said. “You’re the only person who—”

“No, wait, someone else knew!”

“Knew what?” Frank asked skeptically.

“About Amy, that I was taking her shopping today. Mrs. Brandt knew!”

“Mrs. Brandt?” Van Orner asked. “You mean Elizabeth Decker’s daughter?”

“Yes, the midwife! She was here on . . . on Saturday. Yes, I remember. We were talking about it then. Amy was bragging that she was going to get a nurse for the baby, and she asked Mrs. Brandt about . . . about feeding him, and then she told her that we were going shopping first thing on Monday, as soon as the nurse got here. She knew!”

Frank sighed. “You have to do better than that if you want to convince me you’re innocent. I know Mrs. Brandt very well. She’s been helping me with this investigation. She wouldn’t have killed either woman. She didn’t have any reason to.”

“It’s over, Tamar,” Van Orner said. “Mr. Malloy, you can take her now.”

“No!” she wailed. “No, there’s someone else! I almost forgot—Mrs. Spratt-Williams was there, too, that day. She came with Mrs. Brandt. She was worried about Amy, she said, and she came to make sure she’s all right.”

“Why would Mrs. Spratt-Williams want to kill Amy?” Van Orner scoffed. “Or Vivian either, for that matter. Vivian was her oldest friend.”

But Miss Yingling wasn’t listening. Frank knew that expression on her face and what it meant. He’d seen it many times before on many other faces. She was remembering something, something important, and putting it together with everything else and figuring it all out.

She sat up on the sofa, and when she looked at Frank, her eyes were clear. The terror had drained out of her, and she almost smiled when she said, “I know who killed them.”