Murder on Sisters' Row

15

WHEN SARAH FINALLY GOT HOME THAT NIGHT, SHE WAS summoned to a birth. When she returned from that, she had some business to take care of, so several days passed before she had an opportunity to find out how Malloy had fared with Mr. Van Orner. He finally found her at home on Friday evening. They’d just put Catherine to bed. Sarah assumed he’d waited until late to call because she wouldn’t want the child to overhear them talking about the case.

She, Maeve, and Malloy had no more than gotten settled around the kitchen table than a knock at the back door told them Mrs. Ellsworth had noted Malloy’s arrival.

“Please excuse the lateness of the hour,” she said, breathless from her rush to get there. “I just thought I’d save Mrs. Brandt the trouble of having to tell me the whole story again tomorrow. Mr. Malloy, how very nice to see you. How is that darling little boy of yours?”

Sarah noticed that Malloy covered his mouth to hide a smile. She invited her neighbor in, hurrying to shut the door against the cold night air, and in a few minutes, everyone had been served some coffee and the cookies Mrs. Ellsworth had helped the girls bake that afternoon.

Malloy told them about Amy’s kidnapping and death at Mrs. Walker’s house, then Sarah told them about her visit to Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s house.

“Good heavens,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I can’t believe a woman like that could just start killing people for no good reason.”

“Oh, she thought her reasons were very good,” Sarah said. “I think she probably convinced herself that her husband was better off dead since his reputation had been ruined.”

“She was better off with him dead, too,” Malloy said. “Or at least she thought she’d be.”

“But people still remembered what he’d done,” Maeve concluded. “People are like that.”

“Yes, they are,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “But Mrs. Van Orner wasn’t. She’d remained faithful to her old friend in spite of everything.”

Sarah shook her head in dismay. “The trouble with friendships like that, where one person is indebted to the other, is that the person who is indebted gets very tired of being grateful.”

“Especially if she didn’t feel like she did anything wrong in the first place,” Maeve said.

“And Mrs. Spratt-Williams didn’t. She thought it was unfair for people to punish her for what her husband had done.”

Maeve nodded. “And then she saw a chance to make it up to Amy for what her husband had done to her family, and Mrs. Van Orner wouldn’t let her.”

Mrs. Ellsworth sniffed. “I can’t blame Mrs. Van Orner for not wanting to help her husband’s mistress.”

“But it was mean of her to punish Mrs. Spratt-Williams by reporting what she’d done with the names,” Maeve argued.

“I have to agree with Maeve,” Sarah said. “I think I would’ve sent them false names, too. I even told Mrs. Spratt-Williams I agreed with her, but I don’t think she believed me.”

“That’s the part that doesn’t make sense to me, Mrs. Brandt,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I don’t understand why she tried to poison you.”

“I’ve been trying to remember exactly how the conversation went that day. I think she must have been testing me, trying to find out what I knew and what I remembered. She didn’t pour the tea until she was satisfied that I knew enough to be a danger to her.”

“How did she manage to get the poison into your cup, though?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

“I remember thinking it odd that she had three of everything on the tray—three cups, three saucers, three spoons. I think she must have told the maid to set the tray for three people so she’d have an extra cup. The cups were stacked, and apparently, she’d put the laudanum in the bottom cup. I think—and this is only my guess—that if I’d satisfied her that I didn’t know anything about her fight with Mrs. Van Orner, she would have poured my tea into the middle cup and saved the poison for . . . for whatever else she needed.”

“But you didn’t,” Malloy said, not at all happy. “You had to tell her the truth.”

“I didn’t know she was the killer,” she protested.

“At least you didn’t drink the poison,” Maeve reminded her. “But why not?”

“Just luck or perhaps divine providence. All I know is that the tea tasted awful. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying I didn’t like it, so I just pretended to drink.”

“God forbid you should hurt her feelings,” Malloy grumbled.

“She got off too easy,” Maeve said.

“Do you think dying was too easy?” Sarah asked.

Maeve made a face. “She chose to die. The people she killed didn’t have any choice.”

“Maeve’s right,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I think going to prison would have been a far worse fate.”

“She probably wouldn’t have gone to prison,” Malloy said.

The women stared at him in surprise.

“Oh, because of the pigeonholing,” Maeve remembered.

“But she didn’t have a lot of money,” Sarah reminded him. “She couldn’t have bribed anyone.”

Malloy shrugged. “She probably could’ve paid a lawyer and managed her bail. That’s all she would need to do, and she could live out her life in her own house.”

Mrs. Ellsworth sighed. “How unjust.”

“So she punished herself worse than the law would have,” Maeve realized.

Malloy gave her an approving smile. “Yes, she did.”

Mrs. Ellsworth was still brooding over the lack of justice in the world, or at least in New York. “What about Mr. Van Orner? Did he believe Miss Yingling wasn’t the killer?”

“It took some doing, but when I told him how Mrs. Spratt-Williams had killed herself after confessing to Mrs. Brandt, he finally came around.”

“What about Miss Yingling?” Sarah asked.

“What about her?”

“What’s she going to do now?”

“I don’t know for sure, but when I left, Van Orner was begging her forgiveness and asking her to stay and help him raise the boy.”

“He’s keeping Amy’s baby?” Sarah asked, very glad to hear it.

“He believes the boy is his son, so why wouldn’t he?”

“But how will he explain his existence?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

Malloy shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll come up with a good story. People have been explaining inconvenient babies in all kinds of ways since . . . well, I guess since there’ve been babies.”

Mrs. Ellsworth leaned across the table. “Mrs. Brandt, I think you should pay a visit to the Van Orner house to make sure that child is being well taken care of.”

Sarah grinned. “And I’ll be sure to let you know what I find out when I do.”

“Tell them the good news,” Maeve urged her. “About the women at the rescue house.”

“Is someone taking over Mrs. Van Orner’s work?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked hopefully.

“No, I’m sorry to say, or at least not right away. When I visited them today, no one had been to see them, and they were getting desperate. I convinced them to let me take them to the Daughters of Hope.”

“What’s the Daughters of Hope?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

“That’s the new name for the Prodigal Son Mission. It’s much more appropriate, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do! And did they welcome your guests?”

“Of course they did. The two women . . . they were just girls, really . . . will fit right in with the other girls living there, and Miss Biafore has found a new position.”

“At the Mission?” Malloy asked in surprise.

“Yes, Mrs. Keller was very happy at the prospect of having an assistant to help manage the place. We won’t be able to give Miss Biafore a salary at first, but she was just grateful for a safe place to live for the time being. I think I can convince the ladies who support the Mission to take care of her, though.”

“I’m sure you can,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I’m so very glad you were able to find a place for those poor women.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, absorbing the impact one woman had had on so many. Then Maeve asked, “Mr. Malloy, are you still mad at Mrs. Brandt?”

Malloy stiffened at the question and gave Maeve a glare that only made her grin.

“Why would you be angry with Mrs. Brandt?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

“Because she almost got herself killed,” Maeve said. “Again. So, are you?”

“Yes, are you?” Sarah asked when Malloy didn’t answer.

He turned to her, and she saw warring emotions in his dark eyes. The fear he’d felt and the pride in her courage. “No,” he said, “not if she promises never to get involved in another murder.”

Mrs. Ellsworth grinned. “That should be easy enough to do.”

Sarah smiled at Malloy, absurdly glad to have him sitting at her kitchen table. “Yes,” she said, “that should be easy enough to do.”