Murder on St. Mark’s place

10

FOR A MOMENT SARAH WAS TOO SURPRISED TO move. She hadn’t been kissed in a very long time, and she’d never been kissed against her will. She only needed a moment, however, before she realized she was furious. The anger took over, and she shoved against Dirk’s chest as hard as she could and wrenched her mouth free.

“Stop that this instant!” she cried, moving as far away as the confines of the boat would allow and holding him back with stiff arms so he wouldn’t try to follow.

“Sarah-” he tried, but she was having none of it.

“Stop making a fool of yourself, Dirk,” she said. “What’s the matter with you? Have you lost your senses?”

“You’ve stolen them, I’m afraid, Sarah,” he said, his voice breathless and husky. “How can you expect me to control myself? You’re a bewitching woman. You must know that. No man can help but fall under your spell.”

He sounded so sincere, Sarah was only sorry it was too dark in the tunnel to see his expression. She imagined he would look lovesick and vulnerable. He probably tried this trick on every girl he met. He must be quite practiced at it by now. The only thing she couldn’t understand was why he felt he had to work his wiles on her.

“Dirk, you’re being ridiculous!” she insisted.

“And you’re being a tease!” He sounded annoyed now, but she figured it was all part of his game. “What do you expect me to think when you practically throw yourself in my way and then ask me to take you to Coney Island?”

“I told you I wanted to come here to catch a killer,” she reminded him, growing annoyed herself. “That doesn’t sound very romantic to me.”

“I assumed it was simply a ploy to get my attention.”

“Why would I want your attention?”

At last he reared back, giving Sarah some room again. “You’re a penniless widow, Sarah.” The sincerity was gone, replaced by contempt. “The Schylers are one of the wealthiest families in the city.”

“And you thought I was looking for a husband?” Sarah could hardly credit this.

“Your mother made it clear to me that I was invited to her dinner party at your request. You had just encountered me here at Coney Island and learned I wasn’t married. What was I supposed to think?”

“You were supposed to think I needed your help finding my way around this place, just as I said.”

“Women never say what they mean, Sarah,” he told her. His voice had changed again. He was growing angry now. “Yes means no and no means yes. They lie and cheat and all they care about is how much money you have to spend on them.”

Sarah was beginning to understand why Dirk was still unmarried. “Not all women are like that, Dirk. Perhaps if you spent more time with women of your own class-”

“Don’t be a snob, Sarah. Women of my own class are the worst of all. They can’t be bought with a few amusement-park rides and a Red Hot. They want jewels and furs and a country estate, but their virtue is for sale just the same. The price is just higher.”

“Well, you can rest assured that my virtue is not for sale at any price, Dirk. I have no interest in your fortune or your person, so you can remember your manners and keep your hands to yourself.”

“I thought you were different, Sarah.”

“I am different. I’m not going to let you molest me.”

He gave a bark of mirthless laughter that sent chills over her. Indeed, he could molest her easily if he so chose. The tunnel was dark and no one was likely to heed her screams of protest. Plainly, this ride was designed to provide a few moments of privacy for couples to indulge at least the minimal pleasures of the flesh. She thought of her hat pin and wondered how long it would hold him at bay if he decided to press the issue.

For the first time in her life Sarah felt an inkling of the kind of terror Gerda and the others must have felt at the hand of their killer. As a woman, she had worried about her personal safety many times while making her way through the city after dark, but that had been a nebulous fear, vague and general, a fear of what could happen. This was a fear of what very well might happen, with a familiar face to put on the person who could harm her.

His breathing was ragged, as if he were battling some inner demons, and she imagined he probably was. Sarah glanced up ahead, hoping to see some sign that the ride would shortly be coming to an end. She imagined she saw a glimmer of light, but perhaps that was only wishful thinking. How long could a ride like this last?

But to her great relief, Dirk finally drew a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I’m afraid I must beg your pardon, Sarah. It’s been a long time since I was in the presence of a true lady.”

She considered pointing out that his mother was most likely a lady and decided not to. Perhaps he had a different opinion. Knowing his mother, he probably did. “I could chastise you for keeping bad company, Dirk.”

“You’d be right, too. But you’re too much of a lady to point out a man’s faults right to his face, aren’t you?”

“I will be, in this case, at least,” she allowed.

“Thank you. Can you ever forgive my abominable behavior? I’m afraid I forgot myself completely.”

“Or perhaps you simply misjudged your companion.”

“More likely I have forgotten how to conduct myself in polite company. Can you pretend this never happened?”

“Since you were so gracious as to bring me here today and to patiently endure my feeble attempts at playing detective, I can do nothing less.” Anything to get through this awkward moment.

“I will be eternally in your debt,” he said. He sounded sincere again. Perhaps he had practice at that, too. “I promise you I will behave myself for the remainder of the day. You need not fear a repeat of my boorishness ever again.”

“And you need not fear that I will stick you with a hat pin,” she replied archly.

“Oh, dear, I hadn’t expected such spirit from you, Sarah.” She heard amusement in his tone. “I must count myself lucky that I didn’t press my suit.”

“You must indeed.” There, at last the darkness was lifting. The opening of the tunnel had appeared and was drawing ever closer. Or rather they were drawing closer to it.

Sarah looked at Dirk in the growing light, judging his mood. He seemed perfectly composed, his features calm, his eyes expressionless. Whatever passion had possessed him in the tunnel had passed now. She only wished the words he’d said could pass as easily from her mind. He’d displayed a disturbing contempt for women, and she wondered how he had developed it. True, most men of his class believed women to be helpless creatures who weren’t very bright and had to be looked after by men. That was far different from the genuine disdain he had shown, though. He apparently believed women were liars and cheats, saying one thing and meaning another. That was sometimes true, of course. Occasionally, one had to conceal one’s genuine feelings or risk giving offense. But that wasn’t what he’d meant, she was sure.

She remembered how Malloy had taken an instant dislike to Dirk. She supposed he had much more practice than she at judging a man’s character. He’d seen what she hadn’t known to look for. She’d have to remember to take his assessments more seriously in the future.

As they emerged into the summer sunshine, Dirk smiled at her. She studied his face, noticing again the signs of dissipation. The puffiness around the eyes, the sagging along his jawline in spite of his relative youth. His eyes were carefully expressionless, or perhaps he had no expression to reveal.

“Can we still be friends, Sarah?” he asked, trying the boyish charm she found so unappealing.

“Of course. We’ve known each other since the nursery, after all.” A slight exaggeration, but what did that matter? She had no intention of ever purposely seeing him again once this day was finished. In the meantime, she would make what use of him she could.

As the boat reached the docking point, a young man caught it with a long, hooked pole and pulled it in. Dirk helped her disembark, taking her hand with just the right amount of pressure but assuming no other liberties.

Sarah felt relief. Perhaps they could get through the rest of the day without any more unpleasantness.

She began to believe it when he said, “I must confess, Sarah. I always was rather fond of you. You were the prettiest girl in our dancing class, but you never looked at me twice. I must have been remembering that and thinking that I could get you to notice me now.”

“I noticed you then, Dirk. It’s just that I didn’t like boys yet. And now… well, I think we’re much too different to suit, don’t you?”

His smile was strange. “Sometimes I think I’m too different to suit anyone.”

Sarah had no intention of exploring that subject with him. “Tell me, Dirk, are there shops around here where someone could buy articles of ladies’ clothing?”

“What types of articles?” he asked, his good humor returning instantly as he realized she was going to forgive him.

“Shoes.”

“Ah, let me guess. Red shoes in particular.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you really expect to have more success with that than you did with the photographer?”

“Hundreds of people get their photographs taken at the park, but I can’t believe that many women would buy red shoes. Surely, the sale would be a memorable one.”

Dirk sighed, but it was a patient sigh. “I’ll take you over to Surf Avenue. That’s where you’re most likely to find what you’re looking for.”

Surf Avenue was the main street in Coney Island, flanked on either side by the impressive hotels built for those with the time and money to spend more than one day at the shore. The crowds here were more sedate that the ones in the amusement park, although Sarah saw a few suspicious-looking couples in which the man was old enough to be the girl’s father but was showing her more than paternal affection.

“Do, uh, some men,” Sarah began, trying to phrase her question delicately, “take the girls they meet at the park to hotels here?”

“Why, Sarah,” he said. “How shocking of you to ask!”

“I’m sure it would take far more than that to shock you, Dirk,” she said. “Of course if your sensibilities are too offended, don’t feel obligated to reply.”

He conceded. “Although I would have no personal knowledge of such things,” he began, both of them knowing he was lying, “I have heard that some men, those whose tastes extend to the lower classes of women, will meet those women at the park and then take them to the hotels here for assignations. Of course,” he added with a sly grin, “many of the girls in question can’t be away from home overnight. Their families would never allow such inappropriate behavior.”

“So those are the virtuous ones,” she guessed.

“Heavens, no!” he said, taking perverse pleasure in telling her. “Those are the ones who do it standing up in a hallway or an alley.”

“Do what?” she asked, certain she must have misunderstood.

“Allow a gentleman to enjoy their favors,” he said brutally, leaving her with no room to misinterpret.

Sarah was appalled. “What kind of a man would do such a thing?”

“Any kind of man, if the girl is willing. I’m sure your Sergeant Malloy would confirm it.”

Sarah couldn’t imagine Malloy doing any such thing, any more than she could imagine discussing it with him in the first place. She was learning far more than she had wanted to know about the society of Coney Island, and more about Dirk Schyler than she wanted to know, too.

Fortunately, they were passing a shop window in which some ladies’ shoes were displayed. “Let’s try this place,” she suggested. She didn’t wait for Dirk’s reply.

A long time and several shops later Sarah was exhausted and discouraged. More shopkeepers than she cared to count had looked at her with contempt when she had asked to see a pair of red shoes. She couldn’t imagine that they believed she wanted to purchase anything like that, but apparently, they did. Unfortunately, none of them could oblige her.

They were coming abreast of the Elephant Hotel, and Sarah was just about to surrender her quest when Dirk said, “I think there are some shops in here.”

“Inside the Elephant? I thought it was a hotel.”

“They have a few rooms, but it’s mostly for people to come in and look around. There’s a vista room in the head and a diorama in one of the front legs. The other front leg is a cigar store, I think, and there are several shops inside the body.”

Sarah studied the curious edifice. Surely, it was the only one of its kind in the world, an enormous wooden elephant standing over a hundred feet high.

“What do you think, Sarah? Are you ready to see the elephant?” Dirk teased.

She supposed she was. She could use a vista right now, anyway.

They entered the Elephant through a spiral staircase in one of the creature’s hind legs. Their shoes clanked on the metal stairs, echoing hollowly in the building. The place was dim and stuffy. Inside the body was a little better, however. Windows opened to catch the sea breeze, which hardly ever ceased to blow, and people on holiday strolled through the various shops, looking for souvenirs of their visit.

Most of the shops featured useless trinkets. All manner of elephant figures were available in every imaginable size and material, as were picture postcards one could send to one’s friends. Sarah considered sending Malloy one of the postcards, perhaps one with a picture of some girls in bathing costumes. Then she reconsidered and purchased a wooden carving of an elephant for his son. Now she had a doll for Agnes Otto’s child and an elephant for Brian. Another elephant and another doll, and she was finished with her shopping.

Dirk watched her with amused interest, and she didn’t bother to explain for whom she was making her purchases. Let him wonder.

In the end, she almost missed the shop. It was at the end of the row, and the display case was filled with gaudy hats and shawls and cheap jewelry. Only when Dirk stopped to admire something-probably to annoy her-did she see the red shoes. She’d been looking so hard for them, she somehow hadn’t expected them to be displayed so prominently. But there they were, in the front of the case, in plain view of anyone passing by. Sarah felt a surge of excitement. When she looked up, Dirk was smirking.

“You knew these were here all along, didn’t you?” she accused.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I knew this shop was here, though. I figured if anyone would have such a thing as red shoes, this fellow would.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him. It would be just like Dirk to make her trudge all over town before taking her right to what she was looking for. She didn’t bother to accuse him of it again, though. No use wasting any more time on this. Inside the shop, the proprietor was helping a young girl in a cheap suit and a tasteless hat decide which brooch the older man with her was going to purchase for her. Payment for services rendered, no doubt, Sarah thought sadly. She waited patiently, glancing outside once to see Dirk pretending to be interested in a display of picture postcards in the shop across the way. At least he hadn’t come inside with her to roll his eyes at the man while she questioned him.

She pretended an interest in the shoddy merchandise which had been selected more for ostentation than for quality. Along one wall were displayed an assortment of shoes, none of which could be worn for everyday use. They were all too fancy, too fragile, and too vulgar. Just the sort of thing to appeal to a poor shop girl’s idea of style and glamour. After what seemed an eternity, the man paid for the brooch, and the couple left. The girl seemed pleased, and the man just looked satisfied. Sarah tried not to picture him taking his pleasure standing up in an alley. Would she ever be able to get that vision out of her mind?

“Can I help you, miss?” the man behind the counter asked. He was an older man, slightly stooped and balding. What hair he had left was pure white and combed carefully in a futile attempt to conceal his bald patches.

“Yes, I’m interested in the red shoes you have on display.”

His expression betrayed surprise. “For yourself?” Plainly, he didn’t believe it.

Sarah smiled. “No, actually, I’m not interested in buying the shoes. I’m interested in someone who did buy a pair like them a few weeks ago.”

The man was worried now. “If she wasn’t happy with them, I can’t-”

“Oh, no, I’m sure she was very pleased with them. It’s just… something happened to her. She was… murdered.”

The old man’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, as if trying to get away from Sarah. Or at least from what she was saying. “I don’t know nothing about it,” he insisted.

“Of course you don’t,” Sarah assured him, wishing she knew more about interrogating people. Malloy would know what to do. But maybe not. This poor man was terrified. Malloy would have had him reduced to hysterics by now, and they’d never find out anything. She tried another smile, making it as kindly as she could manage. “I was just wondering if you might be able to remember who bought the shoes for the young lady in question. We think he might be the one who killed her, you see, but we don’t know anything about him.”

“Who’s this ‘we’ you keep talking about?” he asked suspiciously.

Sarah thought fast. If she mentioned the police, she’d get no help at all. “Her family. I’m a family friend, you see, and they’ve asked me to help them find her killer.”

“They would’ve done better with one of them detectives,” he told her. “You can hire men to look into things like this. Females got no business with such things.”

Sarah gritted her teeth to keep from telling him she most certainly did have business with such things. “I have some experience in these matters. And I did manage to locate the place where the poor girl got the shoes, didn’t I?”

He frowned, not quite certain he should admit to it. “And what good did it do you?”

“None yet, but it might if you can remember who the man was who bought the shoes for her. Her name was Gerda. She was a pretty, blond girl. German. She hadn’t been here very long, and she spoke with an accent. We think the man who bought her the shoes would have been well dressed. Expensively dressed, that is.”

“A lot of them is, you know,” the man told her. “They come down here where nobody knows them and takes up with these girls. It’s a scandal. In my time, girls didn’t go off alone with men. They stayed home where they was safe. You say this girl got herself killed?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“It’s no wonder, then. She was asking for trouble. What kind of family don’t know to keep their girls home where they’ll be safe?”

Sarah wanted to point out that Gerda had been forced to work to support herself, so she couldn’t possibly have stayed home. Arguing would be a waste of time, though, and she might annoy him enough that he wouldn’t tell her anything.

“You’re right,” she said, trying to be patient. “But we still need to find out who murdered Gerda. He’s killed other girls, and he’ll most likely kill again if we don’t catch him.”

“Others, you say? That’s terrible! But it wouldn’t happen if they’d stay home-”

“I know, I know.” Sarah had reached the end of her patience. “But can you give us any help at all? Do you remember the German girl who bought red shoes? It wasn’t very long ago.”

He frowned with the effort at remembering. “I only sold a couple pairs this summer, but I’ve seen hundreds of people coming through my store. She was German, you say?”

“Yes, and she would have been very excited about the shoes.”

He nodded slowly, concentrating as he remembered. “Thick ankles.”

“What?”

“She had thick ankles. I see a lot of ankles in my business. A woman tries on a pair of shoes. you see her ankles. Can’t help it.”

Now Sarah wanted to throttle him, but she restrained herself. He surely wouldn’t tell her anything if she did. “So you do remember her?”

“I only sold two pairs of the red shoes, and the other girl was an American.”

He really did remember. He was just being difficult. “Do you remember the man who was with her, the one who bought her the shoes?”

He frowned again. “I ain’t too sure. Is there some kind of reward or something?”

“If the information leads us to the killer, there’s a reward of one hundred dollars,” Sarah lied without batting an eye. Quite frankly, if someone could tell her who the killer was, she’d gladly pay the hundred dollars herself.

The man suddenly seemed much friendlier than he had been. “Can’t blame me for being careful, can you? Don’t know just who might be coming in here, asking questions. Don’t want to get mixed up in no murder, now do I? Can’t have the police in here. Bad for business, you know.”

Sarah could just imagine. “The man who bought the shoes,” she prodded.

“Well, they don’t usually introduce themselves, if you know what I mean, and I don’t notice the men much any-ways. But I remember the girl well enough. She was babbling in German, and he kept telling her to talk English, and she kept saying, ‘Oh, Will, they’re so pretty,’ or something like that.”

Sarah felt the blood rushing from her head. “Will? She called him Will?”

“I think so.” He was hedging, seeing Sarah’s excitement but not knowing what it meant. “I wouldn’t want to get nobody in trouble, but I’m pretty sure that’s what I remember. Now who did you say was going to pay this reward?”

“Her family,” Sarah said, “and I’ll certainly tell them how helpful you’ve been.”

Now she had it, proof that all the murdered girls had known the man named Will. He must be the one they were looking for. She couldn’t wait to get back to the city and tell Malloy. She was mentally answering all of the questions she imagined Malloy would ask when she almost bumped into Dirk in the corridor outside the shop.

“You look particularly satisfied,” he remarked with a grin. “Did you find your killer?”

If only it were so easy. “I learned that a man named Will bought the red shoes for Gerda. That means she really did know him, and all the other girls knew him, too!”

His smile vanished. “What other girls?”

Sarah was so excited, she had forgotten her resolve not to tell Dirk about the other murders. Now, of course, there was no reason not to.

“There have been other murders in which girls like Gerda were killed in the same way. That’s how we knew about this man named Will. They had all been seeing him right before they were killed. We knew Gerda had been seeing someone new, too, but we didn’t know his name, at least not until today.”

He was horrified. “So you think this Will character must be the killer? That he’s killed… how many girls did you say?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, hedging. “Three more that we know about, but there may be others. We only found out about these by accident, because some of Gerda’s friends knew the other victims.”

Dirk was pale. For all his worldliness, he had probably never been exposed to something so ugly before. He tried his usual grin, but it was crooked and strained. “So now that you know this fellow Will is connected to all the murdered girls, how do you propose finding him?”

“We don’t have to talk about this anymore, Dirk,” Sarah said kindly. “I can see you’re upset and-”

“Oh, please, I’ll be more upset if I don’t know everything. I must believe that you have a plan for catching this… this monster, or I won’t be able to sleep at night.”

“Actually, I’m not sure we do have a plan. Mr. Malloy might be able to come up with some ideas, but… I’m afraid that photographer was right. Unless I can find a picture of this fellow, or someone who knows what he looks like, we might never find him.”

He was still upset, but he asked no other questions. He just started walking, and Sarah went with him.

By unspoken consent, they strolled over to the entrance to the Vista Room, which was actually the head of the elephant. Long windows on either side, that were actually the slits that formed the elephant’s eyes, allowed a panoramic view of the ocean, the beaches, and the Island itself. Other visitors were clustered in front of them, so Sarah and Dirk stood back, waiting for an opening.

“Perhaps one of the dead girl’s friends would know this Will,” he suggested. “Have you asked them?”

She almost said that of course she had asked them, but then she caught herself. She’d asked them to give her the names of the men Gerda had been seeing. They hadn’t mentioned a Will, so naturally, she hadn’t asked if they knew a man named Will. “No! No, I didn’t!” she exclaimed.

Dirk smiled. It was a funny, crooked thing, but a smile nonetheless. He was trying so hard to pretend he was as unaffected as she by the subject of murder and murderers. “Then you must speak to them again. Why, for all you know, one of them might be able to lead you straight to this man. Who do you think would be the most likely to help you?”

Now he was even trying to help solve the case. She could hardly fault him for that, though, not when she was trying to do the same thing. “Gerda had three friends she worked with. They knew everything about her, so it seems strange she didn’t tell them this fellow’s name.”

“Maybe not so strange. Maybe she wanted to keep him to herself,” he suggested. “Girls like that are very jealous, especially when they find a generous companion.”

He should know. She considered his theory. “Or maybe it was just the opposite. Maybe the other girls knew him, and she didn’t want them to know she was seeing him.”

“Because she’d stolen him from one of them.”

“Exactly!”

“Now all you need to do is decide which of them was most likely to have been his first choice,” Dirk said.

“Oh, that’s easy enough. Lisle would be any man’s first choice,” Sarah said, thinking aloud.

“Lisle?” he echoed, arching his eyebrow at her. “Another German girl, obviously. From the same neighborhood?”

“Yes.”

“This fellow doesn’t go far afield, does he? He should be easy to find.”

Sarah only hoped he was right.

THE NEXT MORNING, Mrs. Elsworth was on Sarah’s doorstep bright and early, her wrinkled face pale and drawn and her graying hair done up so hastily, the knot sat crooked on her head. “Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I had to see that you were all right. I had the most terrible dream last night, and then this morning…” She clutched at her chest, gasping for breath, and Sarah quickly took her arm and led her inside.

“Sit down right here and let me listen to your heart,” she said, putting her in the chair beside her desk in the examining room. “Are you having any pain?”

“Goodness, no,” she exclaimed breathlessly. “I’m just… I can’t seem to get my breath. I was so frightened when I saw it.”

“The dream, you mean?” Sarah asked, reaching into her medical bag and pulling out the stethoscope.

“No, the cricket!”

Sarah was just about to put the stethoscope in her ears, but she stopped at this. “You were frightened by a cricket?”

“Not just any cricket! Everyone knows that a cricket in the house is good luck. Unless it’s a white cricket, of course. And this one was. Pure white, and you know what that means!”

“No, I don’t,” Sarah admitted.

Mrs. Elsworth closed her eyes and laid her hand over her heart again. Sarah reached out, fully expecting her to keel over and ready to break the fall, but she didn’t move. She only said, “Death.”

“Death?” Sarah echoed stupidly.

Mrs. Elsworth opened her eyes and looked straight at her. “The white cricket means a death is coming to someone close.”

“Oh, I’m sure that-”

“And then there was my dream. You were in it, Mrs. Brandt. You were running and running, trying to catch someone, but you couldn’t, and then I saw her. I couldn’t see her face, but she was dead, and I was so afraid… Well, I had to make sure you were all right, didn’t I?”

“And as you can see. I’m perfectly fine. I’d be better if you’d allow me to listen to your heart, though. Just to make sure you’re fine. too,” she added with a small smile.

“It’s really not necessary, but if it will make you happy,” she conceded.

Sarah was relieved to hear the older woman’s heart beating rapidly but strongly.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Mrs. Elsworth said as Sarah put the stethoscope away.

“I’d be a poor neighbor if I were less concerned about you than you are about me,” Sarah pointed out.

Mrs. Elsworth sighed. “At least I’m not going out at all hours of the day and night looking for a killer.”

“Neither am I,” Sarah said.

“You were out yesterday, weren’t you? All day. I think that’s what brought on my dream, worrying about you. I knew it wasn’t a delivery. I saw the man who called for you yesterday morning.”

Of course she had. No one came onto the street that Mrs. Elsworth didn’t see.

“If you saw the man who called for me, you should have known there was nothing to worry about.”

Mrs. Elsworth sniffed. “I hope you won’t think I’m meddling, but I don’t believe that fellow is a proper companion for you, Mrs. Brandt.”

“Dirk?” Sarah asked in surprise. He had called for her in a hansom cab, which had seemed excessive to Sarah, since they were taking the trolley to Coney Island. She would have thought that would have impressed Mrs. Elsworth, however. “Why do you think he’s not proper?”

“I know that look,” she said. “He’s a man who’s seen too much of the world. He’ll always be restless and angry. No woman will ever satisfy him for long.”

Sarah was awed that her neighbor could make such an accurate assessment of Dirk Schyler just by catching a quick glimpse of him. “You don’t need to worry about me, Mrs. Elsworth. I won’t be seeing him again.”

“That is a relief,” she admitted, managing a strained smile. She still looked shaken, though. Sarah might consider her superstitions ridiculous, but Mrs. Elsworth took them very seriously indeed, and this one had truly frightened her. Not badly enough that she forgot important things, however. “And how is that nice Mr. Malloy?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him around for a white.”

Sarah managed not to choke at the description of Malloy as “nice.” “I haven’t seen him around in a while either,” she said, “so I have no idea how he is.”

“Now, you should know Mr. Malloy would be a much better match for you than that fellow from yesterday, Mrs. Brandt,” Mrs. Elsworth said.

This time Sarah did choke. “Are you serious?” she asked when she could talk again.

“Perfectly. Oh, I know he’s Irish and a Catholic, but I don’t imagine that would stop either of you if you decided you wanted to be together.”

“I must say, you have an odd idea of what’s proper and what isn‘t,” Sarah said, thinking her mother’s-and Malloy’s mother’s and everyone else’s-was exactly the opposite.

“Not odd,” Mrs. Elsworth said. “Just practical. You’ll understand when you’re older, or at least I hope you will. Well, now that I’ve satisfied myself that you’re all right, I’ll let you be about your business. Just promise that you’ll be careful, won’t you? Dreams are sometimes omens, and the cricket definitely was. You mark my words.”

“I’m always careful,” Sarah assured her, not quite accurately. She would be until Gerda’s killer was caught, though. And with any luck, that wouldn’t be long.

SARAH WAS JUST putting on her hat that afternoon to go out when someone knocked on her door. She was surprised to see Malloy standing on her doorstep. She hadn’t sent for him yet, because she’d wanted to talk to Gerda’s friends first. If one of them knew this Will fellow, that would save a lot of time. She’d been planning to catch them as they left Faircloth’s this evening, but this was even better. Malloy could go with her to question the girls, and she could fill him in on the way.

But then she got a look at his face. “What’s happened?” she asked in alarm, thinking of his son.

“That girl Lisle has been murdered.”