Murder on St. Mark’s place

13

SARAH LOOKED DOWN FROM HER PERCH AT the top of the Ferris wheel. The view indeed was breathtaking. She couldn’t seem to breathe at all. Somewhere below, Malloy would be watching, but even if she could signal him somehow, there was nothing he could do to help her. She must save herself.

“Dirk,” she tried, amazed that she could speak at all. “You don’t have to hurt me. Surely you know that wealthy people don’t go to prison. Your father will hire the best attorneys for you. No jury will ever believe a man like you could be capable of committing murder.” The words almost gagged her, but unfortunately, she also knew they could well be true. Justice might be blind, but she wasn’t above accepting a bribe.

“But I’d have to stop killing women, Sarah,” he pointed out, his voice so calm and reasonable, it turned her blood to ice. “And I’d be a social outcast. No one would see me. What kind of life would I have?”

“What kind of life will you have if you kill me in front of thousands of people?” she argued.

“I’m not going to kill you, Sarah,” he said, giving the gate she still clutched a sharp tug that pulled it loose from the latch that held it closed. “I told you, you’re going to have a tragic accident.”

“No!” she cried, fighting him for control of the gate. But before she could stop him, he’d flung it out straight, far beyond her reach, and they sat there, a hundred feet above the park, with nothing but air between them and the ground.

“You’re terribly distraught, Sarah,” he told her, his voice so calm he might have been discussing the weather. “You are desperate to remarry, but I told you that you must stop pursuing me. I have no interest in you, and you’re making a fool of yourself. I have no intention of marrying you, and the news caused you to fling yourself off the Ferris wheel to your death.”

He grabbed her by the arms. He was strong, much stronger than she, but she held on to the sides of the car fiercely as he tried to pry her loose.

“You’ll never get away with it, Dirk! Malloy is down there! He’s watching everything! He’ll know what happened!”

“You’re lying,” he reminded her. “He doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“No, it’s true! He’s been following us since we got here! There was a policeman on the trolley, too! Someone’s been watching us the whole time we’ve been together!”

“There’s no one here now, Sarah.”

He’d pulled one of her hands loose and was using her arm to drag her off the seat, but she’d braced her feet, and he couldn’t budge her.

“Don’t do this, Dirk!” she begged as he reached down and slid his arm beneath her knees. He was going to lift her off the seat! If he did that, she’d be helpless. All he’d have to do was toss her over, and she’d be lost.

As he lifted her legs, releasing the hold her feet had on the floor of the car, she kicked up and the toe of her shoe struck him soundly on the side of his head. He cursed her, rearing back and dropping her legs. The look in his eyes was wild, like an animal cornered and ready to fight for its life. Sarah imagined her eyes must look the same as she screamed Malloy’s name in some vain hope he might be able to do something.

Dirk sneered at her. “It’s over now, Sarah,” he said, and drew back his fist.

Everything seemed to move slowly, as if they were underwater. She saw Dirk’s fist coming toward her, and she knew that when he struck her, she would be helpless. Stunned, she couldn’t resist when he threw her out of the car. Some primal instinct responded, and without thinking, she ducked her head, bending nearly double in the last second before his fist would have slammed into her cheek. In that same instant the whole world jolted, nearly unseating her from the car. If she hadn’t been holding on for dear life, she might very well have gone tumbling to the ground.

Dirk’s cry was a shriek of terror as his body kept going, following his swinging arm, carrying him out of the car into oblivion. Sarah’s instinct was to catch him, but her hands clutched only thin air, and she very nearly fell herself as the car reacted to the loss of Dirk’s weight by swinging violently. Only then did she realize the wheel was moving. The lurch of the start, coming just as he was swinging to hit her, was what had unseated Dirk and sent him toppling from the car.

Seconds later she heard the sickening thud as his body struck the ground beneath the wheel, and the crowd’s anguished reaction. Sarah clasped the side and back of the car, hanging on for her life as the wheel came to another precipitous halt that set her car rocking madly. But someone was yelling down below, giving orders. She recognized the voice, even from way up here near the top of the wheel, and in another moment it started again, lurching like a drunk before falling into the smooth rhythm of the usual ride. It didn’t stop until Sarah’s car was on the loading platform.

Malloy was there. She almost didn’t recognize him because of the ridiculous beard he was wearing, but she knew his voice and responded when he told her to let go, she was safe now. Even still, he practically had to pry her hands loose to get her out.

Only when her feet were firmly planted on solid ground was she able to comprehend what had happened. And what had almost happened.

“Are you all right?” Malloy asked. His arm was around her waist, supporting her as he led her away from the wheel.

“Where is he?” she demanded. “I want to see him.”

“He’s dead,” Malloy said.

But another voice called, “He’s still alive! Somebody get a doctor!”

The words rejuvenated her. All weakness and terror evaporated. She broke from Malloy’s grasp and whirled, searching for the voice. “I’m a nurse!” she called.

Picking up her skirts, she ran back the way she’d come, dodging the descending cars that the ride operator was emptying as quickly as he could.

Dirk’s body lay in the barren, rocky area beneath the wheel, which was barely high enough for a man to stand upright. Several men had gathered around him, but no one was doing anything. Probably they were afraid to touch him, and she could guess why. She could tell from the angle at which he lay that his back was broken. He wasn’t moving, and his breathing was shallow. He was probably going into shock, which would be a mercy. The pain from his injuries must be excruciating. If he could feel anything at all, that is.

“Are you Sarah?” one of the men asked as she approached.

“Yes,” she said.

“He’s asking for you.”

The men stood aside for her. Dirk’s face was twisted and gray, his scalp bloody from a gash. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear his words. She knelt beside him, anxious to hear what his last words would be. Would he confess and clear his conscience? She wanted to hear him admit he’d killed Gerda, too, and then this nightmare would be over.

But when she leaned close, he said, “You are another of my mistakes. I can usually tell when they’re going to fight back. I thought I was ready for you.”

“The wheel started moving,” she said. “It unbalanced you.”

“I told them to get you down.” It was Malloy, standing over them. She’d known he wouldn’t be far away. “I saw he was trying to throw you off.”

She cast him a grateful glance. There would be time for proper thanks later. She turned back to Dirk. “Tell me the truth about Gerda, Dirk. At least you’ll die with a clear conscience.”

His lips curved into a grotesque parody of a smile. “I didn’t kill her, Sarah. You’ll have to keep looking.”

She heard Malloy’s reaction, but she didn’t want to waste time filling him in on the whole truth. She had only a few more minutes with Dirk. “Why did you do it, Dirk? Why did you kill the others?”

His smile became a grimace. “Because I could,” he said simply.

“Get back, step back.” The command came from an officious-looking fellow in a bowler hat and a plaid shirt with sleeve garters. He was followed by two men carrying a stretcher. “Out of the way, miss. We’ve got to take him to a doctor.”

“If you move him, he’ll die,” Sarah protested.

“If we don’t move him, he’ll die, too,” the fellow said reasonably. “Better he shouldn’t die in front of all these people.”

“Don’t touch me!” Dirk protested in alarm when the two men laid the stretcher down beside him.

“It’s all right, mister. We’re going to get you some help,” one of them said.

The expression on Dirk’s face was naked terror, the kind Sarah had felt moments before when she had been certain Dirk was going to throw her to her death.

“This is how those women felt, Schyler,” Malloy said to him. “Think about that. The pain and the fear. It isn’t pleasant, is it?”

Dirk didn’t reply because the men were lifting him on the stretcher, and he was screaming in agony. Sarah instinctively moved to help him-although she had no idea how she might have accomplished that-but Malloy held her back as the men carried Dirk away.

“Are you all right, miss?” the short man in the sleeve garters asked. “Did you get hurt at all?”

Sarah hadn’t even considered whether she had or not. “I don’t think so. I was just frightened.”

“How did it happen?” he asked. “I’m the park manager,” he added, in case she thought he was just being nosy.

Sarah thought quickly. She’d have to explain this to many people, Dirk’s family included. She glanced at Malloy. His expression was grave, but he offered no suggestions. “It was a terrible accident,” she said, sickeningly aware that she was quoting Dirk. She didn’t look at Malloy again. If he disapproved, she would never be able to lie convincingly. “Mr. Schyler was acting silly, trying to frighten me, I think. He had an odd sense of humor. The gate came loose and flew open, and just as he tried to reach for it to pull it back, the wheel started to move, and he lost his balance.”

“You sure he didn’t jump on purpose? A lot of them does, you know,” the man said by way of apology for asking.

“If he’d wanted to commit suicide, he hardly would’ve taken a lady up to accompany him, now would he?” Malloy pointed out.

“I suppose not,” the man allowed. “I just don’t want nobody telling the newspapers he jumped. It gives all the crazy ones ideas. Gives the park a bad name, too.”

“No one will say he jumped,” Sarah assured him.

The man sighed. “Is he your husband or something?”

“Just a family friend,” Sarah said. “I should go with him, though. Where are they taking him?”

“To a doctor down on Surf Avenue.”

“I’ll take her,” Malloy said. “How do we get there?”

The park manager had one of his men drive them in a park wagon. As they made their way through the crowded streets, Sarah thought of Dirk’s broken body being subjected to the jostling of a wagon ride, and winced. Malloy would say it was no more than he deserved, and Sarah knew he was probably right. Still, the thought of anyone suffering so horribly sickened her.

“What were you thinking to go up on the Ferris wheel with him?” Malloy demanded as the wagon jounced along. He sounded angry.

“I was thinking we would have a lovely ride,” she replied defensively. “He’d managed to convince me he was innocent, you see.”

“You confronted him?” Malloy was incredulous.

“I’m not sure you’d call it that, exactly. We were talking, and I let him know that all the murdered girls knew a man named Will and that we knew he was that man.”

“Did you think he’d just break down bawling and beg you to absolve him?” He was angry again.

“No,” she said, becoming annoyed. “I thought he’d get angry and betray himself.”

“But he didn’t.”

Sarah sighed over her own nalvete. “He was much too clever for me. He asked me the date of Gerda’s murder, and he had an alibi for it, one we could easily check.”

“You couldn’t have checked it if you were dead,” he pointed out. “Which is exactly what he had planned. Didn’t it ever occur to you that he was lying through his teeth just to get you to let down your guard?”

“Of course it didn’t, or I wouldn’t have gone on the Ferris wheel with him!” she snapped. It occurred to Sarah that they were probably giving the driver enough gossip for the rest of the season, but she couldn’t help that.

Malloy frowned inside the awful-looking beard. “But you did get him to confess, finally?”

“Yes, I think… I think he wanted to brag. He must have wanted someone to know about his successes, even if I’d only know for a few moments before he killed me. He said he’d killed the other girls. And Lisle. I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. But he swears he didn’t kill Gerda. That was the one he had the alibi for.”

“Probably he was lying. He knew that was the one you cared most about. He was just trying to torment you.”

“I cared about Lisle, too, but he readily confessed to killing her. No, I’m afraid he might be telling the truth. He said he was at a party with a group of men. They’ll be able to tell us if he was or not. Then we’ll know for sure.”

Malloy sighed his disgust. They rode in silence for another block before he said, “Are you going to be all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Malloy’s concern was gruff but sincere. It almost undid her. “He was going to throw me off the Ferris wheel, Malloy! In front of all those people.”

“He might’ve managed to convince everyone it was an accident, too. Nobody would believe he’d do something so brazen. Would your family have wanted an investigation?”

“Certainly not,” she said, knowing it was true. They would have mourned her for the rest of their lives, but they never would have been able to accept that her death had been anything but mischance. They wouldn’t be able to believe someone like Dirk, a gentleman of their own class, capable of a heinous crime. “And the worst part is, he would’ve been free to keep on killing.”

“Didn’t you tell him I was watching?” Malloy wasn’t going to let this alone.

“He… he thought I was lying.”

Mercifully, Malloy didn’t question her further on that point. She didn’t want to have to admit she’d let Dirk believe she was unprotected.

The wagon stopped in front of an unassuming house set back a little from the avenue. “This is where they took him,” the driver said. Was he looking at them strangely? Sarah wished she could say something to reassure him, but that wasn’t possible.

Malloy helped her down from the seat and slipped some coins to the driver, asking him to wait for them.

Inside they found the doctor looking grim. “You his family?”

“No, just… just a friend,” Sarah said, almost choking on the word.

“I’m sorry. Wasn’t anything I could do. He was near dead when he got here. I gave him something for the pain so he didn’t suffer too much at the end.”

Malloy made a rude noise, which the doctor obviously mistook for grief. He murmured some condolences, which Malloy ignored.

“What arrangements do you want to make for the body? It won’t keep long in this heat,” he added apologetically.

“I’ll inform his family when I get back to the city,” Sarah said. “I’m sure they’ll send for the body immediately. Can you keep it until then?”

A few moments later Sarah and Malloy were back in the waiting wagon. Malloy told the driver to take them to the trolley station. At Sarah’s questioning look, he said, “There’s nothing else we can do here, is there?”

She had to agree.

MALLOY HADN’T WANTED Sarah to visit Dirk’s family alone. He thought this was a police matter and that he should be the one to notify them. Sarah had argued that it wasn’t a police matter unless he was going to charge someone with murder, and since the suspect was dead, he wasn’t likely to do that. Sarah saw no need to blacken the name of the entire Schyler family by accusing their son of murder when he wasn’t able to defend himself. In fact, doing so would only bring down the very considerable wrath of that family and all their friends and relations. Malloy didn’t need that any more than Sarah did. Justice had been served with Dirk’s death, and they would have to be satisfied that they were the only ones who knew it.

Sarah still had one last duty to perform before she could be completely satisfied, however. Somehow she had to test Dirk’s alibi for Gerda’s murder. If Dirk hadn’t been guilty of that crime, then a killer was still on the loose.

The Schylers lived in one of the unpretentious brown-stone town houses a few blocks from her parents’ home. Outside, the homes were quietly elegant. The Dutch weren’t much for ostentatiously flaunting their wealth. Inside, however, the dwellings were as plain or elaborate as the occupants’ tastes-and fortunes-allowed. The Schylers, Sarah discovered when she was admitted to their home, were apparently still doing very well, indeed.

The marble floor shone brightly in the summer evening sunlight, and fresh flowers filled the Oriental vase that sat on the imported English table standing in the center of the entrance hall. The butler had looked at her queerly when he’d seen her standing on the front stoop. He’d have no idea who she was, of course, and her clothes marked her as distinctly middle class. Only her message-that she had some news about Dirk-had gained her admittance. She just hoped his parents recognized her name so she wouldn’t have to explain too much. She didn’t think she was up to any more fabrications today. She’d already composed enough lies to last her a lifetime.

After a few minutes the butler escorted her into the back parlor, where she found Dirk’s mother alone, ensconced on a sofa in a room far less grandly furnished than the formal rooms reserved for company. She was wearing a simple, at-home dress, and her hair hadn’t been arranged. Plainly, she hadn’t been receiving visitors today, and she looked annoyed at having one now.

“Sarah Decker, is that you?” she demanded when Sarah walked in. “James said another name, but that’s who you are, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah said. “Brandt is my married name.”

“But you’re widowed, I think,” she said, looking Sarah over with no apparent approval. The years had scoured away any excess flesh from her face, leaving her gaunt and sharp looking. From the way the lines on her face ran, she also seldom smiled.

“Yes, I am. Mrs. Schyler, is your husband at home? I’m afraid I have some unpleasant news, and I think it would be better if-”

“Nonsense,” she said, waving away Sarah’s suggestion. “Just say what you’ve come to say. It’s not the first time some female has come in here mewling that Dirk has ruined her and demanding this or that in compensation. He won’t marry you, I promise you that! You may be a Decker by birth, but anyone can see that you’re as common as dirt now. You can’t expect Dirk would waste himself on the likes of you. You should have thought about that before you took up with him.”

“I didn’t ‘take up with him,’ Mrs. Schyler,” Sarah said, reminding herself that she was about to shatter this woman’s life. Only the thought of her grief allowed Sarah to hold her temper.

“You certainly wanted to,” she said. “Everyone knows how you pursued him. You’ve made yourself a laughing-stock, young lady.”

Sarah felt a twinge of annoyance at the thought of her ruined reputation among society matrons, a sad remnant of her previous life. Well, if they were gossiping about her before, just wait until they found out where her pursuit of Dirk had led.

“Mrs. Schyler, the news I have isn’t about me. It’s about Dirk,” she said. Although she hadn’t been offered a seat, she sat down anyway, taking the fragile damask-covered chair opposite her companion. “I’m afraid there’s been a terrible accident.”

There it was again, the phrase Dirk had used. Sarah shuddered slightly at the realization that if things had gone as he planned, Dirk might well be delivering this same news to her own parents instead.

“What kind of accident?” Mrs. Schyler didn’t believe it could be very important.

Oh, dear, where to start? “You see. Dirk and I went to Coney Island today and-”

“Where?” she asked, horrified.

“Coney Island,” Sarah repeated, hoping she wouldn’t question everything Sarah said. This could take all night! “There is a park there with rides and-”

“What on earth were you doing in a place like that? I can’t believe my son would consent to such a thing. Although I suppose your tastes have grown common. They certainly have if that gown is any indication.”

Sarah was rapidly losing patience, but she reminded herself of her mission and bit back the sharp retort that sprang so readily to her lips. “Dirk enjoyed going to the park there,” Sarah said, not really caring whether the other woman believed her or not. “We were on the Ferris wheel this afternoon and… and that’s when the accident happened.”

When Sarah hesitated, Mrs. Schyler grew impatient. “Go on, spit it out,” she said. “I don’t have all day.”

Sarah drew a deep breath and began to recite the story that was almost starting to sound true to her own ears. “We were on the Ferris wheel, at the very top, and the gate across the car came loose. It flew open, and just as Dirk reached to pull it back again, the wheel started to move. He lost his balance and… and he fell.”

“That was very careless of him,” his mother said with disapproval. “I suppose he was injured or else you wouldn’t be here” She sighed with long-suffering. “All right, where is he? We’ll see that our doctor attends him immediately.”

Sarah would have liked to see a bit more concern from Dirk’s mother, even if she truly believed he’d only been injured. She had no reason to believe the injuries were minor, after all. “He… he was taken to a doctor there, but… there was nothing he could do. I’m sorry to tell you, Mrs. Schyler, but Dirk died of his injuries.”

Mrs. Schyler stared at her through faded blue eyes as the truth slowly penetrated. “Died?” she echoed, as if she’d never heard the word before.

“Yes,” she said, and manufactured another lie to add to her long list for the day. “You’ll be relieved to know he didn’t suffer, though. The end came quickly.”

Mrs. Schyler’s face had gone white. Sarah was wondering if she should summon a servant to fetch some smelling salts, but before she could, Mrs. Schyler disabused her of the notion that she was about to faint.

“Are you telling me my son died from a fall from a… what did you call it?”

“A Ferris wheel,” Sarah explained patiently. “It’s an amusement-park ride. It’s a large wheel, about a hundred feet high, that goes around. It has cars that people sit in-”

“And you made Dirk ride on this… this thing?”

“Actually, it was his idea to ride on it,” Sarah said. She wanted to add that he’d intended to push her off of it, too, but that would accomplish nothing.

“Nonsense,” his mother insisted for the second time that evening. “My son would never choose to do anything so common. I’m sure he never visited this Coney Island place before he met you, either. How will we ever explain this to our friends?”

She seemed outraged. Sarah had seen unusual reactions to grief in her time, and anger was fairly common. Blaming the messenger was also fairly common. She tried not to be insulted. She had, however, expected at least a rudimentary form of grief. “It does seem a rather unpleasant way to die, but I assure you, there’s nothing to be ashamed of-”

“Ashamed! How dare you even suggest such a thing! You, who are nothing more than a fortune hunter who tried to trap my Dirk into marriage and ended up killing him instead!”

The truth burned inside of Sarah, but she knew Mrs. Schyler would never believe her now. On the contrary, she’d accuse Sarah of making up lies about Dirk to cover her own guilt. She reached into her purse and pulled out a slip of paper. “I’ve written the name and address of the doctor in Coney Island. You may send someone there for Dirk… Dirk’s remains. I’m very sorry, Mrs. Schyler.” She laid the slip of paper on the table between them.

“Sorry! You haven’t begun to know the meaning of the word! I’ll ruin you! No other respectable man will ever speak to you again!”

Sarah didn’t bother to point out that hardly any respectable men spoke to her now, in the course of an average day. “I’ll see myself out,” she said, rising from her chair and only too happy to put an end to this conversation.

Mrs. Schyler wasn’t finished, but Sarah didn’t listen to the rest of what she was saying. Or rather, shrieking. She’d already heard enough. At least she had a better understanding now of what might have inspired Dirk to kill women. It was small comfort.

“OH, MY DEAR, what on earth is wrong?” Mrs. Elsworth exclaimed when she saw Sarah coming down the street that evening. “I dropped a pair of scissors today, and the point stuck in the floor. That always means bad news. It’s not another lost little one, I hope!”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Sarah assured her.

“Is it something to do with that fellow I saw you with this morning? I knew he was trouble the moment I set eyes on him! I warned you, didn’t I?”

Sarah only wished she could tell Mrs. Elsworth just how right she’d been. “Dirk won’t be any trouble to anyone ever again,” she said, knowing at least a small measure of relief at the thought of how many young women would be safe now that he was dead.

“Oh, my, that sounds serious,” she said, coming down the steps she’d been sweeping to meet Sarah in the street. “From the looks of you, it is, too!”

Sarah toyed with the idea of telling her the fable she’d invented to protect Dirk’s family, but she no longer had the stomach for it. “You were right, Mrs. Elsworth, he was an evil man. Today he was trying to frighten me on one of the rides at Coney Island, and he accidentally fell to his death.”

“Good heavens! You poor dear! You must be devastated!”

“Not exactly,” Sarah admitted, “but I am exhausted. If you’ll excuse me, I’d-”

“Let me take you inside and make you a cup of tea. I’ve got some lamb stew left from supper. I don’t suppose you’ve eaten, either. No matter, I’ll take care of you.”

“I’d really rather just go home and-”

“Of course, dear, go on. I’ll be over in a minute with something to eat.”

Sarah was too tired to argue. She let Mrs. Elsworth feed her and put her to bed, where she dreamed of the faceless man who had killed Gerda Reinhard.

THE NEXT DAY Sarah visited her mother, knowing she would soon hear of Dirk’s death and demand to know the details. Their visit was a trial for Sarah. Her mother assumed she had been romantically interested in him, and nothing she could say would convince her that she wasn’t grief-stricken at his loss. At least she had no trouble explaining why she wouldn’t be attending Dirk’s funeral. Sarah knew it was because she wouldn’t be welcome by his family, but she allowed her mother to believe it would be too difficult for her.

That evening, Sarah took advantage of the coolness of the evening to weed her garden. That’s where Malloy found her.

“Your neighbor told me where you were,” he explained when he came through the back gate.

Sarah rose from where she’d been kneeling and pulled off her work gloves. She felt a little self-conscious to be dressed in the shabby gown she used for cleaning, but she reminded herself she had no need to impress Malloy. “Have you found out anything?”

He didn’t look very pleased. “I found out that Schyler really was entertaining his friends the night Gerda Reinhard was killed. There’s no chance that he killed her.”

“Damn,” Sarah said, throwing her gloves down in disgust.

“Mrs. Brandt, I’m shocked,” he said, pretending to be.

“Shut up, Malloy. You’re as annoyed as I am about this!”

“You’re right, I am. I wanted him to be the killer, and it looks like he was, but not in this case.”

Sarah sighed. “Come and sit down. Mrs. Elsworth brought over a bottle of homemade elderberry wine last night. I think we deserve a glass, don’t you?”

“Homemade, did you say?” Malloy asked, following her to the back porch. “My opinion of the old bat just went up a notch.”

Sarah smiled in spite of herself. It was the first time she’d felt like smiling since Dirk had plunged to his death.

When they were seated at the table on her back porch with glasses of wine in front of them, Sarah said, “What do we do now?”

Malloy stared out at the garden for a long moment. “I’m not sure we can do anything at all. We’re right back to where we started-too many suspects to even hope to find the right one. And now so much time has passed that any chance we might have had of finding the killer are pretty much gone.”

He was right, of course. They were back to suspecting every man Gerda had known, and that was a lot of men. Even if Malloy had the time and resources to question all of them, there was no way of proving which one of them-if any of them!-had actually killed her unless he chose to confess, which seemed highly unlikely. She may have even been the victim of a total stranger, someone she didn’t know at all, which meant that all the investigation in the world probably wouldn’t find him.

“How do you deal with it?” she asked him. “With knowing that a killer is walking free and there’s nothing you can do, I mean?”

His dark gaze met hers. His eyes were unfathomable. Finally, he said, “How do you deal with it when one of your patients dies?”

There was, of course, no answer to his question. She simply went on, learning from past mistakes and doing the best she could in the future. Now she understood that he did, too.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their wine. It was very good, and after a while Malloy poured himself a second glass without asking, then refilled her glass, too. Perhaps it was the wine that gave her courage.

“How did your wife die, Malloy?”

She felt the instant tension, but she waited, refusing to take back her question.

“I told you,” he finally said. “A midwife killed her.”

“What happened exactly?”

At first she thought he wouldn’t answer, but she waited, giving him time. Her patience was rewarded.

“It was a difficult birth. After three days, the baby still hadn’t come.”

Sarah couldn’t help the sound of protest that escaped her.

He glanced at her. “Would you have taken her to the hospital?”

“Probably,” Sarah said. “Although there are some things you can do to help the baby along. I would’ve tried those first, and then-”

“Kathleen wouldn’t go to the hospital. Her mother died in a hospital. She was terrified of them. Didn’t want a doctor either. Didn’t want a strange man to see her like that. In the end, I sent for one anyway, but it was too late by then.”

“Didn’t the midwife do anything?”

“Oh, yes, she did something all right. She used these… these instruments to pull the baby out.”

“Forceps,” Sarah guessed.

“Yes, that’s right.” The bitterness was thick in his voice.

“Do you know it’s illegal for a midwife to use them?” she asked him.

“I do now. And I guess I know why, too, don’t I? She got the baby out, but she tore something inside… inside Kathleen. She was bleeding and… I sent for the doctor, but by the time he came, she was gone.”

His efforts to conceal the depths of his anguish only made it more profound. Moved beyond tears, Sarah reached over and laid her hand on his arm. She understood the pain only too well, the agony of losing someone you dearly love in such a senseless way. “I’m sorry,” she said.

He looked down at where her hand rested on his arm, then up to meet her gaze. “It’s not your fault,” he reminded her. Or perhaps he was reminding himself. He’d hated her on sight because of what she was, but now he was saying he no longer held that against her. Or at least she hoped he was saying that.

As for herself, she’d long since forgiven him for being a policeman. Now that she understood his reasons, she could not condemn him for doing the only thing he could to make sure his son was well provided for.

Aware that they had reached a new level of understanding, she self-consciously withdrew her hand and placed it in her lap. The silence between them was no longer comfortable, but heavy with unspoken things. She cast about for some way to break it.

“What do we do now?” she asked again, not even certain this time to what she referred.

“About Gerda’s killer, you mean?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, glad to have that settled.

When she met his gaze, she thought she saw her own relief mirrored in his dark eyes.

“I told you, there’s not much we can do,” he said.

But Sarah wasn’t going to give up quite so easily. There was still one more thing she could do, and if that didn’t work, well, then maybe, just maybe, she’d give up.