A quarter of an hour later she reached Bank Street, and as she strolled toward her front steps, she saw her elderly next-door neighbor, Mrs. Ellsworth, come out with her broom and begin to sweep.
No dirt ever had a chance to collect on Mrs. Ellsworth’s front steps because she was out there ten times a day sweeping. She used this activity as an excuse to encounter everyone who passed by. Sarah wondered when she had a chance to do her inside housework since she always seemed to be watching out her front window for any activity that required her attention in the neighborhood.
“Hello, Mrs. Brandt!” she called cheerfully.
“How are you today, Mrs. Ellsworth?” Sarah replied. Since Mrs. Ellsworth had once saved her life, Sarah would indulge her whenever she could.
“Oh, I’m feeling quite cheerful, Mrs. Brandt. My apron fell off this morning, and that gave me quite a laugh.”
This didn’t seem particularly funny to Sarah, but she knew Mrs. Ellsworth well enough to know there must be some hidden meaning in the event. Mrs. Ellsworth found hidden meaning in just about everything that happened. “And why did you find this so funny?”
“Because when an apron falls off, it means the wearer is going to have a baby within the year!”
Even Sarah had to laugh at this, too. Mrs. Ellsworth was in no danger of having a baby this or any year. “Perhaps someone is going to leave one on your door-step,” she suggested.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I don’t think I’d even remember what to do with a baby, it’s been so long. It’s a nice thought, though.”
“Or maybe it means you’re going to be a grand-mother,” Sarah said, teasing her. “Has your son been keeping company with anyone special lately?”
“Lord, no,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “All Nelson does is work at the bank, day and night. I tell him it’s making him old before his time, but does he listen? Of course not. He tells me he needs to get ahead. I tell him he needs to get a wife. I want some grandchildren to spoil before I die.”
“I don’t blame you. But sooner or later he’ll meet a nice girl and fall in love. Don’t give up hope.”
“And where have you been this lovely day? Delivering someone else’s grandchild?”
“No, I was just visiting one of my patients who…” Suddenly Sarah realized Mrs. Ellsworth might know the deceased. She was always following the latest in medical cures. “Have you ever heard of Dr. Edmund Blackwell?”
“Blackwell? Yes, indeed. He’s getting quite famous. I went to one of his lectures. Nelson always tells me I’m a fool for believing these charlatans, but how do you know that one of them might not have really discovered something that will help cure people?”
Sarah wasn’t about to agree with something so outrageous. “What did you think of him?” she asked instead.
“A lovely man,” she said, really meaning it. “Quite handsome and tall, and his voice was like velvet. Just looking at him made me feel better,” she added with a sly grin, “so I imagine his treatments are quite effective.”
Sarah couldn’t help smiling back. “I had no idea he was so attractive,” she said. This probably explained why Letitia had married him, in spite of the difference in their backgrounds and their ages.
“And I’m not the only one who noticed, either, as you can imagine. Ladies tend to get sick more frequently if their doctor is handsome and charming, so Dr. Blackwell was in great demand. I even heard… Well, that’s of no matter.”
Sarah glanced around to see if anyone else was in earshot and stepped closer to Mrs. Ellsworth’s porch. “I guess you haven’t heard about it yet, but Dr. Blackwell was murdered two days ago.”
“Good heavens, no! I can hardly believe it!” She leaned her broom up against the house and came halfway down the steps so they could speak more quietly. “Did you say he was murdered? How on earth did it happen?”
“Someone went into his house and shot him. I understand the killer tried to make it look like suicide but-”
“But that nice Mr. Malloy wasn’t fooled,” she guessed. Mrs. Ellsworth thought very highly of Frank Malloy. “Does he know who did it?”
“Not yet. It seems Dr. Blackwell had a mysterious past that might have given someone a reason to kill him.”
Mrs. Ellsworth snorted derisively. “I don’t know what kind of a past he had, but I can assure you, if what I’ve heard about him is true, he has a present that might have given someone a reason to kill him, too.”
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked eagerly.
“What I mean is that rumor has it Dr. Blackwell’s treatments sometimes involved intimacies that other doctors would have considered… uh… unprofessional.”
“Intimacies?” Sarah echoed.
Mrs. Ellsworth glanced around this time, making sure she would not be overheard. “It’s said he sometimes seduces his patients, Mrs. Brandt. Not that the patients were unwilling. I’m sure they were actually quite eager. But some of them, I’ve heard, have jealous husbands who resented their wives’ devotion to the good doctor, even if they didn’t know how deep that devotion went. Perhaps one of them found out about his wife’s involvement and decided to rid the world of his rival.”
5
FOR THE FUNERAL THE NEXT MORNING, SARAH dressed in her best black serge and chose a hat that still looked moderately stylish. In the normal course of her life, she hardly ever needed to look stylish, but she’d been to far too many funerals since meeting Frank Malloy. She’d be forced to get a new hat if this kept up.
Although she was carrying her medical bag when Granger opened the front door to the Blackwell home, he could not miss the fact that she was here for the funeral, although she was a bit early. Her hat probably gave her away.
“I’m sure Mrs. Blackwell will be glad to see you, Mrs. Brandt,” he said, although his tone belied the words.
Sarah, of course, didn’t particularly care if Mrs. Blackwell wanted to see her or not. She was here, and they wouldn’t dare cause a scene by trying to throw her out. She was, after all, Mrs. Blackwell’s nurse, and who could fault her for paying her respects to the husband of her patient?
When she stepped into the foyer, she heard Amos Potter’s voice coming from the parlor. He was instructing someone impatiently. Sarah peeked in and saw that Dr. Blackwell’s large, ornate casket had been brought in during her absence. It was closed, probably because after having his brains blown out, he wasn’t in any condition for viewing. Several large flower arrangements stood around, their scent rather cloying in the confines of the room, and the furniture had been moved back to make space for half a dozen rows of chairs.
Potter was telling one of the maids to move the flowers closer to the casket when Sarah called, “Good morning, Mr. Potter. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Potter looked up in surprise, and for an instant couldn’t seem to place her. “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Brandt,” he said after a moment. “No, I’m sure we have everything taken care of. Is Mrs. Blackwell ill?” he added with some concern.
“Not that I am aware. I did think she might need some support today, however. This must be a terrible strain for her.”
“Oh, not at all. I told her she didn’t have to worry about anything. I’ve taken care of all the arrangements. And under the circumstances, no one expects her to attend the service, of course.”
“Sometimes that’s worse, knowing you can’t do anything or take part in something of such importance,” Sarah said. “And don’t underestimate the importance of a funeral. One must be allowed to mourn a loss such as this, and being unable to attend her husband’s funeral will make it difficult for her to come to terms with his death.”
Potter didn’t appreciate being instructed in such things. “I’m sure I will be able to give Mrs. Blackwell all the support she will need in the coming months, Mrs. Brandt. You need not concern yourself about her welfare.”