Sarah opened the envelope and found a note card inside. Written in an elegant hand was an invitation for Sarah to join Mrs. Spratt-Williams for tea the next afternoon to discuss the future of Rahab’s Daughters.
“Tell her I’ll be happy to accept her invitation,” Sarah said. She wasn’t sure how much assistance she could offer, but she was flattered to be asked. If she was summoned to a birth, she’d have to send her regrets, but she’d worry about that if it happened.
TAKING SARAH’S ADVICE, FRANK WAITED UNTIL THE MIDDLE of the morning to call on Gregory Van Orner. The man seemed annoyed at being bothered, and Frank thought he might have been drinking already today.
“I thought Tamar was taking care of all of this,” he muttered, grudgingly offering Frank a seat.
“I thought you’d want to be kept informed of what I’ve found out so far.”
“I suppose,” Mr. Van Orner said, leaning back in his chair as if challenging Frank to make this visit worth his time.
“Your wife died from an overdose of laudanum that someone put into the flask she carried in her purse.”
Van Orner shifted uneasily in his chair. “Flask? What are you talking about?”
This was going to be more difficult than Frank had expected. Van Orner was going to pretend he didn’t know about his wife’s drinking. “According to Miss Yingling and some of your wife’s friends, Mrs. Van Orner carried a silver flask in her purse which contained crème de menthe.”
“What on earth for?”
“To drink,” Malloy said, hoping Van Orner wouldn’t decide to throw him out for speaking ill of his poor, dead wife. “According to Miss Yingling, Mrs. Van Orner would use it to . . . to calm herself when she became upset about something.”
“Good God, no wonder . . . You know, she always smelled of mint. I thought it was those dammed peppermints she was always popping in her mouth.” At least he wasn’t going to tell Frank he was a liar.
“A fatal dose of laudanum is only two or three spoonfuls, and the strong taste of the crème de menthe would have covered the bitterness of the laudanum, according to the medical examiner.”
“So that’s what killed her. I’d been wondering.”
“She might have been saved, but because she was alone in the carriage, and nobody knew she’d taken laudanum—she didn’t even know herself—she died within an hour.”
This still wasn’t making sense to Van Orner. “But who could’ve done it?”
“Someone who had access to her purse and the flask.”
“Her maid,” Van Orner offered. “She has access to everything Vivian owns.”
“Did her maid have any reason to want her dead?”
Van Orner frowned. “Oh, I see. No, probably not. She was devoted to Vivian, too. She’s been hysterical ever since she got the news. Had to call in the doctor to give her something. Laudanum, probably,” he added with a trace of irony.
“Would anyone else in your house . . . who lived in your house then,” Frank amended, “have any reason to harm your wife?”
“Not that I can think of. She was never . . . She was always too easy with the servants. I told her a hundred times they took advantage of her.”
“So no one here had a grudge against her?”
“No, no one. But who else could it have been?”
“She was at her office that day, but nobody else was there except Miss Yingling. Then they went to the rescue house.”
Van Orner curled his lip in distaste. “Are you saying that’s where it happened?”
“Anyone at that house could have had access to her purse,” Frank said, choosing not to answer the question. “From what I’ve been told, she always left it on a table in the hallway.”
“And did they all know about the flask?”
“I’ve been told they did.”
“Who was there?”
“Miss Yingling, of course. Mrs. Spratt-Williams—”
“You can count her out. They’ve been lifelong friends.”
Frank had already eliminated her. “Miss Biafore.”
“Who’s that?”
“She manages the rescue house.”
“Vivian gave that responsibility to an Italian woman? What was she thinking? Those people will steal you blind!”
Knowing better than to respond to that, Frank said, “And three women whom Mrs. Van Orner and her friends had rescued.”
“It had to be one of them, then. Everyone knows a whore would kill her own mother for fifty cents.”
“One of the rescued women was Amy Cunningham.”
12
SARAH AND MAEVE GOT UP EARLY ON MONDAY MORNING to do the wash. The day was raw but fair, and they had everything on the line well before noon. They were sitting in the kitchen, warming themselves with hot tea, when Mrs. Ellsworth came to the back door with an offering of a freshly baked cake.
“Ever since Nelson insisted we start taking our clothes to the Chinese laundry, I never know what to do with myself on Monday mornings,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, referring to her son.
“Baking a cake was a good idea,” Maeve said, admiring the finished product.
“We still have half of the cake Maeve and Catherine made on Saturday,” Sarah reminded them.
Mrs. Ellsworth accepted the cup of tea Sarah had poured for her. “I’m sure you’ll find a good use for it, Mrs. Brandt. It’s good luck to give someone a cake. Has Mr. Malloy found the murderer yet?”
“He thinks he knows who it is, but he had to go meet with Mr. Van Orner first.”
“You didn’t tell me he knows who the killer is,” Maeve complained. “Who is it?”
“I said he thinks he knows.”
“Why does he need to talk to Mr. Van Orner?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.
“Because Mr. Van Orner might not want the killer arrested.”
“Good heavens, why not?”
“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” Maeve asked eagerly. “The one who had the baby.”
“As I said, he’s not sure.”
Maeve wasn’t fooled. “But if it is her, Mr. Van Orner might not want her punished. He might be in love with her, and she’s the mother of his baby into the bargain.”
“How can he be sure it’s his baby?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.
“I don’t know,” Sarah said. “Maybe he can be sure or maybe he doesn’t care. At any rate, Mr. Malloy doesn’t want to arrest her unless Mr. Van Orner wants her punished.” She explained the practice of pigeonholing cases.
Mrs. Ellsworth was outraged. “You mean they just let murders go free?”
“Murderers and thieves and anybody else who has the money,” Maeve said, not at all surprised to hear about the practice. “My grandfather always used to say it was better not to get caught, but if you did, it’s best to have your bail money socked away.”
“Do you think this Amy is the killer?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.
“I’m not sure what I think. She may have thought she had a reason for wanting Mrs. Van Orner dead. She knew Mrs. Van Orner drank and carried a flask with her. She had the opportunity to put the laudanum in her flask.”
“Other people knew about the flask and the drinking,” Maeve said.
“Yes, but who had a reason for killing her? Not Mrs. Spratt-Williams, who was her oldest friend. Not Miss Yingling, who owed her everything.”
“Sometimes gratitude is a good reason to kill someone,” Mrs. Ellsworth observed.
Sarah looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen it happen where a person starts to resent the one who’s helped them the most. Sometimes people don’t want to remember how much help they needed or how little they deserved it.”
Maeve nodded enthusiastically. “The person who helped is always a reminder of how low you were, too. Nobody likes to remember that.”