“You said you had some news,” Mrs. Walcott said. “About Anna’s death.”
“Yes, I… Mrs. Walcott, I don’t know how to say this without sounding rude, but I’m afraid I have to ask you again if your husband was at home that night.”
Mrs. Walcott stared at Sarah for a long moment, as if trying to read her thoughts. “I am assuming that you believe he was, in spite of what I told you.”
“Yes,” Sarah said. “In fact, I now have very good reason to believe he was.”
Mrs. Walcott sighed and dropped her gaze. “I don’t suppose I need to lie anymore. Yes, he was here that night.”
“Why did you lie about it before?” Sarah asked.
Mrs. Walcott’s expression hardened, and her eyes were full of hatred when she looked up again. “I love my husband, Mrs. Brandt. I wanted to protect him. Anna Blake’s death was no great loss to anyone, and he didn’t really mean to kill her-”
“Your husband killed Anna?” Sarah cried, trying not to sound exultant at having proved her theory so easily.
Mrs. Walcott nodded, her entire body rigid with emotion. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him,” she said, pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbing at her eyes. “I knew he wasn’t always faithful to me, but… He could be so loving. I would have done anything to protect him.”
Sarah couldn’t help feeling compassion for this woman, even though she would never understand the kind of devotion that led a woman to lie for a man like that. “Has something happened to change your mind?” she asked gently.
“Oh, yes,” she said bitterly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “You asked me if Catherine Porter was here. The answer is no, she’s gone. She and my husband left together.”
Sarah gaped at her. “You mean they ran away together?”
“So it appears. My husband had decided he could no longer stay in the city, you see. He was afraid that sooner or later your Mr. Malloy would figure out that he had killed poor Anna. He led me to believe he and I would go together, so I helped him with the arrangements. It was wrong, I know, but I couldn’t help myself. I would have followed him anywhere, you understand, but when I woke up this morning, he and Catherine were both gone. He left me a note… He was very unkind.” Her voice broke, and Sarah’s heart ached for her.
How many women had she met in the city who had been victimized in just this way by men too selfish to consider anything except their own desires? Sarah might despise the weakness that made women prey to such deception, but even more, she hated the cruelty that took advantage of it.
“We’ll find him, Mrs. Walcott,” Sarah promised. “I’ll get word to Mr. Malloy, and he’ll start the search.”
“They could be anywhere by now,” Mrs. Walcott pointed out. “I’m afraid you’ll never be able to locate them.”
She was right, of course. With a day’s head start and no idea even in which direction they had gone, there was little chance they’d ever be found. They could have even stayed right here in the city and disappeared into the teeming tenements without a trace.
“Won’t someone be worried about you, Mrs. Brandt?” Mrs. Walcott asked as she dabbed at her eyes again. “It’s quite dark outside now. I feel guilty keeping you here, listening to my troubles.”
“I’m used to being out at all hours,” Sarah reassured her. “And there’s no one to wait up for me. I’m a widow.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. You’re such a young woman.”
Sarah waved away her sympathy. “You’re very upset. Can I get you something?”
Mrs. Walcott dabbed at her eyes again. “I’d love some tea, but let me get it. It will give me something to do. I’m so tired of sitting around feeling sorry for myself. Please, just wait right here. I won’t be a minute.”
When the landlady had gone, Sarah realized that the mention of tea had started her stomach growling. Except for the sausage sandwich she’d gobbled earlier today, she hadn’t eaten since… since Malloy had fixed breakfast for her. The memory sent a wave of heat washing over her, and she was very glad to be alone, because she had the terrible feeling she might actually be blushing.
To distract herself from such unsettling thoughts, she got up and began to walk around the room, carefully examining every detail. For the first time, she realized that the room contained not one personal item. People usually had framed photographs of loved ones or a sampler or other mementos. Sarah remembered that the Walcotts had bought the house from an old man, and most of the furniture had been his. But surely they would have brought some of their own things with them. If they had, however, none of them were displayed here.
Mrs. Walcott reappeared a few minutes later, carrying a tea tray. Sarah had been hoping she would include something edible, but the tray bore no cookies or other delicacies. She set the tray down on a side table, and proceeded to pour two cups.
“Do you take milk?” she asked Sarah.
“No, thank you.”
“I hope you don’t mind. I sweetened the tea in the pot. I always do when I’m making it for myself, and I just forgot this time.”
“That’s fine,” Sarah said. “I like it sweet.”
Mrs. Walcott stirred Sarah’s cup, then handed it to her before filling her own.
Sarah took a sip. The tea was extremely sweet, making her empty stomach clench with happiness. She wanted to gulp the whole cup at once, but good manners prevailed. Waiting until Mrs. Walcott was seated again, she asked, “Would you mind telling me what really happened the night Anna died?”
Mrs. Walcott took a fortifying sip of her tea. “I wouldn’t mind at all, since I no longer have any reason not to. I was very upset with Anna that night.”
“Because the Giddings boy came to the house?” Sarah guessed.
“No, that was merely an annoyance. I was upset because I’d found Anna and my husband together that night,” she said bitterly. “I was furious, of course, and jealous and humiliated. I ordered Anna to leave. I know you’re thinking I should have been angry at Oliver, and I was, but I’m afraid I wanted to blame Anna for everything. She ran out into the night, and Oliver went after her. He wouldn’t tell me what happened between them, but when he returned, he had blood on his clothes, and he said Anna wouldn’t be coming back. He begged me to forgive him, and he promised he would never be unfaithful to me again.”
“And you believed him?” Sarah asked incredulously.
Mrs. Walcott’s pride was all that held her together. “I wanted to believe him, Mrs. Brandt. I know that makes me a fool, but he swore he’d never cared for her, not the way he cared for me. Of course, I didn’t know Anna was dead until the next morning, when the police came. I thought… Well, I don’t know what I thought. Oliver had left by then and asked me to say he hadn’t been home at all that evening. He didn’t come back for several days. I was afraid he’d never come back at all.”
Sarah took another sip of the tea, and this time the sweetness was cloying, making her feel slightly nauseated. That would teach her not to eat. “I suppose all of this happened later in the evening,” Sarah guessed. “After Miss Porter went to bed.”
“Yes, I’d retired myself, but something awakened me. When I saw Oliver wasn’t in bed, I went looking for him, and… that’s when I found him with Anna,” the other woman explained, her eyes clouded with the painful memories. “I was grateful Catherine slept through the whole thing. There was certainly no reason to air our dirty linen in front of her. Now, of course…” Her voice trailed off.
“Now you probably wish you had,” Sarah guessed.
“Perhaps if she’d known Oliver’s true character, she wouldn’t have run away with him,” Mrs. Walcott said sadly. “Of course, I realize he was probably dallying with her all along, too.”