Murder In Chelsea Part 10

"The Mission successfully keeps them from turning to it," he hastily explained. "But the girls there are much older than Catherine. My daughter thought she needed a real home."

"Of course she does, and I have a real home right here for her. I've contacted my son-in-law, who is an attorney. I believe he is meeting with Mr. Malloy today to discuss the legalities of the situation."

"Mr. Wilbanks, I understand how you must feel-"

"Do you? Have you ever lost a daughter, Mr. Decker?"

The question was like a physical blow, the pain as fresh as the day it had happened. "Yes, I have. But your daughter isn't dead, Wilbanks. She's well and happy."

Somewhat taken aback, Wilbanks still did not give an inch. "I only have your word for that."

"If you know anything about me at all, you know my word is good."

"That's cold comfort to a dying man."

"Suppose I do tell you where your daughter is? What then?"

"My son-in-law a.s.sures me he will have that information for me in a matter of days with no a.s.sistance from you."

"Does he have an investigator working on it?"

"Of course."

"The same one who failed to find her the first time?"

Wilbanks's eyes narrowed. "Why did you come here, Decker? Just to torture me? Are you one of those holier-than-thou do-gooders who thinks I should be punished for my immorality?"

"Of course not," Decker said, pus.h.i.+ng aside his personal distaste for Wilbanks's moral failings. "I came to see if we could work out a compromise that would be in Catherine's best interest."

"Catherine's best interest is to be with her father."

"Is that the only solution you'll accept?"

"Why should I accept any other?"

"Because you're dying, Wilbanks. Even if you manage to live another year or two, Catherine will still be very young. What will become of her when you're gone?"

"I'll leave her with a fortune. She'll never want for anything."

"And who will manage that fortune for her? Who can be trusted not to squander it all before she comes of age? Or cheat her out of it in some other way? And if someone did murder the nursemaid because they didn't want you to find Catherine, what's to stop them from murdering a child to keep her from collecting her inheritance?"

The color had drained from Wilbanks's face, and he reached blindly for a carafe sitting on the table beside him. He knocked a book onto the floor and nearly toppled the carafe. Decker caught it just in time and poured some water into a gla.s.s for Wilbanks, who gulped it down. When Wilbanks had recovered himself, Decker picked up the book and laid it back on the table. It was the new volume by H. G. Wells, The War of the Worlds.

"What makes you think you can protect her better than I can?" Wilbanks asked when he could speak again.

"For one thing, I'll be here to do it. For another, if no one knows where she is, no one can hurt her."

"You said she lives with your daughter."

"We've taken her to a safer place for the time being. Not to hide her from you, but to keep her away from the killer. You can't possibly fault us for that."

Wilbanks leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "No. No, I can't fault you for that."

"Give us a few days to see if Mr. Malloy can find out who killed Miss Murphy."

"Is there any hope of that?"

"I have learned to respect Mr. Malloy's abilities. If anyone can do it, he can."

"And if he doesn't?"

"You have every right to your child, Mr. Wilbanks, but allow me to suggest that you consider her future without you."

Anger flared in his eyes. "Do you think I haven't done that already?"

"I'm sure you have, but until yesterday, you didn't know about Catherine's current situation or the danger she might be in."

"And now I do. You aren't the only one with influence in the city, Decker. I can protect Catherine, too."

"From whom?"

Wilbanks narrowed his eyes again. "What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Do you know from whom you are protecting her?"

"No, and neither do you."

"That's true, but I'm in a position to protect her from everyone, at least for the time being. Are you prepared to consider everyone you know as a potential threat to her, even your other children?"

"What do you mean? My other children are no threat to her."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

"I think you're allowing your emotions to cloud your judgment, Wilbanks. I can't fault you for not wanting to suspect your own children of murder, but who would have more to gain if Catherine disappeared?"

WHEN THE TIME CAME, MALLOY SURRENDERED WITH grace and made no further protests to Sarah's plan to accompany him to see Wilbanks's attorney. They'd gone only a few steps down the sidewalk, however, when one of the girls from the Mission came running out of the alley beside the house to intercept them.

"Mr. Malloy, please wait!" She beckoned them to join her in the relative privacy of the shadowed s.p.a.ce between buildings.

"What is it, Carrie?" Sarah asked.

A frail girl of about fourteen, Carrie glanced over her shoulder and wrung her hands before replying. "I didn't want to say nothing in front of Mrs. Keller. I didn't want her to think I lied to her before."

"I'm sure she wouldn't think that," Sarah said, trying to keep her voice calm, even though her heart was pounding.

"And I didn't, not really. All she asked us was did anybody come around when she wasn't here, asking about the ladies who volunteer here. I told her no, because that's not what happened at all."

"What did happen?" Malloy asked in the gentle voice he always used with Catherine.

"A woman came by when I was sweeping the front steps. Mrs. Keller was inside, so she was here, and she only asked us did somebody come by when she wasn't here, so I wasn't lying, was I?"

"No, of course not," Sarah said. "What did she want?"

"I didn't know at first, did I? So I asked did she want to see Mrs. Keller, but she said no. She was just wondering if we had any little children staying here. Said she was looking for a friend whose little girl had gone missing. I told her we'd only ever had one little girl here, but that was a long time ago. She asked me what happened to her, and I said she got taken in by a nice lady. I didn't tell her your name, though, Mrs. Brandt. I'm sure I didn't. I'm so very sorry!"

"That's all right, Carrie. You didn't know."

"When did this happen?" Malloy asked.

"I don't remember exactly. Four or five days ago, I think."

Malloy nodded his approval. "What did the woman look like?"

Carrie frowned. "I don't rightly know. She was wearing this big hat with a veil, so I didn't get much of a look at her."

"How old was she?" he prompted. "About Mrs. Brandt's age? Or older, like Mrs. Keller?"

"Like Mrs. Brandt, I'd guess, from her voice. She had a real nice voice."

"How was she dressed?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, real pretty. Her dress was kind of reddish, only not flashy. Stylish, it was."

"Did she say anything else?" Malloy asked.

"She thanked me for my help. She said she guessed her friend's little girl wasn't here, and she walked away. She seemed real disappointed, and I was sorry I wasn't able to help her. Please don't tell Mrs. Keller, will you?"

"We won't," Sarah said. "But thank you for telling us."

With a last, apologetic look, the girl scurried away.

"I don't think it was Anne Murphy," Sarah said. "I thought maybe she'd come back trying to get more information, but this was someone else."

"Young and stylish," Malloy said. "Could have been Emma Hardy."

"If Emma was looking for Catherine here, she must have seen Anne at some point and found out what Anne had done."

"I wonder if Emma has a temper," Malloy said.

Sarah thought about how she might react if someone she trusted had lost Catherine. Would she be angry enough to stab that person? "I know how I'd feel, but Emma had already left her child for nearly a year."

"That doesn't mean she wouldn't be mad about not being able to get her back. Even if she didn't care about Catherine, as long as she had her, she'd always be able to get money from Wilbanks."

"Would she have known Wilbanks was dying? That could have made her more desperate, too."

"Yes, she might think this was her last chance to get a settlement out of him or something. In fact, she wouldn't even need Catherine. She could just tell him he'd never see her again unless he gave them the money, and then she could leave town without producing the child. So maybe she wasn't as desperate as we think."

"If she was devious enough to think of that," Sarah said. "I don't think I would have, but then, I don't want to think Catherine's mother is anything but kind and loving and frantic to see her again."

"Just keep thinking that. Meanwhile," he said, taking her arm, "that attorney is waiting for us, and I'm dying to find out what he wants."

They took the elevated train up Third Avenue. The tracks lay three stories above street level, and riders amused themselves by looking into the windows of the tenement buildings only a few feet away as the train rolled past. This time of day, the El wasn't too crowded, so they easily found seats for the relatively brief ride that could have taken hours in the traffic-choked streets below.

When they emerged from the covered stairway at the Fifty-ninth Street Station, they might have been in a different city. Here no street vendors hawked their wares and no bedraggled children or mangy dogs raced down the sidewalks. Tree-lined streets ran between rows of well-kept houses. Decorative wrought-iron fences separated the tiny front lawns from the sidewalk. The people who lived here never had to worry about dodging the landlord or going to bed hungry.

Michael Hicks lived in a red brick town house with lace curtains. A maid admitted them and took them right upstairs to the formal parlor, where company would normally be entertained. A well-dressed man whose thinning hair and thickening waist marked his entry into middle age stood to welcome them, and to Sarah's surprise, a woman stood beside him.

Neither was smiling, since this wasn't a social call, and the woman looked as surprised to see Sarah as she was to see her. The woman's gaze swept her from head to foot, taking Sarah's measure as women did, judging and categorizing her in an instant. For a moment Sarah regretted not having dressed for the occasion. Then again, nothing in her current wardrobe would have indicated she was anything other than a midwife to the working cla.s.s of the city. Besides, she'd long since stopped caring about such things as appearances. These people would soon have reason to judge her on who she was, not what she wore.

"Mr. Malloy," the man said. "I am Michael Hicks, and this is my wife, Lynne."

The two men shook hands, and Malloy nodded to Mrs. Hicks, then said, "And this is Mrs. Brandt," which was all they had decided to reveal at this point, although their host looked more than curious.

Hicks was too well mannered to leave guests standing while he interrogated them, so he invited them to be seated, and Mrs. Hicks offered them refreshment and rang for the maid to bring it. When the girl had gone to fetch it, the four of them sat for a long moment in silence. Only then did Sarah notice how tense the Hickses were. She and Malloy were anxious, of course, but she hadn't expected Hicks to be, and she hadn't expected Hicks's wife at all. Yet when she met Mrs. Hicks's eye, she saw her own anxiety mirrored there.

"Are you Mr. Wilbanks's daughter, Mrs. Hicks?" Malloy asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Yes, I am." She was an attractive brunette who wore her age well, but Sarah was fairly certain she was not someone Carrie would have called young and stylish. "And you must be the woman who has the little girl."

"Your sister, yes," Sarah said, wanting to see her reaction. She winced slightly, and Sarah realized she couldn't blame her. How would she have felt to learn her father had a young child by a mistress?

"Half sister," Hicks said, "and I'll ask you not to distress my wife. She is already upset enough over this situation."

"We're not here to distress your wife," Malloy said, not bothering to hide his impatience. "We're here because you sent for me, and I'd like to know why."

"Very well. First, I must apologize for not saying more in my message, but I couldn't be sure who might see it. Mr. Wilbanks asked me to meet with you to see if we could come to some compromise about the child."

"Her name is Catherine," Sarah said.

Mrs. Hicks cried out, as if in pain, and turned on her husband in a fury. "You should have told me!"

"I couldn't," he said in dismay. "I knew how hurt you'd be."

She turned back to Sarah. "He named her after my mother! He was carrying on with that actress all those years, and then he named her child after my mother while she was still alive!"

"I'm so sorry," Sarah said honestly.

"How could he have been so cruel?" she asked of no one in particular.

Sarah decided she would ask him herself if she ever got the opportunity.

"Lynne didn't know about any of this until yesterday," Hicks said.

"But you did," Malloy said.