Victoria Thompson - Murder On Fifth Avenue

“How? When?” he finally asked. To his credit, he was the only one in the house so far who had reacted as if he cared what had happened to the dead man.

“We don’t know exactly. That’s why I need to talk to everyone who might’ve seen him today. I’m trying to figure out where he was and who he might’ve been with.”

Roderick stiffened again and color flooded back to his face. “I’m sure I have no idea where he was after he left the house today.”

“He didn’t mention where he was going? Maybe he had a business meeting or an appointment with somebody.”

“Mr. Devries kept his own counsel. He wasn’t one to confide in his servants.”

Frank nodded as if he understood perfectly the habits of wealthy men. “You knew him better than anyone, though. Did he seem anxious or worried about anything?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say.”

“Don’t know or just couldn’t say?”

Roderick blinked again. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. Look, Roderick, here’s what happened. Somebody stabbed Devries in the back.”

The valet gasped.

“But he didn’t die right away. We don’t know what he got stabbed with, but the wound was small, and he must not have known how badly he was hurt. He went on about his business for a while, and when he got to his club this afternoon, he sat down in a chair and died. So now we need to figure out where he was today so we can figure out who could’ve stabbed him.”

“No one here would have harmed Mr. Devries.”

“I didn’t say anybody did. I asked you to tell me where else he might’ve been today.”

Roderick’s dark eyes narrowed. “You said he was injured a long time before he died.”

“That’s right.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know for sure.”

“Could it have been…early this morning?”

“Maybe. What happened early this morning?”

“I don’t know. I mean, Mr. Devries wasn’t here.”

“Where was he?”

“He…He spent the night elsewhere.”

Frank leaned forward in his chair. “Do you know where?”

“As I said, Mr. Devries keeps his own counsel…or, at least, he did.”

“But you’re pretty sure you know where he was.”

Roderick’s lips tightened as if he were trying to hold back what he wanted to say. “He owns a house down on Mercer Street, near Washington Square.”

“And you think he was there last night?”

“He stays there frequently.” Roderick sighed. “I don’t suppose it matters now, but…someone else lives there.”

“Who?”

“His mistress.”

“ICAN HARDLY BELIEVE IT,” ELIZABETH DECKER SAID TO Sarah as they stood together in the entryway, having just seen Felix Decker out. “Your father has given both of us permission to investigate Chilly Devries’s murder.”

“I believe he actually ordered me to do it, but I don’t think he has the slightest expectation that you will do anything except escort me.”

“You may be right, but I feel obligated to misunderstand him if it serves my interests.”

“Until he finds out and locks you in the cellar.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t find out.”

“Did Mr. Decker leave?” Maeve called from the top of the stairs.

“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Decker replied. “Could you get the tea things ready again? I’ll be right up.” She turned back to Sarah. “I’ll stop by for you in the morning, and we can make our plans on the way over to Lucretia’s house. This evening, I’ll try to find out what else your father knows.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to come to you in the morning?”

“Probably, but we’ll need to plan what we’re going to ask her, and I don’t want to take the chance that your father will stay at home tomorrow. We couldn’t possibly speak freely if he’s around.”

“I can’t wait to meet this Garnet Devries. She sounds like an interesting woman.”

“I hope so. Her mother-in-law is an insufferable bore. One of those women whose only concern is herself. She’ll thoroughly enjoy being a widow, I’m afraid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she’ll get attention from her friends; she’ll have her husband’s money to spend, but she won’t have to put up with him anymore.”

“Was Mr. Devries a bore, too?”

“No worse than many of the men your father knows, I suppose. I’ve often wondered how they amuse themselves at that club of theirs since none of them has the slightest idea how to have a good time.”

Sarah bit back a smile. “What I don’t understand is why Father is so interested in Mr. Devries’s death.”

“Because it happened at the Knickerbocker, of course. He’s the club secretary, I believe. Or treasurer. Something like that. He feels responsible, I’m sure. What concerns me is that he has involved Mr. Malloy.”

Sarah frowned. “Of course he would involve Malloy. He wants the murder solved, and he knows Malloy is the man to do it.”

“Does he?”

“Of course he does. Malloy is the best detective in New York.”

Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Is he now? But that isn’t what I meant. I meant, does your father really want the murder solved? I’m guessing he doesn’t know that himself yet, although I’ll grant you he knows Malloy has the skill to discover the killer. The question is what your father will do with the information once he learns it.”

“Father doesn’t have to do anything with it. The police will arrest the killer and bring him to trial.”

Mrs. Decker shook her head. “Sarah, where did you get an idea like that?”

“Because it’s the law!”

“If your father doesn’t want the killer arrested, he won’t be. You should know that as well as I.”

“All right, I do, but if Father doesn’t want the killer arrested, why did he involve Malloy at all?”

“That is what concerns me. If he wanted the crime ignored, he could have done that without anyone’s help. Instead, he called in the one man he is sure can solve it.”

“Perhaps you aren’t giving Father enough credit. Perhaps he simply wants to see justice done.”

“And perhaps your father has another goal entirely.”

“Such as?”

“Such as putting Frank Malloy to some sort of test. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a tea party to attend.”

FRANK STARED AT RODERICK. “HIS MISTRESS?”

Roderick shrugged.

Frank retrieved a small notebook and pencil from his pocket. “Where is this house again?”

Roderick gave him the address. “The young lady who lives there is Miss Norah English. I doubt that’s her real name, but that’s what she calls herself.”

“How do you know all this?”

Roderick seemed to find the question somewhat insulting. “I have been Mr. Devries’s valet for thirty-two years. I know everything about him.”

So much for his claim that Devries kept his own counsel. “When did he get home this morning?”

“He came in around nine, I believe. He wanted a bath and a shave. He always does when he returns from visiting Miss English.”

“Did you help him with his bath?”

He acted insulted again. “I always help him.”

“I’m just trying to find out if you noticed a wound on his back.”

Roderick frowned. “Where would it have been located?”

Frank half turned and reached around to touch his thumb to the approximate spot on his own back. “Like I said, it was small.”

“I didn’t notice anything, but…”

“But what?”

“He might have put some sticking plaster on it, mightn’t he? To keep it from bleeding? That could be why I didn’t notice.”

Roderick seemed very eager to implicate the mistress. “Is this Miss English the kind of girl who might stick a knife into Mr. Devries?”