Victoria Thompson - Murder On GramercyPark

The color rose in her cheeks, but she kept her chin high. Sarah had to admire her for that, at least. Letitia turned to Malloy. “You said he also killed that boy, Edmund’s son. Why would he do a thing like that?”

“Because he’d already tried to convince me that Calvin Brown killed Dr. Blackwell, so he poisoned the boy and left a suicide note confessing to the crime. He wanted to make me believe Calvin was the killer so I would close the investigation.”

“Then he must have killed Edmund, too,” Symington concluded. “Why else would he go to all the trouble to implicate the boy?”

“Because he was trying to protect someone,” Malloy said.

“Who on earth would he have been trying to protect except himself?” Symington scoffed.

“Your daughter.”

If Symington was stunned, Letitia was equally shocked.

“What was he trying to protect me from?” she asked with every appearance of innocence.

Sarah knew this was where her lighter touch was needed. Before Malloy could speak, she said, “I’m afraid that Mr. Potter believes that you killed your husband, Mrs. Blackwell.”

Symington was blustering something about that being preposterous, but Letitia was just staring at Sarah in apparent fascination. “Why would he think a thing like that?” she asked with genuine interest.

This was where they were going to have to stretch the truth a bit. Sarah managed not to look at Malloy. They couldn’t betray any sense of uncertainty.

“We know you quarreled with your husband the day he died, Mrs. Blackwell,” Malloy said. “Peter Dudley told me that you were terrified he would find out you were still using morphine.”

“Letitia,” Symington said, outraged. “Tell him that’s a lie!”

Letitia ignored him. “My husband and I often quarreled,” she said. “If every woman who quarreled with her husband shot him in the head, there would be no married men left in the city.”

“But you were afraid that if he discovered your secret, he would force you to quit taking the morphine again,” Malloy continued. “You feared that more than anything in the world, from what Dudley said. He also said you were very upset when you met him that afternoon at the opium den.”

“Opium den?” Symington nearly shouted. “What is this nonsense? I won’t listen to another word of these lies about my daughter!”

“They aren’t lies, Mr. Symington,” Sarah told him. “Mrs. Blackwell regularly met Dudley at an opium den uptown. She told me that herself, and the proprietor will attest to it,” she added untruthfully, hoping Letitia wouldn’t remember that Mr. Fong had already refused to vouch for their alibi and challenge her. “Letitia was forced to go there for her daily dose of morphine because Dr. Blackwell would not allow the drug in the house.”

Symington looked to Letitia, expecting a denial, but all he got was silence. After a moment he sat down abruptly in the chair he had been occupying when Sarah and Malloy had come in. Sarah could see the understanding-and accompanying apprehension-coming to his face.

“Dudley even said that when he heard Blackwell had been killed, he believed you had done it,” Sarah said to Letitia. “Because you were so upset that day when you met him at the opium den and because you were so afraid of your husband finding out about the morphine.”

“And when your butler told Mrs. Brandt that you had personally sent the servants out of the house the afternoon Dr. Blackwell was killed, we knew that you were the last one to see him alive, and the one with the best opportunity-and most pressing reason-to have killed him,” Malloy concluded.

Symington was blustering again, but with less enthusiasm this time. He was also watching his daughter with growing horror. Sarah was starting to feel uneasy as well. She wasn’t sure what reaction she had expected, but it wasn’t the secret, pleased smile now adorning Letitia Blackwell’s lovely face.

“Are you saying that Mr. Potter and Peter Dudley both believe that I murdered Edmund?” she asked.

“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Blackwell,” Malloy said, sounding genuinely apologetic. Either he was a better actor than Sarah had suspected or he really did regret accusing her of murder.

“And Amos Potter really killed that poor boy just to protect me?” she added.

“That’s right,” Malloy said.

Letitia stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, during which Sarah imagined she was contemplating her guilt and her chances for avoiding punishment. But when she lowered her gaze again, she said, “How diverting!”

“Diverting?” her father echoed in disbelief. “Is that all you can say?”

“Well, I suppose I could say that I didn’t kill Edmund,” she replied, still wearing that strange smile, “but surely you must know that’s true, Father.”

“Of course I know it’s true! Malloy, is this the best you can do? Blaming a murder on an innocent girl? I’ll have your job for this.”

“Believe me, Mr. Symington, this gives me no pleasure, either,” Malloy said, still truthfully. “I’d be more than happy to find out somebody else killed Dr. Blackwell, but it seems like all the other people who had a reason to didn’t do it. And your daughter was the last one in the house with Dr. Blackwell before he died. She also had a very good reason for wanting him dead.”

“But all you have is the word of the butler that she was the last one in the house.” Symington sprang to his feet. “Granger!” he called, moving to the parlor doors and shoving them open. “Granger, get in here!”

In a moment the butler appeared, his dignity a bit ruffled by the unceremonious summons. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked.

“On the day that Dr. Blackwell died, when did Mrs. Blackwell leave the house?”

“I… I can’t be sure, sir, but I believe it was shortly after noon.”

“Why can’t you be sure?” Malloy asked. “Is it because you left before she did?”

“Uh, no, sir. I always wait until Mrs. Blackwell is gone before I leave for my afternoon off.”

“But you told me Mrs. Blackwell made sure all the servants were gone before she left,” Sarah reminded him.

“Well, she did,” he said with a worried frown, “but I didn’t actually leave until after she was gone.”

“And why was that?” Malloy asked sharply.

He glanced at Letitia, as if asking silent permission. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”

“You’d better say, or I’ll have to take you to Police Headquarters and ask you again,” Malloy said impatiently.

Granger cast a pleading look at Letitia, who didn’t seem to understand that he was silently asking her permission for something.

“Are you afraid of embarrassing Mrs. Blackwell?” Sarah asked him pointedly.

Granger straightened. “I would never do anything to harm Mrs. Blackwell,” he said.

Finally, Letitia understood. “You may feel free to say whatever you wish, Granger,” she assured him. “You see, Mr. Malloy is persuaded that I murdered my husband, so nothing you say can possibly hurt me worse than that.”

“What?” Granger cried. “How could you believe Mrs. Blackwell capable of such a thing?”

“You would be amazed at what people are capable of when pushed beyond endurance,” Sarah said. “And it seems that’s what Dr. Blackwell had done to his wife.”

“He was cruel to her, that’s true,” Granger admitted. “That’s why I didn’t leave the house that day. I knew he was angry about something, but she wouldn’t go in to see him until she made sure the servants were out. She didn’t want the servants to overhear, so I pretended to leave, too, but I stayed, in case she should need help.”

“Why, Granger, how gallant of you,” Letitia said with one of her glowing smiles.