Victoria Thompson - Murder On GramercyPark

“So all the servants were hired just three months ago,” Sarah said, wondering if this could possibly have any significance.

“Yes, that’s right. It’s a pity. They finally get a home of their own, and Dr. Blackwell only gets to live in it for a few months.”

“What do you suppose Mrs. Blackwell will do now?”

“Law, I don’t have no idea,” the cook said with a frown. “I don’t suppose she’ll stay in the big house all by herself, now will she?” Plainly, she found the thought unsettling, since this would mean she and the other servants would be out of a job again.

Sarah was sorry she’d brought up the subject. She thanked the woman for the meal and prepared to take her leave.

“Do you want the carriage? It’s raining outside, so you’d best take it. I can have Mr. Granger send around for it,” the cook offered. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

This time Sarah readily accepted. She was too tired to trudge back to her home, especially in the rain, and while the carriage ride would be long, she could at least doze on the way.

“You may wait in the front parlor,” the butler instructed her when asked to make the arrangements. “You’ll see the carriage pull up from the front window there.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, sinking wearily into one of the chairs by the window that overlooked the street.

The butler cleared his throat, drawing her attention again. “Mrs. Blackwell, is she doing well?”

“Yes, she and the baby both are fine,” Sarah said. She’d forgotten how involved the servants became in a family’s life. They were, in many ways, more like relations than employees, albeit poor ones.

“Do you think…? The shock of finding Dr. Blackwell, will that have any ill effects?” he asked with dignified concern.

“It was unfortunate, but I’m sure Mrs. Blackwell will recover fully.” She’d have years of nightmares, but there was no use worrying the butler over something he couldn’t help. “She is, as I said, doing very well already.”

The butler nodded his thanks. “The carriage will be around in a few minutes,” he said, and left her to wait alone.

With nothing else to do, she began to think about Dr. Blackwell’s death and how she could get Malloy to confide in her what was going on with the investigation. He’d certainly balk at involving her in another murder case. She’d managed to put herself in danger twice before while assisting him, and he’d been particularly upset the last time. Maybe if she just expressed mild curiosity. Could she fool him? Somehow she doubted it.

However, she had already obtained a bit of information he might find useful. Probably he’d soon find out the same things she’d just learned, but she could at least save him some trouble by sharing what she already knew about how the dead man had cured his wife’s injuries so miraculously when others had failed. She’d be doing him a favor, she reasoned. He couldn’t object to that. Or so she told herself, knowing full well he’d object to anything he pleased.

Lost in thought, she’d been staring at the man who had just emerged from the house sitting catty-corner from the Blackwells’ without realizing who it was. Malloy! He was no doubt going from house to house, questioning all the neighbors and their servants. Here was her chance.

Quickly gathering her things, Sarah hurried out, not waiting for the butler to open the front door for her. Fortunately, the rain had stopped for the moment, although it didn’t look like the lull would last for long. Malloy was just starting up the front steps of the next house when she called his name.

He stopped and turned, recognizing her at once. She could tell by the way he stiffened in reaction. He didn’t seem at all pleased to see her, but he turned and came back down the steps and began walking toward her.

Sarah resisted an urge to meet him halfway. It would hardly be seemly, but more important, she didn’t want to appear as eager as she felt. She set her medical bag on the front step and waited with apparent patience.

“Good morning, Mrs. Brandt,” he said when he reached her. His expression was resigned and a little reserved, but that did not deter her in the least. “I assume the Blackwell baby has been born.”

“Good morning, Mr. Malloy,” she replied. “Yes, baby and mother are doing as well as we could expect, considering Dr. Blackwell was murdered right in their home.”

He sighed. “I should have known you’d find out all about it. But don’t start thinking you’re going to be involved. You won’t have time anyway. I’ll have the killer locked up by sunset.”

“You know who it is, then?” she asked in surprise.

“Are you on your way home now?” he asked, ignoring her question. “I can get you a cab.”

“They’re bringing the carriage around for me,” she said, undeterred. “I suppose you know that Dr. Blackwell was a magnetic healer and that he supposedly healed his wife after she was crippled in a riding accident.”

If this was new information, he gave no indication. “What exactly does a magnetic healer do?” he asked instead.

“I’m not certain. It has something to do with laying his hands on people and curing them of whatever is wrong.”

“How could he make someone well just by touching them?” Malloy asked.

“Oh, there must be more to it than that, but I’m sure they keep their actual techniques a secret. It’s the only way to prevent others from doing the same thing they do and stealing their patients.”

“But people really get well?” he asked doubtfully.

“Presumably, or these so-called doctors couldn’t stay in business. The fact is that most people eventually get well from whatever is wrong with them if they believe strongly enough that they will, even with no treatment at all. These charlatans have the advantage of people wanting to believe their treatments will work, no matter how ridiculous they are. When someone gets well, they tell their friends, and people have even more confidence in the healer. So, who do you think killed Dr. Blackwell?”

Malloy’s lips twitched, as if he were holding back a smile. “Nice try, Mrs. Brandt, but you’re not getting involved in this. Go home, get some sleep, and forget all about Dr. Blackwell’s death.”

“Just exactly how do you propose I forget about it?” she asked, genuinely interested.

“Think about something else,” he suggested. “I hear your carriage. It was nice to see you again, Mrs. Brandt. Good day.”

He tipped his hat and turned away, even though Sarah was far from finished with him. She wanted to stamp her foot in protest, but such a gesture would only amuse him. “Thank you for sending for me, Malloy,” she called after him.

He turned back, not bothering to hide his smile this time. “I needed a midwife, and you’re the only midwife I know.”

Sarah glared at him, but her effort was wasted. He was already walking away. She wasn’t really angry, though. She enjoyed their sparring, and she knew he did, too. And she also knew she had a good reason to stay involved with the case. She’d be back tomorrow morning to check on Mrs. Blackwell and her baby. Then she’d find out if Malloy was as good as his word about finding the killer by sunset.

ALTHOUGH A FIERCE electrical storm woke Sarah several times during the night, the weather was fine the next morning, so she decided to walk back over to Gramercy Park. When the butler opened the front door, she immediately knew something was wrong.

“Mrs. Brandt, how good that you’ve come,” he said, maintaining his dignity even though his pinched expression revealed his concern.

“Is Mrs. Blackwell ill? You should have sent for me at once!”

“Oh, no, Mrs. Blackwell is perfectly well. It’s the child. He’s… well, he seems to be in some distress. The nurse has been up with him all night.”