Victoria Thompson: Murder On Astor Place

“I’m afraid the officer is right, Mina,” VanDamm said reasonably. “We must be sure it’s Alicia.”

Mina opened her mouth, but she must have changed her mind about whatever she’d been about to say. She closed it again with a snap and took a moment to collect herself. Then she smiled a queer little smile that gave Frank gooseflesh because it looked so forced, and she said, “You mustn’t do this,” using a voice that surprised Frank. Suddenly, she was kind and gentle, as if speaking to someone infirm. “No one will blame you for not wanting to see her like that. No one can expect you to put yourself through such an ordeal.”

VanDamm considered this for a moment, wanting to agree with her, and then he remembered something. “I thought you said someone already identified her,” he said to Frank. “An old family friend.”

Mina looked shocked, as well she might. “A family friend?” she echoed incredulously.

“She didn’t exactly identify her. Your daughter’s name was sewn into her jacket, and this woman said she’d thought the girl looked like Miss Mina VanDamm. She knew you, she said.”

“Who is she?” Mina asked skeptically.

“Sarah Brandt. She’s a midwife.”

Mina widened her eyes at him. “I know no such person, although I suppose it’s possible she may know of me. We’re one of the oldest Knickerbocker families in New York.”

She didn’t have to tell Frank, of course. Everybody knew the Dutch families-dubbed Knickerbockers ages ago because of the knee britches the early arrivals had worn-had been the first to settle in what was then New Amsterdam. Frank didn’t think that made them particularly special, just because their ancestors had fled persecution a hundred and fifty years before his had, but that was the way of the world. Mina VanDamm seemed intent on making the most of it, too.

“In any case,” Frank explained doggedly, “Mrs. Brandt hadn’t seen Alicia in a number of years, so she couldn’t make a positive identification.”

Mina VanDamm sighed to show her impatience, then she had another thought. “Alfred can go, then,” she told her father. “He’ll recognize Alicia as well as any of us.”

VanDamm nodded sagely, as if this were the only logical solution.

“Who’s Alfred?” Frank asked, thinking for an instant he might have discovered Alicia’s lover.

“Alfred is the servant who admitted you,” VanDamm said.

Frank couldn’t believe it. They were going to send a damned butler to identify a member of their own family.

And just when Frank thought nothing could shock him more, Mina VanDamm turned to him and said, “I think you’ve bothered my father quite enough for one day. You may leave now.”

SARAH LOOKED UP at the tall town house on what was known as “Marble Row” and hesitated. All during the long elevated train ride up from Greenwich Village this morning, she had debated the wisdom of calling on her old friend. She hadn’t seen Mina VanDamm in a decade, and likely, Mina no longer lived here anyway. She’d be married and gone. Sarah couldn’t remember reading about her wedding in the Times, but that meant nothing. She hadn’t followed the society column for years.

She could ask for Mrs. VanDamm, of course, but Sarah remembered her as one of those flighty, worthless women who never had a thing to say worth hearing. She wouldn’t learn much from Francisca VanDamm. And approaching Mr. VanDamm wasn’t even worth considering. He was a man just like her own father, a man who considered females just one step above dogs in intelligence and who wasn’t likely to give her the time of day, much less a hearing.

Well, maybe the servants would at least tell her where Mina lived now. Then she would seek her out and share with her what she knew about Alicia’s last days. If the police couldn’t find Alicia’s killer-and Sarah had personal experience with their failures-then the VanDamms could hire their own investigators, which was the best way to solve a crime in any case, according to Sarah’s understanding of the current police situation.

The police commissioners had made great strides in cleaning up the department in the past year, but in purging the corruption, they had decimated the ranks, leaving the entire force seriously under strength. Even the most dedicated officers were overwhelmed, and Sarah had no reason to believe this Detective Sergeant Malloy was particularly dedicated. So if Alicia’s murder was solved, it would probably be only because her family hired someone to do it.

The butler who opened the door looked at her askance, probably judging her unworthy of entering. Indeed, she knew her appearance no longer marked her as a member of one of the elite families of New York, but fortunately, she recognized him from her visits here as a girl.

“Good afternoon, Alfred,” she said, startling him. “I heard about the family’s tragedy, and I was wondering if you could tell me where I can find Miss Mina to express my condolences.”

“I’m sorry, madame, I don’t…” He shook his head to express his confusion.

Sarah smiled. “It’s been a long time. I’m Sarah Brandt. That is, that’s my married name. When you knew me, I was Sarah Decker.”

His eyes lightened with recognition. “It has been a long time, Miss Decker… I mean, Mrs. Brandt. These are very sad times for the family, and I don’t know if Miss Mina is receiving this morning, but if you give me your card…”

Sarah shouldn’t have been surprised to find Mina here after all. Naturally, she would be here with her parents in their time of grief. She stepped into the foyer and handed him her card after folding down the top right corner to indicate she was calling to pay her respects. There was a whole language to the business of calling cards, depending on which comers were folded over, but those cards were usually engraved with just the visitor’s name on fine paper. Sarah’s card was the kind that identified her as a midwife. Alfred frowned over it for a second, obviously wondering if he should even deliver such a thing to Mina.

“Please tell Miss Mina that I saw her sister, Alicia, the night before she died.”

The butler’s head came up in surprise, although his expression betrayed little. Then he offered her a seat and disappeared up the stairs, moving a little more quickly than propriety allowed, she couldn’t help thinking.

Sarah wouldn’t have been surprised at being turned away. Mina had probably forgotten all about her, and the two of them had never actually been friends in the first place. Mina was always a bit too self-important and conscious of her position in society for Sarah’s tastes, even back when Sarah had been conscious of those things herself. But to her relief, Alfred soon returned and ushered her upstairs to one of the private suites where she found Mina swathed in black and reclining on a fainting couch. One hand clutched a lacy handkerchief into which she had apparently been weeping, and the other reached out limply in welcome.

“Sarah, dear, how good of you to come,” she said, her voice faint and cracked with grief. “Have you heard the news? We’ve lost dear, sweet Alicia!”

“I’M SO SORRY,” SARAH SAID, CROSSING THE ROOM to take Mina’s hand in hers. Closer now, she realized that Mina didn’t look as if she’d really been doing much crying into the crumpled handkerchief. Her eyes were clear and dry.

Her mourning gown looked rather fresh and unwrinkled, too. Every well-dressed lady had at least one such gown for attending funerals and for weathering the period of time between the unexpected loss of a loved one and the moment when one’s dressmaker could deliver an entire new wardrobe of mourning apparel. Sarah had a feeling Mina had already ordered hers.