Victoria Thompson - Murder on Washington Square

Sarah sincerely hoped that was true. She wanted Anna Blake’s murder to be solved so she could concentrate on clearing Nelson’s name and bringing Mrs. Ellsworth’s life back to normal.

The rumble of the carriage wheels over the rough streets lulled Sarah into a light doze. The lurch of the carriage when it stopped in front of her parents’ house woke her, and she was surprised to discover she felt somewhat refreshed from her brief nap.

Her parents’ home seemed warm and welcoming to her now, not forbidding as she had seen it just a few short months ago when she’d ended her long estrangement from them. Her mother greeted her with a kiss and a worried frown when the maid ushered her into the family parlor.

“Where have you been, my dear? We were concerned when Patrick didn’t return with you right away.”

“I was out running errands,” Sarah said with a smile, not bothering to offer details. Her mother would only be upset if she knew Sarah had foiled a murder plot, questioned several suspects, and paid a visit to Police Headquarters since she’d seen them earlier today. “I might have been delivering a baby, you know. In that case, I could have been gone all night. I hope Patrick would have gone on home in that case.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t keep the horses out all night,” her father said, sharing her amusement as he also kissed her cheek.

Her mother insisted that she eat when she learned Sarah hadn’t yet had supper. Since she’d skipped lunch as well, Sarah was happy to accept. She’d have the cook wrap up something for Mrs. Ellsworth and Mr. Prescott before she left, too. Although she was starved, she was also impatient to hear her father’s news. Good breeding prevailed, however, and she managed to wait until they were settled back in the family parlor before broaching the subject.

“Your message was that you had some information for me,” she said as her father lit his pipe. The sweet aroma brought back childhood memories of happier times, when she and Maggie were children and still believed in fairy tales and happy endings. Now she knew better, but she still enjoyed the fragrance of the smoke.

“I was extremely fortunate,” her father said, settling himself in his favorite chair. “Hendrick Van Scoyoc was at the club. He always knows everything that happens in the city.”

“He’s a gossip, you mean,” her mother said.

“I mean he’s well informed,” her father said. “I won’t criticize a man who served my purposes so well and in so timely a manner.”

“As you say, my dear,” her mother said. “I stand corrected.”

“And what did Mr. Van Scoyoc tell you?” Sarah asked, hoping to move things along a little faster.

“I asked him to explain to me how one might embezzle money from a bank. Since he owns several, I thought it a harmless enough question, but he took immediate offense.”

“Why on earth would he take offense?” her mother asked before Sarah could.

“Because his good friend… Well, let’s be discreet and just say a friend of his had recently been a victim of this crime,” her father explained. “Or I should say, one of his banks was. Hendrick thought I was being… unkind,” he said, carefully choosing his words, “in making reference to it. It seems the man has suffered some ridicule from his peers over the incident.”

“How interesting,” her mother said, obviously entertained by the idea.

“I thought so,” her father agreed. “I was apparently among the last to have heard about it. I had to explain my purpose in making the inquiry, so he wouldn’t refuse to ever speak to me again. I did not reveal the identity of the individuals involved,” he hastened to add. “Even though Van Scoyoc was very interested to learn who else had been victimized. You see, the situations were eerily similar.”

“In what way?” Sarah asked, even more interested than her mother.

“The bank employee who stole the money had been, until then, very trustworthy and conscientious. A responsible family man, too. The kind you would never expect to be so foolish.”

“What happened, then?” her mother asked, actually leaning forward in her chair in her eagerness to hear the entire story.

“It seems he fell into the thrall of a young woman.”

Sarah could hardly believe she’d heard him correctly. “Who was she?”

Her father shrugged, puffing on his pipe. “If Van Scoyoc knows her name, he didn’t mention it. But I can’t believe he would care to know it. Some Irish girl, I think he said.”

Sarah felt her hackles rise over the tone with which he said “Irish,” as if the Irish didn’t need names, being something less than human. But to Van Scoyoc and her father and others like them, they didn’t. It was a hideous injustice, but she must choose her battles. She would fight that one another day. She had more pressing matters with which to deal at the moment. “Why did he think she was Irish?” she asked, recalling she’d noticed Catherine Porter looked Irish the first time she’d seen her.

“I don’t… Oh, yes, now I remember. Van Scoyoc said something about a red-haired vixen. That must be why I assumed she was Irish.” He dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand, although Sarah made careful note that the woman he described might have been the elusive Francine. “In any case, this fellow stole several thousand dollars from the bank before anyone discovered it. He’d given the money to this girl, of course, and once his crime was discovered, she disappeared.”

“What happened to the embezzler?” Sarah asked, fairly certain the mystery of Francine’s departure was now solved and the identity of her “rich gentleman” discovered. Surely there weren’t many other red-haired women in the city doing the same thing. “Was he arrested or did he escape?”

“Neither. He was dismissed from his position, of course, but the bank didn’t press charges. The scandal would have ruined them, so they didn’t dare.”

“Could you find out who this man was?” Sarah asked urgently, certain now he must be another victim of the Walcotts and their tenants.

“I probably could, but I don’t believe that would help you,” her father said. “According to Van Scoyoc, the fellow hanged himself from shame after it all came out.”

“How cowardly of him,” her mother said. “And selfish. You said he had a family. What would become of them with him dead?”

“It wouldn’t be much different than if he were alive, my dear,” her father explained. “He’d never be able to find another position. People talk, you know, and his crime would follow him wherever he went, even if no one spoke of it publicly. At least with him dead, his family could be free of that.”

“Yes,” Sarah said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “With him gone, they could starve in respectability.”

Her father frowned at her tone. “Life is frequently unfair, Sarah. When it is, the innocent often suffer. That’s the way of the world, and we cannot hope to change it.”

He believed that, of course. They’d had this argument many times. This argument had driven her sister Maggie to her death. Unfortunately, Sarah didn’t have the energy to answer it tonight. She had more important things to do, in any case. She, for one, was going to change at least one of the ways of the world and make things better for the Ellsworths and Webster Prescott.

Before she left, however, she still needed a bit more information. “Did Mr. Van Scoyoc explain how one might embezzle from the bank without being caught?”

“Not without being caught. Eventually, the discrepancies would be found, no matter how careful the thief was. Blame might be diverted onto another, but the crime could not be concealed forever. He was also surprised that the discrepancy was found so quickly. He did not believe that such a thing couldn’t be discovered in a day, even if the auditors knew what they were looking for.”