Victoria Thompson - Murder On Mulberry Bend

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” David said to Sarah, pretending not to notice how rude Malloy had been. “Come as early as you like. Anne will be glad for the company.”

Sarah made her own escape as quickly as propriety would allow and hurried out into the street, hoping to catch up with Malloy and confront him. Luckily, the traffic had stopped them at the corner, so she was able to simply encounter them without resorting to any unseemly behavior, such as running after them or calling out.

Brian saw her first, and he squealed with joy and flung himself toward her. Caught by surprise, Malloy would have dropped him, but Sarah saved the boy from falling to the pavement and took him into her arms.

“I’m happy to see you, too, Brian,” she said, settling him on her hip. He was touching her face and looking up at her new hat. He seemed to approve of it. “It seems the operation was a success,” she tried on Malloy.

“My mother will be glad,” he replied, not quite meeting her eye. “You didn’t have to come today,” he added gruffly.

“I told you I’d be here if I could,” she reminded him.

“You’ve got better things to do than worry about the likes of us.” His jaw was set in the stubborn line she’d seen too many times before.

She’d thought he was upset because she was late for the appointment, but could he possibly be angry that she’d come at all? “If you didn’t want me here, you should have said so,” she said.

This time he looked straight at her, his eyes as dark as she’d ever seen them. “You should be with your own kind, Sarah.”

At that moment, there was a break in the traffic, and he snatched Brian from her and hurried across the street. Brian’s small arms were still reaching back for her when they disappeared behind the closing wall of carriages and hacks.

Stunned, Sarah could only stand there staring until the people walking by began to make remarks about her blocking the way. Then she started blindly down the street, walking in the opposite direction, as much to get away as to get to someplace else.

The worst part was that she didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt. Other people had certainly advised her that she should confine herself to associations with people of her own social class. Her parents had done so many times, as had her old friends. Some were well meaning, and others were snobs. She had ignored them all and done what she pleased.

What she pleased was to continue the work that her husband Tom had begun, providing medical services to everyone who needed it, regardless of their ability to pay. Sarah wasn’t a physician, but she could save the lives of mothers and their babies, so that’s what she did.

In the six months she’d known Frank Malloy, she thought he’d come to respect her, and even to approve of her. The last thing she’d ever expected was to hear him say she should be with her “own kind.” An hour ago, she would have said that Frank Malloy was her own kind! Now he was warning her away from him.

She had to admit it: he’d hurt her. She hadn’t known until this moment how much she valued his opinion of her. When the people she loved most in the world begged her at every opportunity to turn her back on all that she found fulfilling in life, he had accepted her as a competent professional, someone whom he consulted on matters of importance. She’d even helped him solve a number of murders. Just last week, she’d kept an innocent person from being executed, and all on her own, she’d made sure her neighbor’s son got to keep his position at the bank Richard Dennis owned. Even Malloy couldn’t have influenced Richard the way she had!

The thought stopped her in her tracks and caused the gentleman behind her to nearly fall in his hasty effort to avoid colliding with her. She apologized profusely as he regained his balance and sidled around her, not certain what to make of a woman so lost in thought she was paying no attention to anything else.

Only then did she realize she was back on the corner where Malloy had left her. She’d made a complete circle of the block.

“Malloy, you’re jealous!” she whispered to the spot where he had disappeared with Brian into the traffic. She really shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d been quite upset when she told him she was going to the opera with Richard. She’d thought they had parted on good terms last Friday, but his behavior today proved she was wrong. Now all she had to do was figure out if he really did think she should stay with her own kind.

And if he did, what she should do about it.

Frank should have been pleased. A woman had been found dead in City Hall Park, and he’d been selected for the case because of his reputation for handling difficult situations with care. Nobody knew who the woman was, but she’d been well dressed. Nobody knew how she’d died, either, but if she’d been killed – in broad daylight on the doorstep of City Hall – nobody wanted a scandal. Unlike many of his colleagues, Frank could be counted upon not to offend the wrong people and not to let the press hear anything they shouldn’t.

The Elevated Train ran right down to City Hall, so Frank got on at Bleeker Street. The morning rush was over, and he got a seat all to himself and a few minutes to collect his thoughts. Unfortunately, he didn’t particularly want to collect his thoughts, because every time he did, Sarah Brandt turned up in them.

He hadn’t admitted to himself how badly he’d wanted her there when Brian got his cast off. She’d gone to so much trouble to make sure her friend operated on his son, but it was more than that. He’d needed her there. He’d needed to share the anxiety and the joy with her. She was the only one who could truly understand.

Of course, he’d told her she didn’t have to come. He didn’t want her to feel any sense of obligation. Or pity. He and Brian were nothing to her, after all. Yet still he’d been hoping…

And then she’d come. Breathless from hurrying, her cheeks rosy and her eyes shining, she’d looked like a goddess. Brian had thrown himself into her arms, and Frank had longed to do the same. Jealous of his own son, jealous of the doctor whose friendship entitled him to call her Sarah, and jealous of Richard Dennis, whose position in life gave him the right to court her, Frank had hardly dared look her in the eye for fear he would betray the feelings to which he had no right.

As the train lurched to a stop at the next station and passengers began to come and go in the car, Frank rubbed his head. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Every time he closed his eyes, he’d see her face and the hurt in her eyes just before he’d snatched Brian from her arms and fled.

She’d never speak to him again, but that was as it should be. She never should have spoken to him in the first place. He never should have gotten to know her. He never should have allowed her to help him solve any murders. And he never should have let her help Brian.

But he had. She’d done him a favor, her good deed for the year. She’d been repaying him for the cases he’d solved for her, because she was the only one who cared if they ever were or not. They were even. Or at least she needn’t feel she was in his debt.

But each time his son took a step, he realized he would be in her debt forever.

That probably also meant he’d remember her forever. It couldn’t be any harder than losing Kathleen, he reasoned. He’d thought the pain of losing his wife would kill him, and here he was, three years later, alive and well. Of course, Kathleen had died, so he didn’t have any choice about accepting that. He couldn’t see her again, and she wasn’t there somewhere in the city, living without him. He’d certainly never had to worry about meeting her accidentally and not knowing how he’d react if he did. He’d had no choice but to let Kathleen go.