Victoria Thompson - Murder On Mulberry Bend

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked in his very charming way as he led her to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Instead of returning to his place behind it, he sat in the other chair beside her. She had his full attention.

“I’m afraid our visit to the mission on Sunday had a profound effect on me,” she began, debating whether to tell him about Emilia’s murder. No use in starting out on such a tragic topic. She’d wait and see if she could work it naturally into her explanation.

“What kind of an effect?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

“I’ve had a… a reawakening, I suppose you’d call it. I suddenly feel as if my life doesn’t have much meaning, and that I’m not doing anything important.”

“What nonsense,” he said gallantly. “Your work must be very important.”

She chose not to notice that he really wasn’t certain it was. “You’re right, of course. I do save lives,” she added, in case he hadn’t realized it. “But Mrs. Wells changes lives. I don’t think I could do the kind of work she does, but I could help her. I’ve asked my mother if she’d give a party and ask her friends to make a donation to the mission… in Hazel’s memory.”

She’d touched him deeply. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. “Sarah,” he finally said. “I think that’s the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I’m not being kind, Richard,” she assured him. “I’m being selfish. I want to feel better about myself by doing something good.”

“I’m sure that’s the basic motivation for all charitable acts,” he said with an understanding smile.

“Perhaps it is. I hope it doesn’t matter what the motivation is, so long as the act itself is good,” she added.

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“Would you come to the party?” she asked.

He seemed surprised. “Of course. I mean, I assumed you wouldn’t have told me about it if you weren’t going to invite me.”

Had he forgotten that he blamed the people at the mission for giving Hazel her fatal illness? If so, Sarah wasn’t going to remind him. “We want to do more than simply invite you. We were hoping you’d agree to help host. Perhaps you could also speak about Hazel’s work at the mission.”

“I don’t know what I could say, but I’ll be happy to play host. I’ve been to a number of this type of event. We should ask Mrs. Wells to come and speak about her work. She’s the one who knows the most.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. What a good idea.”

“She’ll probably also bring a couple of the girls along, to show the guests some examples of her success.”

Sarah almost winced when she thought of Emilia. “You haven’t asked me what inspired my sudden desire to help the mission.”

“I assumed it was a result of our visit there.”

Sarah took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “I wish that were all. I had a very unpleasant experience today. Do you remember that girl Emilia whom we met at the mission?”

He frowned in concentration. “I’m afraid I don’t remember any of the girls in particular.”

“She was the one who answered the door. Mrs. Wells said she’d been seduced by a man who refused to marry her and her family had disowned her.”

Plainly, he hadn’t seen any reason to remember the incident. “Has she approached you for help?”

“No, not exactly. She was found dead in City Hall Park this morning.”

“Dead?” he echoed in surprise. “A young girl like that? What happened?”

“She was murdered.”

An expression of distaste crossed his handsome face. “How unfortunate. But I suppose you can’t be too surprised with that kind of girl.”

Sarah wanted to demand to know what he meant by “that kind of girl,” but she refrained. She had little hope of changing Richard Dennis’s prejudices. She’d settle for getting his help in changing other people’s lives. “She was wearing my clothes when she died.”

“Your clothes?” he echoed, obviously confused.

“The clothes I donated to the mission on Sunday. That made me think, ‘There but for the grace of God go I.’ I don’t want any other girls to die like that.”

He nodded, his expression grave with understanding, although Sarah suspected he couldn’t even begin to understand. “Certainly not. And don’t worry, I’ll do everything I can to help. Would your mother like for me to give her a list of Hazel’s particular friends?”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate that. I can’t thank you enough for helping with this.”

“I’m glad to do it, but I’m afraid I will have to have a favor in return,” he added with a smile.

“What kind of favor?” she asked, intrigued.

“Some friends of mine are giving a party on Halloween. I was hoping you would accompany me.”

Sarah’s mother would be so pleased. “Of course,” she said.

SARAH THOUGHT ENOUGH TIME HAD PASSED SINCE Malloy had put her into the Hansom cab. He would have long since been to the mission and gone, so it was now safe for her to go there herself and speak with Mrs. Wells about her plans. If she also happened to learn more about Emilia while she was there, she’d certainly be happy to share that information with Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy.

The girl who opened the door to her had red hair and freckles, and she looked at Sarah suspiciously. News of Emilia’s death would certainly have upset everyone in the house and made them wary. Sarah asked to speak with Mrs. Wells and was admitted and instructed to wait in the parlor.

Mrs. Wells appeared a few minutes later. Her expression was somber, her smile of greeting sad. “Mrs. Brandt,” she said. “How good of you to come. Won’t you sit down?” She directed Sarah to the horsehair sofa and took a seat beside her, her back still rigidly straight, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Like most women, she had been taught to put on a good face in public, no matter what her private pain might be.

“I’m terribly sorry about Emilia,” Sarah said.

“So are we,” Mrs. Wells said. “She had struggled for a long time against the forces of evil. At least we can take comfort that she is at peace now.”

Sarah thought that an odd thing to say about someone so young and healthy as Emilia had been, but she knew her view of life and death was different from Mrs. Wells’s.

“I was surprised,” Mrs. Wells continued, not waiting for Sarah to respond, “that you had been asked to identify Emilia’s body.”

Sarah heard the unspoken question. She wondered how Malloy had explained it to her. “Detective Sergeant Malloy recognized the hat Emilia was wearing as one he’d seen me wear.”

“He must know you very well,” Mrs. Wells observed. “Few men would remember a lady’s hat.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if she heard a note of disapproval in Mrs. Wells’s voice or not. Few people would think it proper for her to be on intimate terms with a policeman, since the police were considered as corrupt as the criminals they arrested. She reminded herself that her own mother disapproved of her acquaintance with Malloy. “I have been able to assist Mr. Malloy on several of his cases – cases that involved people with whom I was acquainted,” she added when Mrs. Wells’s eyebrows rose a notch.

Her eyebrows rose even higher, but she said, “I suppose as a midwife, you must encounter all sorts of people.” Obviously, she wouldn’t have expected Sarah to meet people who got themselves murdered in the ordinary course of her life.

“Just as you do, in your work,” Sarah pointed out.

“I’m sorry if I seem overly curious about your personal affairs, Mrs. Brandt, but I don’t believe I’ve ever known the police to be particularly vigilant about solving crimes involving people like Emilia. But Mr. Malloy has made an extraordinary effort, and I was wondering why.”