Victoria Thompson: Murder On Mulberry Bend

“I know it sounds strange, but I just had to see Mrs. Donato.”

Mrs. Wells folded her hands in her lap and sighed. “I suppose I should go to see her, too. The Lord commands us to forgive whatever wrongs are done to us, and it’s my duty to speak to her about her immortal soul. She still has the opportunity to save herself from the fires of hell.” She looked up, her eyes bright with the fervor of her faith. “We should always be ready to face our judgment at any time. I trust you have made your own peace with God, Mrs. Brandt.”

“I believe that I have,” Sarah answered, unwilling to get into a discussion on the subject at the moment.

“I’m glad to hear it. Of course, Mrs. Donato’s need is much more urgent. I suppose they’ll execute her for Emilia’s death.”

“They will if she’s guilty,” Sarah said. “I have good reason to believe she isn’t, however.”

Mrs. Wells’s face reflected understandable shock. “I understood that she had confessed.”

“No, she didn’t, and Father Ahearn and I believe she’s innocent.”

Now Mrs. Wells was truly confused. “But you were so certain when you left here… And then she confessed to the police…”

“I spoke with Mrs. Donato myself. She couldn’t have killed Emilia. She was selling her flowers at Washington Square that day.”

Mrs. Wells smiled sadly. “Mrs. Brandt, I can’t believe you don’t realize a woman like that would lie to protect herself. Of course she’d claim she was someplace else.”

“I did think of that, but she has a friend who sells dolls, and they go to the park together. I spoke with the woman today, and she verified that they were both at Washington Square every day for the past several months.”

Mrs. Wells considered this for a long moment. “What will this mean?” she asked finally. She looked crushed, as if she could not bear yet another disappointment.

Sarah hated to add to her burdens, but she had no choice. “I’m afraid it means we still haven’t found the person who really killed Emilia.”

Mrs. Wells lowered her head and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. The strain she was suffering must be awful. When she looked up again, her face was white. “Mrs. Brandt, I’m afraid we will never learn who took Emilia’s life.”

Sarah reached under the spread of her skirt and slid the hat pin out to rest on the sofa where Mrs. Wells could see it. The other woman’s eyes grew wide as she stared at it.

“The last time I was here, I suggested that one of the girls might have done it,” Sarah said gently. “Just a moment ago, I caught Maeve trying to stab Gina.”

Mrs. Wells was shaking her head in silent denial. “Maeve couldn’t have done it,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

“Someone did,” Sarah pointed out.

Mrs. Wells sighed wearily. “This quest has caused so much pain, and nothing can bring Emilia back. Can’t we just… let her rest in peace?” she tried.

“I’m afraid I’m not as forgiving as you, Mrs. Wells. I can’t rest until Emilia’s killer is caught.”

Mrs. Wells sighed in resignation. “May God help you then, Mrs. Brandt.”

IN THE END, SARAH HAD TO LEAVE THE MESSAGE FOR Malloy herself. She hadn’t felt she could ask either Maeve or Gina to do an errand for her after breaking up their fight. And she certainly couldn’t ask Mrs. Wells for a favor after informing the poor woman that one of her cherished girls was probably a killer. Knowing everyone at Headquarters would hear what her message had been, she’d simply asked Malloy to contact her immediately about something very important concerning Emilia Donato’s death. She could tell the desk sergeant didn’t believe her, but she didn’t care if they thought she was chasing Frank Malloy.

Perhaps they should give in and pretend to be a courting couple. At least Malloy wouldn’t suffer any more teasing as a result, and he might suffer less. She couldn’t help smiling at the thought. Then she went home to wait.

By evening, Sarah had begun to regret accepting Richard’s invitation to dinner. What if Malloy didn’t arrive before Richard came for her? How could she enjoy an evening out when an innocent woman languished in jail for a murder she hadn’t committed? And how could she live with herself if Maeve harmed someone else before Malloy could arrest her – assuming she was even the killer?

She changed her clothes into something appropriate for her scheduled engagement more to occupy herself than because she truly wished to look nice. Even still, the time dragged. Too distracted to read or sew or do anything constructive, Sarah simply sat by the front window, watching for Malloy by the light of the gas streetlamps.

The watch on her lapel said seven-thirty when she saw a familiar figure hurrying down the street, but not the one she’d been expecting. She rushed to the front door and threw it open.

“Gina!” she called, and the girl turned toward her voice.

“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I’m so glad to see you!” she cried. She ran over and stumbled in her haste to climb Sarah’s front steps. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you.”

“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked as she ushered the girl inside.

Gina needed a moment to catch her breath. “Mrs. Wells sent me. I’ve got a message for you.” She searched in her pocket and produced a crumpled envelope. Her name had been scrawled on it. “Mrs. Wells told me you lived on Bank Street,” she explained as Sarah tore it open. “She said to just go up Seventh Avenue and ask people until I found the street. She said someone there would tell me which house was yours.”

Sarah quickly scanned the note. It was from Father Ahearn. He said he’d found out who the killer was, and he needed her help. She remembered him saying he couldn’t reveal the secrets of the confessional. Had the real killer confessed to him? Maeve was Irish and had most certainly been raised Catholic. She might have felt compelled to confess her guilt, if she was the killer. Father Ahearn certainly wouldn’t be able to tell the police what he’d learned, but perhaps he hoped Sarah could help him convince the girl to surrender herself.

“How did you get this note?” Sarah asked her.

“Somebody brought it to Mrs. Wells. It’s from a priest, she said. He didn’t know how to find you, but he thought she would. What does he want?”

“I have to go meet him.” The note urged her to come as soon as possible, since he was worried the killer might harm herself or someone else. “I’m expecting some visitors, though, so I need to leave them a message before I go.”

Gina sat down to rest from her frantic mission while Sarah found paper and a pencil and began to compose her notes to Malloy and Richard. The one to Malloy was the most difficult. How could she explain in a few words that Mrs. Donato was innocent and someone else – she suspected it was Maeve but wasn’t completely sure – was guilty and that she’d gone to see a priest about finding out for certain? She understood it all, and the story still sounded unbelievable to her. She could just imagine Malloy’s reaction.

The note to Richard was easier. She apologized for her rudeness and explained she had to meet with someone to save an innocent woman’s life. He might consider her foolish, but he’d forgive her.

When she had inserted the notes into envelopes and addressed them to each man, she was ready to leave. “How did you get here?” Sarah asked.

“I walked,” Gina said. No wonder she was tired.

Sarah put on her hat and took her cape from the hook by the door. “Let’s see if we can get a Hansom.” She didn’t think a cab would take them all the way to the mission, but they could probably get a lot closer than the El would take them. She stuck the notes in the door for the men to find and then led Gina down the street toward Seventh Avenue, where they would be most likely to find a cab.