Victoria Thompson: Murder On Mulberry Bend

Frank knew he should feel at least a little guilty, but he didn‘t, not one bit. Sarah had sent for him, so he had a perfectly legitimate reason to be calling on her. He’d happened to hear Richard Dennis make an engagement with her for eight o’clock this evening, and he knew she’d be home at this hour, waiting for him. He should have gone earlier, of course, so he wouldn’t interfere with their plans. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten her message until he returned to Headquarters after investigating a fatal knife fight in one of the neighborhood’s stale beer dives. He could have waited until morning, of course, but she obviously thought her news too important to wait. He’d calculated that he had just enough time to reach her before Dennis carried her away in his carriage. And just enough time to interrupt Dennis’s plans. Perhaps he could even spoil them altogether. He was smiling as he turned the corner onto Bank Street.

Even though the city clocks hadn’t yet struck eight, Frank could see Dennis’s carriage waiting outside Sarah’s house. He quickened his pace. He didn’t want to have to flag them down as they drove by. But as he approached, he saw Dennis standing beside the coach and no sign of Sarah. Dennis appeared to be reading something by the light of the coach lamp.

As Frank reached him, he looked up. His puzzled frown dissolved into recognition. “Mr. Malloy,” he said. “Good evening. Mrs. Brandt has left you a message, too.”

Frank glanced up and only then realized the lights were out in her flat. He saw what appeared to be an envelope stuck in the crack between the front door and its frame. He realized she must have gone out and left a similar note for Dennis, and that’s what he had been reading.

Frank quickly retrieved his own message and carried it back to the coach light. His feeling of satisfaction had long since evaporated. Now he was uneasy and growing more so by the minute. By the time he’d finished the note, he was deeply troubled.

“What does she say?” Dennis asked anxiously. “If you can tell me,” he added when Frank looked at him sharply.

“She’s gone off to meet some priest,” Frank said, wondering if he’d have any trouble getting Dennis to reveal her message to him. “What does she say to you?”

“She apologizes for canceling our engagement. We were going to have dinner together,” he explained, either rubbing it in or having forgotten that Frank knew their plans. Frank didn’t bother to decide which it was. “She says she has to meet with someone who has information about that girl’s murder. I thought you were going to settle all that yesterday.”

Frank could have taken offense, but Dennis sounded genuinely concerned about Sarah, so he overlooked the provocation. “I arrested the girl’s mother yesterday. She confessed, or at least it sounded like she did. She doesn’t speak English very well. But Mrs. Brandt’s note says she can prove the woman is innocent.” The thought was difficult to contemplate. Even if the woman hadn’t confessed, she hadn’t protested her innocence either, not even when they locked her up. She’d behaved as if she was guilty. What was Frank supposed to think?

“If the mother isn’t the killer, then who could it be?” Dennis asked.

A good question. “Mrs. Brandt thought it might be someone at the mission, or at least she did until it looked like the mother did it.”

Frank could see that Dennis was trying to make sense of all this. “What priest is she going to meet?”

“She doesn’t say, but I know she went to St. John’s the other day to ask them to pay for the girl’s funeral. That must be where she’s gone.”

“How would a priest know who the killer is, especially if it’s someone at the mission?”

Frank had been trying to figure that out himself. “Maybe the killer made a confession to the priest. A lot of those girls are Catholic, or they were before Mrs. Wells got them. But priests aren’t allowed to tell anyone what they hear in the confessional.”

Dennis frowned as though something was bothering him. “Mrs. Brandt said that the murdered girl looked as if she’d suffocated. How would that make someone look?”

Frank considered the question. From the tone of Dennis’s voice, he knew it wasn’t idle curiosity. “The girl’s skin was blue and her eyes were open real wide.”

Something changed very slightly in Dennis’s expression. He’d already been worried, but now he looked alarmed. “Would she have been gasping for breath before she died?”

Now Frank knew it wasn’t idle curiosity. “I’m not sure, but it seems likely.”

Dennis had unconsciously crumpled the note he still held as his hands closed into fists. “Sarah… Mrs. Brandt said the girl had been stabbed in the back of the neck.”

“That’s right,” Frank said, watching the other man’s face carefully.

“The wound… Did it bleed a lot?”

“Hardly at all. In fact, it was so small, we almost didn’t notice it.”

Dennis closed his eyes and sucked in his breath, as if he’d sustained a great shock and couldn’t quite absorb it. “Mr. Malloy,” he said in a strangled voice, “I think I may know who your killer is.”

Gina had never ridden in a Hansom cab before, and she enjoyed it thoroughly. Fortunately, the traffic was much lighter at this hour than usual, and they traveled relatively quickly down Seventh Avenue. The driver refused to go into the tenement section of the city, however, so she and Gina were forced to walk the rest of the way. If Gina felt any apprehension at walking through the neighborhood after dark, she gave no indication. She was probably used to it, and Sarah certainly was, too.

After what seemed an eternity, they finally reached the mission. Sarah saw Gina safely inside, where Mrs. Wells anxiously awaited them, with Aggie clinging to her skirts. The little girl rushed to Sarah and threw her arms around her legs as usual. Sarah stooped and gave her a hug.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Aggie,” she told the child, who looked at her with such longing, she thought her heart might break. She knew Aggie was becoming too attached to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything about it.

“Thank you for finding Mrs. Brandt, Gina,” Mrs. Wells was saying. “You did a good job.” Gina fairly beamed with pleasure, reminding Sarah how desperate these girls were for approval of any kind. “Now you can go on upstairs with the other girls and get ready for bed.” She glanced at the child Sarah still held. “And take Aggie, too, please.”

Aggie struggled a bit, but a stem look from Mrs. Wells defeated her. As soon as they were gone, Mrs. Wells closed the parlor doors and asked, “What did the message say?”

“The priest thinks he knows who Emilia’s killer is,” she said. “I’m going to see him right now.”

“Are you sure he can be trusted?” Mrs. Wells asked with a worried frown.

Sarah almost pointed out that the man was a priest, for heaven’s sake, but then she realized that was probably exactly why Mrs. Wells wouldn’t consider him trustworthy. “I believe so,” she said instead. “I’m at least going to hear what he has to say.”

“You’re going tonight?” She seemed surprised.

“I think we need to learn the truth as soon as possible.” Sarah didn’t point out that she wanted to find the killer before anyone else was murdered, but she could see that Mrs. Wells understood just the same.

“I can go with you, if you’d like,” Mrs. Wells offered tentatively. “Although they might not welcome me there.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Sarah said. “I can’t imagine any place safer than a church.”

The city was settling down for the night. The hoards of people who congregated in the streets during the daylight hours had gone to seek their beds or some indoor entertainment. Saloons catering to every pocketbook would be crowded with patrons who had no place they’d rather be, while those fortunate enough to have a job would be at home in bed, in anticipation of another long workday.