Victoria Thompson - Murder On Mulberry Bend

St. John’s sat forlornly on the comer, its steeple towering over the surrounding neighborhood. Only a feeble light from within illuminated the stained glass windows. Church, she realized, was a daylight activity. She was glad she’d chosen to come this evening, when Father Ahearn would be free to give her his full attention, and no one would be around to overhear what he was going to tell her.

The heavy front doors of the church were unlocked and moved silently on their hinges. Inside, she saw that one source of the light was a display of candles sitting in a wooden rack. They lit the foyer with a welcoming glow, and Sarah stepped inside. She moved forward, letting her eyes become accustomed to the shadows. Stopping behind the last pew, she scanned the sanctuary. She saw no sign of Father Ahearn, or anyone else, for that matter.

Of course, he couldn’t have any idea how quickly she’d receive his message. He’d hardly be sitting here waiting for her. She’d have to find the door that led to the priests’ private offices and see if he was there.

The church seemed cavernous in the semidarkness. The light from the candles in the foyer could not penetrate the depths of the sanctuary. Some solitary lights burned up near the altar, too, and Sarah used them to mark her progress down the long aisle. She was halfway to the door she was seeking when she heard a sound behind her.

“Father?” she called, turning. But the shadowy figure who had entered the door through which she’d come wasn’t a priest.

Frank didn’t like the idea of bringing Dennis along, but the man had offered the use of his carriage. Besides, Frank figured he wanted to see the confrontation that was coming. If Dennis was right in his theory about who the killer was, he certainly deserved the opportunity.

The carriage stopped in front of the mission, and the two men climbed out. Frank could see the driver looking around nervously, wondering how safe he’d be in this neighborhood. Curious eyes were probably already peering out at him from every building.

Frank climbed the front steps and pounded on the door. “Police, open up!” he shouted. The windows were dark, but he couldn’t believe everyone inside was already asleep. Even if they were, he’d soon have them awake again. He needed to pound a few more times before someone finally unbolted the door and opened it a crack.

Without waiting for an invitation, Frank pushed it open, forcing whoever was behind it to back up or be knocked over. Once he was inside, he saw it was the same red-haired girl who had opened the door to him before. This must be Maeve, the girl Sarah suspected of being the killer. She wore a nightdress and carried a candle. “You can’t come in here,” she tried, but her voice trembled. Her face had gone so pale, her freckles looked almost black.

“Where’s Mrs. Wells?” Frank demanded. Several other girls had come to see what the disturbance was about, and they stood on the stairs, staring down at him in wide-eyed terror.

“She’s in her room, asleep,” Maeve said. The candle she was carrying trembled.

“Then get her up,” Frank said. “I need to speak to her.”

For a second, he thought she might refuse, but then she obviously realized the futility of it. She nodded at a dark-haired girl, who took off running down the hallway, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floor.

“What do you want? Is something wrong?” the girl asked, but Frank just glared at her.

They stood like this for a minute or two. All the girls seemed to be holding their breath, sensing something awful but having no idea what it might be. Then they heard the sound of the girl’s running feet returning. She stopped beside Maeve, her dark eyes wide with terror. “She ain’t there.”

Maeve turned on her in exasperation. “What do you mean she ain’t there?”

“I mean, she ain’t there. And she ain’t in the kitchen. I looked.”

“Where else could she be then?” Frank asked, his voice gruff and as frightening as he could make it without terrifying the girls into total silence.

“Nowhere,” the dark-haired girl offered before Maeve could speak. “She told us all to go to bed, that she was going to her room to pray.”

“When was this?” Frank asked.

“Just a little while ago,” the dark-haired girl said. “Right after Mrs. Brandt left.”

“Mrs. Brandt was here?” Frank nearly shouted, grabbing her by the arm.

Her eyes widened in terror and the color drained from her face. Instantly, Frank realized he’d made a tactical error. If the girl was too frightened, she wouldn’t tell him a thing.

“There now,” Dennis said calmly, coming to his rescue. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re Gina, aren’t you? I remember you were at the party the other night.” Frank carefully released the girl’s arm, allowing Dennis to use his charm. “Can you tell us why Mrs. Brandt was here?”

The girl started rubbing her arm where Frank had held her, but she was looking at Dennis now. Her face was still white, but she said, “She brought me home, and then she talked to Mrs. Wells – ”

“What do you mean, she brought you home?” Frank asked too gruffly. The girl took a step back, but once again Dennis distracted her.

“Why did she bring you home, Gina?” he asked in his gentleman’s voice.

“She wanted to see I got home safe.” She glanced at Frank, but only for a second before looking back at Dennis. “Then she talked to Mrs. Wells and left. I expect she went to see the priest.”

“How did you know she was going to see the priest?” Frank asked, and this time he managed to keep his voice fairly gentle.

She might even have answered him, but Maeve beat her to it. “Because the priest sent Mrs. Brandt a note, except he didn’t know where she lives, so he sent it here and asked Mrs. Wells to get it to her. Gina carried it.”

Frank’s mind was racing. Dear God, why hadn’t he seen it before now? “Who brought the note here? Did anyone see the priest?” He looked up at the faces staring down at him. No one responded.

“Mrs. Wells said a boy brought it,” Maeve offered after a moment.

“Did you see the boy?” She shook her head. “Did anyone see the boy?” Silence. “Did anyone even hear him knock?” More silence.

“Malloy, what is it?” Dennis asked frantically.

Frank turned to face him. “Mrs. Wells was the one who sent the note, and now she’s gone after Sarah.”

“Mrs. Wells, is that you?” Sarah called to the woman emerging from the shadows. “I told you that you didn’t need to come with me.”

“Oh, but I did need to come, Mrs. Brandt.” Her voice sounded strange. It gave Sarah chills.

She knew she was only being fanciful. The eerie stillness of the church had spooked her. “I suppose you’re as anxious as I am to find out who killed Emilia. I hope you won’t be too disappointed if it turns out to be Maeve or one of the other girls.”

“I won’t be disappointed at all,” Mrs. Wells assured her.

Sarah wished she could see the other woman’s face, but it was too dark. The tone of her voice was frighteningly calm, even though Sarah knew she must be extremely upset. She wanted to send her home and spare her the pain of hearing the priest tell her what would surely be horrible news. But she couldn’t spare her forever. “All right, then,” Sarah said. “The priest’s office is this way.”

She turned and started to walk toward the front of the church again. Behind her, she heard the chillingly familiar rasp of a hat pin being pulled from a hat and then the patter of running feet coming up behind her, and in that instant, she understood everything.

Sarah threw herself into the nearest pew as Mrs. Wells dove for her. The woman stumbled, her momentum carrying her forward when she missed Sarah, so that she fell headlong to the floor.