Murder on Pleasant Avenue Page 6

  “No. I’ll . . . I’ll write Lisa a note.”

  “What will you tell her?”

  “Not that I was kidnapped,” Miss Harding snapped. “She’d tell my parents, and they’d make me go right back to Saratoga Springs.”

  Most young women in her situation would probably have found that prospect very appealing, but Sarah had no idea what Miss Harding’s life had been like before she came to New York. Perhaps she had a good reason for not wanting to return home, even to recover from a bad experience.

  “If I can do anything for you—”

  “I’m fine, really,” Miss Harding assured her. “I’ll send Lisa a note, and I’m sure she’ll come for me. Women like her understand family obligations.”

  What did she mean by that? Most women understood family obligations. And wasn’t it just a few minutes ago she had said something almost insulting about her cousin? Or was it her cousin’s husband? Well, it wasn’t Sarah’s job to figure all of this out. She pulled out one of her cards and offered it to Miss Harding. “If you change your mind, I can come at any time.”

  “You’re a midwife,” Miss Harding said in surprise after looking at the card. “Why did they think I’d need a midwife?”

  “I’m also a nurse, as I told you.”

  “I don’t need a nurse either, as I told you,” she added sarcastically.

  “I’m very glad to hear it.”

  Sarah got up to leave, but Miss Harding stopped her. “Wait, could you . . . ? I need to write a note to Lisa. Could you mail it for me? I don’t . . .” She gestured helplessly.

  She wouldn’t want to show herself in public just yet, in case people were talking about her. Sarah could understand that. “Of course I can. Shall I wait downstairs?”

  “The writing desk is down there, in the parlor. We all share it. If you don’t mind, we can go down together.”

  Miss Harding led the way. They found the room deserted, as Sarah had expected. A worn sofa and several chairs filled most of the space. A small desk and some bookshelves occupied the rest.

  Sarah sat down in one of the chairs while Miss Harding composed her note. It was the work of only a few minutes. The less said, the better, Sarah supposed.

  “Here,” Miss Harding said, handing the envelope to Sarah. “I’m afraid I don’t have a stamp, but Christopher will. Mr. McWilliam. He’ll probably want to speak to you anyway, to find out how I am.”

  “And what should I tell him?”

  “That I’m fine, but I’m . . . exhausted,” she said, as if she’d just decided that was the perfect word to use. “I’ll speak to him, uh, later, after I’ve rested. Meanwhile, I’d like to be left alone—by everyone.”

  Sarah would have expected Miss Harding to want to see her fiancé immediately, but she reminded herself that Miss Harding and Mr. McWilliam were not really engaged. Perhaps Miss Harding had decided not to marry him—no one could blame her for not wanting to settle here after what had just happened—and was simply delaying the moment when she would have to tell him. Whatever her reasons, Sarah would certainly honor her wishes and convey her message to Mr. McWilliam.

  Sarah took her leave, reminding Miss Harding once again that she was available to help if needed. Miss Harding headed back upstairs to her room and Sarah found her way to the door that connected the women’s area with the next row house. Teo Donatelli was waiting just outside of it.

  “How is she?” she whispered.

  “She says she’s fine, although she wants to rest before seeing anyone.”

  “She seemed very upset when she arrived back here,” Teo said. “Did she tell you how she got away?”

  “It sounds as if they simply let her go. She was being held somewhere in the neighborhood, so she just walked back here.”

  Teo frowned. “Why would they just let her go?”

  “Maybe they got frightened when they heard Gino was looking for her,” Sarah said with a small smile.

  Teo smiled back at the ridiculous thought. “Did you see the suit she was wearing?”

  “Who? Miss Harding?”

  “Yes. So beautiful. I never saw anything like it before.”

  “Yes, it’s lovely.” Although not very practical for working in East Harlem. Sarah remembered the way Kate Westrop had been dressed. But then, maybe Miss Harding had been wearing the suit for a special reason and just happened to be kidnapped while wearing it. “I need to speak to Mr. McWilliam. He’ll be worried.”

  “Yes, come. I’ll show you the way.”

  Teo left Sarah when they reached the main entrance, giving her instructions to Mr. McWilliam’s office on the second floor before going off to help with one of the classes. Sarah found Mr. McWilliam working at his desk, but he jumped up the instant he saw her. She couldn’t help noticing his eyes were red-rimmed and troubled. “Mrs. Malloy, Teo told me you had gone to speak to Miss Harding. How is she?”

  “She said to tell you that she is fine but very tired. She’s gone to her room and would like some privacy while she rests. She said she will speak with you later.”

  “Later? But . . .” He reached out a hand, as if hoping Sarah would help him understand.

  “I’m sorry, but she said she was exhausted. Perhaps she doesn’t feel up to talking about what happened just yet.”

  “Did she tell you anything at all?”

  “Only that her captors didn’t harm her in any way and she was held at a place not far from here. It sounds as if she was allowed to escape.” Sarah almost added that Miss Harding was going to ask her cousin Lisa to take her in for a few days, but then thought better of it. Telling him something like that was Miss Harding’s place. “I gave her my card and offered to help in any way I can, but she just wanted to be left alone.”

  “I suppose I can understand that, but I hope you assured her that no one here knows what happened to her.”

  “I did, but I’m sure it’s still difficult to believe people wouldn’t be staring at her. You know how quickly news like this can spread, no matter how much you try to keep it a secret.”

  Mr. McWilliam needed a bit more reassurance, which Sarah provided, and then she was finally able to take her leave. She was already out the front door when she realized she hadn’t asked Mr. McWilliam for a stamp. She pulled out the envelope Miss Harding had given her and checked the address. It was on her way home, just a few blocks from an El stop and in a very nice neighborhood. She could deliver it personally, and Lisa Prince would be able to fetch Miss Harding that much more quickly, maybe as soon as this evening.

  * * *

  * * *

  The Prince house wasn’t really a mansion, but most people on the Lower East Side would have thought it was. The marble-fronted town house rose four stories above Park Avenue, no finer than its neighbors, but they were fine enough to impress all but the most jaded city residents.

  Sarah judged the hour to still be a fitting one for a social call, although she had no idea if this was one of Mrs. Prince’s days “at home,” which meant a day she was receiving visitors.

  The maid seemed a little surprised to see someone she didn’t know on the doorstep, especially someone dressed as simply as Sarah had dressed this morning for a visit to the maternity clinic. Sarah explained she was a friend of Mrs. Prince’s cousin, Jane Harding, and had a message from her. Then Sarah presented one of her calling cards, not the ones that said she was a midwife but the ones engraved on thick vellum paper with just her name and address that identified her as a lady of means who made social calls on other ladies of means. Since merely having one’s maid deliver one’s calling card to another lady’s house constituted “meeting” her, Sarah felt confident Mrs. Prince would feel comfortable receiving her. If nothing else, she’d be dying of curiosity to know what message her cousin Jane was sending her.

  After checking with her mistress, the maid returned to escort Sarah upsta
irs to the formal parlor, where Mrs. Prince received her with a puzzled but polite smile. Lisa Prince was an attractive young woman in her mid-twenties. She wore a pale yellow gown of a light, gauzy material that was perfect for the warm summer weather. She wore her dark hair in an elaborate style that Sarah envied but would never even try to emulate.

  “Mrs. Malloy?” Mrs. Prince said a little uncertainly as she rose to welcome Sarah. Very few society matrons had Irish surnames.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Prince. I have a message for you that your cousin Jane Harding asked me to deliver, so I thought I shouldn’t stand on ceremony.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Prince said, still obviously confused but determined to be polite. “Please sit down. I’ve asked my maid to bring us some lemonade, which I thought you’d appreciate more than tea on a day like this.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you,” Sarah said, taking the offered chair. The room was furnished in exquisite taste with furniture that was obviously of fine quality and probably imported from Europe. Mrs. Prince had decorated in pastels instead of the darker colors of previous generations, and the room was bright and welcoming.

  “I must say I’m surprised to hear from Jane,” Mrs. Prince said carefully, and suddenly Sarah realized exactly why Mrs. Prince seemed so puzzled.

  “I gather you and your cousin aren’t close,” Sarah guessed, remembering how Jane had spoken of Mr. and Mrs. Prince.

  Mrs. Prince smiled a little apologetically. “I don’t know how well you know Jane . . .”

  “Not well at all,” Sarah said, deciding a bit of explanation would help the situation, even if she varnished the truth a bit. “I’ve been visiting the Harlem settlement house. You see, I’ve started a maternity clinic on the Lower East Side, and I’m interested in learning what others are doing to meet the needs of those less privileged in our city.”

  Mrs. Prince didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “You started it? Do you mean you manage it or . . . ?”

  “My husband and I sponsored it,” Sarah explained, clarifying that she had the financial means to do so, since Mrs. Prince couldn’t very well ask outright if Sarah was rich. People with Irish surnames were also seldom rich. “My parents always encouraged me to be philanthropic,” she added to further establish her credentials. “Perhaps you know them, Felix and Elizabeth Decker?”

  Mrs. Prince did know them or at least knew of them, as Sarah could see from her expression. “Oh yes, of course.” Mrs. Prince now knew she was dealing with a woman who was her social equal, in spite of Sarah’s appearance. “And you met Jane at the settlement house.”

  “Yes, and she asked me to give you this note.” Sarah handed Mrs. Prince the envelope.

  Surprisingly, she seemed a bit reluctant to accept it, and she made no move at all to open it. “I can’t imagine why she would be sending me a message.”

  “You were saying that the two of you aren’t close,” Sarah reminded her.

  “Oh, we were very close when we were children. Our mothers are sisters, and they wanted us to be great friends.”

  “You lived in Saratoga Springs, I gather.”

  “Yes.” She smiled sadly. “I’m surprised Jane mentioned that. She hated it there.”

  Actually, Jane had mentioned how much she hated it there, but Sarah simply said, “I suppose that’s why she wanted to come to New York.”

  “I assume so. We really don’t . . . I haven’t spoken to her since . . . well, since my wedding, I guess it was, three years ago.”

  “Then I can understand why you’re surprised to hear from her now. Perhaps her note will explain.”

  Mrs. Prince looked down at the unopened envelope she held but still made no move to open it. “Do you know what she wants?”

  How much should Sarah explain? She knew Jane didn’t want anyone to know about the kidnapping, so what else could she say? “Do you know why Miss Harding came to the settlement house?”

  Mrs. Prince smiled at that. “Yes. My mother told me. It seems Christopher McWilliam wants to marry Jane, but he has committed himself to serving the poor and won’t be swayed. Before giving him her answer, Jane wanted to know what her life would be like if she married him. I could have told her she would hate it and she shouldn’t even consider marrying Christopher, but she didn’t ask me.”

  “You seem rather sure of Jane’s preferences.”

  “You mean I seem rather sure of someone to whom I haven’t spoken in three years. I must also sound heartless, but I know Jane far better than you do, Mrs. Malloy. You haven’t asked why Jane and I are no longer close or why I haven’t spoken to her since my wedding.”

  “It’s none of my business,” Sarah said.

  “No, it isn’t, but I don’t want you to think ill of me. My estrangement from Jane is not my doing. I told you, we were close as children but . . .” She looked away for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. “I told you our mothers were sisters. My father was an industrious man who worked very hard and did very well. Jane’s father was . . . well, he was not industrious. People charitably called him a ne’er-do-well. They were never truly poor, but . . . You probably know that Saratoga Springs is a resort of sorts for people from the city.”

  “Yes. A lot of them go there to escape the heat during the summer months.”

  “That’s right. At first they just stayed at the hotels, but then they started building cottages and eventually some of them built mansions. The contrast between these people and those of us who lived in Saratoga Springs all year round was . . . well, let me just say that seeing this was difficult for Jane. She couldn’t have all the nice things she saw these other girls have. She couldn’t even have all the nice things she saw me have. Her jealousy was . . . unpleasant. I’m two years older, and my mother would give her my clothes when I grew out of them, but Jane wasn’t grateful. In fact, she hated me for it.”

  “Mrs. Prince, you don’t have to tell me—”

  “I know, and I’m sorry to burden you with this, but you need to understand. I don’t want Jane to take advantage of you.” She held up the unopened envelope. “You see, she has already begun.”

  “Not really.”

  Mrs. Prince smiled again. “I hope not. Jane was extremely jealous when I married Joe. His family is . . . Well, I met him in Saratoga Springs when I was invited to a party at one of the mansions. The daughter of that family had met me and, I guess, took pity on me. A girl from the town wasn’t usually invited for fear one of the boys from an elite family would fall in love with her.”

  “And that’s exactly what happened,” Sarah said, understanding completely what Mrs. Prince was talking about.

  “Yes. His family objected of course, but Joe finally convinced them he’d only marry me, and they’ve accepted me. As you can imagine, I was rather insecure at first, and at our wedding, Jane made several unkind remarks about my Prince Charming that made me weep. On my wedding day, Mrs. Malloy.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I, and I haven’t spoken to her since. When I heard Christopher wanted to marry her and bring her to New York to work with the poor, I actually laughed. I never imagined she’d actually come, and when she did . . . Mrs. Malloy, I know Jane has no intention of marrying poor Christopher or remaining at the settlement house. I think she just used that as an excuse to escape from her parents and Saratoga Springs and come to New York.”

  IV

  Frank and Gino could hear the clickety-clack of the typewriter all the way down the hall as they approached their office.

  “It sounds like she’s getting faster,” Gino said.

  “Maybe a little,” Frank said. He had a feeling Maeve had more potential as an investigator than as a typist.

  She stopped typing the instant they came into the office. “Did you find her?” Frank knew Sarah had updated her all about the case last night, after they’d put the children to be
d.

  “No,” Frank said with complete honesty.

  “But she came back to the settlement house this morning on her own,” Gino added.

  “What do you mean, on her own?” Maeve asked with a frown.

  “We aren’t sure what happened, but she just walked into the settlement this morning and told Teo she was going to her room and didn’t want to see anybody,” Gino explained.

  “Teo’s very helpful, isn’t she?” Maeve said a little sarcastically.

  “Teo is a saint,” Gino confirmed with more than a hint of glee. “A beautiful saint.”

  “Who is married to your brother,” Maeve reminded him.

  Gino grinned. “You weren’t too sure about that at first, were you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maeve lied.

  Frank could listen to them tease each other all day, but that hardly seemed like a productive way to spend their time. “I don’t suppose any new clients have stopped by.”

  “None at all, but I’ve been typing furiously to make people think we’re very busy,” Maeve said.

  “Maybe you’re scaring them off because they think we’re too busy,” Gino said.

  Maeve ignored him. “Did you at least look for the house where that other woman was held?”

  “No,” Frank said before Gino could say something smart. “We did get to meet Nunzio Esposito, though.”

  Maeve perked right up at that. “You did? What’s he like?”

  “Dark and dangerous,” Gino offered a little too melodramatically.

  Frank ignored him this time. “He acted very strange, though. He insisted nobody had been kidnapped from the settlement house.”

  “Maybe he just didn’t know about it,” Maeve said.

  “He knew all right,” Gino said. “He knew and he said that she hadn’t been kidnapped and she was perfectly safe.”

  Maeve frowned. “That is strange. What do you suppose he meant by that?”

  “We think he must have known she’d been released,” Frank said.