“Good morning, Mrs. Brandt,” she said cheerfully. “Going to catch up with the news?”
“I want to see what they have to say about a . . . a friend of mine. Maeve, will you take Aggie upstairs for a little while?”
“Mrs. Ellsworth was going to show me how to make a pudding,” Maeve said, not wanting to hurt the older woman’s feelings. She probably also wanted to eat the pudding.
“There’s plenty of time for that,” Mrs. Ellsworth said cheerfully. “Give me and Mrs. Brandt a few minutes to talk, and I’ll call you down when we’re finished so we can start the pudding.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said obediently, taking Aggie by the hand.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Mrs. Ellsworth’s polite smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“One of my patients was murdered night before last,”
Sarah said, laying the papers on the kitchen table to sort through them.
“Good heavens,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, taking a seat at the table. “I was afraid something like that would happen. I saw a crow on your back fence on Monday morning. It’s an omen of death. I didn’t say anything, because I know how you feel about my superstitions. I was just hoping you wouldn’t have a delivery that day.” She shrugged apologetically. “How did it happen?”
Sarah didn’t comment on her feelings about Mrs.
Ellsworth’s superstitions, but she briefly told her what had happened to Nainsi. “Last night when I was coming home, the newsboys were shouting about how she’d been kidnapped by the Ruoccos and had her throat cut because they wanted her baby.”
Mrs. Ellsworth made a rude noise. She’d had personal experience with the way the newspapers distorted the facts to make a story more sensational. “Let’s see what new lies they’re telling today. Hand me one of those papers.”
The two women spent the next few minutes scanning the stories.
“Says here Roosevelt himself had a press conference about it,” Mrs. Ellsworth reported.
“This paper says that, too,” Sarah noted. “I can’t understand why he’d take such a personal interest in the death of one poor Irish girl.”
“Maybe you should ask him,” Mrs. Ellsworth suggested with a sly grin. The Roosevelts had been friends with Sarah’s family for generations.
“Maybe I will.” They both read on for a minute or two.
“Oh, my, does yours talk about the riot down at Mrs.
Ruocco’s restaurant?”
“Yes. Says they arrested more than twenty men, too. Must have been a real . . . what is it the Irish call a big fight?”
“Donnybrook,” Sarah supplied. “The Irish and the Italians hate each other under the best of circumstances. They hardly need an excuse to start fighting.”
“Looks like they found one, though. I wonder if Mr. Malloy was down there making the arrests.” Mrs. Ellsworth was especially fond of Frank Malloy.
“I don’t think he does that kind of thing,” Sarah said, wondering what Malloy had thought when he heard about the riot. They’d both been so sure no one would care about Nainsi’s death. Then she noticed something particularly disturbing at the end of the news story. “Theodore promises that the killer will be caught,” she said in amazement.
“A good thing, too,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.
“More like a miracle, and even less likely to happen.
They’re Ugo Ruocco’s family.”
“Who’s Ugo Ruocco?”
“He’s the leader of the Black Hand.”
“Heavens! You mean those horrible people who blow things up?”
“They’re more likely to beat people up,” Sarah said. “They only use bombs if they can’t persuade you some other way.”
“Persuade you to do what?”
“To pay them money to protect your place of business.
The irony is that you’re paying them to protect your business from them. If you pay, you’re safe. If you don’t pay, they destroy you.”
“How awful!” Mrs. Ellsworth exclaimed in outrage. “Why don’t the police do something about it?”
Sarah gave her a sad smile and a moment to figure it out for herself.
“Oh,” the older woman said. “I suppose the Black Hand pays for protection from the police.”
“Or else the police are afraid of them, too.” Sarah sighed.
There was so much evil in the world.
Before she could sink into complete despair, she heard small feet running through the house.
“I think Aggie got tired of waiting for her cooking lesson,” Sarah said, turning to catch the child in a hug. Maeve was close behind her. The four of them spent the next hour preparing the pudding and putting it on the stove to steam.
Sarah was trying to clean Aggie’s hands when they heard the doorbell ring.
As usual, Aggie pouted, and Sarah went resignedly to answer it. She recognized the silhouette through the frosted glass, and she was smiling when she opened the door.
“Malloy,” she said.
He didn’t smile back, which told her he wasn’t happy to be here. Which meant he was here on business.
Aggie came running and flung herself at him before he could even remove his hat. Maeve and Mrs. Ellsworth followed at a more dignified pace, but they greeted him just as happily.
“Something smells good,” he observed when he’d set Aggie back on her feet.
“Mrs. Ellsworth showed us how to make a pudding,”
Maeve reported.
“We’d invite you to stay and try some, but it won’t be done for another three hours,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I don’t suppose you planned to stay that long.”
“I’m afraid not. I’m working on a case. I just need to ask Mrs. Brandt a few questions, and then I have to go.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, nodding wisely. “The Ruocco case, I suppose. We were reading about it in the newspapers this morning.”
“Did Roosevelt put you in charge of it?” Sarah asked.
“Yes,” was all he said, but his look told her that he held her personally responsible for getting him into this mess.
She tried to look apologetic, but he seemed unmoved.
“I’ll take the girls upstairs while you two talk,” Mrs.
Ellsworth said generously. Sarah knew she’d cut off her arm to be allowed to sit in on the conversation, but she’d have to be content to hear about it second hand. “So nice to see you, Mr. Malloy. Maybe you’ll bring Brian back this evening for some pudding,” she added, referring to his son.
“We’ll see,” he said politely.
Sarah and Malloy waited until the three of them had disappeared up the stairs.
“Would you like some coffee?” Sarah asked as Malloy removed his coat and hat and hung them up in the hallway.
“I could use some,” he said, and followed her into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, Malloy,” Sarah said as she took cups down from the cabinet. “I never imagined anything like this would happen.”
He took a seat at the table. “Did you hear about the riot?”
he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
“It was in the papers this morning. Was anyone seriously hurt?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen again. I imagine Ugo Ruocco’s got some of his thugs posted down there now, and they’ll do some real damage if anybody starts another fight.”
Sarah filled the cups and set them on the table. “At least Theodore managed to get the real story into the news today.”
“Yeah, but the penny press is still talking about kidnapping and stolen babies,” he said. “They don’t care about the truth. They just want to sell newspapers.”
“And now Theodore has promised everyone you’ll solve the case,” she said sympathetically, taking a seat opposite him at the table. “What can I do to help?”