“You got to see Symington personally?” Frank asked in amazement. Surely, Symington’s household staff would be better trained than Blackwell’s. Why had Calvin been able to get past them?
“Yes, sir. I went right into the room where he was. He was sitting behind this great big desk and he looked up when I come in. It was funny because he seemed real surprised, even though he knew I was coming in because they’d told him. He got over it real quick, though, and then he asked me what did I have to tell him about his daughter.”
“What do you mean, he looked surprised?”
“I don’t know. Just surprised. Like maybe I wasn’t the person he was expecting to see or something. So I told him all about how Dr. Blackwell was my father and how he couldn’t be married to his daughter because he was still married to my mother.”
“I guess he was even more surprised then.”
“I’d say he was more mad than anything. At first I was scared he’d hit me or something. At least throw me out of the house. He was that mad. But he didn’t even shout. He just asked me what I wanted from him. I said I just wanted to see my father and make him take care of our family again.”
“And what did he say to that?”
“He wanted to know why I come to him instead of going to my father, so I told him how they wouldn’t let me in there. So he says he’ll take care of everything, and he goes and telephones my father.”
“What did he say to him?”
“I don’t know. The telephone was in another room. When he comes back, he tells me to go right back to my father’s house, and he’ll see me for sure. He looked real strange.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I never saw that kind of a look on anybody before. He looked like he could do murder… Oh!” he cried when he realized what he said. “I didn’t mean…”
“I’m sure he was very angry to find out his daughter had been deceived like that. You wouldn’t like it much if some man did that to one of your sisters, would you?”
“No, sir! I guess I’d want to kill anybody who did that.”
Frank didn’t reply, and after a moment Calvin asked, “Do you think that’s what happened? Do you think Mr. Symington could’ve killed my father?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been to see Mr. Symington?” Frank asked, ignoring the boy’s question.
“You didn’t ask me,” Calvin pointed out, “and in all the excitement, I… I guess I just forgot.”
He seemed to be telling the truth. Frank looked for a sign, any sign at all, that he wasn’st, and found none. Calvin’s face was as open as a child’s. “Is there anything else you forgot to tell me? Did Symington offer you any money?”
“No, sir. He didn’t offer me anything.”
“And have you seen him again?”
“Why should I?” Calvin asked quite reasonably.
Frank didn’t bother to answer. “The day your father was killed, did you see anybody else around his house?”
“There was some people in the park, it seems like, and maybe somebody walking on the sidewalk.”
“I mean anyone who looked like they were sneaking around or hurrying away from the house?”
Calvin considered. “I don’t think so. Why…? Oh, you mean the killer,” he guessed after a moment. “No, I didn’t see nobody like that. I wish I did. I’d sure like to help. The fellow Mr. Potter, he thinks I killed my father, so I want to help all I can to find the real killer.”
“I know you do, Calvin,” Malloy said wearily. He was more convinced than ever of the boy’s innocence. And now he had another good suspect. Symington must have been furious when he found out the truth about his son-in-law. Could he have figured out a way to free his daughter from the scandal of Blackwell’s secret family? The crime indicated that someone had carefully planned it, even down to establishing Calvin as a suspect if the suicide ruse failed. His daughter would be a respectable widow instead of a bigamist’s wife.
But if Frank wanted to accuse a man like Symington of murder, he’d need a lot more than a suspicion.
“Does any of this help, Mr. Malloy?” the boy asked eagerly.
“Not enough,” Frank replied with a sigh.
SARAH WASN’T SURE how often she could visit the Blackwell home before someone began to wonder what she was doing there. Sunday afternoon she once again arrived to check on Mrs. Blackwell’s condition. Since no one in the house had any idea how often Mrs. Blackwell needed to be checked, she supposed the ploy would work for a while yet.
Mrs. Blackwell was sleeping when she arrived, so Sarah went to see how the baby was doing. He was being fed when the nurse bade her enter.
“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I’m so glad to see you. Sit down and rest yourself,” the nurse said from where she sat in the rocking chair. “I’ll have some tea brought up. Would you pull the bell there? Someone will come.”
The woman was so obviously desperate for company that Sarah couldn’t refuse. She took a seat in a comfortable chair that had been provided for the nurse’s use when she wasn’t rocking the baby. She was glad to see the baby seemed to be suckling just fine and gaining some weight.
“He looks well,” Sarah said.
“Oh, he’s all right, I guess. Still sleeps a lot, but that’s to be expected, I suppose. And sometimes I’ve got to tickle his feet to keep him awake while he nurses, but there’s lots of babies what do that.”
“Yes, there are,” Sarah agreed.
“I was hoping you’d come,” the nurse said after a moment. “I found out some things I thought you’d want to know.”
“What kind of things?” Sarah asked politely.
“For instance, do you know how Mrs. Blackwell started using the morphine in the first place?”
“It’s my understanding that she was injured very badly in a riding accident,” Sarah said. “She started taking it for the pain.”
“I suppose that’s true as far as it goes,” the nurse said, her homely face creasing into smugness. “But do you have any idea where she was riding off to, and with who, when she had that accident?”
Sarah hadn’t given the matter any thought, but she was willing to play along. “No, I don’t.”
“Then you’ll be surprised to hear that she was eloping.”
Sarah’s first thought was that she had been eloping with Dr. Blackwell, but that wasn’t possible. She hadn’t even known him then. “Who was she eloping with?” she asked.
“That’s the scandal, don’t you know,” the nurse told her with satisfaction. “She was running off with the local schoolmaster!”
“Good heavens!”
“I got this from her maid what’s been with her since she was in pigtails,” the nurse informed her. “She said Mrs. Blackwell had been carrying on with this fellow behind her father’s back. The father never would’ve approved of a marriage between them, so the two of them were running away together. Except that Mrs. Blackwell’s horse stumbled in a ditch, and she was throwed.”
“How awful,” Sarah said, her mind trying to grasp this information and analyze its importance. She was sure Malloy would figure it out instantly, but for once she wanted to beat him to it.
“It was more than awful. Seems like it was night and her young man didn’t want to leave her there and go for help, so he had to carry her back to her father’s house. I guess there was quite a ruckus when he brought her in, with everybody thinking she was tucked up safe in her bed and all.”
Sarah could well imagine how Mr. Symington would have greeted the man responsible for what he would consider abducting his daughter and causing a terrible accident. “What happened to the schoolmaster?”
“Oh, he was let go, as you can guess. Don’t nobody know what become of him after that. And Mrs. Blackwell, she was confined to her bed for months and months. Her maid said sometimes she’d scream with the pain, and the only thing that’d help was the morphine. Poor thing, so young and pretty and not able to get up from her bed for all that time.”