“Your father really has no control over you anymore,” Sarah reminded her.
“But Peter is practically penniless,” she pointed out. “How could we live?”
Plainly, Letitia had grown more practical with the passage of time. She probably hadn’t even considered this the first time she’d eloped with Dudley. “I’m sure Dr. Blackwell must have left you some money,” Sarah said, managing to conceal her disapproval. How could Letitia even think about money? But perhaps she was only being critical of Letitia because she herself had turned her back on wealth and social position to marry a “penniless” doctor.
Clearly, Letitia hadn’t thought of having a possible legacy. “Of course! And there’s this house, too. I never liked it, and Peter and I won’t need anything so grand, in any case. I could sell it and buy something smaller.”
Sarah bit her tongue. No one had yet told Letitia that the house had merely been a loan from a grateful patient, a patient whose husband wanted the widow to vacate the property immediately. “You don’t need to make any decisions just yet,” Sarah said. “I believe Mr. Potter has been taking care of your husband’s business affairs. I’m sure he can tell you exactly what your situation is.” Better he than I, she added silently.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Potter is very capable,” Letitia recalled, and Sarah was glad Potter couldn’t see the indifference in her eyes when she spoke of him. “He’ll take care of everything, I’m sure. He always does.”
And meanwhile, Sarah would make sure Malloy took care of questioning Peter Dudley to find out if he had an alibi for the afternoon when Dr. Blackwell was murdered.
WHEN SARAH TURNED down Bank Street, she could see Mrs. Ellsworth sweeping her front stoop. She called out a greeting when she was close enough, and Mrs. Ellsworth pretended to be surprised to see her.
“Hello, Mrs. Brandt! Have you been delivering a baby?”
“Not today,” Sarah replied with a smile.
“That’s good,” she said as Sarah stopped beside her porch. “I dropped my scissors this morning, and they landed point down and stuck in the floor!”
“That’s too bad,” Sarah said. “I hope it didn’t leave a bad mark.”
“Oh, my, that’s the least of it! Don’t you know that when scissors stick in the floor, it’s an omen of death? Dear me, the last time I had an omen like that, some poor girl you knew died.”
Sarah remembered and shivered. “I’m sure it was just a coincidence,” she said, as much to convince herself as to reassure Mrs. Ellsworth. “In a city this size, people die every day, you know.”
“That’s true, of course,” Mrs. Ellsworth agreed. “And I’m always happy to be wrong about something like that. Are you and Mr. Malloy working on another case together? I saw him coming to visit you last night.”
“Yes, and he enjoyed your pie very much,” Sarah told her. “Actually, he’s trying to find out who killed my husband.”
“Is he?” she exclaimed, excitement lighting her wrinkled face. “Does he have new evidence?”
“I’m afraid not, but he’s looking through Tom’s old files to see if he can find someone who might have been angry with Tom or had a reason to want him out of the way.”
“I’m sure he won’t find anything like that,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “Dr. Brandt was such a fine man. How could anyone not wish him well?”
“That’s nice of you to say,” Sarah said, but she couldn’t help thinking that while Tom truly had been a fine man, he was also dead, and someone had killed him. It might have been a random act of violence. Such things happened in the city frequently. But if it was, then there was little possibility anyone would ever be brought to account for the crime. Sarah didn’t like to think herself vindictive, but she wanted someone to pay for having ended her husband’s life.
“That reminds me, did you see that article in the Sunday magazine?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked. “The one about that new photography called X ray? It made me wonder what Dr. Tom would have thought of such a thing.”
“Yes, I saw it. I’ve heard about it, too. I suppose it would be very helpful to be able to see inside someone’s body.” She thought about Brian Malloy’s foot and wondered what an X-ray photograph of it would show.
“Although,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, “I think some things are better off left a mystery. If there was something bad inside of me, I don’t think I’d want to know about it.”
“X-ray photography isn’t likely to be able to do that anyway,” Sarah said. “It’s not very exact and the pictures aren’t very clear. It may very well be just an experiment that has no practical purpose.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “It seems kind of indecent to go looking inside of people like that.”
Sarah bit back a smile.
“Will Mr. Malloy be coming back soon?” Mrs. Ellsworth said, catching her by surprise. “I’d be happy to donate another pie for his enjoyment.”
“I’m sure he would appreciate that. He may stop by later, if he can. Like me, he can’t always be sure when he’ll be free.”
“I guess crimes and babies make their own schedules, don’t they?” Mrs. Ellsworth observed.
“That they do,” Sarah said. “You have a lovely evening,” she added as she made her way to her own front porch.
After eating her supper, Sarah was sitting by her front window, mentally composing a note to Malloy telling him she had some important information and needed to meet with him right away, when she saw him coming down the street.
Mrs. Ellsworth saw him, too, and he had to stop and make small talk with her for a few minutes. Ever since Mrs. Ellsworth had saved Sarah’s life, she had taken a great interest in hearing about the crimes Malloy was working on. Unfortunately, Malloy studiously avoided telling her about any of them, which Mrs. Ellsworth found extremely frustrating.
As soon as he could, Malloy extricated himself from her and made his way to Sarah’s door. She was waiting for him as he came up the steps. “Did she offer you some pie?” Sarah asked as he entered the house.
“No,” he said, removing his hat. “She’s probably going to bring it over later. She thinks I’m a saint for trying to solve your husband’s murder. Did you have to tell her that?” He was pretending to be annoyed.
“It was either that or let her think you’re courting me. Which would you prefer, Malloy?” she asked with some amusement.
He frowned as he pretended to consider his options. “If she thought I was courting you, she might not come over and bother us,” he pointed out.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Sarah replied. “Come in and have some coffee before you get started. I’ve got something very interesting to tell you.”
He rolled his eyes, but he followed her into the kitchen and sat down obediently at the table.
“I found the redheaded lover,” she told him smugly when she’d poured his coffee.
He almost dropped the cup. “You what?”
“That’s what you told me to do,” she reminded him. “The only problem is that he’s the same fellow she eloped with before-Peter Dudley. They were running away together when her horse threw her, and she was injured.”
“He’s the schoolmaster, then?”
“That’s right. It appears that Mr. Symington didn’t have him killed, just discharged. I’m sure he figured Letitia would never encounter him again, so having him murdered was a needless expense.”
Malloy ignored her sarcasm. “How did she encounter him again?”
“He went to one of Blackwell’s lectures. He apparently saw Letitia’s name on the poster and wanted to see how she was. He must have felt terribly guilty because she’d been hurt, and then he hadn’t been able to find out if she’d ever recovered. He’d lost his position and come to the city, so he hadn’t had any contact with her at all until then, according to Letitia. He works in a bank or something now.”