“I just took her mother some food for the funeral. It was the Christian thing to do,” she added hastily when he clenched his fists on the table. “I also found out some very interesting information.”
“Then you wasted your time. It doesn’t matter what you found out, because the case is closed,” he told her, somehow managing to restrain his impulse to reach across the table and shake some sense into her.
“You mean you found the killer? I thought you said – ”
“I said I didn’t find the killer, and I’m not going to,” he snapped. “Headquarters ordered me to close the case.”
“But what about the person who murdered Emilia? Does he just go free?” she demanded, horrified.
“Like hundreds of others do every year,” he said. “There isn’t much justice in the world, Mrs. Brandt, and hardly any at all in New York City. You should know that by now.”
The coffee was boiling, splashing out of the spout to sputter on the stovetop. She jumped up to save it. He waited, trying to rein in his anger while she filled two cups and carried them to the table.
She was angry, too, if he could judge by the way she set the cups down. Coffee sloshed over the sides into the saucers. She didn’t even notice. “Somebody wanted her dead,” she reminded him, planting her hands on her hips. “Because she is dead. And it wasn’t a robbery because she wasn’t robbed, and it wasn’t an assault, because she wasn’t assaulted. Someone killed her deliberately and efficiently, and that person had probably planned it carefully ahead of time.”
“Fine,” he replied. “Tell me who it was, and I’ll arrest him.”
She looked like she wanted to spit nails, but she sat back down in her chair instead. “It had to have been someone who knew her.”
“She probably knew a lot of people. People in her neighborhood, people in the mission…”
She perked up at that. “I hadn’t thought about the mission. She probably met lots of unsavory people there.”
“Unsavory people do seem to be their specialty,” Frank observed, earning a black look for his efforts.
“I’m serious, Malloy. She could have made an enemy of someone who came to the mission but didn’t reform.”
He nodded. “Yeah, a girl who also happened to be a doctor or a nurse and knew that stabbing somebody in the back of the head would kill them without making a mess.”
“Other people could know that, too,” she argued, undaunted. Her persistence was amazing.
“Like who?”
“I don’t know. Someone who worked in a slaughterhouse or maybe a butcher…”
“I guess a lot of those girls at the mission used to be butchers.”
“Malloy, if you aren’t careful, I’m going to pour the next cup of coffee in your lap!”
He managed not to grin because she just might do it if he provoked her any more. He decided to try reason. “I’m just trying to point out that none of these theories make sense. Is this the important information you got when you visited Mrs. Donato?”
“Of course not!” In an instant, her anger was gone. He’d never known a woman who calmed down so quickly. But then, he’d never known any women like Sarah Brandt before. “I found out that Emilia wasn’t Mr. Donato’s daughter.”
He wasn’t sure what difference this could possibly make, but he’d humor her. “Who was her father then?”
“Her mother was… attacked by some sailors on the ship coming over. That’s why she had blond hair. She was only half Italian.”
That explained a lot about Mrs. Donato’s attitude toward her daughter. “I’m surprised Donato agreed to keep the girl.”
“He didn’t know. Mrs. Donato never told anyone about the attack.”
“He must’ve thought it was funny she had light hair.”
“I’m sure lots of people did, but Mrs. Donato claims he never suspected. She couldn’t bring herself to love Emilia, though. I’m sure that made life hard for her. No wonder she was deceived by the first man to pay her any attention.”
“That Ugo fellow has a wife and three kids back in Italy,” Malloy said, in case she was going to put any of the blame on Emilia.
“What? That cad!” she exclaimed, outraged.
“He didn’t marry Emilia because he didn’t want to be a bigamist.”
“How very noble of him,” she said acidly. “He should be horsewhipped.”
“At least,” Frank agreed.
“Maybe Emilia found out about his wife and threatened to expose him,” she said. “That would give him a reason to kill her.”
“Only if he cared that his wife back in Italy knew he had a mistress. I don’t think Ugo is too worried about things like that.”
She frowned. She knew he was right and didn’t want to admit it. “Her brother is an organ grinder,” she offered after a moment.
“Is he?” Frank wasn’t sure why this was important.
“He plays outside of Macy’s.”
“Do you think he killed Emilia?” Frank asked, trying hard not to sound sarcastic.
Apparently, he succeeded because she didn’t take offense. “He’s a cripple. He was… he was born without a foot.”
Frank couldn’t help flinching a bit. He’d instantly thought of Brian and the future he’d once imagined for his crippled, simple-minded son. Because of Sarah, Brian was no longer a cripple, and now Frank knew he was deaf, and not simple at all. He’d never be sitting on the pavement outside of Macy’s, begging for coins.
“That’s how I know he didn’t kill Emilia,” she went on. “He never could have come up behind her and stabbed her because he walks with crutches.”
Frank glared at her. “When did you meet him?”
She didn’t quite meet his eye, which was a good thing because the look he was giving her would’ve curled her hair. “I… I told you, he plays outside of Macy’s. I had some shopping to do, so I looked for him. He has a little daughter who dances for him.”
Frank decided it was a waste of energy to be angry at this bit of foolishness. At least she hadn’t been in any danger on a public street. “Are you sure she’s his daughter?”
“What do you mean?”
“A lot of those beggars don’t have children of their own or children the right size or that are cute enough, so they hire one.”
“How awful!”
“Not really. At least the kid isn’t working in a tenement sweatshop. She probably earns more money dancing than she would making cigars or paper flowers anyway.”
She frowned. “I guess that’s why he wasn’t very nice to her. She was so tired, she fell asleep sitting on the sidewalk, and he kicked her and made her get up and dance some more.”
“That doesn’t prove she’s not his daughter,” Frank pointed out. They’d both seen natural parents do far worse than that to their children.
“I suppose you’re right.” She sighed and studied her coffee for a moment. Then she looked up. “Mrs. Donato makes paper flowers.” Her eyes lit up. “Do you suppose she sells them in City Hall Park?”
“Do you think she killed the girl?” he asked skeptically. “Because she acted pretty innocent when I questioned her.”
She sighed again. “No, I guess I don’t think she did it.”
She looked tired. He figured she’d been delivering babies and hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Why did babies always come in the middle of the night?
“You aren’t going to find out who killed Emilia Donato,” he warned her. “Nobody is going to find out. Sometimes we can’t solve these cases. Most times, in fact. Girls like that, they take up with a stranger, and they end up dead. Maybe the girl herself didn’t know who he was.”
“But she wasn’t taking up with strangers anymore,” she reminded him. “She was going to get a job.”
“That’s what she told the woman at the mission. We don’t know what she did when she left there. And nobody knows why she was in the park that morning. She couldn’t have been there to look for a job.”