Sarah pretended to be hearing this information for the first time. “So that probably means he’s not our killer.”
Malloy sipped his lemonade. “You might want to call on him, though. His wife will be needing your services soon.”
Ah, so that explained the hasty marriage and sudden domesticity. “I should give you some of my cards,” she teased him. “You could pass them out in your travels.”
Even in the fading sunlight, she saw his quick smile, gone in a moment. “What did you find out?” he asked, surprising her.
“Me? How would I find out anything?”
“I don’t know,” he said, settling more comfortably in his chair. “Maybe by questioning some of the other girls’ friends again, just like I did.”
“Malloy, you’re too suspicious.”
“And you’re a bad liar. What did you find out?”
She sighed in defeat. So much for keeping her activities secret from Malloy. “I found out that Luisa met the man named Will, the one from the list, at Coney Island. He spent a lot of money on her, and he bought her a gift.”
“What kind of gift?” She had his interest now.
“I don’t know. Her friend told me about it, but her sister denied it. She didn’t want me to think Luisa was a Charity Girl.”
“Can’t blame her for that, but it does make it hard when they won’t tell you what they know. Nothing can hurt the dead, but people forget that. You’d think they’d want to find the killer more than they’d want to protect the victims, but they never do.”
Sarah remembered the first case they’d worked on together and knew he was right. “They also said this Will could be rough when a girl didn’t do what he wanted.”
“Rough? You mean he beat them?”
“Luisa’s sister said he slapped them around. Not beat. She was clear that he didn’t really hurt them.”
“Since when doesn’t a slap hurt?” Malloy wanted to know.
“Since women want to pretend it doesn’t mean anything,” Sarah countered.
Malloy grunted. “What do we know about this Will?” he asked.
“He’s handsome, dresses well, and has a lot of money to spend. I haven’t met anyone who knew him personally yet. Or at least no one who will admit it. Maybe they don’t want to be known as Charity Girls, either.”
“He sounds a lot like your friend,” Malloy observed.
“My friend?”
“The fellow we met at Coney Island.”
Sarah hadn’t thought of that. Another reason to ask Dirk to go with her. He’d know exactly how a man like that would behave since he himself was a man like that. Except for being a murderer, of course.
“The first three girls all knew a man named Will who fits this same description,” Sarah reminded him. “No one remembered Gerda knowing Will, but she’d just met a fellow who sounds like him, the one who bought her the red shoes on Coney Island.”
“Could be somebody else,” he reminded her.
“And it could be the same man. If all these girls were killed by the same man, there’s bound to be some coincidences.”
“At least one,” Malloy agreed.
“I was thinking,” Sarah ventured, figuring Malloy would find out anyway. “I could go out to Coney Island and see if I can locate the store where Gerda got the shoes. Maybe they’ll remember something.”
Malloy frowned. “That’s probably a fool’s errand,”
Sarah smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, Malloy, I don’t expect you to go with me.”
“Good, then you won’t be disappointed.”
“And when I find the clue that solves the case, you’ll be awfully sorry you didn’t go with me.”
“I’ll manage to bear it,” he assured her wryly.
They fell silent. Sarah thought they had finished, but Malloy didn’t get up the way he usually did when he felt they had discussed everything necessary. After a moment she realized he had more to say to her, but for some reason he wasn’t saying it.
“Was there something else?” she asked, hoping to encourage him.
He drained his glass of lemonade, set it down carefully on the table, and stared out at the flowers blooming in her yard for a long moment before he finally said, “I went to that deaf school.”
“What did you find out?”
He didn’t answer right away. Plainly, he wasn’t sure himself. “They said they could teach Brian to talk. And to read people’s lips so he’d know what they were saying.”
“That’s wonderful!” Sarah exclaimed.
But Malloy plainly didn’t think so. “I can’t see it, myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“They had a boy there. He could tell what I was saying, even though he can’t hear. He could read my lips. And he could talk, too. Not real clear, but I could understand him.”
“Then that proves it’s possible.”
“Yes, but… He wasn’t born deaf. He had scarlet fever when he was about five, I think. He’d already learned to talk. He knows what people’s voices sound like. Brian doesn’t.”
He’d obviously given this matter considerable thought. She would’ve been disappointed in him if he hadn’t, of course. “I suppose it would be much more difficult to learn to speak if you’d never heard a human voice.”
“I also found out there’s another way to teach deaf people.”
“There is? What is it?”
“I don’t know. The fellow I talked to at the Lexington Avenue School told me, though. He didn’t mean to. He must’ve thought I’d talked to the other people first, so he tried to convince me his way of teaching was the best. That’s how I know there’s another way.”
Naturally, Malloy would be suspicious. He was always suspicious. And he wouldn’t miss a single clue, even if it wasn’t a clue to solving a crime. “You should certainly investigate all the possibilities before you decide what to do,” she said.
He scratched his chin and looked out at the flowers again. “I was hoping you’d know what those other possibilities were.”
Sarah smiled a little, since he wasn’t looking at her. Then she considered. “I have seen deaf people talking with their hands,” she remembered.
“Their hands?”
“Yes, they have some sort of sign language they use.”
“Were they talking, too?”
“I don’t think so. Did the boy at the school use sign language?”
“No.”
“Then maybe that’s the other method they use, the one the Lexington Avenue School thinks isn’t as good.”
“I can see why. A deaf person wouldn’t be able to talk to someone who doesn’t know the sign language.”
“But if the deaf person couldn’t learn to talk, how else could he communicate?”
Malloy scratched his chin again. “I guess that’s what I’ll have to find out.”
SARAH DECIDED HER presence at her parents’ home was a measure of how desperate she was to solve these murders. She approached their house with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d hardly slept the night before, and she’d spent every waking hour reliving all the arguments she’d had with her father through the years. In memory, at least, she hadn’t won any of them.
Remembering how they had fought, however, she realized her father must be deranged to want to see her again. He should count himself well rid of such an ungrateful child. But of course he didn’t. He either loved her very much or else he couldn’t stand the thought that something of his existed outside of his control. Sarah thought it might well be a little of both. She couldn’t condemn him, though. Her own motives for renewing their relationship were hardly pure.
The maid opened the door almost before she knocked, and from her wide-eyed expression, she was well aware of how momentous this visit was. “Mr. and Mrs. Decker is waiting for you in the back parlor, Mrs. Brandt,” she said. “I’ll show you in.”
The back parlor was where the family would normally gather, not where they would receive guests. The location was important. It told Sarah they were welcoming her home. She was still an intimate part of their family. She only hoped that was still true when this visit was over.