“Who’s Irene?”
She stared at him in amazement. “Didn’t Prescott tell you about her? She’s the actress he found, the one who knew Anna Blake.”
“Oh, yeah.” He was unimpressed, so Sarah set out to impress him.
“Did you know that Mr. Walcott was an admirer of Anna’s, when she was on the stage?”
“What do you mean by ‘admirer’?”
“I mean he waited outside the stage door for her and gave her flowers. Then he convinced her to come and live at his house, free of charge, so she could meet rich men like her friend Francine had done.”
“Who’s Francine?”
“Another actress Anna knew. Irene knew her, too. She went to live at the Walcotts’ house a few months earlier. I thought it might have been Catherine Porter by another name, but Francine had red hair and freckles, so it couldn’t be the same person. At any rate, Francine supposedly met some rich man and went off with him.”
“She must’ve been the one Miss Stone told me about.”
“Who’s Miss Stone?”
“The Walcotts’ next-door neighbor. She doesn’t miss much that goes on in the neighborhood-like another old woman I could name. She said she didn’t think this girl’s hair was naturally red, though.” Sarah smiled in spite of herself. Miss Stone did indeed sound like her own neighbor. “This Francine must’ve been the woman Prescott was trying to find,” Malloy mused. “He said he went back to the Walcott house to find out where she went when she left, but Catherine Porter either didn’t know or wouldn’t tell him. He’ll be glad to know she did so well for herself.”
“Irene also knows Catherine Porter, and she doesn’t have much good to say about her. It seems that when Catherine couldn’t find work in the theater, she sold the one thing of value that she had on the streets.”
Malloy raised his eyebrows. “Which would make her very good at doing the same thing Anna Blake was doing, seducing men and blackmailing them.”
“That’s exactly what I thought, too. And the Walcotts must have known. They may even have encouraged it. But that doesn’t make any sense. The Walcotts claimed they take in boarders because they need the money, but according to Irene, Anna didn’t even pay any rent.”
“She didn’t have to. Nelson and Giddings paid it for her,” Malloy reminded her.
“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten! That’s why she could live there for free, because someone else paid her way.”
“And if she was an actress, that explains why she was so good at tricking men into doing what she wanted,” Malloy pointed out.
“I remember when I met Anna, I had the feeling something wasn’t right. Nelson was trying to reassure her, but she kept insisting on misinterpreting everything he said. It was like she was trying to make the situation worse than it really was.”
“More melodramatic?” Malloy offered.
“Yes, that’s it exactly!” Sarah exclaimed. “She was acting in her own private play.”
“I guess the last act didn’t end the way she’d planned, though.”
Sarah remembered Anna the way she’d looked that evening Nelson had introduced them. The woman had pretended to be fragile and helpless, but even then Sarah had sensed a confidence and strength behind the facade. Anna Blake was a woman who knew what she wanted and was willing to do whatever she had to in order to get it. Only one thing still bothered her.
“I just don’t understand why she went out that night. No woman who valued her safety would go into the Square alone at that hour of the night.”
“Harold Giddings must have arranged to meet her later,” Malloy suggested. “Maybe he threatened her in some way or maybe she thought she could charm him into something if she got him alone. I’ll find out everything when I question him.”
Sarah frowned. “You’re going to give him the third degree, aren’t you?”
Malloy’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “I do what I have to do, Mrs. Brandt, but only what I have to do.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“I know what you meant. Beating people doesn’t give me any pleasure.”
“I didn’t think it did,” Sarah tried, sorry she had offended him. She was never sure exactly what would do it, either, which made it difficult for her to avoid.
“Besides,” he said with what might have been a small grin, “it’s hard work. Fortunately, Harold Giddings doesn’t look like he’ll need much convincing to tell everything he knows.”
“For his sake, I hope he doesn’t.”
Malloy drained his cup and set it back on the table decisively. “Now we’ve got to go next door and tell Nelson about the missing money.”
A sick feeling of dread settled into her stomach. “Can’t it wait until morning?” she tried.
“I want to go to the bank first thing in the morning and catch this Mr. Dennis before he has a chance to change his mind about pressing charges against Nelson.”
“What are you going to say to him?”
Malloy gave her a disapproving look. “Stop trying to change the subject, Mrs. Brandt. Get your jacket. We’re going next door.”
Frank stuck his hands in his pockets, grumbling about the cold, as he made his way through the brisk morning air to the bank where Nelson Ellsworth had worked. Summer was well and truly over.
He supposed he should have humored Sarah Brandt last night and delayed their visit to the Ellsworths. Neither of them had taken the news of the missing money well, and Frank would have been happy to have waited until morning to witness that scene.
Nelson had been stunned, just the way you’d expect an innocent man to act. Then he’d started ranting about procedures at the bank not being followed when he wasn’t there to watch over things. Frank hadn’t understood half of it, but he had no trouble at all understanding that Nelson hadn’t been involved in the missing money. He was too outraged to be guilty.
Mrs. Ellsworth had been horrified and terribly frightened by the news. While she hadn’t for a moment believed her son had taken anything from the bank, she also knew how bad things would look for him. He would make an easy scapegoat, and he had no way to defend himself. A man under suspicion of murder would have difficulty claiming the high moral ground when it came to mere embezzlement.
Frank was glad he’d insisted Sarah Brandt go along with him. He’d been thinking more of her needing to do some penance for her interference, but when Mrs. Ellsworth started weeping, he’d been pathetically grateful to have her step in to offer comfort. Nothing unnerved him more than a woman’s tears.
One good thing had come out of the debacle, however. He would now have no trouble at all keeping Sarah Brandt out of the investigation. She’d learned her lesson. From now on she’d be content to look after Webster Prescott and trying to save his miserable life while Frank closed out the case and cleared Nelson’s name.
This trip to the bank was just one more aspect of the quest. He only hoped it wouldn’t take too much time. He still had to track down Harold Giddings, and he also had to at least pretend he was working on his own cases now and then.
The bank was like so many others in the city. Gleaming pillars supported the granite facade outside. Inside, the gilded ceiling rose up like a cathedral over marble counters topped by teller cages, mediocre statuary, and more pillars. People moved quietly, speaking in hushed tones, as if this were really a house of worship. Maybe it was, Frank, reflected, considering how some people felt about money.
The guard approached Frank almost the instant he entered. “May I help you?” he asked in a voice that was less than friendly. Apparently, he didn’t think Frank met the standards of their usual clientele. Or else he recognized him as a policeman and wanted to get him out as quickly as possible.
“I want to see Mr. Dennis,” he informed the guard. “I’m from the police.”