“What difference could it make?” Dennis asked, growing more confident. “He’ll probably be executed for murder in any case.”
“And what if I told you that isn’t going to happen?”
Dennis stared at him in confusion. “But he’s guilty. The newspapers all agree.”
“He hasn’t even been arrested yet,” Frank reminded him. “If there was any reason to think he’s guilty, he’d be in The Tombs by now,” he added, referring to the city jail.
Dennis started at him for a long moment while he considered the situation. Frank could almost see him examining and discarding each of his options, one by one. Finally, left with no good choices, he managed a thin smile. “We each of us have a job to do, Mr. Malloy. I know I can count on your discretion, now that you know how important it is to me that the bank not suffer any more from Mr. Ellsworth’s indiscretions. I will be extremely grateful if you will keep the information about the missing funds confidential. If you are able to do that, I assure you I will express my gratitude in tangible form. In very tangible form.”
Frank felt a shock of surprise. He hadn’t seen this coming, but he should have. His opinion of Dennis had been very low even before setting eyes on him. Why he should be shocked that the man had offered him a bribe, he had no idea. “And when can I feel free to return and collect your… gratitude?” Frank asked.
“When the matter of Mr. Ellsworth’s guilt or innocence of murder has been determined,” he replied, his confidence restored now that he’d obtained Frank’s complicity. Or thought he had.
“Then I suppose I’ll be seeing you again, Mr. Dennis,” Frank said, rising to his feet. He didn’t have to feign a feeling of satisfaction. He was truly pleased with the results of this interview.
“Indeed,” Dennis replied. “I shall look forward to it.”
Frank saw himself out, and he was smiling grimly as he walked through the front door of the bank into the morning sunlight. He wouldn’t have to say very much at all about Dennis to Sarah Brandt except that he’d offered Frank a bribe to keep quiet about the missing money and not interfere with him dismissing Nelson. He might make time to stop by her house this morning just to mention it. He’d only gone a few steps, however, when he heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Nelson Ellsworth hurrying across the street to intercept him.
“Mr. Malloy, I’m so glad I caught you!” he exclaimed breathlessly. He looked much better than he had last night, or any night since Anna Blake had died, in fact. He’d shaved and dressed, as if for work, and his eyes were alive in a way they hadn’t been in over a week.
“What are you doing out here?” Frank exclaimed, looking around in case some enterprising reporter was hanging around. “I told you not to leave the house.”
“There weren’t any reporters, so no one saw me,” he said. “I had to see you, and I knew you’d be at the bank this morning. I thought of something last night, after you left.”
“Then let’s find a less public place to discuss it,” Frank suggested, still looking around to make sure they hadn’t been seen. He didn’t want anyone from the bank to spot them, either, and report to Dennis that Ellsworth had been waiting for Frank outside. He’d think they’d set the whole thing up just to extort a bribe out of him.
Frank led him away, and they walked two blocks until he saw a hansom cab and flagged it down. When the two men had stuffed themselves inside, Frank gave the driver the Ellsworths’ address. As the cab started off with a lurch, he finally turned to Nelson.
“All right, what is it?” he asked.
“Last night, after you left, I couldn’t sleep,” Nelson said. “At first I was just upset. I never stole a penny from the bank. You must believe me!”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Frank reminded him. “But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you took the money.”
This seemed to be a relief to Nelson, and he sighed audibly. “Well,” he said somewhat hoarsely, “that means a great deal to me, Mr. Malloy.”
“No, it doesn’t mean anything at all unless I can find out who really killed Anna Blake, so if you’ve got any information-”
“That’s just it, I remembered something important last night.”
“You know who killed Anna?”
Nelson’s face fell. “I wish to God I did. No, it’s not that. It was about the bank and the missing money. You said Mr. Dennis discovered it when he asked the auditors to check our accounts.”
“That’s what he told Mrs. Brandt.”
“But that’s just it, Mr. Malloy. She only spoke with him on Sunday, and he told her on Tuesday night that they’d discovered the missing money. Even if he’d been able to get auditors into the bank first thing on Monday morning-which would have been very difficult-they would have only had two days to work. Two days at the most! Mr. Malloy, there is no way they could have made a determination like that so quickly!”
12
SARAH WENT TO HER PARENTS’ HOUSE EARLY, HOPING TO catch her father before he left for the day. She didn’t question why she needed to see him so badly. She only knew she did. She’d spent a restless night after the unpleasant scene at the Ellsworths. Lying awake, she’d remembered every word they’d said, how Mrs. Ellsworth had wept, and how devastated Nelson had looked when he realized that even if he was cleared of murder, he would most certainly lose his position. Most likely, he’d also never get another, no matter how discreet Richard Dennis was.
Only in the wee hours of the morning, when she was exhausted and half-sick with worry, did she remember what was probably the most remarkable part of a very remarkable day. How could she have forgotten? As distracted as she was by everything else, surely having Frank Malloy call her beautiful was the most memorable event she could recall in her recent history.
How extraordinary that he should say such a thing! Especially so because Sarah wasn’t beautiful at all. She’d long ago come to terms with that. In her youth she’d been pretty enough, she supposed, because health and youth and good nature combined to make one attractive. But then her sister had died so horribly, and Sarah had grown solemn. Determined not to waste her life, she’d put aside vanities that had no place in her new world.
Tom, of course, had thought her beautiful, but he had been blinded by love. What could have possessed Malloy, however, was a mystery. A delightful mystery, though. When Sarah remembered Malloy’s outrage over Richard Dennis’s behavior, she felt the strangest heat building inside of her. She needed a moment to recognize it for what it was-pure pleasure! And to her dismay, she realized she was actually blushing just at the memory of it!
She glanced around the crowded railroad car to see if anyone had noticed the color rising in her face, but fortunately, no one was paying her the slightest attention. Quickly, she put her gloved hands on her cheeks to cool them and glanced out the window at the houses passing so quickly and so closely by. To distract herself from disturbing thoughts, she watched for a glimpse of the occupants of the third-floor apartments passing by at eye level and tried to imagine a history for each of them.
By the time she reached her parents’ town house on the Upper West Side, she had almost succeeded in forgetting Malloy’s strange behavior.
As she had expected, her mother hadn’t roused herself yet, but her father was still at breakfast, reading the morning newspapers in solitary splendor in the dining room.
“Sarah,” he said, rising to his feet when the maid announced her. He seemed pleased to see her, although his natural reserve made it hard to tell. “What brings you out so early?”
“I was hoping to have a word with you,” she said, taking a seat in the chair he pulled out for her at the table.