Murder on Lexington Avenue (20 page)

Sarah drew the line at sitting in the family pew. She took a seat near the back of the church as the family filed down the aisle to the front of the church where Mr. Wooten lay in state. She heard a buzz of reaction as people noticed Mrs. Wooten wasn’t with them. The speculation would begin as soon as the service was over and people were free to talk among themselves. She wondered what Mrs. Parmer had decided to tell people when they asked, as they invariably would.

Sarah was watching the mourners file in and make their way up to view the dead man in his casket when a figure loomed beside her. She looked up to see Malloy staring back expectantly. She slid over in the pew to make room for him.

“What happened to your hair?” he asked with a frown.

Sarah touched it self-consciously. “Mrs. Wooten’s maid arranged it for me.”

“Don’t let her do it again,” he advised.

Sarah bit back a smile. “Do you see any likely suspects yet?” she whispered.

“At least a dozen,” he replied solemnly.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “I suppose you’re surprised to see me here.”

“Yes, I am. I thought you had to stay with Mrs. Wooten.”

“I did.”

“Then why are you here?”

The lady filing into the pew in front of them gave them a disapproving glare.

“Mrs. Wooten ordered me to come,” Sarah replied, lowering her voice. “She wants me to report back on everything that happens.”

“Why doesn’t she just ask her family to tell her?”

“I don’t think she trusts them. They’re a little angry at her right now.”

Malloy nodded solemnly.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the crowd as the church filled almost to capacity. Malloy made a point of noticing every person who came in.

“Uh-oh,” he murmured, startling Sarah.

“What is it?”

“It’s the two Mr. Youngs, father and son.”

“Mrs. Wooten’s lover?” Sarah whispered, shocked. “Which one is he?”

Malloy indicated with a nod, and Sarah frowned. Not exactly what she had been expecting. He looked like a dreary young man already running to fat. He also looked as if he’d rather be standing before a firing squad than coming into this church.

The two men had words just inside the doorway, although the words were spoken too quietly for anyone else to hear. Mr. Young obviously expected to win the argument, but his son stubbornly refused to yield, shaking his head and stalking off to a rear pew on the other side of the church from where Sarah and Malloy were sitting. Mr. Young made his way to the front, where he viewed the body and spoke to the family members.

“He’s probably afraid of causing a scene if he lets the family see him,” Malloy remarked, staring at where Terry Young had seated himself. He was wiping his face with a handkerchief.

“He should be,” Sarah replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Leander challenged him to a duel.”

“A little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Leander tends to be melodramatic,” Sarah said.

At last the service began, and they listened as the minister spoke of Mr. Wooten as if he’d been a saint, listing all of his good works and his devotion to his family and to the deaf through the Institution for the Improved Instruction of Deaf Mutes. After the appropriate amount of ceremony and music, the pall bearers, one of whom was Mr. Young and another of whom was Leander, carried the bier out of the church to where the shiny black hearse awaited.

“Are you going out to the cemetery?” Malloy asked as the family made their way down the aisle and the rest of the crowd began to follow them.

“Heavens, no. I shouldn’t have even come here. I’m not riding in the family carriage again either. I’ll walk back to the house.”

“I’ll see you there, then,” he said and melted into the flow of mourners making their way down the aisle.

As she waited for the church to empty out, Sarah wondered how welcome Frank Malloy would be at the funeral dinner. Finally she left and headed back to the Wootens’ house.

She found Mrs. Wooten in a state.

“What are you doing back so soon? Didn’t you go to the graveside?” she demanded.

“No, I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine! How am I going to know what happened there? Who can I trust to tell me?”

“Mr. Malloy will be there. He’ll tell me whatever you want to know.”

“Mr. Malloy? Who’s that?”

“The police detective who’s investigating your husband’s murder.”

“Good heavens! Nehemiah will turn over in his grave!” she exclaimed in horror. “What is this world coming to?”

Sarah needed a full half hour to finally calm her down and only after answering dozens of questions about every detail of the service. She had to make up what she hadn’t noticed or couldn’t remember, because Mrs. Wooten wouldn’t be satisfied with an “I don’t know.”

“You must go down when the guests arrive,” Mrs. Wooten told her when she was satisfied that Sarah had told her everything. “I want you to sample the food and make sure everything is just as it should be. And tell me who’s there, every single person.”

“I won’t know everyone who’s there,” she pointed out.

“Then find out!” Mrs. Wooten demanded irrationally.

Mercifully, she eventually exhausted herself and fell asleep. Luckily, the baby seemed to be sleeping pretty soundly, too. Sarah hoped he would stay that way for a while. She had only a few minutes to herself before she heard the carriages beginning to arrive outside. Leaving Minnie to sit with her mistress and the baby, Sarah went downstairs and found a place in a dark corner, where she could observe what happened without being noticed.

Mrs. Parmer, Leander, and Electra were the first to enter the house. Mrs. Parmer and Electra removed their hats, and the three of them took their places at the top of the stairs to greet the guests as they came up.

Sarah saw Mr. Young come in soon afterward, but his son was no longer with him. At least he’d had the sense not to come to the house, where Leander was even more likely to cause a scene. The trickle of visitors became a steady stream.

Sarah watched Electra Wooten as she accepted condolences from the black-clad mourners. “Where is your mother?” most of them asked.

“She was taken ill and cannot leave her bed,” she said, the words spoken even more tonelessly than usual, as if she were reciting sounds without even understanding the meaning.

If the visitor asked another question, seeking more details, Mrs. Parmer would reply, assuring the visitor that Mrs. Wooten was simply grief-stricken and would certainly make a full recovery and why didn’t they go into the dining room and help themselves to some refreshment?

Sarah hadn’t seen Malloy. He was probably making himself even more inconspicuous than she. The last of the mourners were climbing the stairs now, and Sarah saw Electra suddenly stiffen as she noticed someone on the stairs. Her resentful expression transformed in an instant to pure joy.

Sarah rose from her seat in the corner to see who had caught the girl’s attention, and she noticed a young man staring back at Electra. He was slightly built for a man, but no less masculine for all that. His dark hair fell in unruly curls, and his soulful eyes seemed capable of only seeing beauty. His expression was cautiously hopeful, as if unsure of his welcome.

He should have been.

Leander saw the sudden transformation in his sister, and he, too, looked down to see who had caused it. “What’s he doing here?” he demanded, but neither Electra nor the young man paid him any attention.

The young man quickened his step, pushing past the elderly couple ahead of him on the stairs and heading straight for Electra.

Could this be Mr. Oldham, Electra’s suitor? The man Leander had hired to teach her to sign?

As if to answer her question, he started making rapid motions with his hands, and Electra’s own hands began to move in reply.

What was he saying to her? No one else in this house would know, Sarah was sure.

“What’s he doing here?” Leander asked again, nearly shouting now, as if by raising his voice he could make Oldham and Electra hear him. He must have realized the futility of that and grabbed his sister’s arm, stopping her in midsign, but getting her attention at last.

“Why is he here?” he asked her more quietly.

“He came to comfort me,” she told him, her voice loud enough for anyone to hear who cared to eavesdrop.

“He has no right to be here.” He turned to Oldham. “Get out of my house!”

But Oldham didn’t know how to read lips. He had no idea what Leander had said, although he could not have mistaken his thunderous expression. Oldham made some signs to Electra.

“He doesn’t mean any harm,” the girl said, moving to stand between her brother and her beau, as if to protect Oldham.

“What’s going on here?” Mrs. Parmer asked, having finished with the last guests and turning her attention to the young people. “Who is this man?”

“He’s Electra’s
teacher
,” Leander said with a trace of sarcasm, which Electra would not have heard.

“Leander, this is your father’s funeral. You can’t make a scene,” Mrs. Parmer warned almost desperately.

Oldham had reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small notebook and a wooden pencil. He began to scribble in the notebook, then held it up for Leander to read.

“I don’t care—” Leander began to reply when he’d glanced at Oldham’s message, but Oldham forcefully held out the pencil and notebook, reminding him that he needed to write his reply if he expected Oldham to understand. “Can’t you sign to him?” Leander asked his sister in frustration.

“I don’t know enough signs yet,” she said, near tears. “Please, brother, don’t send him away.”

Leander snatched the notebook and pencil and wrote furiously, underlining something several times.

“Leander, please,” Mrs. Parmer said, wringing her hands anxiously. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I already regret introducing this man to my sister,” he said, handing the notebook back to Oldham, whose face flushed crimson when he read what Leander had written.

“What did you say to him?” Electra asked in alarm, reaching for the notebook, but Oldham was writing in it again.

“I told him he has no right to be here and that I forbid him to ever see you again.”

Electra gave an anguished cry that attracted the attention of some of the mourners, and Mrs. Parmer quickly put her arm around the girl as if to comfort her. “It’s been a difficult day for her,” she told them, and tried to steer Electra away from her brother and Oldham, but Electra shook her off.

“I want him here!” she told Leander.

Oldham had finished writing, and he forced the notebook under Leander’s nose again. Leander read what he’d written, and instantly calmed down.

“What did he say?” Electra demanded, trying to get the notebook again, but Leander snatched the pencil from Oldham and wrote a reply.

When he’d handed the notebook to Oldham, he said, “He apologized for offending me. He’s going to leave.”

“No!” Electra cried, grabbing Oldham’s arm and making him drop the notebook. “Don’t go!”

He couldn’t understand her, but he must have guessed her meaning from her desperate expression. He began to sign to her, slowly so she would be sure to understand.

“No, no!” she cried, shaking her head frantically so he’d understand her in return. She signed something, and he shook his head, too. Then he took her hand in both of his, making Leander gasp in outrage. Oldham and Electra were oblivious, though. Oldham lifted one of his hands and made a simple sign that turned Electra’s face radiant again. She mimicked the sign back to him.

Sarah was afraid Leander was going to punch him or even push him down the stairs, but just in time, he released Electra’s hand and turned to Leander again. He nodded politely and made a few signs.

“He says good-bye,” Electra said.

“Good.” Leander nodded stiffly back, and they all watched as Mr. Oldham turned and gracefully descended the stairs.

Even Sarah watched him go, thinking what a fine figure of a man he was, even though she didn’t usually find the delicate, artistic type attractive. That’s when she finally saw Malloy, who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for him.

Oldham must have recognized him, and he stopped short for just a second before nodding politely and then going on, out of sight, toward the front door.

Everyone seemed to sigh with relief when he disappeared from view.

“Come, children,” Mrs. Parmer said, holding Electra’s chin in her hand to make the girl look at her. “We have to see to our guests.”

They started off toward the dining room, but Leander said, “He forgot his notebook,” and bent down to retrieve it.

Electra snatched it from him and held it possessively to her breast. She gave him a defiant glare and then darted away, hurrying toward the stairs to the third floor and the sanctuary of her room before anyone could stop her.

 

 

S
ARAH WENT BACK TO CHECK ON MRS. WOOTEN SEVeral times during the afternoon, but the woman was still sleeping soundly. She must have exhausted herself with worry, Sarah surmised. So Sarah spent the time wandering around the house, among the mourners, trying to notice the things Mrs. Wooten would want described to her.

She caught Mrs. Parmer frowning at her several times, but luckily, the woman was too busy with her guests and too conscious of propriety to confront her about her presence. She was relieved to discover that she knew no one. The Wootens wouldn’t socialize with the same exalted group of old money Brahmins that her parents did, she supposed. That saved her from having to explain her presence here. Whenever she encountered a curious look, she simply nodded, smiled, and moved on.

Avoiding conversation proved to be more exhausting than making it, she discovered as the afternoon wore on. She was looking for a place where she could hide for a few minutes when she noticed Leander and Mr. Young stepping into the small room she’d noticed earlier where Mrs. Wooten had her desk. Mr. Young’s expression was determined, and Leander’s was resentful. What could they have to discuss privately at a funeral?