Murder on Marble Row (27 page)

“Who told you that?” Frank asked.

Tad glared at him, probably thinking it was none of his business. “Father did!”

“What did he say?”

Tad rose to his feet. “He said no son who betrayed him would ever inherit a penny of his money!”

“That's funny,” Frank said, as if he really thought it was. “You're the one who didn't get a penny.”

Tad wasn't very good at concealing his emotions. His face registered shock, then guilt. He glanced down at Lilly, who was staring up at him, having forgotten her own misery for a moment. A red flush crawled up his neck and over his young face. “You're lying!” he accused Frank. “I won't believe it until I see the will myself—the
new
will!”

“I'm sure Mr. Judd will be happy to explain everything to you, the way he did to me,” Frank said, naming the Van Dykes' attorney.

“Is it true?” Alberta asked Frank. “Did father really leave everything to Creighton?” She was holding Reed's hand and patting it almost absently.

“Yes,” Frank said, trying to judge her reaction. Reed seemed only mildly curious, but perhaps his head injury kept him from fully understanding what all this meant to him. Alberta understood every word, though.

She didn't seem very upset, though. She turned to Creighton with pity on her plain face. “Poor Creighton,” she said. “I'm so sorry.”

Creighton smiled slightly at the irony. “According to Mr. Malloy, I'm supposed to take care of you, Bertie, and I will, so you won't have to worry.”

“We don't need anything,” she said with a fond glance at Reed. “I'll be content just to be Lewis's wife.” Reed returned her glance with a look so tender, Frank had to turn away.

At least he knew Reed and Alberta hadn't killed her father for his money. There was still the matter of them being allowed to marry, though, which was an even better reason, considering Alberta's condition.

“Is that why you're crying, Lilly?” Tad asked her. “Because you think Father didn't leave me anything?”

She glared at him. “Of course not! He didn't leave
me
anything, either!”

“That's impossible,” Tad insisted. “You're his wife!”

“Father did provide a small income for her,” Creighton explained. “Apparently, she doesn't feel it's adequate, though.”

“How small?” Tad asked, still not willing to accept this.

“Five hundred a year,” Lilly said through gritted teeth, her hysteria giving way to anger now.

“Send for Judd,” Tad said furiously. “Get him over here immediately
with
this so-called will. We'll see once and for all who's telling the truth!”

“Mr. Malloy was just asking me why Father might have changed his will in such a way,” Creighton said. “Do any of you have any ideas?”

Frank looked at each of them in turn. Alberta and Reed seemed puzzled but not really concerned. Lilly's face turned red, and Tad turned stiffly and went straight for a cabinet on the far side of the room.

“He was a wicked man,” Lilly said. “He took pleasure in making other people miserable.
That's
why he did it.”

“He wasn't wicked,” Alberta contradicted sadly. “He did have set ideas on how things should be, though, and he didn't tolerate anyone who wouldn't conform to those ideas.”

Tad had pulled a bottle of liquor out of the cabinet and was pouring himself a generous drink.
“Tolerate?”
he mocked. “Is that what you call it? I call it
punish
. He was ruthless if you didn't meet his standards.”

Shocked by his indictment of his father, everyone else in the room stared at him in stunned silence as he raised the glass to his lips. The instant the liquor hit his tongue, however, he flinched and spit it out and flung the glass on the floor, smashing the crystal into a hundred pieces and making everyone in the room jump.

“Horse piss!” he announced in disgust. He grabbed the bottle by its neck and held it up. “This is a perfect example. He put the cheap stuff down here for his guests, but he only bought the best for himself. He'd hide it in his room so no one else could get it. Bastard!”

“Tad, watch your language!” Creighton said. “There are ladies present.”

Tad looked around the room as if to verify Creighton's observation. Then he looked straight at Sarah, dismissing the others, and bowed slightly. “Pardon me, Mrs. Brandt. I forgot you were here.”

Lilly gasped in outrage, and Alberta flushed, but Tad ignored them both. Still holding the bottle of “horse piss,” he stalked out of the room.

Frank briefly considered going after him, but decided to let him stew a bit. Once he was convinced of the terms of his father's will, he'd be too furious to mind his tongue at all.

“Mr. Van Dyke,” Reed said to Creighton, breaking the awkward silence. His voice was weak but determined. “Since you're now the head of the family, I'd like to ask permission to marry your sister.”

Taken off guard, Creighton looked to Frank for guidance. He'd be wondering if Reed had killed his father and if he dared give permission for his sister to marry a murderer. Frank shrugged. He had no guidance to give.

“If you don't give permission,” Alberta said, “we'll still be married as soon as possible. We'd like your blessing, but it isn't necessary.”

“Well, of course, I mean . . .” Creighton stammered, still seeking an ally in the room but finding none. “By all means. You have my blessing.”

Lilly sighed in disgust, but no one paid her any mind. Alberta turned to Reed, and he clasped both her hands in his. For a moment, Frank thought she looked almost beautiful as she gazed at her lover's bandaged face. Dear God, he hoped he didn't have to arrest them for murder.

“Now I suppose I should send for Mr. Judd and find out exactly what Father's will does say,” Creighton said, sounding a little overwhelmed.

“You must send for Katya, too,” Alberta said. “There's no reason for you to live in a hovel any longer, and she should be here, with you.”

“You aren't bringing that trollop into this house!” Lilly exclaimed. “I forbid it!”

Alberta glared at her. “This is Creighton's house now, and you can't forbid anything. You'd best mind your manners, Lilly, or you'll find
yourself
out on the street.”

Lilly made an incoherent sound in her throat, lunged to her feet, and hurried out of the room in a swish of skirts.

Frank heard Sarah sigh beside him. “That went well,” she observed.

 
 
B
RIAN WAS ONLY TOO GLAD TO ACCOMPANY HIS FATHER for a walk after supper that night. Frank wished he could explain to the boy where they were going and why, but he was trapped in his silent world, and Frank had no way to break through.

Yet.

As they made their way through the crowded streets, Frank couldn't help recalling the terrible scene at the Van Dyke house that afternoon. If he'd ever entertained the notion that money could buy happiness, the Van Dykes had disabused him of it once and for all. Now that he thought about it, the only person he knew who was truly happy was Brian, who had nothing at all.

Frank glanced down to where the boy was fairly skipping along beside him, holding Frank's hand tightly but thoroughly enjoying being with his father and seeing all the other people. His shoes looked perfectly normal, even though one of them had been specially made to fit his repaired foot. He looked just like any other three-year-old boy out for a walk with his father.

But if Frank let go of his hand, and he wandered off, he wouldn't even be able to tell anyone his name or where he lived.

His heart heavy, Frank led Brian through the streets leading toward Tompkins Square, where the Isenberg family lived. He found the building at the address he'd been given, and Brian didn't even hesitate to go inside with him. The boy trusted his father completely and would probably follow him into the jaws of hell if Frank wanted him to.

The building was cleaner than most and in good repair. The family lived on the second floor, in the front apartment, which meant they paid a premium rent. Those on the upper floors paid progressively less, and those in the back, where little air circulated, paid even less. The second floor, above the street-level noise and dirt but still an easy climb up the stairs, was a prime location.

The door to the flat was already open when they arrived, and a girl of about thirteen stood there. “I was watching for you,” she explained happily. “I'm Trude.”

Frank returned her smile. “I'm Mr. Malloy. This is Brian.”

A tall, well-built man appeared in the doorway behind her. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him while he made some strange motions with his hands.

“My father said to introduce him,” she said. “His name is Bernard Isenberg.”

Isenberg reached out his hand to Frank, who shook it. The hand was rough and ink-stained, reminding Frank that he worked as a printer. He reached down and ruffled Brian's red-gold curls affectionately, making Brian grin.

Isenberg motioned them inside and took their coats. Frank could see at a glance that Isenberg provided well for his family. The furniture was comfortable and of good quality, and everything was neat as a pin. Even his mother would approve.

Trude presented them to her mother and her brother, Leo. Mrs. Isenberg was also deaf, and she made the same kind of motions with her hands that her husband had. She was a small, plump woman with a handsome face, and she wore a stylish dress. She made them welcome and silently invited them to sit down.

Leo was about eight and all boy. His knees were skinned beneath his short pants, and while it was obvious his mother had cleaned him up for the occasion, his hair was already mussed from her careful combing and his shirttail was half out. He marched right up to where Brian was perched in Frank's lap and began to sign to him.

“I told you,” Trude said, signing so her parents would know what she was saying. “He doesn't know how. He won't understand.”

Leo glared at his sister. “How's he going to learn then, if nobody shows him?” he demanded, signing also to include his parents.

His parents chuckled, and even Frank had to smile.

Leo held out his hand to Brian and jerked his head toward a corner of the room where Leo had laid out some toys. “Come on,” he said, and started toward the toys.

Brian looked at Frank questioningly. Plainly, he understood the invitation, although how he could, Frank had no idea, but he was clinging possessively to Frank's lapel. Frank nodded encouragingly. Brian looked back at Leo, who was sitting down on the floor beside the toys. He began to set up a row of wooden soldiers, and again he motioned for Brian to join him.

After another pleading look at Frank, who nodded again, Brian finally scrambled down and hesitatingly made his way over to where Leo sat on the floor. The older boy offered him a soldier, and Brian sank down beside him and began to help.

Bernard made some signs.

“He says, what do you want to ask him?” Trude translated.

Frank had so many questions, he didn't even know where to start. “Everything, I guess,” he said. “How did they learn sign language . . . and how did you learn to talk if they can't?” he added to Trude.

She smiled importantly. “That's easy. We just did.” Then she turned to her father and asked Frank's questions.

For the next hour, they conversed in this awkward way, with Frank asking and Trude translating both questions and answers with signs and giving the answers verbally back to Frank.

He learned that Bernard had been born deaf, like Brian, even though no one else in his family was deaf. His parents had sent him to school when he was young, and he'd learned sign language and all the other things a child learns in school. When he got old enough, he'd been apprenticed to a printer. Many deaf men became printers because the job required little verbal communication to perform and deaf men weren't bothered by the loud noise of the presses. As a skilled laborer, he earned a good wage.

Mrs. Isenberg had become deaf after having a high fever when she was six. She could speak, although her speech was sometimes difficult to understand, and she lip-read fairly well. Still, she preferred using sign language, and it was a necessity when communicating with her husband. She'd met Bernard at the school they'd both attended. She'd learned all the academic subjects she would have at a regular school, as well as the womanly skills of sewing and cooking and cleaning. She was glad that both of her children could hear. Life was hard even when all your senses worked properly, but she and Bernard had a good life together. Brian could, too, she assured Frank.

“He needs to be in school, though,” Trude said with no prompting from her parents. Her mother poked her as a reprimand for presuming to instruct an adult, but she stood firm. “He does!”

Frank had been watching Brian and Leo from the corner of his eye during the conversation with the Isenbergs, and he could see the boys were getting along fine. Leo kept making signs to Brian and coaxing him to imitate them. Brian's small fingers were nimbly mimicking Leo's, although Frank was sure he had no idea what he was doing besides playing a game with a new friend.

Seeing that the adults were watching them, Leo scrambled to his feet. “See what he's learned already.” He led Brian over to them, and pointed at himself. Brian made some quick signs with his fingers, and the Isenbergs laughed in delight, making Brian grin.

“What did he say?” Frank asked, intrigued.

“He spelled Leo,” Leo said proudly. Then he pointed at Brian, and the boy made different signs. The Isenbergs clapped in approval, and Brian brightened and clapped, too.