Murder on Sisters' Row (23 page)

“That would be perfectly natural, and the only way to find the killer is to involve the police.”

Sarah nodded. “So that explains why she went to so much trouble to make sure Mrs. Van Orner’s death was investigated.”

“And if they find out Amy is the killer, she’ll be rid of an annoying problem into the bargain.”

“Yes, everything would work out very neatly for Miss Yingling . . . but only if Amy is the killer.”

11

“
M
OTHER, COULD YOU HAVE YOUR DRIVER DROP ME OFF someplace?” Sarah asked, even though they were almost back to the Decker home.

“Of course, dear. Where would you like to go?”

“I need to see Mrs. Spratt-Williams. She was very concerned when I told her Amy had left the rescue house, and I’d like to let her know she and the baby aren’t in any danger.”

“I’m sure she’ll be surprised to learn she landed at the Van Orner house.”

“Maybe not. Amy certainly gave plenty of hints that she was involved with Mr. Van Orner.”

“Still, hinting and moving in with the man are two very different things.”

“Would you like to go in with me?”

“Yes, but I don’t know Mrs. Spratt-Williams and I have a feeling I don’t want to. She’ll surely be looking for patronesses to replace Vivian. Your father would never permit me to support such a cause, and I’d rather not have to refuse her.”

“Since when do you worry about what Father approves and doesn’t approve?”

Mrs. Decker shook her head in mock dismay. “Sarah, I was trying to be discreet. When I don’t want to do something, I always blame your father. How unkind of you to make me admit it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sarah said with a grin. “Then I won’t force you into an acquaintance with Mrs. Spratt-Williams. Do you know anything about her? She said she’s a widow.”

“Hmmm, I seem to remember some scandal about her husband. He’s been dead a number of years, though, and there have been so many scandals in the meantime that they’ve started running together in my memory. I could be completely mistaken, too. I do know she doesn’t go out in society. She’s probably one of those widows who devote themselves to good works.”

That seemed to describe Mrs. Spratt-Williams perfectly.

Mrs. Decker gave her driver the address, and they chatted about Catherine for the rest of the drive. Mrs. Decker had taken a healthy interest in the child who would likely be the closest thing to a grandchild she would ever have. Mrs. Decker instructed the driver to wait until Sarah had been admitted into Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s house, and Sarah waved good-bye before stepping through the front door.

Mrs. Spratt-Williams looked much better today than she had yesterday. She was dressed and groomed, and her color was good and her eyes clear.

“Mrs. Brandt, what a delightful surprise. Please come in and sit down. I’ll order some tea.”

“Oh, don’t go to any trouble for me. I can only stay a few minutes. I just thought you’d want to hear some good news for a change.”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams looked oddly wary. “Good news?” “Yes, we’ve found Amy.”

“Amy?”

“Yes, and her baby. They’re both safe and sound.”

“Oh, my, that is good news,” she said, although she didn’t seem as relieved as Sarah had expected. “Where has she gone?”

“I’m afraid this may be a bit shocking to you, but she’s staying at the Van Orner home.”

She did find this shocking. “At Vivian’s house?”

“Yes, she . . . Mr. Van Orner has taken her in.”

The older woman’s expression hardened. “The scoundrel!”

Sarah decided to withhold comment. “I knew you were worried about Amy and the baby, so I wanted you to know they weren’t out on the streets.”

“I almost wish they were. Oh, dear, I suppose this means Amy’s claims were true, that Gregory is the father of the child . . . Or at least that he was involved with her and has reason to believe he could be.”

“I learned long ago not to make assumptions,” Sarah said.

“Vivian knew he had a mistress, but so many men do, you know. They get tired of us when we aren’t young and pretty anymore, and to tell the truth, most women are relieved when their husbands turn their attentions elsewhere, if you know what I mean.”

Sarah knew exactly what she meant. “So she didn’t mind?”

“She never said. Vivian kept the secrets of her heart very closely, but I don’t think she was jealous, not of Gregory, at any rate. She was desperately jealous of the child, though.”

“Amy’s child?”

“Yes, she wasn’t able to have any of her own, you see. She suffered several miscarriages, and then her physician told her she shouldn’t even try anymore. Her life could be in danger if she lost another one.”

“So seeing Amy’s baby and knowing it might be her husband’s child . . .” Sarah gestured vaguely, encouraging her to go on.

“I’m sure that’s why she was so determined to turn the poor girl and her baby out. She never would have been that heartless with anyone else.”

“Do you think Amy was frightened?”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams looked at Sarah in surprise. “Frightened? I’m sure she was, but Amy wasn’t one to simply quake in her boots. She gave as good as she got from Vivian. That’s why Vivian hated her so much.”

“Did Amy hate her, too?”

Sarah waited while her hostess considered the question. “What are you really asking me, Mrs. Brandt?”

“Someone poisoned Mrs. Van Orner. Do you think Amy would do something like that?”

Plainly, Mrs. Spratt-Williams wasn’t used to answering such frank questions. “I can’t say for certain, of course. I didn’t see her do anything, and she hasn’t confessed to me, but as I told you before, Amy has had a difficult life. She came from a respectable family, but her father was involved in some unsuccessful business dealings and lost all their money. He couldn’t stand the disgrace, so he killed himself, leaving Amy and her mother destitute. They struggled for a time, but when Amy started blossoming into a lovely young woman, her mother arranged for her to be taken in by a protector, a man who had been a friend of Amy’s father, I believe.”

“Mr. Van Orner?”

“No, Gregory got her later. Her first protector passed her along to him. I’ve heard that’s fairly common.”

“And when he tired of her, he gave her to Mrs. Walker,” Sarah said, telling the part of the story she knew.

“Such a sad story, but all too common, I’m afraid. We try to help these girls, but by the time they come to us, they’re often so hardened by life that they’ve lost their feminine natures.”

“So you’re saying that Amy might have poisoned Mrs. Van Orner.”

“I have no idea, but I would like to see her for myself. Perhaps we can decide then.”

 

 

M
RS. SPRATT-WILLIAMS EXPLAINED THAT SHE NO LONGER kept a carriage, so they walked out to Fifth Avenue and found a hansom cab to take them back to the Van Orner house. Sarah would have walked all the way, and they would have gotten there much sooner if they had, given the state of the New York City traffic at midday on a Saturday, but Sarah deferred to her companion. While the weekday traffic was impatient and urgent, the weekend traffic seemed more relaxed and somehow happier, if no less congested as city residents did their shopping and errands in preparation for the Sabbath and another week.

The Van Orners’ maid recognized both of them, but she frowned in confusion when Mrs. Spratt-Williams asked to speak to Miss Cunningham.

“Oh, you mean Amy,” the maid said after a moment. “I don’t know if she’s receiving. We’re in mourning, you see.”

No one could have missed the gigantic black wreath on the front door or the maid’s black armband.

“Just tell her I’d like to see how she is,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said.

A few minutes later, the maid returned to escort them upstairs to the front parlor, where they found Amy ready to receive them as if she were the lady of the house. Only her gown gave her away. She still wore the shabby castoff she’d received at the rescue house.

“Mrs. Spratt-Williams and Mrs. Brandt, how kind of you to come,” she simpered, offering each of them her hand in welcome.

No sooner had they returned her greeting than Miss Yingling hurried into the room, catching herself in the doorway and slowing to a sedate pace as she entered, although her cheeks were flaming with indignation. Except for her expression, she looked the picture of demure womanhood in a gown that surely must have once belonged to Vivian Van Orner. “Amy, you should have told me we have visitors.”

Amy ignored the rebuke in her tone. “They asked to see
me
.”

Miss Yingling looked at the two guests, obviously not sure she was telling the truth.

“Mrs. Brandt was kind enough to tell me Amy was here,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said. “I wanted to hurry right over and make sure she was all right. I’ve been very worried since Mrs. Brandt told me yesterday that Amy had disappeared from the rescue house.”

“As you can see, she’s perfectly fine,” Miss Yingling said, although her expression said she wouldn’t have been disappointed had things been otherwise.

“I can speak for myself,” Amy said crossly. “Won’t you sit down. I’ve ordered some tea to be brought up.”

This made Miss Yingling even angrier, as Sarah felt sure Amy had intended for it to. Amy was assuming all sorts of authority.

“How is the baby doing?” Sarah asked when they were all seated.

“I told you, he’s fine,” Amy said. “We’re getting a nurse for him. She’ll be here the day after tomorrow. Then I won’t have to think about him at all.”

“Not that you do now,” Miss Yingling muttered.

“Is she a wet nurse?” Sarah asked.

“Oh, no, they couldn’t get one so quickly. She’s going to give him a bottle, though, so I don’t have to feed him anymore.”

“It’s so much better for the baby if you nurse him,” Sarah said, thinking it would be better in so many ways. If nothing else, his mother would be forced to acknowledge him several times a day at least.

“Oh, they have these scientific formulas now that they give the babies. They’re even better than mother’s milk. Besides,” she added when Sarah would have protested, “Gregory doesn’t want me tied down.”

“The baby doesn’t want you tied down?” Mrs. Spratt-Williams asked in confusion.

“Mr. Van Orner doesn’t,” Miss Yingling said through stiff lips. The emotion burning in her eyes was so clear, Sarah would not have been surprised had she sprang up from her seat and strangled Amy with her bare hands.

“That’s what I said. Gregory.” Amy smiled sweetly. “Things have changed a lot in a few days, haven’t they, Mrs. Brandt? Mrs. Van Orner was so mean to me, and now I never have to worry about her again.”

Sarah couldn’t manage a reply.

Mrs. Spratt-Williams exchanged a quick glance with Sarah, then turned back to Amy. “Mrs. Van Orner was a wonderful and generous woman. Many people will miss her very much.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll be one of them.” Amy’s eyes shone with merriment . . . or deviltry. Sarah wasn’t sure which.

“Me? Of course I will!”

“But now you don’t have to worry about her telling on you.”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s face flooded with color. “I don’t know what you mean!”

“Yes, you do. I heard you arguing with Mrs. Van Orner that day she died, but now she can’t cause trouble for anybody ever again.”

Mrs. Spratt-Williams gave Sarah a desperate glance that told her she had no idea what Amy was talking about.

Apparently oblivious to her guests’ distress, Amy chatted on. “Mrs. Brandt, what should I do to stop my milk? I’ll be so glad to not be leaking all over myself anymore.”

Sarah hated giving these instructions to a perfectly healthy woman with a perfectly healthy baby, especially when she knew the baby wouldn’t do nearly as well on the bottle, but she very quickly gave Amy the instructions.

When she was finished, Amy turned to Miss Yingling. “I hope you were paying attention, Tamar. I’ll never remember all that.”

Sarah knew a moment of pity for Tamar Yingling. If Gregory Van Orner really did intend to keep this girl as his mistress under his own roof, her position here would be impossible, even if Van Orner would agree to let his dead wife’s secretary remain.

“Tamar is taking me shopping on Monday, after the nurse gets here,” Amy said. “Gregory wants me to have some new clothes. He said he’s tired of looking at this old rag.” She giggled.

“We’re going to Macy’s Department Store,” Miss Yingling said, in case they were imagining she would take a harlot to a dressmaker.

“I’m sure you’ll find some very nice things there,” Sarah said.

“Just to tide me over,” Amy clarified. “I’m sure Gregory wants me to have the very best. That’s what he always used to say.” She turned to Miss Yingling. “Don’t let me forget I’ll need a black dress for the funeral, too.”

The three other women stared at her for a long moment in mute horror, and then someone tapped on the door.

The maid stuck her head in. “I’m sorry, Miss Yingling, but the baby’s crying something awful.”

“Why are you telling Miss Yingling?” Amy demanded, jumping to her feet. “He’s
my
baby!”

The maid looked stricken. “Yes, miss.”

“Thank you, Mary,” Miss Yingling said with a long-suffering sigh.

“I’m sorry I must leave my guests, but duty calls,” Amy said. “Thank you so much for your visit. Please, come back to see me anytime.”

When she was gone, Miss Yingling sighed again. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Sarah said. “She’s young and . . .”

“And silly,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams supplied. “No one takes her seriously.”

“I can’t believe she’s behaving like this. I assure you, no one has given her any reason to think she’s the mistress of this house.”

“Of course not,” Sarah said, but she wondered if that might happen. Was Mr. Van Orner as desperate for a child as his wife had been? Would he accept Amy to claim her boy somehow? And had Amy gotten rid of Mrs. Van Orner to make all of this possible?