Murder In Chelsea Part 20

"Are you really going to marry Wilbanks this time?"

"Didn't I just say I was?" She started walking again.

"Yes, you did, which makes me wonder why you didn't do it a year ago when he asked you the first time."

She looked at him sharply, and seeing he was serious, she smiled. "I didn't want to."

"Why didn't you want to?"

"Mr. Malloy, you're starting to annoy me."

Frank grabbed her arm and jerked her to a stop. "And you're starting to annoy me, Miss Hardy."

She pulled her arm from his grasp and glared at him. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to know what made you leave your daughter and run away a year ago, and I want to know who killed Anne Murphy and why."

"I already told you, I just got tired of Wilbanks and I wanted to get away."

"So you left your child behind?"

"You can't take a child on tour, Mr. Malloy. I thought I left her in good hands. I had no idea Annie would lose her."

Frank could have argued that point with her, but why bother? "Are you really going to marry Wilbanks this time?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I don't think he still wants to marry you."

She smiled again, as if this amused her. "He didn't want to marry me back then either. All he cared about was Catherine. I did him a favor by leaving town, and he did me a favor today by letting me scare his precious son out of what little wits he has. I was just getting some of my own back after they came barging in telling me to get out of their house. It's not their house yet, you know."

"Then you aren't really going to marry him?"

"You just said you don't think he wants to marry me, and you're probably right. In any case, I don't want to marry him either."

"Why not? Isn't marrying a rich man the dream of every chorus girl?"

"Not every chorus girl."

"All right, so you still won't tell me why you wouldn't marry Wilbanks. Who killed Anne Murphy?"

"How should I know?"

"Don't you have any idea?"

"Not a one."

"That's funny," Frank said, "because I can think of at least three people who didn't want you to find Catherine and might've killed Anne so you never would."

"Who? Ozzie and his lovely bride?" she scoffed.

"And her cousin."

"Yes, you're right. I'm sure one of them did it. Why don't you go arrest them?"

"Or maybe you hadn't thought of them because you know who really killed her."

"How could I know that?"

Frank met her gaze squarely, refusing even to blink, and watched her eyes narrow as the truth dawned on her.

"You can go straight to the devil, Malloy." With that she turned on her heel and walked swiftly away.

He let her go, sure she'd give him nothing more. What she had given him was simply confusing. She'd missed an opportunity to accuse the Wilbanks family of killing Anne Murphy, and he had no idea why. Was it because she already knew who did? But if she did, why hadn't she told him? Or if the killer was someone she wanted to protect-like herself-why hadn't she tried to put the blame on someone else? Nothing Emma Hardy did made sense to him. He wondered if it would make sense to Sarah and her mother. He'd be sure and ask them at the first opportunity. In the meantime, he'd realized he needed to see Michael Hicks's investigator, who may know something Frank didn't.

JUST THINK, SARAH," HER MOTHER SAID AS HER CARRIAGE carried them through the city streets so slowly, she could have pa.s.sed it walking without even exerting herself. "If you didn't have to earn your living, you could go on visits like this with me every day."

Sarah didn't want her mother to know her true feelings about such a prospect. She dearly loved her mother, but the thought of returning to the life her mother led-an endless round of meaningless social engagements with people who talked only about themselves or gossiped about other people-made her want to throw herself into the East River. "You're very kind to take me along today."

"I realized I needed to do something of which your father would approve, and what better errand than finding out as much as we can about Gilda Wilbanks?"

"I must admit, I'm very curious about her. I just wish you could remember the rumor you heard about her."

"I know, but believe me, if there's anything at all to it, Olivia will know."

Olivia Van Horn greeted them warmly, probably because she hadn't seen Sarah in years and desperately wanted to know what she had been doing with herself all that time. Her home was located in the section of Fifth Avenue known as Marble Row. After her husband's death, she had taken a small flat in a luxurious building where she could enjoy the comforts of wealth without the expense of an army of servants. She was one of the Van Horns who didn't have a penny to her name, at least by Sarah's mother's standards.

Her parlor contained what was left of the family's heirlooms-sideboards and tables from another age holding priceless porcelains-and plush furniture long past its prime. Olivia herself was like an heirloom. Still beautiful although her blond hair had gently turned to silver, she looked as fragile as one of her porcelains and almost as old.

When they were seated and served with tea and cakes, Olivia Van Horn said, "Sarah, you must tell me about yourself. Your mother hardly ever mentions you except to say that you are doing well. I must know everything. Is it true you're a midwife?"

As much as she would have preferred to talk about Gilda Van Horn, Sarah realized that society gossip was t.i.t for tat. She couldn't expect to learn anything without sharing something herself. Too bad she didn't know any juicy stories about anyone else in society that she could share instead. As briefly as she could, she brought Mrs. Van Horn up to date on her life story, managing not to mention a word about having ever a.s.sisted a police detective in solving murders.

As soon as Sarah had finished and before Olivia could think of another question to ask, her mother said, "We met a young relation of yours the other day."

"You did? Who was that?"

"Gilda Wilbanks."

"Oh, Gilda isn't my relation. She was Gilbert's, of course. Ralph Van Horn's daughter. The Van Horns are prolific. I can hardly keep up with all of them. How did you happen to meet her?"

"Felix had some business with her father-in-law," her mother said. "I thought it would be good for Sarah to make a friend her own age."

"Oh, I thought perhaps Sarah had occasion to see her professionally, as a midwife, I mean. She's been married to that Wilbanks boy for years now, and nothing in the way of offspring to show for it."

"I think it's only been a little over a year," Sarah said, stretching the truth a bit. "Much too soon to give up hope."

"How did she seem to you?" Olivia asked.

"What do you mean?" her mother asked.

"Oh, I don't know. She wasn't too happy about the match, you know."

"Really?"

Sarah had to bite back a smile at her mother's innocent stare.

"Oh, yes. Well, it's not like she tried to run away or anything. That would have been foolish. The Wilbanks boy is going to inherit a fortune, and Gilda's side of the family has to think about those things."

Sarah knew that Olivia's side of the family had to think about those things, too, but she merely nodded encouragingly.

"Gilda has a lovely home," her mother said. "Well, it's her father-in-law's house, of course, but I understand he's very ill."

"That's what I've heard. How tragic."

"Yes, it is. But I think Gilda will do well when the time comes. She seems very settled."

"I'm glad to hear it. Such a fuss at the time. You remember, don't you?" Olivia's faded blue eyes gleamed with her eagerness to tell.

"No, I don't. Not as bad as the Vanderbilt girl, I hope."

Sarah nearly choked. Consuelo Vanderbilt had been forced to marry an English duke she hardly knew and shipped off to a castle in England.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. The Wilbanks boy is an American, after all. No, she just had some silly notion about marrying for love."

"That's not so silly," Sarah said.

"Isn't it?" Olivia said, giving Sarah a critical stare. "And what happens when you're left penniless? There's nothing romantic about that."

Sarah could have taken offense, but she had the strangest feeling Olivia was talking about herself.

"No, there isn't," her mother agreed, with an apologetic glance at Sarah. "But Gilda doesn't have to worry about that now. Unless she's pining away for her lost love."

"Oh, I doubt it very much," Olivia said. "She's much too practical. Besides, her family would never have allowed her to marry him even if he was rich as Croesus."

"And why not?" her mother asked.

"Because they were cousins, of course."

10.

SARAH'S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN BUT ONLY FOR A MOMENT before she managed to say, "You don't mean Terrance Udall by any chance, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. However did you know?"

Sarah glanced at her mother, wondering how much they dared tell Olivia, knowing it would be all over the city within days.

"When we called on Gilda, Mr. Udall happened to be visiting her, too. He's a . . . a charming young man."

"Oh, my," Olivia said in obvious distress. "Did you . . . Oh, my."

"What is it, Olivia?" her mother asked. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, I'm sure. It's just . . . How unwise of her to be seeing Terrance. I wonder that her husband allows it."

"Perhaps he doesn't know," her mother suggested. "Mr. Udall is her cousin, after all. It must seem very innocent to him for a member of her family to call."

"That must be the case. But she's a fool. Anyone might tell him, and to tempt fate like that . . . Well, she's insane to risk her marriage for a wastrel like Terrance Udall, that's all I can say. And it's always the female who pays the price in situations like that. If Mr. Wilbanks were to divorce her, do you think Terrance would want her? And even if he did, they'd be poor as church mice. Love flies out the window when the wolf is at the door."

Sarah's father had said something very similar years ago when her sister Maggie had married a poor man. She'd always wondered if it were true.

Sarah's mother said something meant to comfort, but Olivia was having none of it. "I wonder if her mother knows. Someone needs to talk sense to the girl before it's too late."

"I'm so sorry we upset you. I would never have mentioned Gilda if I'd realized . . ."

"You couldn't have known, but I'm glad you did."

After another few minutes of meaningless conversation, Sarah and her mother took their leave. When they were safely in the carriage, her mother turned to her. "Gilda wanted to marry Terrance Udall. I know I never heard that, or I would have remembered."

"And now we know why Terrance is taking such an interest in Ozzie's inheritance . . . because it's Gilda's inheritance, too."

"How very unselfish of him," her mother said, "to want the woman he couldn't have to be rich and happy with another man."

"I'm sure Malloy would say it's too unselfish."

"And I'd have to agree with him. What do you suppose they're up to?"

Sarah sighed. "I don't even want to guess, because none of the possibilities are very nice."

"Well, perhaps we're wrong. Perhaps we've completely misjudged Gilda Wilbanks. Perhaps she is just fond of her cousin, and she's trying to help him meet a nice young lady from a wealthy family."

"I just wish I thought you were right, Mother."

FRANK WAS A LITTLE CONCERNED ABOUT TERRANCE Udall seeing him back at Michael Hicks's office and wondering what he was up to, but Udall was nowhere in sight when he arrived and told the clerk he wanted to know what agency Hicks used to do his investigations. The clerk had to check with Hicks, of course, but to Frank's surprise, with no argument at all, the man returned and handed him a piece of paper with the name and address of the Kirby Detective Agency on it.

Frank had never heard of it, but that wasn't surprising. When the Pinkerton Detective Agency gained success after the War, dozens of private inquiry agencies had sprung up all over the country. Kirby probably only worked for Michael Hicks and maybe a few other attorneys. Since few people trusted the police, and for good reason, wealthy people who needed investigations usually relied on private agents.

He found the address on Sixth Avenue in a discreet office building. A female secretary sat at the desk in Kirby's front office, and she frowned up at Frank. "May I help you?"