Murder In Chelsea Part 24

"Maybe he didn't ask. Maybe he didn't even knock. Maybe he waited until Anne was alone and snuck in."

"I guess that's possible, but how did he know which room was hers?"

"Stop ruining my theory with logic," she said.

"Sorry. So we know Emma could've killed Anne, and maybe she did and maybe she didn't, but Emma certainly didn't kill herself, so there's at least one killer on the loose and maybe two."

"There's always the possibility that Vaughn killed her and he just dreamed up the fellow with the Mickey Finn."

Malloy sighed and drank the last of his coffee.

"Would you like some more?" she asked.

"Yes, but I need to go see Wilbanks."

"Why?"

"To tell him about Emma. She was his fiancee, after all, at least the last I heard. I'm sure he'll want to know."

"And you want to see how Ozzie reacts, too, don't you?"

"Ozzie and Hicks."

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "You think Mr. Hicks could have been the man who drugged Vaughn and strangled Emma?"

"I know, that's hard to picture, but maybe he hired somebody. I just want to see how surprised he is."

"I guess I should go tell my mother. She'll never forgive me if I don't."

"I'll wait for you. We can go uptown together."

Sarah needed only a few minutes to change her clothes and smooth her hair. They took the El uptown, and then parted company. Sarah almost wished she could have gone with Malloy. She'd never met any of the Wilbanks family except Gilda, and she wasn't really related to Catherine. On the other hand, she already felt sorry for Wilbanks and guilty for keeping his child from him. Seeing the dying man might soften her heart even more, and she couldn't risk Catherine's safety over sentiment.

FRANK GREETED WILBANKS'S MAID WITH A FRIENDLY smile when she opened the door.

"Oh, Mr. Malloy, I was that glad to see you yesterday," she whispered as she let him in. "That woman was so awful. Poor Mr. Wilbanks." She'd certainly changed her mind about him since his first visit.

"How is he today?"

"Not well. The doctor told him he had to stay in bed. He was coughing something awful. Exhausted himself, poor man."

"Do you think I could see him for a few minutes? I have some important information for him that might make him feel better."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I couldn't say, myself. I'd have to ask Mr. Oswald."

Frank wanted to talk to Ozzie anyway. "All right. I'll wait while you ask him."

The maid frowned. "But Mr. Ozzie is out."

"When do you expect him back?"

"I . . . Not for a while."

Frank smiled again. "Then he won't know, will he? Go ask Mr. Wilbanks if he feels well enough to see me." When she hesitated, he added, "If anybody gets upset, I'll tell them I forced you to let me in."

Still not quite certain but apparently grateful enough for his help yesterday to take a chance, she went upstairs and returned in a few minutes. "He's anxious to see you, Mr. Malloy. He said he has something to tell you, too."

She led him up several sets of stairs to Wilbanks's bedroom. She tapped on the door and a middle-aged man opened it instantly. He looked Malloy over with disapproval. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't let you in at all, but Mr. Wilbanks wants to see you. He's very weak, though, so you can't upset him."

"This is Henry, Mr. Wilbanks's valet," the girl said.

Frank recognized Henry's concern as genuine affection for Wilbanks. He figured Henry already knew all the family secrets anyway. "You can stay, and if you think it's too much for him, just let me know."

Henry didn't like it, but he said, "Come in."

Frank stepped into the room. The heavy drapes were drawn, making a dark room even darker. The mahogany furniture gleamed dully in the gaslight, and a fire made the room uncomfortably warm. Wilbanks lay in the enormous four-poster bed, nearly swallowed in the bedclothes, but he beckoned Frank urgently with one slender hand.

Henry brought a chair to the bedside, and Frank sat. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but I have some news."

His eyes brightened. "Catherine?"

"No, Emma."

He frowned. "I'm not going to marry her." Every word was an effort, his voice little more than a gasp, and Frank wondered what it cost him to speak at all.

"I know. She said that herself after we left yesterday. She was just trying to make your son mad, I think."

He nodded, relieved.

"But it doesn't matter anyway. Emma is dead. Someone murdered her last night."

Frank wasn't sure what reaction he had expected, but Wilbanks's expression went from surprised to shocked to horrified in a few moments. "How?"

"She was strangled in her hotel room. She wasn't alone there. She had a lover, a man named Parnell Vaughn."

His eyes widened in surprise. "He did it?"

"We think so," Frank lied. No use upsetting Wilbanks with any wild theories.

"Thank G.o.d," Wilbanks whispered.

Frank studied his face, trying to read the expressions roiling there. "Did you think somebody else might've done it?"

Wilbanks met his gaze for a long moment, then turned his head away. "Tired."

"I think you'd better go now," Henry said.

Frank thought so, too. He wasn't going to get anything else out of Wilbanks, but when Henry would have ushered him out, Frank grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hallway. "Who did Wilbanks think might've killed Emma Hardy?"

"Really, I don't know-"

"Yes, you do, and if you don't want me to go back in there and get it out of Wilbanks, you'll tell me."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Frank gave him a look that said he would dare that and a whole lot more.

"I can't speak for Mr. Wilbanks, of course . . ."

"Henry," Frank said in warning.

"But I believe he may have been concerned because he had not told Mr. Oswald that he had no intention of marrying that woman."

"You mean he let Ozzie believe she was telling the truth?"

"Well, he was very ill yesterday, you see, and he couldn't speak for a long time. The doctor came, and he told Mr. Wilbanks not to talk at all. He would write things down for me when he got like that. He told me . . . well, he wrote it . . . that he wasn't really going to marry her. He wanted me to know that. I told him I would tell Mr. Oswald to ease his mind as well, but he said not to. He said . . . He said to let him stew awhile." The last pained Henry almost as much as it would have pained Wilbanks to say.

"And Wilbanks thought maybe Ozzie had gone to visit Miss Hardy and made sure the wedding didn't happen."

"As I said, I can't speak for Mr. Wilbanks."

He didn't have to, of course. "Did Ozzie go out last night?"

"Mr. Oswald goes out every evening."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Henry."

So Wilbanks thought his son might've killed Emma, believing he was saving his father from making a disastrous marriage, Frank thought as he made his way back down the stairs. The marriage would've been more disastrous for Ozzie than for Wilbanks, of course, at least in Ozzie's mind. No matter how terrible a wife Emma might have been, Wilbanks would be dead in a few months, but Ozzie would have to live many years knowing his stepmother and half sister had gotten a portion of what should have been his.

Was that enough to send him down to the Lower East Side late at night to hunt down and kill Emma Hardy? And was Ozzie capable of making such a successful plan? Whoever had killed Emma must have known she wasn't alone at the hotel and had brought the drugged whiskey along to knock Vaughn out before taking care of Emma. Udall could have told him that. Or had he intended the whiskey for Emma and been surprised to find her lover there, too? Had he just been lucky to have the drugged whiskey to take care of Vaughn so he could kill Emma without interference?

He'd be sure to ask the killer all those questions when he identified him, he thought with a sigh.

MICHAEL HICKS HAD LEFT THE OFFICE FOR THE DAY BY the time Frank got there. Although the fellow at the front desk claimed he did not know where Mr. Hicks had gone, Frank took a chance and went to Hicks's house, where Hicks and his wife received him in the parlor.

Lynne Hicks didn't look at all happy to see him, and Michael looked positively apoplectic.

"What are you doing here, Malloy?"

"I came to tell you that Emma Hardy is dead."

As Frank had expected, this took some of the starch out of them. Mrs. Hicks made a startled sound and looked at her husband, who, in turn, gaped at Frank. "Dead? How could she be dead?"

"Someone killed her, Mr. Hicks. I apologize for being so blunt, Mrs. Hicks."

Lynne Hicks waved away his concern. "Who did it?"

"I'm not sure," Frank said, watching Hicks's face carefully. He saw no reaction.

"Where did it happen?" he asked.

"In the hotel room where she's been staying."

"Where she's been staying with that Vaughn character?" Hicks asked.

"Who's Vaughn?" his wife asked.

"Her lover," Hicks said.

"I thought Father was her lover."

Hicks sighed. "She has another lover. An actor. He was on tour with her, apparently."

"Oh, my."

"Did you know Emma Hardy went to see your father yesterday, Mrs. Hicks?"

"Yes." Her expression told him just how much she hated Emma Hardy.

"May I ask how you know that?"

"Really, Malloy," Hicks said. "What does that matter?"

Frank didn't bother to answer him. He just kept staring at Lynne Hicks, who finally said, "My brother told me. Because Father was so ill. He telephoned. He thought I should come, in case . . ." She dropped her gaze, apparently fighting tears.

"In case Mr. Wilbanks died," Hicks finished for her, not bothering to hide his disgust. "But of course, David wasn't dying at all. I think it was just wishful thinking on Ozzie's part."

"You must've been pretty surprised when you found out your father had decided to marry Miss Hardy," Frank said.

Mrs. Hicks's cheeks were flaming when she looked up again. "It was a . . . shock."

"I guess it was a shock to your brother, too."

"It was a shock to everyone, Mr. Malloy," Hicks said, still angry. "Of course, we only had Ozzie's word for it. Mr. Wilbanks was much too ill to confirm or deny it."

"Why would Ozzie lie about it?" Frank asked.

"He wouldn't," Hicks said, "but . . ."

"But we would have liked to have Father confirm it," Lynne Hicks said.

"So you didn't believe it?" Frank asked.

The couple exchanged a glance. "Let's just say, we hoped it wasn't true," he said.