Murder in Murray Hill (Gaslight Mystery) (28 page)

Broghan nodded, then turned to Malloy. “You see, I told you she was the one.”

Malloy shrugged. “I guess you’re right. Mrs. Brandt, would you tell the other women they can go?”

Sarah caught Joanna’s eye and saw the flash of fear. For a second, she doubted. For a second, she thought they’d tricked her. But Sarah gave her the smallest of smiles before opening the parlor door to go fetch the others. To her surprise, they were waiting right outside the door.

“I’m next,” Grace said, striding purposefully past Sarah into the parlor.

“We don’t need to see you, Miss Livingston,” Broghan said. “You can go.”

“You most certainly do need to see me. I need to tell you how I killed Pendergast.”

Broghan frowned in confusion. “This lady here just told me how she killed him, so you couldn’t have—”

“She’s just trying to protect me. I killed Pendergast. He was attacking me, so I killed him.”

“All right,” he said, willing to humor an obviously hysterical female. “Where did you get the knife?”

“I’d snuck down to the kitchen and stolen it. I’d hidden it in the parlor in case I had a chance to catch him unawares.”

“And did you?”

“No, not exactly, but he was furious, because my father had found me. He was beating me and I thought he was going to kill me before my father could get there, so I managed to get the knife from where I’d hidden it and slice it across his throat like he was always threatening to do to me.”

Broghan gave Malloy a long, knowing look. He knew Grace was lying, because they both knew from the way Pendergast’s throat was cut, from left to right, that his killer had been standing behind him. “Maybe you could show me how you did it, Miss Livingston.”

“How I did it?”

“Yes. Just pretend you’ve got a knife and that I’m Pendergast, standing in front of you, and show me how you did it.”

Grace looked down at her hands and closed one into a fist around the handle of an imaginary knife. Then she lifted it and pretended to draw the imaginary blade across Broghan’s throat . . . from left to right.

His eyes widened in shock. “You’re left-handed.”

G
race looked down at her fisted hand, then up at Sarah, obviously afraid she’d done something wrong.

“You’re left-handed,” Malloy said quickly. “So you held the knife in your left hand when you cut Pendergast’s throat. Isn’t that exactly how the medical examiner said his throat was cut, Broghan?”

Broghan simply nodded, never taking his gaze off Grace Livingston. Sarah was beginning to feel sorry for him.

Grace opened her fist, as if dropping the imaginary knife. “In school, they made me learn to write with my right hand. The teacher would smack me with a ruler if I forgot and used my left, but I still do most things with my left hand.”

“We’ll have to tell Doc Haynes he might’ve been wrong,” Malloy said.

Broghan shook himself, as if suddenly remembering why he was here. “What did you do with the knife?”

“I . . . I hid it.”

“Where? We searched that house top to bottom.”

Grace didn’t even blink. “I hid it very well.”

Broghan made an exasperated sound. “All right, why did you go to see Andy?”

“He sent me a note. He said he wanted money. He said he knew who’d killed Pendergast.”

“How did he know where to find you?”

“How should I know?”

A very good question, Sarah thought, resisting the urge to say so and upset Broghan even more.

“What happened to the note?”

“I burned it.”

“Of course you did.” He turned to Joanna, who stared at Grace with open admiration. “I suppose you burned your note, too?”

“Of course. I didn’t want Neth to see it.”

“So how did you kill Andy?” Broghan asked Grace.

She hesitated a moment, and Sarah held her breath, but Grace was only gathering herself. “I went to see him. I didn’t have any money to give him, so I thought I’d try to convince him not to betray me. He said . . . he said he’d think it over if I . . . if I did something. I knew he was lying, though, so luckily I’d gotten the knife from where I’d hidden it, and when he came at me, I stabbed him.”

Broghan stared at her for a long moment, then looked at Joanna again. Then he turned to Malloy. “I suppose this other woman has her own story.”

“I don’t know,” he said quite honestly, since Sarah was the one who had prepared the women. “Let’s ask her.”

Sarah helpfully opened the parlor doors and invited Rose Wolfe inside. She gave everyone in the room a quick glance and, apparently satisfied with what she saw, she said to Broghan, “I killed Pendergast.”

“Let me guess,” Broghan said, making no attempt to hide his disgust. “You got out of the cage, which wasn’t really locked. You got a knife from the kitchen, and then you went upstairs and cut Pendergast’s throat from behind.”

“He was busy beating Miss Livingston, so he didn’t hear me come in. Would you like me to show you how I did it?”

“No. So this Andy fellow, he sent you one of his notes, too?”

“Yes, he did.”

“But you burned it.”

“Of course I did. I didn’t want anyone to find it.”

“Did you give him any money?”

“A few dollars. That was all I had.”

“And he tried to take advantage of you, so you stabbed him. Where did you get the knife?”

“I’d hidden it after I killed Pendergast, but I got it before I met with Andy.”

“Where did you hide it?”

“In the cellar. I stuck it down the drain pipe.”

Broghan frowned at this. “How did you get it back out?”

She held out her arm, which was as long as a man’s but very slender. “It wasn’t far down. It had lodged where the pipe turns.”

“And he was going to take advantage of you?” Broghan asked without much enthusiasm.

“He started unbuttoning his pants and telling me what he wanted, so I waited until he came toward me, and I stabbed him.”

Broghan let his gaze drift from one woman to the next until he’d studied them all, including Sarah. Then he turned to Malloy. “You, come with me.”

Malloy followed him out of the room and out of the house.

When the front door closed behind them, Sarah realized she’d been holding her breath, and she let it out with a whoosh.

“Did it work?” Rose asked. “Do you think he believed us?”

“I think he didn’t have any choice,” Sarah said. “He knows two of you are lying, and he may even have a good idea which two, but as long as you stick to your stories, there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“I thought I would die when Mr. Malloy told you to send these two packing,” Joanna said.

“I’m sorry about that,” Sarah said.

“Are you all right?” Grace went to Joanna and knelt beside her chair. “You’ve been through a lot today.”

“Not so much,” she said, trying to smile.

“Well, it’s over now,” Rose said. “For all of us. Isn’t it, Mrs. Brandt?”

“I think so.”

“You’re trembling,” Grace said to Joanna.

“I’ll be fine.” She turned to Sarah. “When can we leave?”

“Now if you like,” Sarah said. “But you won’t get far on that ankle. Let us find a cab for you.”

“Nonsense,” Rose said. “Franchesca sent me in the carriage. We’ll take her wherever she wants to go.”

But Joanna shook her head. “I can get a cab.”

Sarah wasn’t fooled. “Where will you go, Joanna?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Would you go back with Neth?” Rose asked in astonishment.

Joanna glared at her. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. He was good to me.”

“Of course he was good to you,” Rose said. “You’re his mistress.”

“We can’t judge her,” Grace said.

“No, you can’t,” Joanna said. “You’ve got families who took you back. Neth took me out of that place. God knows what would’ve happened to me if he hadn’t.”

“I’ll find you a cab, Joanna,” Sarah said.

“You’ll never find one in this neighborhood,” Rose said, and Sarah knew she was probably right. Cabs might drop someone off here, but they’d think twice about picking someone up so near the notorious Mulberry Bend. “I’ll get the carriage, and we’ll take you wherever you want to go, Joanna. Grace is right. We can’t judge you, and I’m sorry for doing so.”

Rose went out, and the three women sat in awkward silence for a few moments.

“Someone should tell Neth,” Joanna finally said. “He’ll wonder.”

“I’ll go as soon you leave.”

“He’s not evil,” Joanna said. “He’s just weak.”

“You don’t have to settle for that,” Sarah said.

Joanna’s lips curled into a bitter smile, and she turned to where Grace still knelt beside her. “Look at her, telling me I don’t have to settle.”

Grace dropped her gaze and shook her head.

Joanna’s eyes were bleak when she turned back to Sarah. “You’re pretty.
You
don’t have to settle for anything. But the rest of us, we have to take what we can get. As long as Neth wants me, I’ll have food to eat and a roof over my head, and I’ll never have to open myself for any other man.”

Sarah hated the truths behind her words. “And what happens when he no longer wants you?” she asked as gently as she could.

“I’ll face that when it comes. It can’t be worse than what I’ve faced before.”

Sarah thought that might well be true, and she had no other arguments to make.

Rose returned, and she and Grace helped Joanna out to the carriage. When they were gone, Sarah thanked Mrs. Keller for her help, then walked down to Police Headquarters.

• • •

B
roghan was heading in the direction of Police Headquarters, but Frank wasn’t nearly as angry as he was, so he had a little trouble keeping pace. Broghan didn’t even look back to see if Frank was coming until he reached the front stoop and Tom the doorman opened the door for him.

Satisfied Frank was still behind him, he went inside.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Malloy,” Tom said. “Good to see you again.”

“Thanks, Tom. I wish I could say it’s good to be back.”

“You got some business with Detective Sergeant Broghan?”

“Sure do. And do me a favor. If I’m not out of here by nightfall, would you call an attorney for me?”

Tom chuckled at that, although Frank wasn’t positive it was a joke.

Inside, he found Broghan embroiled in a conversation with Neth, who had been waiting for them, thinking they were questioning Joanna inside.

“Malloy!” Neth cried when Frank entered. “What have you done with Joanna?”

“Nothing. In fact, she’s probably already on her way back home.”

“Home? Why didn’t you tell me you’d released her?”

Luckily, he didn’t wait for a reply, because Frank wasn’t sure he had a good one.

“Come with me,” Broghan said, even more furious now that Frank had saved him from Neth.

Broghan marched upstairs and went straight to the chief of detectives’ office, ignoring the sputtering protests of O’Brien’s secretary. O’Brien looked up and frowned at the interruption. Then he saw Frank and actually groaned aloud. “Malloy, I thought I was rid of you.”

“So did I,” Frank said with an apologetic smile.

“What’s this, then?”

“Ask Broghan. He brought me here.”

“He’s trying to put one over on us,” Broghan said. “The Pendergast case.”

O’Brien frowned. “The pervert who kept females in cages?”

Frank managed not to reveal how pleased he was at O’Brien’s description. The chief was a notoriously pious gentleman. “That’s the one.”

Broghan glared at him, then turned back to O’Brien. “He’s interfering.”

O’Brien raised his eyebrows. “In what way?”

“He’s gotten three of those females to confess to killing Pendergast.”

“Three? Malloy, is that true?” O’Brien asked in amazement.

“It’s true that three of them confessed, but it’s not my doing.”

“Whose doing is it, then?” Broghan demanded. “That woman of yours?”

Frank had already drawn back his arm to give Broghan a lesson he wouldn’t forget, when O’Brien jumped to his feet. “That’s enough, Broghan! You’ll show some respect in my office. Mrs. Brandt is a lady, and you’ll treat her as such, even when she isn’t present. Now apologize at once.”

Broghan looked like he would much rather swallow broken glass, but he said, “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful to Mrs. Brandt.” Then he turned to O’Brien. “But she was with them when I questioned them this afternoon.”

“That true, Malloy?” O’Brien asked, taking his seat again.

“This has been a very sensitive situation, after what the women went through. Mrs. Brandt has been doing what she can to help them.”

“And exactly why are you still involved with these women at all?” O’Brien asked.

“Because Grace Livingston’s father hired me as a private investigator to find her after I left the force.”

O’Brien ran a hand over his face. “Maybe you two should sit down and tell me exactly what’s been going on.”

Frank let Broghan do most of the talking, stopping him only to clarify or correct when necessary.

“And then all three of them tell me exactly how they killed Pendergast and the other fellow,” he concluded.

O’Brien considered the matter for several minutes. “Broghan, you told me about all the people Malloy talked to. Who did you talk to?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what did you do to investigate this case and figure out who the killer is?”

“I told you. I thought it was Grace Livingston until Doc Haynes said it couldn’t be her.”

“So you left it to Malloy to investigate?”

Broghan squirmed a bit in his chair. “He was getting paid to do it.”

O’Brien frowned. “Don’t we pay you to investigate crimes, too?”

“That’s not what I . . . You know what I mean!”

“I’m afraid I do. So you’re telling me you made no effort to figure out who killed this Pendergast character, and now you’re complaining because Malloy has found three killers who have even confessed?”

“Yes, I am, because we can’t bring three people to trial for the same murder!”

“That’s true,” O’Brien said. “So you think the women got together and decided to all confess so we wouldn’t know which one really did it?”

“Of course they did,” Broghan said. “And Malloy put them up to it.”

“Malloy, is that true?”

Frank shook his head. “I’d already figured out which one I thought it was, and then one of the women hired a lawyer. After that, they all claimed to have done it.”

“A lawyer,” O’Brien said. “I should’ve known. So, Broghan, how important do you think it is to punish one of these women for killing a piece of scum like Pendergast?”

Broghan straightened in his chair. He might have been a worthless drunk, but he wasn’t stupid, and no one could have mistaken O’Brien’s unspoken message. “Well, when you put it like that, sir, not important at all.”

“That’s exactly how I’m putting it. So you’ll pigeonhole this case, and if anybody ever asks you about it, you send them to me.”

Broghan shot Frank a black look, but he said, “Yes, sir.”

“And Malloy?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you going to keep interfering in police investigations?”

“Not if I can help it, sir.”

“That’s too bad.”

• • •

M
rs. Brandt, how nice to see you,” Tom said as he opened the door for her at Police Headquarters. “Are you looking for Mr. Malloy?”

“Is he here?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. He came in with Detective Sergeant Broghan. He said to send for an attorney if he wasn’t out by sundown,” he reported with a smile.

“The same goes for me, then,” she told him, smiling back. “I’m really looking for a man named Vernon Neth. He was waiting for his lady friend.”

“Nicely dressed gentleman? Kind of a weak chin?”

“The same.”

“He ran out of here just after Mr. Malloy went inside.”

“Well, then, I’ll just wait inside for Mr. Malloy.”

Inside, the desk sergeant greeted her and asked how she was doing. They were still chatting when Malloy and Broghan came back downstairs. Broghan didn’t look quite as annoyed as he had earlier, although he didn’t linger to chat.

When they were back out on the street, Malloy told her what had happened.

“O’Brien actually said he was sorry you wouldn’t be interfering in any more police cases?” she said.

“He might’ve just been joking.”