Murder on Fifth Avenue: A Gaslight Mystery (12 page)

Donatelli stepped forward and took the hand, nodding respectfully. “Thank you for seeing us, Don Angotti.”

“How is your mother?”

“She’s very well. She said to tell you she is baking you a
cassata
to thank you for your help.”

“I should tell you that isn’t necessary, but I like your mother’s
cassata
too much to do that.”

They both chuckled.

“You have brought someone to see me,” Angotti said.

Angotti’s accent was slight but unmistakable. Frank suddenly realized they were speaking English for his benefit.

“Yes, Don Angotti. This is Detective Sergeant Malloy, the man I told you about.”

Frank stepped forward and waited for Angotti to size him up. Angotti wasn’t a big man, but his dark eyes were shrewd and cunning. He didn’t have to use his muscles to get what he wanted. The suit he wore probably cost more than Frank
made in a month, and Felix Decker probably didn’t own a finer one. His shirt was pristine.

“Gino speaks highly of you, Detective Sergeant Malloy.”

“Officer Donatelli is one of our finest men.”

Angotti’s lip curled. “It is a pity to waste him on the police department.”

Frank refused to be baited. He merely nodded.

Donatelli cleared his throat. “Mr. Malloy would like to ask you some questions.”

“And I will decide if I answer them or not.”

“Of course,” Frank said. “You know we are investigating the death of Chilton Devries.”

“So Gino tells me.”

“He had an appointment with you the day he died.”

“Did he?”

“He thought so. The question is, did you see him that day?”

Angotti’s gaze was sharp as broken glass. “And if I did?”

“Mr. Angotti, Chilton Devries died because somebody stabbed him in the back.”

“Gino told me he died at his club. Have you questioned the men he saw there?”

“He died there, but he was stabbed someplace else. He was stabbed with something long and thin…like an ice pick.”

“Or a stiletto, Gino tells me.”

“Or a stiletto. He probably didn’t know how badly he was injured, and he didn’t bleed much on the outside. But he did bleed to death, and he died at his club, but he’d been stabbed earlier in the day.”

“And you think I stabbed him?” He seemed only mildly concerned.

“No, but Mr. Devries was a wealthy man with lots of powerful friends. His family is telling them that he came to see
you that day, and then he died. I believe his family and his friends would be happy to blame you for killing him.”

“Because I am a foreigner.”

“Because you’re not one of them.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want to find out who did kill him, and I need your help.”

Angotti frowned. “I do not understand you, Mr. Malloy. Why do you not want to blame me when everyone else does?”

“I told you, I want to find out who really did it.”

“And you do not think I did?”

“No, I think you’re too smart to kill someone like Chilton Devries, even if you wanted to, and I can’t figure out any reason why you would.”

“That is because you did not know Mr. Devries very well. If you did, you could figure out many reasons.”

“Are you saying you had a reason to kill him?”

“Not personally, but I know things about him that make me glad he is dead.”

“Could you tell me what those things are?”

“Why should I?”

“So I can find out who really killed him and make sure nobody bothers you about it.”

“Why would you do this for me?”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it because I want to find out the truth.”

Angotti chuckled again. “No man cares so much for the truth, Mr. Malloy. Why are you really doing it?”

“Because one of Devries’s powerful friends asked me to, and he does care for the truth.”

“Would this friend not be happy to find out a foreigner killed Mr. Devries?”

“He would be very happy, but only if it was true.”

“I would like to meet this friend. He sounds like a man worth knowing.”

Frank let a moment go by, in case Angotti had something else to say. “So, did you see Devries yesterday?”

“He came here, yes.”

“I know he’d seen you before. Can you tell me what he wanted?”

Angotti studied Frank with his sharp gaze. “He wanted me to kill someone.”

Frank blinked, and Gino Donatelli gasped.

“Who? Why?”

Angotti smiled, amused by their reaction. “I would be very foolish to tell you who I killed, would I not?”

He would, indeed, even though Frank knew he wouldn’t have done the work himself.

Before Frank could figure out how to answer him, Angotti said, “Yes, I would be foolish to tell you if I had killed someone, but I did not, Mr. Malloy. Would you like to know why?”

“Yes, I would.” Frank was glad to hear his voice didn’t sound as flustered as he felt.

“Mr. Devries came to see me. He thought I was a man who would do anything for money. He did not have respect for me. He told me a story about a woman. He told me she was evil and had done terrible things. He wanted me to have her killed.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I did not believe Mr. Devries. I thought the story he told me about this woman was a lie, but I did not say this to him. Instead I went to see this woman. She told me a very different story, and I believed her.”

“So she’s still alive.”

“She was when I last saw her.”

“When was that?”

“A few days ago. Then Mr. Devries came to see me yesterday. He was going to pay me for killing this woman, but I told him I did not kill her. I told him he was a liar.”

Frank couldn’t help grinning at the image of Angotti calling Devries a liar. “I guess he was mad.”

“Yes, but he could do nothing about it.” Angotti gestured to indicate the men standing around the room.

“And a few hours later, he was dead.” Then Frank had an unsettling thought. “Could he have gone to see this woman himself?”

Angotti’s eyes widened. “You think he may have killed her himself?”

“And maybe she was the one who stabbed him. Do you remember what time he left here?”

Angotti looked over at his men, who had a brief discussion in Italian. “Around noon.”

Frank wasn’t sure exactly when Devries had arrived at his club, but if he’d had the time…“Can you tell me where to find this woman?”

Angotti gestured to one of his men who gave Frank an address not too far from where Norah English lived.

“What is this woman’s name?” Frank asked.

“Mrs. Richmond. I am sure you will enjoy her story as much as I did.”

F
RANK DIDN’T REALLY EXPECT
F
ELIX
D
ECKER TO BE AT
home yet. In fact, he was hoping he wasn’t. He really wanted to talk to Mrs. Decker. She apparently wanted to speak to him, too, because she only kept him waiting a few minutes in the
small receiving room before the maid escorted him up to the parlor. Not the front parlor, either, but the one the family used for every day. Mrs. Decker no longer considered him company.

“Mr. Malloy, how delightful to see you,” she said, giving him her hand when the maid had shown him in. “I’m sorry my husband isn’t home yet, but I expect him within the hour if you’d like to wait.”

“Thank you, I would.”

She smiled conspiratorially. “Good. I ordered coffee, unless you’d like something stronger.”

“Coffee is fine.”

“Please, have a seat and tell me what you’ve been up to. I went to Sarah’s house earlier today, but she’s out on a delivery.”

She sat with him on one of the comfortable sofas, her lovely face alight with interest. Frank couldn’t help noticing how much she and Sarah looked alike, except for the spark of spirit that made Sarah different from all the other rich women he’d met. He thought maybe living a lifetime in luxury killed that spirit, and Sarah had escaped just in time. Then again, maybe she was the only one who had it, and that’s why she had escaped in the first place.

“I’ve been learning some things about Mr. Devries that aren’t very nice.”

“Oh, dear. But I guess that isn’t surprising. Nice people seldom get murdered, do they?”

Frank couldn’t help grinning. “No, they don’t. I haven’t had a chance to find out how your visit with Mrs. Devries went.”

“I’m afraid we didn’t learn very much that will be of use to you.”

“Did you learn anything at all?”

Mrs. Decker frowned. “Let me see. We learned that Garnet and Paul have been married for two years but have no children.
This is a source of disappointment for Mrs. Devries, who wants to see the family name continue. Oh, and Garnet expressed a desire to get to know Sarah better. She was very interested in Sarah’s work.”

“Her work as a midwife?”

“Yes, she may hope Sarah can help her have a child, although Sarah insists she can’t.”

“Did she tell Garnet Devries that?”

“No. We didn’t actually discuss the subject, you understand. This is all conjecture, the part about her wanting Sarah’s help, I mean. Sarah disagrees.”

“What does she think Garnet wants?”

“She doesn’t know, but Maeve told me Garnet visited her earlier today, just before Sarah went out to the delivery, so perhaps we’ll find out when she returns. Oh, and we learned Garnet’s family is from the south, Virginia I believe she said. Her father moved the family here because of his business and tried to join the Knickerbocker Club, which is how he met Chilton. I gather Chilton met the rest of the family and decided Garnet would be a suitable wife for Paul.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“What? Trying to join the Knickerbocker?”

“No, parents choosing a mate for their child. I thought only kings and queens did that.”

Mrs. Decker smiled. “I never thought of it that way, although…Well, you probably remember poor Consuelo Vanderbilt’s marriage to an English duke last year. That was certainly an arranged marriage. Consuelo was only eighteen and most likely had no desire to marry a man a foot shorter than she was who lived all the way across the ocean from her friends and family, but Alva—Alva is her mother, you know—
insisted she was doing it so Consuelo would have an opportunity to live a much more interesting life.”

“How would her life be more interesting?”

Mrs. Decker shrugged delicately. “I’m not sure, having never actually met a duchess, you understand, but according to Alva, upper-class women in Europe have many more interests than American women. They are even active in politics. Maybe …”

“Maybe what?”

“This will sound silly, but maybe I should have married Sarah off to a duke.”

Frank could see her point. If Sarah had found her prospects as the wife of a rich man the least bit interesting, she probably wouldn’t have married a poor doctor and become a midwife. “And she wouldn’t be an embarrassment to you now.”

“Oh, Mr. Malloy, you mustn’t think I’m ashamed of her,” she said, the color rising in her fair cheeks. “I’m very proud of her, in fact. I just…I worry about her, you know, traveling around the city at all hours. She does without so many things, too.”

“I don’t think she minds.”

“Of course she doesn’t, but…You must think me very shallow.”

“No, not at all.” Once he had. Now he knew her better.

“I didn’t really mean that, about marrying her to a duke. But sometimes I think how different things might have been if she could have been content with her lot in life. But you didn’t come here to listen to my regrets. To answer your question, no, we don’t typically arrange marriages, at least not in America, but parents do take a hand in these matters.”

“How?”

“By making sure our children socialize with only the right people. By pointing out a certain young man’s good qualities. By letting the child know how happy such a union would make us. Parents can be very influential.”

“So you think that’s what happened with Paul and Garnet Devries?”

She had to consider this. “I suppose at first I just assumed that when Chilton met Garnet, he thought Paul would like her, too, so he brought them together. Then the two young people fell in love on their own, as attractive young people often do.”

“Do you still think that?”

“Now that you’ve asked me about it, no, I don’t. The way Garnet told it, I got the idea she and Paul—or at least
she
—didn’t have much say in the matter. She certainly doesn’t seem very happy, either, although that might not be Paul’s fault. I haven’t seen them together, so I can’t judge.”

“I have, and he’s sure not doing much to help.”

Before she could reply, the coffee arrived. Mrs. Decker served them both, and then said, “I know you’ve been investigating, too. What have you discovered?”

Which reminded Frank of why he’d come here in the first place. “Do you know a woman named Mrs. Richmond?”

“Richmond?” She frowned, then rose and went to a desk on the far side of the room. She returned with a small book bound in rose-colored leather. As she flipped through it, he saw it contained names and addresses. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I didn’t think the name sounded familiar, but I wanted to be sure. Who is this Mrs. Richmond?”

Frank told her about Devries having an appointment with Salvatore Angotti on the day he died and what Angotti had told him about Devries wanting to have Mrs. Richmond murdered.

“Oh, my,” she said for at least the third time during his narrative. “Do you think this Italian gentleman could be lying? Maybe he stabbed Chilton himself and is just trying to divert your attention.”

“Anything’s possible, but a man like Angotti always looks after his own best interest first. Killing a man like Devries would not be in his own best interest, especially because Devries was no threat to him.”

“Yes, I see. What would Mr. Angotti get out of killing Chilton except a lot of trouble?”

Frank nodded, glad to see Mrs. Decker was as insightful as her daughter.

“Would you like me to go see this Mrs. Richmond?”

“No!”
Frank saw the flash of disappointment in her eyes and instantly felt guilty for his vehement response. “I mean, that won’t be necessary. I just wanted to find out everything I could about her before going to see her. If she’s a society lady like you, I’d have to be more careful about how I approach her.”