Murder on Fifth Avenue: A Gaslight Mystery (8 page)

“Oh, no. Or at least, he isn’t on our payroll.”

“Who is he, then?” Watkins asked.

“He assists us with…difficult cases. When someone refuses to move out, for instance. We rarely have that situation,” Pitt hastened to explain to Frank. “Most people, when they can’t pay the rent, they stay as long as they possibly can, until they can’t put us off any longer, and when we come back the next day, they’ve vanished. They’re embarrassed, you see. Or afraid we’ll get the law on them or something. Many of them are from countries where the authorities are worse than the criminals.”

Frank had often thought that was true in New York City, too, but he didn’t say so. “Sometimes they don’t vanish, though.”

“Yes, and then…Well, it’s foolish to put our employees
in danger. People like that can be unpredictable and…well, dangerous.”

“And that’s when Mr. Angotti helps you.”

“Yes. Mr. Angotti enjoys…respect,” he said, choosing the word with obvious care. “When people learn he is involved, they usually behave reasonably.”

Frank nodded, comprehending the situation only too well. “Why would Mr. Devries have gone to see this Angotti?”

Pitt suddenly looked very uncomfortable, and he glanced at Watkins as if for guidance.

“What is it, Pitt?” Watkins asked.

“I…I had no idea Mr. Devries knew Mr. Angotti.”

“And yet he did,” Frank said.

Pitt’s gaze shifted to Frank but didn’t quite meet his before it darted away again. “I can’t imagine how he would. Mr. Angotti…Well, he isn’t the kind of person a man like Mr. Devries would know, is he?”

“I don’t know what kind of people Mr. Devries might know,” Frank said, “but he did know Angotti. Did you introduce them?”

The color drained from Pitt’s face. “Certainly not! Mr. Devries would never ask me for an introduction to anyone.”

But Frank would have sworn that Devries had done just that, however much Pitt didn’t want to admit it. The question was, did he not want to admit it in front of Watkins or in front of Frank?

“There you have it, Mr. Malloy,” Watkins was saying. “You must be mistaken about this Angotti fellow knowing Mr. Devries.”

“How can I get in touch with this Angotti?” Frank asked Pitt.

Pitt’s hands were shaking now. He clasped them tightly together to hide it. “Why would you want to do that?”

“What do you care?”

Pitt glanced at Watkins again but received no assistance from that quarter. “I wouldn’t want Mr. Angotti to become offended. He might…He might begin to work against us in the community.”

“You mean he might burn down your buildings?” Frank asked.

Pitt blinked several times. “I just meant he might refuse to help us in the future.”

“I’m sure if you continue to pay for his services, he will continue to help,” Watkins said. “Those people all have their price.”

Pitt flushed. “May I go now, Mr. Watkins? I’m very busy.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you for your assistance.”

Frank didn’t thank him because he hadn’t been that helpful. He hadn’t even told Frank where to find Angotti.

Which gave him a good excuse to see Pitt again before he left.

S
ARAH WATCHED IN FASCINATION AS
G
ARNET
D
EVRIES’S
expression smoothed out again, all trace of the emotion that had caused her to glare so murderously at her mother-in-law vanquished. Whatever she felt about her in-laws, her face now revealed none of it. She turned a bland smile to Sarah.

“I don’t think we’ve met before, Mrs. Brandt.”

“No, we haven’t. I don’t move in the same social circles as my mother.”

“Sarah hasn’t been in society for years now,” Mrs. Devries said. “Ever since she married.”

Sarah didn’t even glance at Mrs. Devries, not wanting to give the impression she was ashamed of not wasting her life
as a society matron. “I married a physician, and I’ve been very happy in my new life.”

“I know your parents were disappointed that you refused to return home after your husband died,” Mrs. Devries said.

Sarah sensed her mother stiffen beside her at the implied criticism of Sarah’s choice. “We would have loved having Sarah return to our home when Dr. Brandt died, but I must admit, I’m very proud of the way she has managed on her own. I could never have done such a thing at her age.”

Sarah could hardly believe her mother was defending her. She felt a warm glow to know after so many years that her mother admired her.

“How
do
you manage?” Garnet asked, leaning forward. “To support yourself, I mean.”

Sensing her question was more than idle curiosity, Sarah said, “I’m a midwife.”

Surprise and something else flickered across Garnet’s face and then was gone. “How interesting.”

“I should hate it myself,” Mrs. Devries said. “I can’t think of anything more unpleasant than listening to women screaming in agony all the time.”

Sarah bit back the words she wanted to say. Arguing with Mrs. Devries would be pointless, and she didn’t want to distress her mother by debating with her friend.

“I’d like to hear about it,” Garnet said. “Perhaps—”

“You wouldn’t like to hear about it at all,” Mrs. Devries said. “You can find out everything you need to know when you have your own children. Until then, the less you hear about it, the better.”

Once again, Garnet glared at her mother-in-law, but Mrs. Devries wasn’t paying attention.

“What a lovely gown, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Devries said. “Who
made it for you? All my mourning clothes are sadly out of fashion, and I’m going to need something new.”

For a few minutes the two women discussed the relative merits of dressmakers as Sarah surreptitiously studied Garnet. She had folded her hands in her lap and again smoothed all trace of emotion from her face. Sarah thought this would be a useful skill to acquire if she had to live with Mrs. Devries.

Sarah’s mother asked about the funeral arrangements, and Mrs. Devries explained they had to wait until the police returned the body. She had no idea how long that would take.

“I suppose Paul will be taking his father’s position in the company,” Sarah said, hoping to find out something useful to help Malloy.

“Oh, heavens, no,” Mrs. Devries replied.

“Paul has no head for business,” Garnet said.

Mrs. Devries flushed. “That isn’t the reason at all.”

Garnet frowned with apparent confusion. “Isn’t it? I’ve heard Father Devries say so a hundred times.”

Mrs. Devries flushed scarlet. “Silly girl! I don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, no, Paul simply has no interest in commerce. His tastes are too refined for that. Putting him in an office would be a waste of his talents.”

“What talents are those, Mother Devries?”

This time Mrs. Devries glared at Garnet, who seemed as unconcerned as her mother-in-law had been at her evil looks.

“Where are you from originally?” Sarah’s mother asked Garnet with a hint of desperation in her apparent eagerness to change the subject. “I don’t know that I ever heard how you and Paul came to meet.”

“She’s from Virginia.” Mrs. Devries waved her hand dismissively.

“We moved here when I was still in school,” Garnet said. “My father was in the importing business.”

“He tried to join the Knickerbocker.” The glow of satisfaction in Mrs. Devries’s eyes indicated he had failed. “That was how he met Chilly.”

“And when he met me,” Garnet said, “he decided I would be perfect for…Paul.”

Sarah felt a chill at the tone of her voice, but her expression betrayed nothing. Garnet could have been carved from stone.

Mrs. Devries nodded a bit too enthusiastically. “That’s right, although Paul could have married anyone at all. Such an accomplished young man and so handsome. Many girls were bitterly disappointed when he married Garnet, I can assure you.”

“One certainly was,” Garnet said and smiled at Sarah. “Do you have an office, Mrs. Brandt? Do women come to see you?”

“Some of my patients do, although they prefer I go to them. But I have an office in my home on Bank Street. I should be happy if you called on me sometime.”

“There’s no point in that,” Mrs. Devries said. “She’ll never have any use for a midwife. She’s barren.”

Sarah’s mother gasped in shock at the casual cruelty of the remark. Sarah quickly said, “I meant a social call. I’m sure my mother would say that I have neglected my old friends dreadfully, and I would be happy to make a new one.”

“Oh, yes,” Elizabeth Decker said. “I would love for Sarah to have more friends. She spends entirely too much time working.”

“And taking care of my daughter.”

Mrs. Devries frowned. “I didn’t know you had a child.”

“Sarah has adopted a little girl from a settlement house,” her mother said.

“How very noble of her,” Mrs. Devries said without much conviction.

“I’m sure she brings you a lot of joy,” Garnet said.

“Yes, she does. I’d love for you to meet her.” Sarah didn’t think she could be any clearer that she wanted Garnet Devries to visit her.

“Garnet won’t be meeting anyone for a while,” Mrs. Devries said. “Not while we’re in mourning, at any rate.” If she saw the flash of irritation that crossed Garnet’s face, she gave no indication. Instead she asked Sarah’s mother her opinion of hymns they might sing at Mr. Devries’s funeral, effectively turning the topic to something she could control.

After a few more minutes of polite conversation, Sarah and her mother took their leave. Sarah didn’t think she imagined the warmth in Garnet’s parting words, spoken so softly no one else could hear them.

“I hope to see you very soon, Mrs. Brandt.”

How interesting that Garnet was as anxious to see Sarah as she was to see her.

When she and her mother were safely ensconced in the Decker family carriage, where no one could overhear them, Sarah said, “I don’t think we learned anything helpful.”

“No, Lucretia is much too clever for that, but you made a friend of the younger Mrs. Devries.”

“I hope so. She wants to visit me. Do you think she could just be lonely?”

Her mother sniffed. “Living in that house? Of course she’s lonely, but I thought it was more than that. She seemed drawn to you.”

“Maybe she thinks I can help her have a child.”

“Can you?”

Sarah frowned. “Some midwives claim they can, but there’s really nothing I can do. Nothing
anyone
can do except pray.”

“What do these other midwives do, then, if they claim they can help?”

“Oh, they make up foul-tasting potions or teas and have women drink them. Or they tell them to put charms under their mattresses and things like that.”

“But if nothing really works—”

“A certain number of women will conceive after doing what a midwife told them to do, even if it’s nothing more than coincidence. I’m sure the herbs or the charms had nothing to do with it, but who can say? People believe what they want to believe, don’t they?”

“I suppose you’re right. I’ve seen people given up for dead get well and people die from something very minor. Perhaps if Garnet Devries believes you can help her conceive, she will.”

“Maybe, but …”

“But what?” her mother asked.

“I wonder if that’s really why she wants to see me.”

F
RANK HAD TO PRETEND TO LEAVE THE OFFICE BUILDING
to escape Mr. Watkins’ scrutiny, but as soon as he reached the lobby, he claimed to have forgotten something. The elevator operator was only too glad to take him to the floor where Mr. Pitt worked when Frank explained he needed to ask him one more question.

Frank followed the operator’s instructions and easily found Pitt’s office, a small room lined with shelves crammed full of ledgers.

Pitt was not happy to see him. “What do you want?”

Frank just smiled, watching Pitt mop his damp forehead with a snowy white handkerchief.

“I can send for Mr. Watkins,” Pitt said, as if it were a threat.

“Go ahead. I’m sure he’ll be interested to find out you introduced Mr. Devries to the man who killed him.”

All the remaining color drained out of Pitt’s sweaty face. “I didn’t introduce them!”

“Brought them together, then. Why did Mr. Devries want to meet this Angotti?”

Pitt jumped out of his chair and closed the door of his office after checking the corridor for possible eavesdroppers. “You can’t tell anyone I was involved with this.”

“I won’t need to tell anybody anything if you answer my questions.”

“But I don’t know a thing about Mr. Devries’s death.”

“Just tell me what you do know, but maybe you better sit down first. You don’t look very good.”

Pitt sank back into his chair and mopped his forehead again. His handkerchief was getting a little limp. “Please, I told you—”

“When did Devries ask you to introduce him to Angotti?”

“He didn’t.”

Frank took a step toward him, and the man squeaked in terror and threw up his hands as if to ward off a blow. “He didn’t ask me to introduce them! I already told you that. He just …” He lowered his hands a bit and peered at Frank as if to judge his intent.

Frank waited, making no further threatening moves.

Pitt drew a deep breath. “He asked if I knew someone who could help him with a particular matter.”

“What kind of matter?”

“He didn’t actually say, but…Well, he led me to believe it might involve violence. He asked me who I used to handle the troublesome tenants. That was the word he used,
troublesome
.”

“So you told him about Angotti.”

“Yes, but I made sure Mr. Devries understood that Mr. Angotti doesn’t actually do the work himself. He has men under him. They are the ones who …” He gestured vaguely.

“Who handle the troublesome tenants.”

Pitt swallowed. “Yes.”

“So did you set up a meeting or what?”

“I…Yes, I arranged for Mr. Devries to meet with Mr. Angotti in a restaurant in Little Italy.”

“Were you there?”

“Of course not. I merely delivered the invitation to Mr. Angotti.”

“When did they meet?”

“About a month ago, I think. At least that was when their meeting was scheduled. I have no way of knowing if it even took place.”