Murder on Lenox Hill (11 page)

Frank was used to prejudice, but somehow he hadn't expected it from this man. “Do you think Roman Catholics sacrifice virgins, Reverend Upchurch?” he asked mildly.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “Mr. Malloy,” he said, having retaken control of his emotions, “Grace Linton was not attacked in this church.”

For a second Frank wasn't sure he'd heard him right. “What did you say?” he asked.

“I said Grace Linton,” he repeated impatiently. “That's the girl we're discussing, isn't it?”

“What makes you think so?” Frank challenged, beginning to think Upchurch must know more than he'd let on.

“You said she was a girl who didn't go to school. She's old enough to bear a child, but she couldn't tell who had attacked her. There's only one girl in the church who could fit that description.”

So much for Frank's efforts to protect her identity. “Her parents don't want anyone else to know.”

“Of course not. If they want to tell me, I'll pretend I had no idea. But she wasn't attacked here. As I said, the church is a busy place. Too many people are here at all times, or at least the times when Grace would have been here. Had she gone missing for any length of time, someone would have noticed, and had she cried out, someone would have heard.”

“Maybe she didn't cry out. Maybe she was too frightened.”

Reverend Upchurch sighed in exasperation. “And maybe it didn't happen here at all. Such an act requires a certain degree of privacy, the kind found in a private home, for example.”

“Do you think she was attacked at her home?” Frank asked with genuine curiosity. “You know Mr. Linton. Do you think he's capable of violating his own child?”

Reverend Upchurch's face lost its robust color, and his expression grew hard and distant. “One cannot tell just by looking at a man of what he is really capable, Mr. Malloy. I'd expect you to know that.”

He did, of course. He was just surprised Upchurch would so quickly assume the very worst about a man he must know well.

“Do you have any reason to believe Mr. Linton is responsible?”

Upchurch seemed to catch himself and consciously shake off his dark mood. “I certainly didn't mean to imply that. Mr. Linton is a fine Christian man. I can't imagine him doing anything of the kind.”

“You probably can't imagine anybody in your church doing it, because you only see people when they're in church and on their best behavior,” Frank pointed out.

“Is that what you really think?” he asked in surprise. “Don't let this collar fool you, Mr. Malloy. Ministers know all about the darkness of the soul and the evil of which man is capable. We see it every day. We counsel some of its victims, and we bury a few, and we baptize its babies. Churches are full of sinners, not saints, and I know too many men who would think nothing of harming a girl like Grace.”

“Maybe you could give me their names,” Frank suggested.

“I wish I could. I wish I knew who the guilty man is. I'd tie the millstone around his neck myself.”

“Millstone?”

“The Bible says a man who harms a child should have a millstone tied around his neck and be dropped into the sea.”

Since Grace's rapist would probably never be punished under the law, Frank thought this sounded like an ideal alternative. “I hope you'd call me before taking the law into your own hands, Reverend Upchurch.”

His handsome mouth quirked into a smile. “Don't worry. Millstones are hard to find in the city. Is there anything else I can do for you, Detective?”

“I'd like to talk to those boys in there,” he said, nodding toward the sanctuary, from which they could still faintly hear the shouts and laughter.

“Whatever for?” Upchurch asked, instantly protective.

“Since they're at the church a lot, they might've seen something.”

“I told you—”

“I know, you don't think it happened here, but the man might've seen her here first. Maybe he's been paying particular attention to her or watching her.”

“And you think those boys would've noticed?” Upchurch scoffed. “They're
boys
, Detective. They don't notice anything. Besides, I can't give you permission to speak to them. You'd have to ask their mothers, and then you'd have to explain to them why you wanted to speak with them, and soon rumors would be flying, and someone would guess about Grace, just as I did. I wouldn't want to be responsible for that.”

Frank wouldn't, either. He rose from his chair, knowing when he was defeated. “Thank you for your time, Reverend Upchurch.”

The minister shook his hand, and once again Frank was impressed by his grip. “I wish I could've been more help.”

“If you think of anything or remember someone who paid Grace particular attention, please let me know.” He gave the minister one of his cards and left, exiting back out into the sanctuary.

The moment Frank emerged into the sanctuary, the boys stopped their work and fell silent. They watched him warily as he moved down the aisle, six pairs of eyes full of mistrust, until he passed through the large double doors into the street.

He shouldn't feel like a failure. He'd known finding Grace Linton's attacker would be nearly impossible. He wouldn't even really be disappointed if he didn't have to tell Sarah Brandt.

 
 
F
OR ONCE SARAH HAD ENJOYED A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP, uninterrupted by a late night delivery. She was enjoying a leisurely second cup of coffee when her doorbell rang. Maeve and Aggie beat her to it, admitting a red-cheeked Frank Malloy.

“No, Brian's in school today,” he was explaining to the girls as Sarah came into the front room. “I'll bring him next time.”

Aggie pushed out her lower lip in a pout, but Malloy reached down and tickled her tummy until she giggled.

“Good morning, Malloy,” Sarah said, inexplicably happy just to see him.

“Good morning,” he replied, apparently pleased to see her, too.

“Maeve, take Mr. Malloy's coat, will you?” Sarah asked, and waited until he'd shed the coat and hat and muffler he'd worn against the winter chill.

“Come on upstairs, Aggie,” Maeve said when she'd taken care of his things. “Mrs. Brandt and Mr. Malloy will want to talk in private.”

Aggie lingered just a moment, making eyes at Malloy and inching closer and closer until he took the bait and gave her tummy another tickle. With a shriek of laughter, she turned and ran for the steps. Maeve followed, shaking her head at the child's antics.

“She likes you,” Sarah said. “And she's not afraid of you. Whatever happened to her, it didn't make her afraid of men.” They both knew only too well the horrors that could befall a small child in this vast city, and something had made Aggie mute with terror.

“Don't try to figure it out,” Malloy warned her. “Whatever it was, you're better off not knowing.”

“That's cowardly,” she argued.

“And safe,” he argued right back. “I visited the Lintons' church yesterday,” he added to change the subject.

“Oh, good. Come into the kitchen. The coffee is hot, although I'm afraid I don't have any pie to offer.”

“Maybe Mrs. Ellsworth saw me coming down the street and will bring some over,” he said with a sly grin.

This time Sarah shook her head and led him into the kitchen.

He was chafing his hands and rubbing the warmth back into his face while she poured him a cup of the coffee.

“Did you learn anything interesting?” she asked, taking her seat opposite him at the table.

“Their minister is interesting,” he said. “He's got a pack of boys who spend a lot of time at the church with him.”

“Boys without fathers,” Sarah remembered. “Mrs. Linton told me that. He doesn't have children of his own, apparently, so he looks after those who need a male influence.”

“Too bad more men in this city don't do the same thing,” Malloy said, probably thinking of the hundreds of homeless children running the streets of New York.

“What did you think of the boys? Could one of them have attacked Grace?”

“According to Upchurch, the minister, nothing like that could've happened at the church.”

“Upchurch? What an appropriate name,” she observed. “How can he be so sure?”

“Mainly, I think he just doesn't want to believe anyone in his church could do a thing like that, but he's right that an attack would take some time and some privacy, neither of which would be easy to find at the church.”

“I'd think there'd be lots of secret places at a church where it could happen,” Sarah said.

“But someone would notice if Grace went missing for any length of time, and if she cried for help, someone would've heard her.”

Sarah frowned, considering this possibility. “I suppose she'd have been upset and frightened afterwards, too. And her clothes would've been in disarray. Someone would have noticed that, at least, even if she hadn't been gone long and had been too scared to cry out.”

“Upchurch thinks it must've happened in a private home.”

Sarah considered this possibility. “But that would be the same situation. Grace only goes visiting with her mother, and she would have to disappear for a while and return disheveled and upset. Surely, her mother would have noticed if that had happened.”

“Unless it was her own home.”

“Are we back to Mr. Linton, because I can't believe—”

“I don't believe it, either,” he assured her. “But you may have to accept the fact that you might never find out.”

“And a rapist is free to hurt how many other girls?” she asked angrily.

“Now you know what it's like to be a policeman, Mrs. Brandt,” he informed her. “You don't always solve the crime.”

“Does that mean you're giving up?”

“That means I don't have any other places to look. Linton won't let me talk to Grace, and Upchurch told me that if I wanted to talk to the boys at the church, I'd have to get permission from their mothers, but then I'd have to explain that I think their sons might've raped a young girl, so I doubt they'd be too cooperative. I wouldn't get a very warm welcome if I showed up at church on Sunday morning and started questioning people in the pews, and it's probably not a good idea to go knocking on the doors of all Mrs. Linton's lady friends, either. Without a suspect, there's not much else I can do without upsetting a lot of respectable people and letting everybody know what happened to Grace in the bargain.”

Sarah sighed. He was right, of course. If they were dealing with criminals on the Lower East Side, Malloy's position as a detective would serve him well. On the
Upper
East Side, things were very different, though.

Malloy's brows lowered over his dark eyes. “What are you thinking?” he asked suspiciously.

“Just that . . . Well, what we need is someone who can mingle with these people without causing alarm,” she said. “Someone who could ask questions without having to get permission and who could quite properly visit Mrs. Linton's lady friends.”

“Someone like you,” he said. He didn't sound pleased.

“You know I'm right, Malloy.”

“Sarah,” he said, and she felt a small thrill, as she always did when he used her given name. “This doesn't have anything to do with you. Just take care of Grace Linton and deliver her baby.”

“And how many more babies will there be before this man is stopped? And how many young girls' lives ruined? I can't just sit by and do nothing.”

His expression was troubled, but she saw no trace of his usual anger. In fact, he almost looked resigned. Almost.

“It could be dangerous,” he warned. “A man like that won't give up without a fight. If he realizes what you're doing—”

“Malloy,” she said with a smile. “Be reasonable. I don't really have a chance of finding him, and you know it as well as I do, so how dangerous could it possibly be?”

He ran a hand over his face in exasperation, but she thought she glimpsed a trace of a smile before he caught himself. “I never thought I'd hear you admit that.”

“I'm not stupid, Malloy. I know the chances of finding this man are very small, but I can't just sit by and do nothing. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try.”

“All right, then. Go visit Mrs. Linton's friends and their church and make a pest of yourself, but if you find out anything important—anything at all!—promise you'll send for me.”

“Of course I will,” she promised. “And Malloy, don't worry. Remember, this isn't a murder.”

He muttered something that sounded like, “Thank God for that.”

 
 
A
FTER LUNCH, SARAH TOOK THE NINTH AVENUE ELEVATED train uptown and walked past the lower edge of Central Park into the Lenox Hill neighborhood. There she easily found the Church of the Good Shepherd, just as Malloy had described it. She'd timed her visit near the end of the school day, so she could meet the minister and explain her purpose and still be there when the boys Malloy had told her about arrived.

The sanctuary was empty, so Sarah located the stairs and went down to the church basement where experience told her she'd find some activity. She followed the sound of voices to a room where a group of women sat rolling bandages. To Sarah's relief, Mrs. Linton and Grace were not among them, but she did see a familiar face.

“Mrs. Brandt, is that you?” Susannah Evans asked, rising from her chair to welcome her. “What brings you here?”