Murder on Gramercy Park by Victoria Thompson Page B

gonna arrest me?”
    “I don’t think you killed your father, Calvin, but you may be able to help me find out who did.”
    “How?”
    “You can start by showing me the poster that was sent to your mother, if you still have it.”
    “I do. I even have the envelope, but it won’t help you none.”
    “I’ll be the judge of that. Let’s go to your lodging house. I’ll take care of your rent while we’re there.” The boy might be innocent, but Frank didn’t trust him not to run if he had the means, so he wasn’t going to give him money directly.
    They went out into the hall to find Amos Potter waiting on a bench in the entrance hall. He jumped to his feet.
    “Where are you taking him?” Potter demanded. “Are you arresting him?”
    “Not yet, Mr. Potter,” Frank said, noticing the boy’s alarm.
    “Why not?” Potter was outraged. “You know he’s the one who killed Edmund! He’s the only one who had a reason.”
    “I don’t think we can be sure of that. But don’t worry, Mr. Potter, Calvin will be in safekeeping in the meantime. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.”
    Plainly unhappy, Potter reluctantly stepped aside and allowed them to leave. Frank was sure he’d have a few choice words to say later about the way Frank was handling the case, but he’d worry about that when it happened.
     
    W HEN SARAH CAME downstairs after checking on her patients, she was furious to discover that Malloy had left with the boy. She’d intended to comer the detective and demand an account of what he’d learned. Now she’d have to find out later.
    She collected her things, and Granger asked if he should summon the carriage for her.
    “That won’t be necessary. It’s a lovely day, and I’d prefer to walk. I’ll be back in the morning to see how the baby is doing,” she told him.
    “That wouldn’t be a convenient time,” Granger told her. “Dr. Blackwell’s funeral is being held here at ten o’ clock.”
    Why hadn’t she expected this? Now she’d be sure to be here tomorrow. She wouldn’t miss Blackwell’s funeral for anything. “Thank you, Granger,” she said, not telling him of her plans.
    On the way home, Sarah mulled over the things she had learned from Amos Potter. She would have to share this information with Malloy, although she thought he probably knew most of it already. What he might not know was the difference in the versions of the truth that she had heard today. Potter insisted that Letitia had been happy to speak at Blackwell’s lectures, and Sarah knew that Letitia had hated it so much she’d needed to use morphine just to get through them.
    Did Potter know her true feelings? Was he trying to protect her, or did he honestly believe she was that devoted to her husband? Fortunately, it wasn’t her job to find the answers. She could simply collect observations and pass them along to Malloy. He hadn’t wanted her involved in this case, but here she was, in up to her eyebrows just the same. She hoped he’d be grateful for her help after all, but if he wasn’st, it didn’t matter. She was going to help him anyway.
    A quarter of an hour later she reached Bank Street, and as she strolled toward her front steps, she saw her elderly next-door neighbor, Mrs. Ellsworth, come out with her broom and begin to sweep.
    No dirt ever had a chance to collect on Mrs. Ellsworth’s front steps because she was out there ten times a day sweeping. She used this activity as an excuse to encounter everyone who passed by. Sarah wondered when she had a chance to do her inside housework since she always seemed to be watching out her front window for any activity that required her attention in the neighborhood.
    “Hello, Mrs. Brandt!” she called cheerfully.
    “How are you today, Mrs. Ellsworth?” Sarah replied. Since Mrs. Ellsworth had once saved her life, Sarah would indulge her whenever she could.
    “Oh, I’m feeling quite cheerful, Mrs. Brandt. My apron fell off this morning, and