Murder on Fifth Avenue: A Gaslight Mystery by Victoria Thompson Read Free Book Online Page B

when I finished up with the servants. That’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow, that and trying to find this Salvatore Angotti.”
    “The Italian,” Maeve said.
    “What kind of business would Mr. Devries have with an Italian?” Sarah asked.
    “The valet didn’t know, and he made it clear Devries didn’t socialize with people like that.”
    “Of course not, but…I wonder if my father would know this…What was his name again?”
    “Angotti. How would your father know somebody like that?”
    “If Devries did, maybe he’s involved in some business in the city.”
    Malloy’s expression told her how unlikely he thought this was.
    Sarah shrugged. “Maybe he owns a restaurant or something. What other explanation can you think of for why Devries would be meeting with him?”
    “Maybe Mr. Devries wanted him to kill someone for him,” Maeve said.
    They gaped at her.
    “Don’t look at me like that. You know about the Black Hand. That’s what they do, isn’t it?”
    Sarah knew it very well. They’d encountered the secret group before. “The Black Hand usually only preys on other Italians, though.”
    “Things are changing,” Malloy said. “Maeve may be right, but even if she is, you aren’t going to even mention Angotti’s name to anybody at the Devrieses’ house or anywhere else. All you have to do is find out what you can about his family. I’ll take care of the rest.”
    “What do you want us to find out exactly?” Sarah asked.
    “Why he was arguing with his wife and son on the morning he died, but most of all, why Garnet Devries laughed when she heard he was dead.”
    F RANK WONDERED IF ANYONE HAD TOLD M ISS N ORAH English that her protector was dead. He couldn’t imagine the Devries family thinking of it or doing it if they had. They might not even know she existed. Did Felix Decker know about Miss English? And if so, would he have taken it upon himself to inform her? Frank couldn’t imagine that either. So the chances were good he would be the one to break the news and find out just what Miss English thought of Devries.
    Although the city had been bustling busily for several hours, Frank’s visit was still extremely early for a social call.The window shades on the small house on Mercer Street had not yet been raised, giving the impression the house was still asleep.
    A maid answered his thundering knock. The stout woman, past middle-aged, seemed harried and not at all pleased to see him. She adjusted her cap, cheeks red from exertion. Or something. She looked him over with a critical—and disapproving—eye. “Who’re you?”
    “Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy with the New York City Police. I need to see Miss English right away.”
    Her eyes widened when he said
police
, but then her face settled back into a scowl. “Miss English ain’t receiving visitors.”
    “I’m not a visitor. This is police business. Tell her I need to speak to her about Mr. Devries.”
    “You can’t scare me. I know the police don’t have no business with Mr. Devries.”
    “They do if he’s been murdered.”
    Her red face went slack. “The devil, you say!”
    Frank slapped the partially opened door and gave it a shove, sending her staggering back, then stepped into the tiny foyer. “Go tell Miss English I need to see her.”
    “She ain’t even awake yet!”
    “Then wake her up and get her down here.”
    He could see she was starting to realize the ramifications to her and her mistress. “I ain’t gonna tell her he’s dead.”
    “Please don’t. Just tell here there’s been some trouble. I’ll be happy to break the news to her myself.”
    “Dear God in heaven, what’ll become of us now?” she muttered.
    Frank had no answer for that.
    She shut the door behind him. “You can wait in the parlor.”She nodded toward the doorway to his left and trudged off to the back of the house.
    Frank removed his hat and coat and hung them on the coat tree by the door. Then he took the opportunity to look around.