“Who is this ‘we’ you mentioned?” her father asked.

“What?” Sarah asked in confusion.

“You said ‘we’ are going to find the killer. What did you mean? You aren’t involved with that policeman again, are you?”

Sarah sighed wearily. “Mother already warned me not to let him seduce me, Father. I promise you, you have nothing to worry about on that score. I only meant that Mr. Malloy is working to find the killer, and I am working to help the Ellsworths in whatever way I can. This is why I’ve come to you,” she quickly continued, before her parents could press the issue. “If Nelson loses his position at the bank under these circumstances, he’ll never get another one. He is the sole support of his elderly mother, who also happens to be a dear friend of mine. Someone needs to speak with his employer and convince him not to dismiss him, so I thought I would try to repay the many kindnesses Mrs. Ellsworth has done for me through the years by saving her son’s job, if I could.”

Her parents exchanged a glance, and some unspoken communication passed between them without either of them so much as batting an eye. Her father turned back to her, his expression resigned. “What is it you think I can do?”

Sarah managed not to let her feeling of triumph show. It would be unseemly to gloat. “Obviously, I can’t go into the bank and beg them not to dismiss Nelson.”

“Not without making herself a scandal,” her mother added.

“I was hoping you might have some influence with someone there who could-”

“Which bank is it?” he asked.

Sarah gave him the name.

He considered for a moment, then turned to his wife. “Young Dennis is in charge there,” he told her.

“Richard?” she said, her expression brightening.

“Yes, his father thought he should have some practical experience.”

“You know him, then?” Sarah asked.

“Very well. His father and I were partners in a business venture a few years ago.”

“Oh, Father, that’s wonderful! Would you be willing to approach him? I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t so important, but poor Mrs. Ellsworth is so frightened-”

“Of course, of course,” he said, dismissing Mrs. Ellsworth’s fears with a wave of his hand. “I don’t think it would be fair for me to approach him on this subject, however. He would certainly feel an obligation to do me this favor, although he might wonder about my motives. Ellsworth is a stranger to me, after all. And if things go badly for Ellsworth, poor Dennis would believe I’d taken advantage of our friendship to get him into an awkward situation. Even worse, he’d be right.”

Before Sarah could even register disappointment, her mother said, “But Sarah could argue his case, couldn’t she? I mean, if you were to arrange for them to meet. You could summon him here on a business matter, then introduce him to Sarah. He’d realize you were just doing a favor for your daughter, indulging her in this whim even though you didn’t really approve, but he’d still feel obligated to help because of his father’s association with you.”

“Yes,” Sarah agreed eagerly. “And if, heaven forbid, things do go badly for Nelson, you can simply apologize for indulging your foolish daughter and dragging him into it.”

“He’ll forgive you that, surely,” her mother said. “Men always understand when another man is imposed upon by a woman.”

Her father frowned. “Why do I feel I’m being imposed upon right now?”

“Because you are, dear,” her mother said with a sweet smile.

Sarah had just gotten back from delivering supper to the Ellsworths when someone knocked on her door. She smiled when she saw a familiar silhouette reflected through the frosted glass of the front door.

“Malloy,” she said in greeting as she opened the door, but her welcoming smile froze on her face when she saw his expression.

“I guess you haven’t seen the evening papers,” he said, holding up a copy of the World.

“No, I-” she began, but he brushed past her, not really interested in her reply. “Is it about Nelson?” she asked as she glanced out onto the street before closing the door. At least the reporters appeared to have gone for the day. Malloy probably wouldn’t have come to her front door if they hadn’t.

“Was this your idea?” he asked, thrusting the paper at her.

She stared at the headline: WANTON WOMAN DRIVES LOVER TO MURDER.

Skimming the article, she wanted to groan aloud. Webster Prescott had completely misunderstood her plea for help.

“He calls Anna Blake everything but a prostitute,” Malloy said. “Where did he get that idea? Every other paper still has her as an innocent victim.”

“I just told him Nelson didn’t kill her,” Sarah insisted. “I asked him to help me save him from being executed!”

“He just might,” Malloy said sourly, “if he can get the other papers to turn on Anna Blake, too.” He pulled off his bowler hat and hung it on her coat rack without waiting for an invitation to stay.

“But according to this, he’s still guilty of murder,” Sarah argued. “How can that help him?”

“Because Anna Blake is no longer innocent. She’s a harlot who seduced and blackmailed him and then threatened to kill his child unless he paid her. A woman like that deserves whatever she gets, and a lot of men would think she deserves to be murdered.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Sarah exclaimed.

“Is it? Have you forgotten what people said when Charity Girls were being murdered?”

A few months ago, she and Malloy had solved the murders of several girls who were so desperately poor that they sometimes traded their favors for a few trinkets. Because they went to dance halls and associated with young men, their deaths were ignored. As far as most people were concerned, they’d gotten what they deserved for their loose behavior.

“Men kill their wives and their mistresses all the time,” Malloy reminded her. “How many of them ever go to prison, much less hang, for it? That’s because their lawyers convince the jury the women were shrews or wantons or whatever, and the men on the jury start thinking how often they’ve wanted to commit murder in their own homes with far less provocation. If the woman was immoral, she deserved to die, so how can they convict this poor fellow? So they let him go.”

Sarah did groan aloud this time. He was right, of course. Far too many women had been falsely vilified in death so that their killers could escape punishment. “I don’t care what Anna Blake did, she didn’t deserve to die!” Sarah insisted. “And even if she did, Nelson wasn’t the one who killed her!”

“What did you offer this reporter to change his story?” Malloy said, his eyes fairly crackling with rage.

“What are you suggesting?” she countered, stung by his implication.

Malloy sighed in exasperation. “You must have promised him something. Reporters are like dogs. They never let go of a bone unless they see a bigger one.”

“I simply told him the truth, that Anna Blake had other lovers, so Nelson wasn’t necessarily the father of her child, and that she’d refused Nelson’s offer of marriage in favor of blackmail.”

“That’s all?” Plainly he didn’t believe it.

“That’s all,” she confirmed. “What other proof did I need that Anna Blake wasn’t an honest woman when she refused an offer of marriage to give her child a name?”

“There was no child,” Malloy said.

Sarah gaped at him. “What do you mean, no child?”

“Just that. Anna Blake wasn’t expecting a child. Do you have any coffee?” He headed off toward her kitchen without waiting for a reply.

She followed in his wake, looking at the story again, trying to find even a hint that Prescott had believed her that Nelson was innocent. She found none.

Malloy sat down at her kitchen table without being invited and waited for her to serve him. She lifted the pot and judged there was enough for one cup in it. It had been sitting for quite a while, but she figured Malloy wouldn’t care. She poured it into a cup and set it before him. “Do you want something to eat?”