“I told you, she’s an informant.” She’s also a pain in the backside, he added silently, fingering the envelope. The paper was quality, just like Sarah Brandt. Just like Alicia VanDamm. What the hell was he doing involved with any of them? He knew how to handle crooks and killers and con men. He didn’t know how to handle ladies, dead or alive. And he had no intention of handling Sarah Brandt at all.

With a resigned sigh, he picked up the envelope and broke the seal. He could feel the eyes of all the other detectives watching him intently, waiting for some reaction. Frank was going to do his best to disappoint them.

“Dear Mr. Malloy,” her note began. He should read them that part, if they were expecting a love letter. “I have learned some very interesting information about Sylvester Mattingly’s relationship with Alicia. It seems that rumors were circulating among the VanDamms’s acquaintances that Mr. VanDamm was arranging a marriage between Alicia and Mattingly. I have a theory that might explain Alicia’s circumstances which I would rather not put in writing. If you will call upon me at your earliest convenience, I will be happy to explain it to you.” It was signed, “In haste, Sarah Brandt.”

“That son of a bitch,” Frank muttered, recalling in great detail his conversation with Sylvester Mattingly. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to cooperate with Frank’s investigation. He was the one Alicia had been running away from all along! And when he thought about Mattingly so much as touching that poor girl…

“Bad news, Frank?” Bill asked with phony concern.

“She throwing you over for another fellow?” Harry smirked.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Frank agreed, wishing he would be that lucky. Unfortunately, he was afraid Sarah Brandt’s intense interest in him would continue as long as he was investigating Alicia VanDamm’s murder. And as for Mrs. Brandt and her theories, he would have bet a year’s salary that she’d have one, and an equal amount that it wouldn’t do him any good. So far, this case had been one blind alley after another, all thanks to Sarah Brandt and her useless information.

He was still debating the advisability of meeting with Mrs. Brandt again-could he be civil to her if he did? And would it be a complete waste of his time?-when one of the officers from downstairs came into the room. Frank hardly noticed until he realized the man was coming right up to him.

“Malloy?”

Frank nodded curtly.

“Got a message.” The fellow looked sort of smug, knowing the effect this message would have. “Superintendent Conlin wants to see you in his office right away.”

Once again a murmur went through the room as the other detectives reacted to the summons. This couldn’t be good news. Conlin didn’t interfere with individual detectives. In fact, he didn’t concern himself with their work at all, letting Chief of Detectives Steers have a free hand with them, so this wasn’t any kind of routine consultation. This was something serious and probably dangerous, too. Dangerous for Frank, that is. If he did or said the wrong thing, he could forget about making Captain. He could even forget about working for the police department anymore.

And why was he so sure that Sarah Brandt’s interference was somehow to blame for this summons?

Chief Conlin’s office was on the second floor, with all the other important offices. Roosevelt himself kept one here, complete with his girl secretary, the only female ever to work in such a capacity in the history of the New York City Police. Frank hoped Sarah Brandt didn’t find out about the girl secretary. Next thing he knew, she’d be Roosevelt’s right-hand man. Or woman.

Conlin kept a male secretary, as was proper, and the fellow showed him into the inner sanctum immediately. Frank wasn’t sure if he should be apprehensive or not, so he settled for wary. The office was comfortably furnished, but nothing like Sylvester Mattingly’s. Conlin sat behind his desk in a large chair. He was a man of middle years, of medium height and slight build with light blue eyes and a sallow complexion. He might have been considered nondescript, except for the power he wielded in his new position.

“Sit down… Mallory, is it?”

“Malloy,” Frank corrected him. He took the offered chair. It wasn’t as comfortable as the one in Mattingly’s office, either.

“I understand you’re working on the murder of Miss Alicia VanDamm,” Conlin said, leaning back and stroking his mustache thoughtfully.

“That’s right.” Frank waited, not a bit surprised. This was the only case he had that might have caused anyone concern.

“An ugly business. A young girl like that, cut down in her prime.” He shook his head sadly, his face expressing his profound distress as such an event.

Frank was impressed. He’d heard that the new superintendent had been trained in public speaking by his brother who was an actor, and Conlin certainly exhibited the grace and style of a professional actor. Those skills would stand him in good stead in his current position, but Frank wasn’t fooled by this phony concern for Alicia VanDamm. Conlin would only be concerned with how the investigation of her case affected one person: himself.

Frank nodded once, to let him know he agreed so far. Every instinct was rebelling, however, warning him something bad was going to happen. Something really bad. Wariness gave way to dread.

“Do you know the VanDamm family?”

“I’ve met them. During the investigation.”

The chief frowned, looking down at the polished surface of his desktop as if weighing his words carefully. Just the way an actor would play a man of power. “Then perhaps you can understand their concerns, which are different from what many people would consider standard in this situation.”

“I’d guess their main concern would be finding out who killed their daughter,” Frank tried.

“Most people would,” the chief agreed, folding his hands on his desk and leaning forward to give Frank the impression he was confiding in him. “Most people want revenge, Malloy. They call it justice, but revenge is what they really want. It won’t bring their loved one back, but it gives them some measure of comfort.”

Frank knew this was true, but he also knew the superintendent hadn’t yet made his point, although he was becoming more certain by the moment he knew what that point would be. He continued to wait, anger forming an acidic ball in his stomach.

“The VanDamms aren’t like most people, however. They are much more intelligent than most people, and they understand that revenge won’t bring their daughter back. They also know that bringing her killer to justice might compound the damage that has already been done by blackening their daughter’s good name and reputation.”

Not to mention their own, Frank thought, but of course he didn’t say it aloud. He’d never make Captain by talking back to the superintendent. In fact, he’d be back to pounding a beat, if he wasn’t careful.

“Because the VanDamms might well have to endure even more distress if you continue your investigation, Malloy, I’m taking you off this case. I think your chances of actually finding the killer are very slim, and since even doing so wouldn’t accomplish anything constructive, there’s no point in proceeding.”

“It would get a killer off the streets,” Frank couldn’t resist pointing out. The hot ball of anger had become molten fury, and he had to close his hands into fists to keep from slapping them down on the superintendent’s shiny desk in frustration.

“Hundreds of killers walk our streets every day, Malloy. We can’t catch them all. And we won’t be trying to catch this one.” Steer’s voice was hard, leaving no room for negotiation. “Do you understand?”

Frank understood completely. Someone important didn’t want the case solved, and because of Sarah Brandt’s note, he understood even more than the superintendent. “I already have some feelers out. What if I accidentally find the killer?”