“I tell you, Alicia had no lover. The very thought is preposterous. If that’s who the police are looking for, no wonder they can’t find anything.”

“I’m afraid Alicia most certainly did have a lover. She was with child,” Sarah reminded her.

Mina’s face was stark white now, but from what emotion, Sarah couldn’t be sure. Certainly, she was shocked and embarrassed and outraged and probably angry, too. Sarah was sure no one had ever talked to her about such things before in her entire life. But then, her sister had never been murdered before, either.

“No one in authority has told me such a thing about Alicia’s condition,” Mina said, as if she could negate the fact by the force of her denial.

“Then I’m telling you, and the police detective in charge of the case told me himself. Your sister must have known at least one man. Was there someone who befriended her? Someone who could have had the opportunity to seduce her? A family friend, perhaps? Someone you’d never suspect.”

Sarah knew she was foolish to expect Mina to implicate Sylvester Mattingly outright, but she couldn’t help trying to tempt her.

Mina leaned her head back against the cushions and pressed her handkerchief to her mouth for a long moment, as if forcibly controlling her emotions. When she had collected herself, she said, “This is all so horrible.” Then her gaze touched Sarah, and Sarah saw the cunning in her pale eyes. “But I wonder at you, Sarah. Why do you care so much about all this, and how do you know so much about the case?”

“I’ve been very concerned from the beginning,” Sarah explained. “Since I saw Alicia the night before she died, I feel connected somehow. And one of the police detectives has been very kind in answering my questions and keeping me informed about what’s happening.”

Mina sniffed in derision. “Are you consorting with a policeman? Really, Sarah, you have no more judgment in men than your sister did.”

Anger flooded Sarah, nearly choking her, but she somehow managed to bite back the sharp retort she so desperately wanted to make. She settled for, “I sometimes think I’m the only one who cares if Alicia’s killer is found.”

For a second, Sarah thought perhaps Mina was going to agree with her. But then she said, “I’m really very tired, Sarah. This has been a terrible strain on all of us. I know you’ll excuse me if I cut our visit short.”

Effectively dismissed, Sarah had no choice but to leave. She rose and took a moment to put her gloves on, hoping that Mina would feel compelled to say something into the silence. But she disappointed Sarah by simply waiting until she was finished. Then she summoned a maid to see her out.

Out on the sidewalk, Sarah savored the sounds of busy Fifth Avenue. Briefly, she considered taking a hansom cab back to Greenwich Village. She needed some time to digest her visit with Mina and to figure out if she had learned anything at all. But the fare would be exorbitant, and she could be just as alone with her thoughts on the El.

Feeling slightly out of place in her new gown among the working people on the train, Sarah watched the buildings speeding by, absently noting the advertising signs plastered on nearly every exposed surface of those buildings. “Castoria” and “Ivory Soap, It Floats,” and “Sozodont Toothpaste” and “Buffalo Lithia Water” were all being touted as the cure for whatever ailed a body, from female complaints to bad breath.

By the time the train reached Fortieth Street, Sarah had decided that Mina had told her nothing useful. What she really needed was to see Malloy for a consultation. She needed his guidance and his perspective and most of all, his experience to help her decide what to do next. After a while, even the murmur of the wheels on the tracks seemed to hum his name. Malloy, Malloy, Malloy. Come soon, Malloy. I’ve run out of things to do.

Malloy didn’t come until the following evening. Sarah had long since finished her supper and was reading one of Tom’s medical journals when she heard his knock. Recognizing his silhouette through the curtain, she felt a surge of anticipation she hadn’t felt since she’d lost Tom. For all the satisfaction her work gave her, Sarah realized her life had lacked a certain amount of excitement in recent years. In fact, except for the occasional difficult birth, it had lacked any excitement at all. But Detective Sergeant Malloy had changed all that by asking her to help him solve Alicia’s murder. She might never actually like him-he represented too many things of which she disapproved for that to ever happen-but she must always be grateful to him for giving her a purpose outside herself for the first time in far too long.

“Malloy,” she greeted him warmly. “Come in. I’ve been busy, and I have a lot to tell you.”

He looked bone weary, and his shirt was limp and wrinkled, as if he’d worn it for more than one day in the recent heat. He did, at least, remove his hat this time. Sarah took it and hung it on the coat tree by the door.

“Have you eaten?” she found herself asking. Why she should care, she had no idea, but he looked as if he needed someone to look after him. Sarah’s long dormant feminine instincts demanded she do so.

“I’m fine,” he said, a little gruffly, she thought. “Don’t go to any trouble for me.”

“Come into the kitchen and sit down anyway. I’ve got some coffee left from supper. You look like you could use some.”

She thought he smiled a little at that, although she couldn’t be sure. It might simply have been a grimace. But he followed her into the kitchen, and he drank the coffee she poured for him.

“What have you found out?” he asked when he’d finished half the cup in one swallow.

“Well, let’s see. Where should I begin?” she mused, taking a seat opposite him and picking up her own cup. “I went back to the Higgins house, and this time I talked to the children.”

“The children?”

“Yes, you probably thought they were asleep when Alicia was killed, but Mary Grace wasn’t. She’s the oldest girl. Her bed is right by the window, and she was awake that night. She saw a man and a woman come into the house.”

“When was this?” Suddenly, Malloy didn’t look quite so tired anymore.

“Mary Grace didn’t know the time, but it must have been late, after everyone else was in bed. The man was tall and thin, and the woman was short and round and walked with a cane. The man had to help her up the stairs, Mary Grace said.”

“Did she recognize either of them?”

“She said she didn’t. It was dark, of course, but she recognized Hamilton Fisher when he came out later. She said she could tell it was him by the way he walked, and he was carrying his bag with him. If she’d known the man and woman, I think she would have recognized them, too.”

“She saw Fisher leave then?”

“Yes, she thought he was the one who let the man and woman into the house, although she didn’t see him do it. She must be right, too, since nothing else makes sense. And shortly afterward, he left. He was carrying a satchel, so Mary Grace thought he was leaving for good, which of course he was.”

“But she didn’t think she knew the man and woman.”

“No, but I believe we can assume the woman was the abortionist. The man brought her, and…”

“And he tried to get her to perform the abortion, but Alicia wouldn’t allow it.”

“Or more likely, the abortionist wouldn’t do it when she found out how far along Alicia was. She wouldn’t want to take a chance of Alicia dying, and a procedure so late in the pregnancy would be very dangerous.”

“So she didn’t do it, and then what?” Malloy was thinking out loud, trying to come up with a scenario that made sense. “She stood there while the man killed Alicia?”

“No, Mary Grace said she saw the man leaving later, alone. She said he was running as if someone was chasing him, although no one was. I think the woman, the abortionist, must have left when she found out she had nothing to do there. The man stayed with Alicia. Perhaps they quarreled, or perhaps he’d simply intended to kill her all along if he couldn’t get her to agree to the abortion. In any event, however he came to do it, he strangled her. Then he must have become frightened by what he’d done, so he ran away.”