“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah, oh, dear.” Malloy sounded discouraged.

“You seem very interested in solving this case,” she tried. She knew police detectives were ridiculously underpaid and had to rely on bribes and rewards to make their living. Consequently, they couldn’t afford to waste a lot of time on cases that wouldn’t supplement their meager incomes.

“Potter offered a reward,” he told her reluctantly.

“Oh, my, I suppose that lets him out as a suspect, then,” she said with some disappointment. “I was rather hoping he was the killer.”

“He’s not one of my favorite people either, especially now that he’s dead set on proving that the boy did it.”

“It makes sense,” Sarah pointed out, playing devil’s advocate. “Blackwell had done a terrible thing to his family. The boy must have been very angry. Maybe he even hated his father.”

“Maybe,” Malloy allowed. “Potter said Blackwell told him the boy was an accomplished liar, too.”

“Really? He looked awfully innocent to me, and he seemed genuinely upset today at the funeral. Why would he have had to be a liar?”

“That’s an interesting question. I’ve seen lots of good liars in my time, but mostly they were raised on the streets, making a living any way they could, stealing and lying and cheating, sometimes even killing. But Calvin didn’t grow up on the street.”

“He would have had a difficult time of it, though,” Sarah pointed out.

“He said he went to work very young. His mother took in washing. It was a hard life, but I just don’t see him even stealing a loaf of bread, no matter how hungry he might’ve been.”

“But what’s this you were telling Officer Patrick about some missing money?” she asked. “Do you think Calvin stole money from his father?”

Plainly, he didn’t want to discuss this, but he also knew she wouldn’t give up until he told her. “According to Potter, Blackwell was going to give Calvin some money the day he was killed to buy the boy’s silence. Calvin was supposed to take the money and go back home to Virginia. The money hasn’t turned up, though.”

“And if Calvin had gotten it, that probably means he’s the killer,” she guessed, “but if he did kill his father and get the money, it also doesn’t seem likely he’d still be here in the city, does it?”

“That does seem reasonable,” Malloy said just to keep from admitting she was right. She knew he hated admitting she was right.

“But you don’t think Calvin is the killer, at least.”

“No, I don’t. He’s just too innocent.”

“I’m impressed, Malloy. You hardly ever see good in anyone.”

“There’s hardly ever any good to see,” he countered.

“With the people you deal with, that’s probably true.”

“With the people you deal with, too, if you’d admit it.”

He was right. Sarah didn’t like to think about it, but the father of the last baby she’d delivered had been murdered right in his own home. No one she’d met so far seemed completely innocent, either, except perhaps the baby himself.

“Did you find out anything else from the people at the funeral?” he asked.

“Just that all of Blackwell’s female patients-”

“Clients,” Malloy corrected her.

“Clients,” she dutifully repeated, “were extremely fond of him. Apparently, his reputation as a ladies’ man wasn’t exaggerated.”

“Do you think he actually seduced them?”

Sarah considered. “I believe there was some physical contact. Certainly, he had to touch his clients in order to perform his treatments, but there’s different kinds of touching, if you catch my meaning.”

“Wouldn’t the women have objected if he took liberties with them?” Malloy asked with a frown.

Malloy was, Sarah remembered, something of a prude when it came to such things. “Not if they believed it was part of the treatment, and not if it felt very pleasant. And of course if they were under hypnosis…”

Malloy made a face to express his distaste. “If they were in some sort of trance, he could’ve done anything he wanted. So you’re telling me that all the husbands of these women could’ve had a good reason to blow Blackwell’s brains out.”

“I’m telling you that Blackwell gave these women relief from their pain, and he may have even given them pleasure. Many women never experience physical pleasure from their marital relations, Malloy. Blackwell must have seemed like a miracle worker to them.”

Malloy was glancing around anxiously to make sure no one had overheard her. “Do you have to talk about things like that?” he asked.

“We’re talking about the case,” she reminded him. “I’m just trying to help you understand the kind of man Blackwell was, and who might have had a reason to kill him and why.”

“I guess you’re ruling out all his female patients, then,” Malloy said sarcastically.

“Unless one of them was the jealous type,” Sarah said with some amusement.

“Could one of them have been jealous of his wife?”

“Mrs. Fitzgerald apparently was, but if that was the motive, then Letitia would be dead instead of her husband. Although…”

“Although what?” he prodded when she hesitated.

“Mrs. Fitzgerald was not aware that Letitia was with child. If Blackwell led his patients to believe he had a marriage in name only…”

“That’s a little hard to believe,” Malloy said. “These women are married, too. Why would they expect him to be faithful to them?”

“You’re right. That’s pretty farfetched. On the other hand, if Letitia was jealous of them…”

“I haven’t met Mrs. Blackwell yet,” he reminded her, “but you said she doesn’t seem like the type.”

Sarah sighed. “I’m afraid she’s not.”

They walked a block in silence. Finally Sarah said, “Why don’t you just arrest Amos Potter? Neither of us likes him much.”

“I don’t like Maurice Symington, either. Why couldn’t he be the killer instead?” Malloy countered.

“I like that idea. Do you know that he spoke at Blackwell‘s lectures when Letitia couldn’t, and that the eulogy he gave today was the same speech he used for the lectures? He couldn’t even be bothered to write a true eulogy for his son-in-law. But what would his motive be to kill Blackwell?”

“What would Potter’s motive be?”

“Let’s see, if either of them was upset about Edmund’s bigamy, that would be a good reason to kill him. They’re both devoted to Letitia and would be eager to protect her,” Sarah said.

“Why should Potter care?”

“Because he’s in love with Letitia.”

“Then he wouldn’t have to kill Blackwell. All he’d have to do was wait until her life was ruined by the scandal and be her sole remaining support. Then he could have her all to himself,” Malloy pointed out.

“Only if she’d have him in return, and that doesn’t seem likely. No, her father is a much more logical choice if Blackwell was killed because of his bigamy. Symington would want to save his daughter from the scandal and get revenge on Blackwell, too. Blackwell’s death would ensure that the scandal never became public. He seems like the best suspect to me.”

“Only if he knew about the Brown family, though,” Malloy pointed out.

“You could ask him if he did,” Sarah said.

“Yeah, if I want to be out of a job tomorrow.”

He was right, of course. Having the audacity to question a man as powerful as Symington about whether he’d killed his son-in-law was a sure way to draw the wrong sort of attention to yourself if you were a police detective.

“Could Potter have told him?” Sarah asked. “Or even Calvin himself?”

“Calvin wouldn’t even know who Letitia’s father is, much less how to find him.”

Sarah sighed. This was getting them nowhere.

Then Malloy said, “Wait, you said Symington spoke at Blackwell’s lectures. Calvin told me he went to one of those lectures. Someone had sent his mother one of the advertising posters so he would know where to find his father. That’s what brought him to New York in the first place.”