“Do you think there’s any chance Potter might’ve told Letitia? For the same reason he might’ve told Blackwell’s clients?”

“To turn her affections from Blackwell to him?” she asked skeptically. “It would never have worked!”

“You think that because you know Letitia already had a lover. But what if you didn’t know about Dudley?” he challenged.

Now Sarah was beginning to understand. “And suppose you were Potter, who doesn’t know too much about women in general. He might imagine that a distraught Letitia would turn to him for comfort and support.”

“Instead she turns to Dudley, who kills her husband and tries to make it look like suicide,” Malloy continued.

“Because he wanted to inherit Blackwell’s money and preserve Letitia’s reputation,” Sarah concluded.

“Now, that’s a perfectly good theory,” Malloy said approvingly. “All we have to do is prove Letitia and Dudley knew about Calvin.”

“They’re certain to deny it, even if they did,” Sarah guessed.

“Before we confront them about that, we should probably find out if they have an alibi for the day Blackwell was killed. According to the servants, Letitia was out.”

“She’ll probably say she was with Dudley, even if she wasn’st,” Sarah said. “In any case, I suspect she was at her opium den.”

“They can’t give each other an alibi, but if they were at the opium den, someone will probably remember. We could eliminate Dudley pretty easily if he was seen someplace else that day.”

“Or not eliminate him if he wasn’st,” Sarah said.

“That’s right, so now you have to arrange for me to finally meet with Mrs. Blackwell,” he said.

“I could question her for you,” Sarah pointed out.

He just gave her one of his looks.

“She’ll claim she’s not well enough,” she tried.

“She was well enough to see Dudley. Remind her of that. And tell her if she doesn’t get dressed and come downstairs, I’ll be glad to visit her in her bedroom.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Sarah scoffed.

Malloy smiled blandly. “She doesn’t have to know that.”

SARAH FOUND LETITIA Blackwell looking much better when she arrived the next morning. She was still in bed, but her color was good, and she greeted Sarah with a smile.

“The baby is doing well,” she reported. “Nurse brings him in for a visit every day. She says he’s growing, although he still looks very tiny to me.”

“He does seem to be fine,” Sarah agreed, not bothering to point out that he still needed morphine daily so he wouldn’t die in agony.

“Will the morphine hurt him, do you think?” Letitia asked with a worried frown. “Could it do something to his mind?”

Sarah didn’t want to offer false hope. “He won’t be on it much longer,” she hedged. “Now, let’s see how you’re doing.”

When Sarah had completed her examination and was packing her things back into her medical bag, she said as casually as she could, “Detective Sergeant Malloy would like to speak with you this morning.”

“Who?” Letitia asked in confusion.

“The policeman who is investigating your husband’s murder,” Sarah explained. “He needs to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?” She was alarmed now, her hands nervously working the edge of the coverlet. “I don’t know anything. I wasn’t even here when it happened!”

“I’m sure he just wants to verify that with you. He’ll probably also want to know if Dr. Blackwell had any enemies, or if you know of anyone who might have wished him harm. One of his patients, perhaps, or an acquaintance.”

“Everyone loved Edmund,” she insisted. “His clients were devoted to him!”

Sarah could have pointed out that his own wife didn’t love him, but instead she said, “Someone killed him, Mrs. Blackwell, so at least one person didn’t like him.”

“Can’t Mr. Potter take care of this? I don’t want to speak with a policeman. I’m not well!”

“You were well enough to receive Mr. Dudley the other day,” Sarah reminded her. “And Mr. Malloy knows it. He said to tell you he would be happy to interview you in your bedroom if you weren’t well enough to come downstairs.”

“Good heavens! He can’t be serious!” she exclaimed, horrified. “My father would never allow it.”

“I don’t think your father could stop it,” Sarah lied. “Mr. Malloy should be here in a few minutes, and I assure you, he will see you, one way or another. He’s a very determined man.”

Letitia’s smooth cheeks were scarlet with either outrage or embarrassment, Sarah couldn’t be sure which. But Sarah calmly stood her ground, just the way Malloy would have done, she told herself.

After a moment of strained silence, Sarah asked, “Should I ask your maid to come and help you dress?”

Letitia’s china-blue eyes were blazing. “I suppose I have no other choice,” she said in a strangled voice.

“I’ll be happy to stay with you while he interviews you,” Sarah offered. “If that would make you feel more comfortable.”

Tears were flooding those lovely blue eyes now. “I’m sure nothing will make me feel comfortable, but I would appreciate your support, Mrs. Brandt. Thank you. You are very kind.”

Sarah didn’t feel kind at all. “It will be over before you know it,” she said, hoping this was true. In any case, it would be over eventually. Sarah was pretty sure Letitia Blackwell was more than equal to the ordeal, in any case.

“YOU DID TELL her I’d come upstairs to see her if she wouldn’t come down?” Malloy asked Sarah as he paced the front parlor restlessly. Mrs. Blackwell had kept him waiting over half an hour.

“I’m sure she just isn’t ready yet. She’ll want to look her best, and that takes time,” Sarah said, concealing her amusement.

“Why would she want to look her best? She’s not going to a ball,” Malloy groused, checking his pocket watch again.

“A woman likes to have every possible advantage,” she explained. “She doesn’t have strength or power, so if she’s attractive, she uses that. Letitia will want you to find her extremely attractive. Or at least vulnerable. Then you won’t be so hard on her.”

Malloy made a rude noise at such a ridiculous notion.

Before Sarah could say more, the parlor doors opened and Letitia Blackwell stepped into the room. She was a vision. Her golden hair had been brushed into a soft halo, and she wore it down, curling to her shoulders and tied off of her face with a ribbon, as if she were merely a child. Her gown was soft and pink and frilly, and she’d pinned a cameo at her throat. Not very appropriate attire for a widow, but an excellent choice for a woman who wanted to be treated gently by a man. Her face was pale, although Sarah suspected rice powder instead of genuine distress had leached the color from her cheeks.

Letitia turned her moist and lovely eyes to Malloy and lifted a trembling hand to her throat, and said, “Mr. Malloy?”

Malloy hurried to meet her and even took her elbow, as if he were afraid she might collapse without support. “I’m sorry to disturb you like this, Mrs. Blackwell, but I need to ask you a few questions,” he said solicitously as he guided her to the nearest chair. “This won’t take long, I promise.”

Sarah had to cough into her hand. Malloy didn’t even notice, and Letitia pretended not to.

When he was certain Letitia was comfortably settled, Malloy took a seat on the sofa beside Sarah.

“Would you like some refreshment?” Letitia asked, her voice breathy and weak, her hands fluttering uncertainly.

“No, we don’t need anything at all,” Frank assured her. “We’ll be gone before you know it.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, but Malloy wasn’t looking at her.

“I already told Mrs. Brandt I don’t think I can be of any assistance,” Letitia said apologetically. “I have no idea who might have killed Edmund.”

“Then you don’t know of anyone who’d had an argument with your husband?” Malloy prodded. “Maybe one of his patients who couldn’t pay his fees or who thought the doctor was a fraud or-”