Read Online Murder in Morningside Heights (A Gaslight Mystery) by Victoria Thompson - Free Book Online

sister to keep your romance a secret. But do we think Abigail was going to leave the school and marry him?”
    Frank shook his head. “From Cornelius’s last letter, it sounds to me like she still hadn’t made up her mind.”
    “And since it was dated a week ago, she probably had time to reply to it,” Sarah said. “So if she said no, maybe he came to New York to see if he could change her mind. If he was very unhappy with her, well . . .”
    “Do you want me to go to Tarrytown and find him?” Gino asked, obviously ready to leave immediately.
    “Let’s wait,” Frank said. “If he did kill her, he can’t imagine we even know about him, so he’s not going anywhere. In the meantime, I’d like you to drop by Miss Wilson’s house on Monday morning, when she and Miss Billingsly are at school, and talk to their maid, Bathsheba.”
    “Bathsheba? Is that really her name?” Gino asked.
    “Do you think that’s wise?” Sarah asked.
    “Why wouldn’t it be wise?” Gino asked.
    “Sarah’s afraid this Bathsheba will eat you alive,” Frank said. “But I have confidence in your boyish charm.”
    “Boyish?” Gino echoed, insulted.
    “Definitely boyish,” Maeve said, earning a scowl from Gino, which she obviously savored.
    “But the important part is ‘charm,’” Sarah said, trying not to grin. “Bathsheba is a tough lady, and I get the impression she isn’t too impressed with her employers. She might be willing to gossip a bit if you show her some attention and flatter her.”
    “All right,” Gino said, obviously feeling put-upon.
    “And then I’d like you to interview the girls in Abigail’s classes,” Frank said, having saved the best for last.
    He perked right up at that, although Frank saw at once that Maeve was none too pleased. “Do you think one of them did it?”
    “I doubt it, but they might know something or have an idea about who didn’t like Abigail.”
    “What do you want me to do?” Sarah asked.
    “I’d like you to talk with Miss Billingsly, but I’m not sure how to do that without Miss Wilson knowing.”
    Sarah glanced at Gino. “Maybe you could find out from Bathsheba how we could arrange it.”
    “I’ll see what I can do.”
    “And what will you do, Malloy?” Sarah asked.
    “I’m going to take a look at Abigail’s office and talk to the French professor she worked for, Mr. Pelletier.”
    “It doesn’t sound as if we can do any of this until Monday, though,” Sarah said. “Which means we should plan to do something with the children on Sunday afternoon. How about ice-skating in Central Park?”
    *   *   *
    G ino easily found the redbrick house where the lady professors lived. The neighborhood was peaceful early on a Monday morning. The men—and the single ladies who had careers—would have already left for the day. Monday was washday, as everyone knew, so wives and servants would be busy with that. He rounded the corner and found the alley running behind the house.
    Counting the houses, he located the right gate and stepped inside the fence to find the woman he’d come to interview hanging wash on a clothesline strung the length of the yard. She was just as formidable as Malloy had described, although her turban was plain calico today, and the look she was giving him could’ve drawn blood on a boot.
    “Good morning, miss,” he said, pulling off his bowler hat.
    “I ain’t nobody’s miss, and put your hat back on, boy. Your head’ll freeze.”
    He resettled his hat but didn’t let his smile fade. “I’m Gino Donatelli, and I work for Mr. Frank Malloy. I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions about Miss Northrup.”
    “I’m busy.” She pulled the last garment from the laundry basket, a pair of ladies’ drawers, and clothespinned them to the line.
    “I can see that. I don’t expect you to stop what you’redoing just for me.” Before she could move, he scooped up the basket in a silent offer to carry it inside for her.
    She was