Read Online Murder on Washington Square by Victoria Thompson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Victoria Thompson
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heal, but lately when he dreamed he was loving a woman, she wasn’t Kathleen. Instead, she had golden hair and Sarah Brandt’s face. It was a dream that could never come true, but since no one ever need know about it, he figured it was harmless enough. And no one ever would know, least of all Sarah Brandt.
She turned and set a teapot on the table, then fetched two cups. She poured Ellsworth’s for him and even put some milk into it. “Do you need some sugar?” she asked in that gentle tone again.
“A spoonful, please,” he replied, and she stirred that in, too. Then she went back to her cooking.
Frank cleared his throat expectantly. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “The next time you’re falsely accused of murder, I’ll pour your tea, too,” she said with that smirk that made him want to shake her. Or at least lay his hands on her.
He didn’t really want any tea, but he took some anyway. Pouring it was a distraction of sorts. In a few more minutes, she served their supper, which was potatoes fried with onions and eggs. She put some on a plate for Ellsworth, even though he protested that he couldn’t eat a thing, and then passed the serving plates to Frank.
While Ellsworth picked at his food, Mrs. Brandt said very casually, “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted Anna out of the way?”
Ellsworth looked up in surprise. “Certainly not! She didn’t have any enemies. She hardly even know anyone in the city.”
“An old friend then, someone who knew her before she came to the city. Do you know where she was from?” she prodded.
Nelson considered a moment. “I think . . . She may have been from the Hudson Valley, but I can’t recall the name of a town. Perhaps she never actually told me the name.”
“If her mother was sick, why did they come to the city in the first place?” Frank asked between mouthfuls. Mrs. Brandt wasn’t as good a cook as his mother, but right now, that didn’t really matter.
“Her father had died and left them penniless,” Ellsworth explained. “Anna’s mother wasn’t sick at first, and they both thought they might find work in the city. But of course, the work they found only paid a pittance, and then her mother got sick . . . Poor thing, Anna was at her wit’s end when I met her.”
“She was very lucky to find someone like you, Nelson,” Sarah Brandt said sweetly. “Someone who was willing to help her without expecting anything in return.”
Even in the dim light of the gas jets, Frank could see that Ellsworth’s face had gone scarlet, because they all knew he’d eventually gotten something in return, expected or not. “I didn’t force her,” he said. “You must believe that!”
“Of course we believe that,” she assured him. “Did Anna have any other friends in the city? Perhaps she’d met someone when she came here.”
“I . . . I got the impression she was quite alone,” Ellsworth said. “Besides, she might have been killed . . .” He had to stop and fight back a rush of emotion. “By a stranger,” he finished. “At that time of night, in a public square . . .”
“But why would she have been out so late, alone?” she asked, still sweet and gentle. Frank was beginning to admire her technique. “Can you think of any reason?”
“No, I can’t,” Ellsworth wailed. “I’ve asked myself the same thing a hundred times. She would’ve known it wasn’t safe. At that time of night, the Square is filled with all sorts of dangerous people.”
“But if she was from a small town, maybe she didn’t know that,” she offered. “Is it possible she just decided to go for a walk? Could she have been that naive?”
Ellsworth’s shoulders sagged with despair, and he covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know.”
But all this conjecture had given Frank an idea. “Do you think she would have gone out to meet you ?”
Ellsworth looked up. “But I never would’ve asked her to meet me someplace after dark!” he
She turned and set a teapot on the table, then fetched two cups. She poured Ellsworth’s for him and even put some milk into it. “Do you need some sugar?” she asked in that gentle tone again.
“A spoonful, please,” he replied, and she stirred that in, too. Then she went back to her cooking.
Frank cleared his throat expectantly. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “The next time you’re falsely accused of murder, I’ll pour your tea, too,” she said with that smirk that made him want to shake her. Or at least lay his hands on her.
He didn’t really want any tea, but he took some anyway. Pouring it was a distraction of sorts. In a few more minutes, she served their supper, which was potatoes fried with onions and eggs. She put some on a plate for Ellsworth, even though he protested that he couldn’t eat a thing, and then passed the serving plates to Frank.
While Ellsworth picked at his food, Mrs. Brandt said very casually, “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted Anna out of the way?”
Ellsworth looked up in surprise. “Certainly not! She didn’t have any enemies. She hardly even know anyone in the city.”
“An old friend then, someone who knew her before she came to the city. Do you know where she was from?” she prodded.
Nelson considered a moment. “I think . . . She may have been from the Hudson Valley, but I can’t recall the name of a town. Perhaps she never actually told me the name.”
“If her mother was sick, why did they come to the city in the first place?” Frank asked between mouthfuls. Mrs. Brandt wasn’t as good a cook as his mother, but right now, that didn’t really matter.
“Her father had died and left them penniless,” Ellsworth explained. “Anna’s mother wasn’t sick at first, and they both thought they might find work in the city. But of course, the work they found only paid a pittance, and then her mother got sick . . . Poor thing, Anna was at her wit’s end when I met her.”
“She was very lucky to find someone like you, Nelson,” Sarah Brandt said sweetly. “Someone who was willing to help her without expecting anything in return.”
Even in the dim light of the gas jets, Frank could see that Ellsworth’s face had gone scarlet, because they all knew he’d eventually gotten something in return, expected or not. “I didn’t force her,” he said. “You must believe that!”
“Of course we believe that,” she assured him. “Did Anna have any other friends in the city? Perhaps she’d met someone when she came here.”
“I . . . I got the impression she was quite alone,” Ellsworth said. “Besides, she might have been killed . . .” He had to stop and fight back a rush of emotion. “By a stranger,” he finished. “At that time of night, in a public square . . .”
“But why would she have been out so late, alone?” she asked, still sweet and gentle. Frank was beginning to admire her technique. “Can you think of any reason?”
“No, I can’t,” Ellsworth wailed. “I’ve asked myself the same thing a hundred times. She would’ve known it wasn’t safe. At that time of night, the Square is filled with all sorts of dangerous people.”
“But if she was from a small town, maybe she didn’t know that,” she offered. “Is it possible she just decided to go for a walk? Could she have been that naive?”
Ellsworth’s shoulders sagged with despair, and he covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know.”
But all this conjecture had given Frank an idea. “Do you think she would have gone out to meet you ?”
Ellsworth looked up. “But I never would’ve asked her to meet me someplace after dark!” he
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