On the street Jack found Anna and Oscar waiting, Anna looking very grim and Oscar irritated.
Anna said, “I have to get back to the New Amsterdam. If you come with me we can talk in the cab.”
• • •
TRAFFIC WAS JUST as congested as Jack expected it to be, but for once it would work to their advantage. It took ten minutes to get to the corner of West Ninth, just enough time to share the bad news.
Oscar said, “Two steps forward, ten back.”
Cameron had left the city only days before, on his way to Philadelphia, where he would be living with a nephew and his family. His offices had been vacated before Mamie Winthrop’s operation and death.
“No surgical instruments in Cameron’s office?” Anna asked Jack.
“Cleaned out, every bit of it. I looked into the closets and the water closet, no luck. What did Mrs. Sparrow have to tell you?”
“Cameron was the one who forced Amelie out of the city. He went to Comstock with stories of a mad abortionist who was killing women, and he named Amelie. There wasn’t any evidence because”—she looked at both of them intently—“there wasn’t any crime, but Comstock made her life impossible and Nora Smithson started spreading rumors. Kate thinks that Cameron was mean to the bone, but not murderous. And not capable of operating. His hands are palsied.”
“That’s what his granddaughter said, that he hadn’t had a patient in years. Kept the office out of stubbornness and pride.” Oscar didn’t seem to be frustrated, but then he had been pursuing cases like this for years, and had learned patience.
“Does she have any medical training, the granddaughter?” Jack asked.
Anna said, “No schooling, but she was his nurse for years until she got married and moved over to the apothecary.”
They looked at each other for a few moments while the cab jerked to a stop and drivers let their displeasure be heard.
“Now what?” Anna said, finally.
“We go back to sorting through records and interviewing people,” Jack said.
“And if there’s another victim this week?” she asked.
“Then we’ll know for sure that Cameron wasn’t involved,” Oscar said. “Or that he’s still here, set up someplace else in the city and in hiding.”
“Or that the responsible party has been tipped off,” Jack added.
Anna asked, “He might just stop?”
“No,” Oscar and Jack said in one voice.
“He’s got an urge,” Oscar said. “Whoever he is. He may go quiet for weeks or months, but he won’t give up. Maybe he’ll go away and start over, in Boston or Chicago. There’s no way to know, but we do have another lead.”
“You’re still thinking of Neill Graham as a suspect,” Anna said.
“Hard not to,” Oscar said. “You’d think so too, if you heard him talking about operating on women.”
“Things never tie up as neat as you’d like,” Jack said, touching her arm. “Or as fast. Nothing like surgery.”
She gave him a lopsided grin. “So I’m learning. Why don’t you just take Graham in for questioning?”
“Because we haven’t got any proof at all, and if we tip him off he’ll disappear.”
“That wouldn’t do at all,” Anna said. “Not at all.”
“No reason to give up now,” Oscar told her. “Not when it’s just getting interesting.”
• • •
IN THE LATE evening Jack forced himself to put aside thinking about the case so he could give in to the inevitable. He turned his mind to packing for the short trip to Greenwood. Anna’s valise was already packed and she had stretched out on the bed with one of her endless medical journals.
Rumbling through the closet, he muttered to himself about the number of coats and vests and pairs of trousers he had accumulated. His sisters meant well but had gotten into the habit of treating him like a mannequin, something that would hopefully stop now. Right at this moment the problem was that he was not just going home tomorrow, but he was taking Anna home with him for the first time. That seemed to require something more than the casual clothes he normally put on to go to Greenwood.
Anna had hung out a summer gown of many thin layers, overlapping in some places and pinned up in others. It was cut loose, like all her clothes, with a square neck that would show a great deal of bosom and her long neck. He was pulling a suit out of the wardrobe when there was a knock at the door.
“Sorry to bother you so late,” Ned called. “But there’s something you will want to hear.”
Jack might have sent him away, but Anna pulled on her robe and tied it while she opened the door.
“Is there something wrong?”
“No. But I talked to somebody who recognized Tonino from my description.”
• • •
THE STORY WAS quickly told: Ned had run into an old friend with the improbable name of Moby Dick.
“He apprenticed to a cobbler in Harlem five years ago or more. Hadn’t seen him since he moved. He was down here to show his bride his old haunts.”
Anna tried very hard to harness her impatience, but Jack did not. He made a twirling motion with his hand and Ned wagged his head from side to side in acknowledgment.
“We were just talking, you know, and I mentioned I was looking for this Italian kid. Moby didn’t know anything about him, but his girl did. She’s a teacher at the deaf school.
“Hope, that’s her name, says they’ve got a little boy about six or seven years old, black hair, blue eyes, but he’s deaf. So it’s probably not the kid you’re looking for, but I thought I’d mention it. If you want me to go up there and have a look, I can.”
They were silent for a moment, and then she said, “I can’t remember Tonino ever saying a word to me. Did you hear him talk, Jack?”
Jack had not. “But if he were deaf Rosa would have said something.”
“Children who have suffered a shock sometimes stop talking. They might believe he’s deaf, when he’s just ignoring everything and everyone. Out of self-preservation.”
“Or he might be deaf,” Jack said.
They looked at each other, and Jack saw something flash across her face, sudden insight or determination or both.
“We could go tomorrow, if we leave early enough.”
Jack took a deep breath, and then another. “That’s what we’ll have to do. But we can’t say anything to the girls.”
“Or Margaret,” Anna agreed. “Or anyone. Another disappointment so soon would be very hard on the girls. Aunt Quinlan has a saying at times like this. ‘Don’t go looking for trouble, it will find you soon enough without you shouting out an invitation.’”
Anna lay awake for a very long time, thinking of the very nature of trouble or bad luck or whatever name you wanted to use. More than that, she wondered why the idea of finding Tonino should strike her as trouble. In the end she fell asleep thinking of Rosa, who wanted this brother back so very much. She had such high expectations of what it would mean to be reunited with him, when in fact the boy she remembered was gone, even if they brought him home with them tomorrow.
45
AT SEVEN JACK went to hitch Bonny to the Rockaway for the last-minute trip to the school for the deaf. Anna followed, yawning into her palm. She had been determined to get a good night’s sleep and had failed almost completely.
In the stable Bonny nickered at Jack and presented her head for rubbing. Another female under his spell, Anna thought and then watched as he snuck a lump of sugar out of his pocket and pressed the flat of his palm to her mouth.
“I saw that.”
He winked at her. “Jealous?”
Anna made a face at him and went off in search of Mrs. Lee’s coffee, walking through the garden. If she was really fortunate, the girls would be off with Margaret for what she called their morning constitutional. Other
wise she would be overwhelmed with questions about her plans for the day, none of which she could answer honestly.
With the door and windows all open the smells that came from the kitchen reminded Anna of Thanksgiving, an odd thing for the last week of June. Mrs. Lee had been cooking and baking for days, and had prepared so many things to take with them to Greenwood that Jack had arranged for his cousins to transport it all in one of the shop delivery wagons. Now Mrs. Lee was in a rush, putting the finishing touches on everything from a ham to an assortment of pies.
Anna said, “We don’t have to bring enough food for the whole crowd, Mrs. Lee,” and recognized her tactical error before the last word was out of her mouth.
Mrs. Lee lowered her chin to her breast to peer at Anna over the top of her spectacles and delivered one of her lectures, short and to the point: She, Anna Savard, brought up in this very kitchen and reminded every day since she was three years old the importance of good manners, should realize that the Weeds and Roses folks could not call on the Mezzanottes empty-handed.
While Anna listened she poured herself a cup of coffee and milk and tried to look repentant.
From her spot at the kitchen table Aunt Quinlan said, “Leave her be, Anna. You know she’s not happy unless she’s feeding people. And don’t you look pretty. Where are you two off to this morning, anyway?”
“It’s a secret,” Mrs. Lee said. “Jack came by earlier to ask Henry could they take the Rockaway. Detective work.”
Anna hooked a warm roll from a pan that had just come out of the oven, and jumped back before Mrs. Lee could smack her hand.
“It’s not a secret,” she said. “But it’s too complicated to explain just now.”
“Is that so.” Mrs. Lee’s expression narrowed.
“I promise to tell all later,” she said, and pressed an impromptu kiss on the old lady’s cheek.
“Get on with you.” Mrs. Lee flapped her hands, but she was smiling. “I got work to do.”
“A calf to butcher? A last-minute ten-layer cake?”
“Anna,” her aunt said. “If you can spare a few minutes, I had a letter from Sophie yesterday.”
Anna sat down, her mood gone.
“I know how you’re feeling,” her aunt said. “It takes courage to open Sophie’s letters. So let me just tell you, Cap is stable. That low-grade fever is still hanging on, but his spirits are good. He doesn’t complain about food or even treatments, and sleeps a great deal.”
“And Sophie?”
“You know your cousin, she doesn’t write about herself.”
“Stories to tell about the folks in the village—” Mrs. Lee interjected. “Ignorant as they are.”
Anna looked up in surprise, and her aunt explained.
“Sophie wrote about a little boy asking if he could see her tail.”
“The ignorance of it,” Mrs. Lee said. “She shouldn’t have to contend with such meanness of spirit. She should be home here with us where people know her worth and don’t insult her asking can they see her tail. You would never let one of your children talk to a stranger like that, Lily, and you know it.”
When Mrs. Lee called Aunt Quinlan by her first name, she had come to the end of her patience.
“I want her home,” Mrs. Lee went on. “But to get her here we got to lose Cap. I’m always wanting to ask you, Anna, will Sophie be home by the end of the summer, but I stop myself. It would be like asking when will it be that Cap passes over.”
Anna had to swallow very hard to find her voice. “She went of her own free will, Mrs. Lee. She went gladly, because she wants and needs to be with Cap. No doubt it is odd and sometimes uncomfortable for her, but Sophie won’t let anything get in the way of caring for him, you know that. If it makes you feel better, sit down and write her a letter and say what you’re thinking.”
“I’ma do just that,” Mrs. Lee said. “First thing we get home.”
“And now I have to go. I’ll see you all at Greenwood.” Her voice came a little hoarse.
“What about your satchels?” her aunt asked.
“On the back porch. Ned will fetch them when the wagon comes.” She glanced around the kitchen, but bit back a smile. “For all this.”
“You won’t be late.” As close as her aunt came to issuing a command.
“Of course not. We’ll be there in the late afternoon.”
“Late afternoon?” Mrs. Lee shook her head. “Where you going to eat between now and then? One of them little cafés where they serve out stomachache as a first and last course? Is that how you look after your husband? I swear.”
While she talked she grabbed up things and stuffed them into a marketing basket. Then she thrust it at Anna. “Lunch.”
Anna was still smiling to herself when she got back to the stable and found that they were set to leave, Bonny stomping to announce she was eager to be on the road. Jack’s face was already damp with sweat, but he looked pleased with himself.
“There’s Ned,” Mr. Lee said, pointing with his chin. “He’s unsure about coming along today. Just so you know.”
Mr. Lee had decided that Ned belonged here, that was obvious to Anna. She wondered if Ned realized as much.
Jack called out in Italian, his tone easy, but Ned’s face contorted in mock terror.
“Didn’t do it,” he called back. “Wasn’t me.”
Coming up to him Anna gave him a gentle push. “Stop pretending to be an outlaw.”
“I think I’m insulted,” Ned said, rubbing his shoulder.
Jack said, “What else do you know about Moby Dick’s wife?”
Ned’s look of surprise was genuine. “Well, let’s see. She’s from an old Dutch family in Harlem, don’t remember her maiden name. You headed up to talk to her?”
“Maybe,” Jack said. “She goes by Hope March, Mrs. March?”
“That would be Moby’s moniker when he’s plying his trade, Richard March.”
“And she teaches at the school for the deaf, you’re sure of it.”
“She teaches knitting and sewing and such to the girls.”
Anna said to Jack, “Stop interrogating him.” And to Ned: “Do you happen to remember anything else about the boy she mentioned to you, beyond his hair and eye color?”
Ned glanced down at the ground, scuffed the cobblestones with his heel, hesitating.
“Spit it out,” Jack said. “Whatever it is.”
He shrugged. “She said the kid was simple, you know. Slow. Like a lot of deaf kids, his brains got scrambled somewhere along the way. But she wasn’t mean about it. Moby always was a softhearted mope, they suit each other that way.”
“There’s more than one softhearted mope in this story,” Anna said.
“What if it is him?” Ned wanted to know.
“We’ll bring him home,” Anna said. “And your friend’s wife will get a reward. But Ned, don’t say a word to anybody, especially not the girls.”
Now he looked insulted. “I wouldn’t hurt those girls for the world.”
Anna touched his shoulder. “We know that. Are you coming to Greenwood with us?”
Jack had started to turn away, but he stopped to glance at Ned. “You’re invited, in case you need reminding.”
“Do your sisters know that?” Ned asked him.
Jack grinned. “I guess we’ll find out.”
• • •
TRAFFIC WAS LIGHT so early on a Sunday morning, which was a very good thing considering how far they had to go. The New York School for the Deaf and Dumb was well out of the city at 165th Street, an hour and a half away in good traffic. Alone she would have had to take at least two trains, with long waits in between connections.
She leaned back and felt herself relaxing. For the next little time they had nothing to worry about, and only themselves to amuse. She said, “You are a useful creature.”
Jack gave her a long, thoughtful glance. “Am I supposed to return the compliment, or will that irritate you?”
“You know how useful I am,” she said. “I can’t really cook, at least not the way I’d need to cook to keep you fed. I don’t clean, I barely sew, I’ve never done a full load of laundry.”
“I can’t do any of those things either.”
“But you can hitch a wagon, and clean a gun, and repair a broken window. You mended the strap on my shoe, built a coatrack for the front hall. I believe you could have done most of the work on the house yourself, with sufficient time. You negotiated the purchase too. No, unless you need surgery or dosing I’m very much useless. There’s a term in German that suits me exactly. I’m a Fachidiot. I know a huge amount about one thing, and I’m idiotically uninformed about everything else. It’s a good thing we have household help or you’d be going to work hungry, in wrinkled clothes.”
“We’ve had this discussion before,” Jack said. “And we can keep having it, until you believe that I like what I’ve got and I’m not going anywhere. Your brother was a boy in a bad situation and he let you down. That’s not me, and you know it.”
“Not everything is about my brother,” she said, a little huffily.
He glanced at her, his expression cool. “Not everything,” he said finally. “But this is. Stop trying to talk me into giving up on you. It won’t work.”
Anna wanted to protest, but she remembered quite suddenly a conversation with her aunt, and not so very long ago. She had predicted exactly this, that Anna would try to isolate herself from Jack. The thought struck her with almost palpable force, and it took a few minutes for her to regain her composure. For the first time she had the idea that with Jack’s help she might someday come to understand the boy her brother had been and to forgive the decisions he had made.
“You’re right,” she said finally. “I’ve been testing you without even realizing it. I apologize.”
He glanced at her, his expression guarded at first. Then he smiled and took her hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles.