In a Gilded Cage Read online

  “Speaking of opium,” I said. “You remember the suspicious death I spoke to you about?”

  “Which didn’t turn out to be suspicious at all,” he said. “I interviewed her doctor, remember?”

  “Yes, I know. But something strange has happened. Two of her friends, both society ladies, have died under similar strange circumstances.”

  “I told you, this flu has been a killer, Molly. That’s why I was so worried when you insisted on running around just when you were recovering.”

  “But there’s a chance it wasn’t influenza, Daniel. The symptoms weren’t typical. I went to visit the second woman and she was suffering from considerable gastric distress as well as a high fever.”

  “So what are you saying—that they were poisoned somehow?”

  “It is a possibility.”

  “For what reason?”

  “I told you the first woman was planning to divorce her husband because he had a mistress. That was a good enough motive. If they divorced, he’d lose her fortune.”

  “And the second and third women? Were they also planning to divorce their husbands?”

  “You’re not taking me seriously, Daniel,” I said angrily.

  He patted my hand, which I found annoying. “I’m thinking that maybe you’re letting your success as a detective go to your head and seeing crimes where there are none. The thing to ask yourself in any murder case, Molly, is ‘who benefits?’”

  “In the case of the first victim, obviously the husband, in many ways. He keeps her fortune and is free to marry his mistress if he wants to.” As I said this I found my thoughts wandering to that graveyard scene. Would Anson Poindexter really want to marry Mademoiselle Fifi? Hardly likely given their difference in class, and given that look I had seen pass between him and Bella.

  “But the other two?” Daniel insisted.

  “It’s possible that the first woman told her friends what she planned to do, or that she suspected her husband was trying to kill her.”

  He shook his head. “Not a strong enough motive. First, how would he know what she’d told her friends?”

  “He overheard her?”

  “Unlikely that she would have revealed such a suspicion with him in the house. And second, why would he need to kill them? The first death was so well carried out that the doctor was convinced she died from natural causes.”

  I sighed. “You’re right, of course. We managed to obtain some of her hair and there was no trace of arsenic in it, so that rules out the most obvious poison.”

  He looked at me, surprised. “You obtained her hair? How did you do that? Yank it out of her head when she was dead? Or did you ask her for it when she was still alive?”

  “We didn’t have to do either. Her hair came out with the high fever. It was all over the pillow.”

  “Interesting,” he said. “And who tested this hair?”

  “My friend Emily’s young man. He’s an apprentice to a druggist.”

  “An apprentice druggist? I wonder if he has the facility and knowledge to run a test like that.”

  “He’s very smart,” I said.

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “If you’re volunteering to retest it for me, I’m sure I can get more hair from Emily. She was planning to weave it into a mourning ring. And there’s something else you could do,” I added as I remembered. “It just happens that I have a sample of a preparation that was never tested,” I said. “It was a bottle of stomach mixture. I poured some onto a ball of cotton wool.”

  “Quite the daring opportunist, aren’t you,” Daniel said. “But I wasn’t actually volunteering to do either. Until you can come up with a good motive for someone needing all three women out of the way, then I’ll have to believe that they died of natural causes.”

  “You’ll not even volunteer to test a strand of hair for me then?”

  He stood up again and came around the table to me, putting both hands on my shoulders. “Molly, why don’t you give up on this? You are grasping at straws, or rather you’re being influenced by someone else’s vivid imagination. Is she paying you to look into this? If not, then you’re wasting valuable time and can achieve nothing by it. In my job we find it hard enough to prove a case of poisoning unless it was so obvious that the victim was practically frothing at the mouth. I’m sure skilled poisoners get away with murder every day in New York City. We may be dealing with one ourselves, because we still haven’t found any link between quite a few deaths from arsenic poisoning.”

  “You’ve tested everything they ate or drank?”

  “Of course. And looked into any motive the family members might have had for wanting to get rid of them. But nothing. In most cases the victims were poor and had nothing to leave.”

  I looked up at him suddenly. “What color was their wallpaper?”

  He laughed. “Their wallpaper?”

  “That’s right. This young druggist was saying that some wallpaper contains arsenic, especially the green one with roses that is so popular.”

  Daniel was still smiling. “Yes, but even if it contained arsenic, it wouldn’t be enough to kill somebody unless they actually licked it. And if it gave off fumes, it would have made the rest of the family sick.”

  “Just a thought,” I said. “I know nothing about it personally.”

  “Which is why you should stop sticking your nose into this business of the three women. If there were a real poisoner, then your bumbling attempts would warn him to be on his guard. It might even drive him to kill again. So be careful. You’ve had enough narrow scrapes—including almost stepping under the wheels of my automobile.”

  “That’s it!” I shouted, making him jump. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. That’s the reason I’m inclined to believe Emily.”

  “What is?”

  “Someone tried to run me down the other day. A big black carriage came right at me as I was crossing the street.”

  “I’d put that down to a bad driver,” Daniel said, “and to your not looking where you were walking.”

  “No, it was deliberate, I’m sure. He came right at me and didn’t attempt to slow or swerve.”

  “So you think someone, in a city as big as New York, was waiting and lurking on a street, just on the off chance you’d pass by and he could run you down?”

  “It wasn’t just anywhere in New York City,” I said. “It was around the corner from Patchin Place, just by the Jefferson Market building.”

  “All the same,” he said, “I’m still inclined to believe that some coachman was not looking where he was going, or had been told to hurry by his master and was driving rather too fast.”

  “But he came right at me, Daniel. He didn’t attempt to rein in the horses or to swerve away. In fact I think he almost steered toward me.”

  He was looking at me with a look I couldn’t quite fathom—was it humor or concern, or maybe a bit of both?

  “You don’t believe me, but it’s true,” I said.

  He sighed. “If it’s true, all the more reason to back down, Molly. If you really think that someone would be desperate enough to try to kill you in this way, then that person must suspect that you are coming too close to the truth. As I’ve said before, criminal cases should be left to the police.”

  “Aren’t you the police?” I demanded. “But I’ve presented you with the facts and you’re doing nothing.” I shook his hands from my shoulders and spun around to face him. “You could at least volunteer to test that hair for me.”

  He sighed. “I suppose I could have that done, if it would finally satisfy you.”

  “Thank you.” I gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’ll ask Emily when I see her tomorrow and I’ll try to get a strand or two from the second dead woman.”

  He shook his head, smiling. “Molly, you’re like a terrier. You hang on and shake and won’t let go.”

  “Not until I’ve reached the truth.” I stood up to face him. “So where are you going to take me this evening?”

  “I thoug
ht the theater,” he said.

  “Any particular one?”

  “What would you like to see?”

  “I’d rather like to see the revue starring Mademoiselle Fifi,” I said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Rather risqué for a respectable young woman, don’t you think?”

  “But I hear she is a wonderful dancer,” I said, eyeing him steadily.

  He came over to me and put his hands on my shoulders again. “Molly, you are up to something. You have an ulterior motive for going to this show.”

  “Really? Don’t be silly. And don’t tell me you’d not enjoy watching the dancing of Mademoiselle Fifi.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t mind watching her,” he said, looking decidedly uncomfortable, “but . . .”

  “Well then, what are we waiting for?”

  Twenty-two

  Mademoiselle Fifi’s revue was indeed quite entertaining, and quite risqué. I felt decidedly uncomfortable sitting beside Daniel as she danced wearing not much more than a corset and black suspenders. Daniel was also embarrassed about having me beside him, I could tell—although I’m sure he wouldn’t have complained had he been there alone.

  As it was, his eyes were riveted to the stage, which gave me the chance to look around the audience and see if Anson Poindexter was there. He wasn’t, of course. It would have been unthinkable for a newly bereaved husband to go to the theater. In fact I had no idea really why I had insisted on going to this theater. Just wanting to see Fifi in the flesh, I suppose. And I certainly saw large quantities of that. But I saw nothing else that aroused any suspicions and I wasn’t sure what to do next, if Emily and I were going to pursue the matter. Visit Dorcas’s home, of course, and find out who had been to see her or sent her gifts of food in her last days. Also try to visit Honoria Masters’s home and see if there was anything that linked the three women in any way.

  Now that I had time to consider, it did seem a little improbable that a respectable man like Anson Poindexter would go around killing women willy-nilly, just on the off chance that his dead wife had told them something suspicious. After all, the doctor had signed a death certificate with no qualms. Fanny was buried in the family tomb. He had essentially gotten away with murder, if that was what it was. So why risk two further attempts?

  I made up my mind that I would go with Emily to Dorcas’s and then I would close my files on the case. After all, I wasn’t being paid, and I had another case on my hands that I had almost concluded. All that was needed now was a visit to Horace Lynch, and I planned to fit that in tomorrow afternoon. Then I would be able to tell Emily the truth about her parents.

  On Sunday morning I met Emily as arranged and we walked together to Dorcas’s house. To tell the truth, I felt most uneasy about intruding in this way on a family I hardly knew. The Hochstetter mansion was clearly in a state of mourning. Black drapes swathed the windows. We stood in a darkened front hall and after a while Mrs. Hochstetter Senior came down the stairs to us. She was dressed all in black.

  “Miss Boswell?” She held out a hand. “I believe we have met before. You were our daughter-in-law’s friend from Vassar, is that not correct?”

  “I was indeed,” Emily said. “And this is my dear friend Miss Murphy, who also knew Dorcas. We came as soon as we heard the terrible news, to offer our condolences.”

  “You are most kind.” She put a black lace handkerchief up to her lips. “She was a lovely young woman and we are desolate to have lost her. My son is beside himself with grief and of course young Thomas will now be without a doting mama.”

  “What exactly did she die of?” I asked. “When we came to visit her last week, we heard that she had influenza. She seemed sick and weak but she told us she was on the road to recovery.”

  “Influenza, that’s what the doctor said it was.” Mrs. Hochstetter fought to retain her composure. “Simple, stupid influenza. We did everything. The doctor was here, I nursed her myself, and she just slipped away from us.”

  “So tragic,” I muttered, feeling like a hypocrite. “I wondered whether anything she had eaten might have made her condition worse.”

  “Eaten?” she demanded sharply. “The poor woman couldn’t keep any food down. She took nothing except for barley water and a few sips of broth.”

  I couldn’t think of a way to ask if the servants were trustworthy and the cook had prepared these items herself. “I expect her friends came to visit as we did and brought her all kinds of lovely foods she couldn’t eat,” I said. Even as I said it I had to agree that it sounded strange.

  “I gave strict orders that she was to be allowed no visitors as soon as I saw how weak she had become,” she said firmly.

  “Of course.” I nodded.

  “Mrs. Hochstetter, might it be possible to say our final farewell to Dorcas?” I asked. “Her body has not been taken away yet, has it?”

  “She still lies in her marriage bed,” Mrs. Hochstettter said. “I have not allowed anybody in there, on account of the virulence of the sickness. Anything that can kill a healthy woman in a few days should be given a wide berth and certainly not allowed to spread.”

  “Of course not,” I said. “But as it happens I have recently recovered from the same influenza and I understand that one cannot catch it twice. And Emily works in a drugstore and deals with sick people every day.”

  Mrs. Hochstetter was still regarding us with a quizzical stare. “If you insist, then I suppose you know what you are doing.”

  “She was my Vassar sister,” Emily said.

  “Very well.” Mrs. Hochstetter smoothed down her black skirt before ringing a little bell on the side table. “Soames. These young women wish to say their farewells to Mrs. Hochstetter Junior,” she said. “Please escort them to her room.”

  “Very well, madam.” The butler indicated we should follow him. Up the stairs we went, along a hallway that was bathed in gloom and made the statues in niches look like disembodied heads glaring down at us. He opened the door to Dorcas’s bedroom with obvious reluctance.

  “Mrs. Hochstetter Junior is at repose in here.”

  We stepped into a room that was as dark as the hallway had been. The odor of death came to greet us and we both recoiled a little, Emily giving me an alarmed glance.

  “Are you young ladies sure you wish to go inside?” he asked.

  “Vassar would expect it of me,” Emily said. “May we turn on an electric light?”

  “Certainly not. This house is in mourning,” Soames said.

  “I really would like to take one last look at my friend,” Emily said. I was impressed she could be so persistent. Soames was quite an intimidating figure. “May I then open the drapes just a little?”

  I thought he was going to say no to that too, but he sighed. “I will open them a crack for you, if you really insist, but it is highly improper.”

  He held open the curtains just an inch or two, sending a thin stripe of bright sunlight across the darkness.

  “Thank you.” Emily went to stand by Dorcas’s bed. The body was covered in a white sheet. Emily pulled back the sheets and let out an audible gasp. “Poor Dorcas,” she whispered. “Poor, dear Dorcas. She was the brightest of us all.”

  She bent down and kissed the dead cheek before pulling up the sheet again.

  While she had been occupied at the bed, I had tried to observe everything in the room. Given the almost complete darkness and the clutter of stuffed birds, artificial flowers, and every other kind of knickknack, it was hard to see anything. I didn’t know what I should be looking for anyway. There was hardly likely to be a bottle of poison sitting on the bedside table. But as my eye moved over Dorcas’s dressing table I felt I was looking at something I had seen somewhere else before. I looked again and couldn’t for the life of me decide what that was.

  “I think you should depart now,” Soames said, letting the drapes fall into place again and plunging us into complete darkness.

  We did as he requested and walked in silence down the stairs. We enc
ountered nobody in the front hall and stood blinking in the blinding light of the street.

  “Well?” Emily said. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t see how she could have been poisoned,” I said. “Her mother-in-law guarded her fiercely. You heard her yourself. She was allowed no visitors during the last days and she took no food apart from barley water and broth.”

  “Well, I have some strands of her hair, just in case,” Emily said.

  “Emily!”

  “It was easy enough. It came out in my hand. I didn’t even have to yank it hard.”

  “We’ll see if Ned turns up anything.”

  “Emily, what is he likely to turn up?” I found myself getting a trifle annoyed. “It was quite obvious that Anson Poindexter had not been near the place. Bella came and brought grapes but they were not touched.”

  “Bella? What has she to do with it?” Emily asked sharply.

  I realized that I had not told her what I had observed at the funeral—that intimate look that had passed between Bella and Anson when they thought that no one was looking. I decided to stay mum.

  “Nothing at all,” I said. No good could come of yet another complication, but I resolved to pay Bella a visit, just in case. If she had wanted to assist Anson in getting rid of a rich wife he didn’t love, as well as a friend who had been told too much, then it would have been easy enough to tamper with something in the room—the glass of barley water, for example.

  “I tell you what, if you’d like to give me that hair sample, my friend Captain Sullivan can have it tested in the real police laboratory—just to make sure.”

  “Oh, but Ned can test it for us,” she said. “He’s able to do this kind of thing, in fact he loves a challenge like this. He told me so.”

  “Then how about we divide the sample,” I said. “You give half to Ned and I’ll give half to Captain Sullivan and we’ll compare results. That is what any good scientists would do and I’m sure Ned would not object.”