Murder on Astor Place Read Online Free PDF

...” She hesitated, probably seeing what Frank was feeling reflected on his face. “But perhaps you’d rather not hear the details.”
    She was right about that. She probably thought he was squeamish or maybe that he was embarrassed by this frank discussion of female problems. Let her think that. He’d humble himself a lot before he’d reveal the true reason for his discomfort with the subject of pregnancies gone wrong.
    “So you think an abortionist came here to her room. Someone she hired to get her out of a tough spot,” he said, trying out the theory to see how it sounded.
    “I don’t think anything,” she corrected him. “I’m a midwife. You’re the detective.”
    He ignored her. “That would explain why there was no break-in. She let the abortionist in. Late at night, after everyone was asleep. And then... what? She decided not to go through with it and refused to pay and ...”
    “And the abortionist strangled her?” Mrs. Brandt supplied, her skepticism obvious.
    Frank had to agree. It didn’t sound very logical. In his experience, abortionists did very well for themselves. The prospect of losing a fee didn’t seem likely to inspire one of them to murder.
    But Frank had another idea. A very clear idea, and one he suddenly realized he didn’t need to share with Sarah Brandt. He didn’t really need her for anything else now. Bringing her up here had just been a whim, and—he had to admit—a rather juvenile way of imposing his will on a woman who looked as if she didn’t get imposed upon very often.
    But he’d had his fun—if you could call it that—and he was finished with her.
    “You can go now,” he told her.
    She widened her eyes at him again. This time she was amazed at his rudeness. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the least bit humbled by it. “Detective Sergeant Malloy, Alicia’s family is very wealthy and influential, and I’m sure they’ll be extremely, uh, grateful to whoever finds the person who murdered her.”
    Frank bristled at her implication, all the more offended because the implication—that he’d work harder to solve a case for someone rich—was true. “I’m sure I don’t care if they’re grateful or not, Mrs. Brandt. I’ve got my job to do, and I’ll do it.”
    She didn’t snort in derision—ladies of her class didn’t snort—but she gave every indication that’s how she felt about his assertion. Frank told himself he didn’t care. He’d given up caring about other people’s opinion of him a long time ago.
    At least she didn’t argue with him. He watched her turn and start out, but then she remembered the hat she was still carrying, the silly thing with flowers and ribbon all over it. She stopped in front of the dead girl’s mirror and took a moment to put it back on, silently telling him she would do just what she wanted, when she wanted to do it, and detective sergeant or not, he couldn’t rush her.
    She smoothed her blonde hair with one hand where the hat pin had pulled it loose of the fancy roll she’d done it up into. Then she removed the hat pin, placed the hat on her head, just so, and reattached it with the long pin.
    Memories stirred to life, memories he hadn’t allowed himself for years. How long since he’d been in a bedroom and watched a woman smooth her hair? How long since he’d been alone like this with a woman at all?
    He knew exactly: three years and three months in another week. The night he’d sat at Kathleen’s bedside and held her hand while the life’s blood drained out of her. All because of a woman like Sarah Brandt.
    But just as he felt the old rage building, she turned to face him. Her expression couldn’t be called humble. Sarah Brandt would never wear such an expression. But this was as close as she probably ever came.
    “Please, Mr. Malloy, find Alicia’s killer,” she begged him.
    She didn’t wait for his reply, probably knowing he had none to give.
    SARAH WANTED TO go straight back home and lock herself in her