Murder on Mulberry Bend Read Online Free Page B

have hesitated to relieve a dead man of his valuables. He wouldn’t be needing them anymore, would he? Yet no one had touched Brandt’s body until the beat cop found him the next morning.
    No one on the force had cared to investigate further, however. Sarah Brandt hadn’t understood then that she needed to offer a “reward” for finding her husband’s killer, and apparently her wealthy family hadn’t either. Without such a motivation, the detective on the case had simply concluded Brandt had been killed by an unknown assailant and closed the case. Many people got away with murder every day in the city. The chances of finding who had killed the good doctor after three years were worse than slim.
    But miraculously, Frank had located someone who knew what had happened that night. True, he’d foolishly let the boy get away, but that was just a temporary setback. The boy would surface again. Danny knew no other life, so he wasn’t going to be leaving town. And just as someone had betrayed the boy once already, someone would again.
    Frank cursed and hurried his steps. His arm was beginning to ache. He needed to see a doctor, and he didn’t want to waste his time with any of the saw-bones in this neighborhood, assuming he could even find a sober one.
    Sarah Brandt was causing him a lot of trouble. If he had any sense, he’d forget what he’d heard today. She’d never know what had happened with Danny, so she’d never be disappointed in him for giving up the search for her husband’s killer.
    Then he thought about his son. Brian was getting his cast off in a few days, and he might be able to walk for the first time in his life. The best surgeon in the city had operated on his club foot — because the surgeon was a friend of Sarah Brandt’s.
    No, Frank wouldn’t forget what he’d learned today. Danny and he would meet again soon, and this time, he’d find out exactly what he needed to know.

2
    “G OOD MORNING, MRS. BRANDT!”
    Sarah waved a greeting to her neighbor, Mrs. Ellsworth. In spite of the Sabbath being a day of rest, Mrs. Ellsworth was out sweeping her front porch. This enabled her to keep an eye on all the activities on Bank Street. She had the cleanest porch in New York City.
    “Is that a new hat you’re wearing?” the old woman asked.
    Sarah reached up to touch the hat in question. “As a matter of fact, it is.”
    “Very stylish,” Mrs. Ellsworth said in approval.
    “It should be,” Sarah replied with a grin. “It was my mother’s.”
    “Your mother’s?”
    “Yes, she decided I needed some more presentable clothes, and she made me take my pick from her closet.” The gown she’d worn to the opera last night had been only one of her new acquisitions. Mrs. Ellsworth hadn’t noticed that her suit was “new,” too.
    “That was very nice of her. Now I suppose you’re taking your old things to be laundered, but where are you taking them on a Sunday?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked with a puzzled frown at the bundle Sarah carried. “Or are you taking something to poor Mr. Prescott?” Webster Prescott was a newspaper reporter who had been injured while investigating the murder Sarah had just helped Malloy solve a few days earlier.
    Sarah glanced down at the bundle. “No, this isn’t for Mr. Prescott. His aunt is taking very good care of him, and she assured me he doesn’t need anything. And it’s not my laundry, either. I’m paying a visit to one of the missions on the Lower East Side, so I thought I’d take my old things down to them as a donation.”
    “Oh, my, what a nice thing to do. I do hope you have included some shoes in your donation. Giving someone a pair of shoes is very good luck.”
    “I’m afraid I — ”
    “No, wait, I’m wrong about that,” Mrs. Ellsworth corrected herself, frowning in concentration. “It may only be new shoes that bring good luck. I’m not sure what old shoes bring. Oh, yes, I am! They’re good luck for the bride and groom, aren’t they? To tie