Free Murder in Morningside Heights (A Gaslight Mystery) by Victoria Thompson

many people assume something is . . . improper.”
    That wasn’t the word Frank would’ve chosen, but it would do. “I would think it’s hard for a man to work with young females all the time.”
    Pelletier smiled ruefully. “You can have no idea, but not perhaps for the reasons you think. The young ladies can be silly and dramatic, and they can develop romantic attachments with the slightest provocation. A man must be constantly on his guard not to encourage such things. Rarely does the attraction go the other way, I assure you.”
    “Did Miss Northrup develop a romantic attachment to you?”
    “
Pas du tout.”
He helpfully shook his head so Frank knew he meant “no.” “You flatter me, Mr. Malloy. I have not had this problem with the young ladies for a few years now.” He stroked his beard where some gray hairs mingled with the dark ones. “In truth, it was not my idea to hire Miss Northrup at all. Miss Wilson convinced President Hatch that I needed help, and she proposed Miss Northrup.”
    “And did you really need help?”
    He shrugged the way Frank had noticed Frenchmen shrug when he’d been in France. He thought it made them look silly. “One grows weary of teaching the beginners, Mr. Malloy. I was glad to pass those duties to Miss Northrup.”
    “Did any of the other teachers resent her? I understand it was unusual for the school to hire somebody who had just graduated to teach here.”
    “I cannot speak for the others, but there is always a bit of jealousy when someone is chosen, is there not?”
    “I don’t have much experience with colleges, Professor. You tell me.”
    His smile looked a little bitter around the edges. “There is, I am afraid, but if you are thinking this is the reason someone attacked poor Miss Northrup, you will be wrong. If someone attacked Miss Wilson, then I would understand.”
    “Miss Wilson? What did she do?”
    “She do what no female ever does here. She becomes a professor.”
    *   *   *
    G ino hoped the surge of excitement he felt didn’t show too much in his face. “What did Miss Northrup do to Miss Billingsly?”
    Bathsheba stirred the washtub water with her stick and found no additional clothes to wring out. “Reckon I better get these things hung up.”
    She stood up and got her coat. Not to be deterred, Gino put his coat back on as well and picked up the laundry basket without being asked. She acted as though she didn’t even notice, but she let him follow her outside.
    “Set it there.” She pointed.
    He did and stepped back, waiting because she was in charge and he knew better than to push her when she’d probably tell him everything in her own good time.
    She pinned a few items to the rope before she said, “Miss Billingsly, she and Miss Wilson been friends since they first met. I never saw two womens get along like them two. They always talking about things together.”
    “What kind of things?”
    “School things. Book things. I don’t know. I never went to school, but they read books and get ideas about life and then they’d talk it over. I never understood much of it, but it was a comfort to hear them talk. They’d argue sometimes, because they didn’t agree about something, but they’d never get mad. I couldn’t understand that. I never saw peoples argue without getting mad at each other. It was a wonder.”
    Gino would like to see that himself. “But things changed when Miss Northrup moved in, I guess.”
    “Before that, even,” she said with more than a trace of bitterness. “She started coming here long time ago and stirring up trouble.”
    “How long ago?”
    “Since she first come to the school, I reckon. She was Miss Wilson’s student, see. The two ladies would invite their favorite students over on a Sunday. Sometimes they’d read together or sometimes a visitor would give a talk. Then the ladies would all talk over what they learned. I never seen nothing like it. The young ladies—that’s what they call the