Free Murder on Lexington Avenue by Victoria Thompson Page B

saying, her disgust evident in her voice as she studied the moisture staining the carpet. “You’re going to have a baby. You need someone to help you. I’ll send for Dr. Smith.”
    “Not that old busybody! He’ll tell everyone in the city!”
    “It’s not a secret you can keep much longer,” Mrs. Parmer pointed out reasonably.
    “Not Smith! Not anyone who knows us!”
    “I know a midwife,” Frank said.
    The two women looked up in surprise. They’d completely forgotten he was there.
    “I know a midwife,” he repeated. “She’s Felix Decker’s daughter,” he added, in case his own recommendation wasn’t enough.
    “Felix Decker?” Mrs. Parmer echoed.
    “Felix Decker’s daughter can’t be a midwife,” Mrs. Wooten said with disdain.
    “Well, she is,” Frank said impatiently. “I’ll send one of your servants for her, and you can see for yourself.”
    “Who’s Felix Decker?” Mrs. Parmer asked.
    “The Deckers ,” Mrs. Wooten snapped. “One of the oldest families in the city.”
    “That’s right, and I’m going to send for her. You can send her away if you decide you want your doctor, but somebody has to do something,” Frank said, turning away from them in exasperation.
    Frank found Terry Young pacing the hallway at the bottom of the first flight of stairs. “What’s wrong with her?” he demanded, but Frank ignored him.
    “Annie!” he called, leaning over the railing to the hallway below.
    The girl came racing up the stairs, holding her skirts in both hands, her eyes wide and her face pale with fright.
    “I need to send for someone. Give me some paper and a pencil, and I’ll write down the address.”
    She hesitated, looking up the stairs to see if someone in authority would appear to tell her if she needed to obey his request, but no one did.
    “Give him whatever he needs,” Young snapped, and that apparently was all she required.
    She took Frank into a small room that had a desk and rummaged for the writing implements. He jotted down the directions to Bank Street and then wrote a short note. He folded it and gave it to the girl. “Have one of the servants take this to Mrs. Brandt at this address and tell her I need to see her here at once.”
    The girl took the paper gingerly. “Should I send the carriage?” she asked uncertainly.
    “No, it’ll be faster to go on foot.” It was often faster to go on foot than to maneuver a carriage through the traffic that clogged the city’s streets. He just hoped they’d find Sarah at home. He wasn’t sure what he would do if she wasn’t available.
    The maid nodded and hurried off. When Frank returned to the hallway, Mrs. Parmer was coming down from the floor above.
    “I sent for the midwife,” he told her.
    “I can’t believe this,” she said, looking slightly dazed. Then she saw Young lurking and she turned on him. “You . . . you cad !” she cried. “How could you do such a thing!”
    Frank didn’t think she really wanted to know the answer to that question, and he was sure Young didn’t want to answer it, so he tried to distract her. “Shouldn’t someone stay with Mrs. Wooten?”
    “I called for her maid. She’s getting her settled,” she said distractedly. “I can’t believe this is happening!”
    “Where are the children?” Frank asked, thinking he could use his time productively while he waited for Sarah by questioning them in addition to Young.
    “I have no idea,” she said, giving Young another glare.
    “I should go,” he said and started sidling toward the stairs.
    “I told you, I need to talk to you,” Frank reminded him. “If you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Parmer,” he added, “I need to ask Young some questions about your brother’s murder.”
    “Ask him some questions about my brother’s widow’s seduction while you’re about it,” she said through gritted teeth.
    Frank clapped a hand on Young’s shoulder and directed him to the parlor where Mrs. Wooten had received him on his first