Free Murder on St. Nicholas Avenue by Victoria Thompson Page A

the basket and carefully unwrapped it. She’d scraped off the frosting, as the trip had caused it to crumble a bit, but she knew that wouldn’t affect the taste. She broke off a chunk. “Here.”
    She held it to Una’s mouth, but the woman just continued to stare at her.
    â€œYou need to eat. If you don’t, you’ll get sick and die. Is that what you want?”
    The fear-filled eyes flooded with tears, and she nodded.
    â€œOh, for heaven’s sake! Don’t be a goose. Do you think you’re the only person who ever had some trouble in her life? Do you think you’re the only woman whose husband died? Life is hard, Mrs. Pollock, and bad things happen. If people rolled over and died every time they did, there wouldn’t be a single person left in this city. Somebody killed your husband, Mrs. Pollock. Don’t you want to see that person punished?”
    Una blinked, sending the tears rolling down her cheeks, but she nodded.
    â€œSo do I. Now eat this cake. It’s delicious.”
    Una obediently opened her mouth, and Maeve fed her the chunk of cake.
    After the second bite, Una took the remaining cake from Maeve and began to feed herself. Maeve stepped back to watch.
    Una was almost finished when the red-haired womanreturned with a hastily wrapped bundle. She stopped dead in her tracks. “She eating?”
    â€œYes, she is.” Maeve took the bundle from her. “This better be all of it.”
    â€œI ain’t no thief,” she protested with creditable outrage.
    â€œYou’re in jail,” Maeve reminded her.
    The woman chose to ignore that. She studied Una for a moment. “She won’t last long in here.”
    â€œI know that, but she won’t have to.”
    â€œSays you. She done for her old man.”
    â€œSays you,” Maeve snapped. “Get out of here.”
    â€œI don’t have to take orders from you.”
    â€œThen take a suggestion, if you know what’s good for you, and leave me alone with my cousin.”
    Maeve’s glare worked once more, and when they were alone again, Maeve found Una staring up at her in awe. She’d eaten all the cake, so Maeve took the napkin from her and folded it up.
    â€œWho are you?” Una asked.
    â€œYour cousin Maeve,” she replied with a grin. “Your mother sent me to help.”
    Una continued to stare at her, and only then did Maeve really look at her.
    When Maeve had packed up the remainder of Una’s belongings, she’d noticed the quality of her clothes. Mrs. O’Neill had said Mr. Pollock had bought Una all new things, and he obviously had. Every garment in Una’s wardrobe was practically brand-new and expensive-looking. They weren’t custom-made, but she wouldn’t have expected that. The dress Una wore now was of the same quality except that the entire front of it, bodice and skirt, was stiff with a brownish stain.
    Blood.
    Sweet Lord in heaven, she was still wearing the blood-staineddress she’d been arrested in. Why hadn’t anyone changed her clothes?
    â€œStand up. You need a clean dress.”
    â€œNo!” she said, her voice little more than a rusty whisper. Maeve remembered that Mrs. O’Neill had said Una hadn’t spoken since the murder. Could she have really remained silent until now?
    â€œWhy not?”
    Una opened her mouth but nothing came out.
    â€œDon’t you want the world to see what happened to your husband?” Maeve said. “We can show them your dress. We can show them what they did to him.”
    Una’s face crumpled, and for a horrible moment, Maeve thought she was going to cry. Instead she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet and began to unbutton the dress. Maeve had to help. Dried blood made the buttonholes nearly unyielding, but they finally got them all free. Maeve peeled the ruined bodice off her and held her hand while she stepped out of the skirt.
    Her underclothes were