Twenty-two
Mademoiselle Fifi’s revue was indeed quite entertaining, and quite risqué. I felt decidedly uncomfortable sitting beside Daniel as she danced wearing not much more than a corset and black suspenders. Daniel was also embarrassed about having me beside him, I could tell—although I’m sure he wouldn’t have complained had he been there alone.
As it was, his eyes were riveted to the stage, which gave me the chance to look around the audience and see if Anson Poindexter was there. He wasn’t, of course. It would have been unthinkable for a newly bereaved husband to go to the theater. In fact I had no idea really why I had insisted on going to this theater. Just wanting to see Fifi in the flesh, I suppose. And I certainly saw large quantities of that. But I saw nothing else that aroused any suspicions and I wasn’t sure what to do next, if Emily and I were going to pursue the matter. Visit Dorcas’s home, of course, and find out who had been to see her or sent her gifts of food in her last days. Also try to visit Honoria Masters’s home and see if there was anything that linked the three women in any way.
Now that I had time to consider, it did seem a little improbable that a respectable man like Anson Poindexter would go around killing women willy-nilly, just on the off chance that his dead wife had told them something suspicious. After all, the doctor had signed a death certificate with no qualms. Fanny was buried in the family tomb. He had essentially gotten away with murder, if that was what it was. So why risk two further attempts?
I made up my mind that I would go with Emily to Dorcas’s and then I would close my files on the case. After all, I wasn’t being paid, and I had another case on my hands that I had almost concluded. All that was needed now was a visit to Horace Lynch, and I planned to fit that in tomorrow afternoon. Then I would be able to tell Emily the truth about her parents.
On Sunday morning I met Emily as arranged and we walked together to Dorcas’s house. To tell the truth, I felt most uneasy about intruding in this way on a family I hardly knew. The Hochstetter mansion was clearly in a state of mourning. Black drapes swathed the windows. We stood in a darkened front hall and after a while Mrs. Hochstetter Senior came down the stairs to us. She was dressed all in black.
“Miss Boswell?” She held out a hand. “I believe we have met before. You were our daughter-in-law’s friend from Vassar, is that not correct?”
“I was indeed,” Emily said. “And this is my dear friend Miss Murphy, who also knew Dorcas. We came as soon as we heard the terrible news, to offer our condolences.”
“You are most kind.” She put a black lace handkerchief up to her lips. “She was a lovely young woman and we are desolate to have lost her. My son is beside himself with grief and of course young Thomas will now be without a doting mama.”
“What exactly did she die of?” I asked. “When we came to visit her last week, we heard that she had influenza. She seemed sick and weak but she told us she was on the road to recovery.”
“Influenza, that’s what the doctor said it was.” Mrs. Hochstetter fought to retain her composure. “Simple, stupid influenza. We did everything. The doctor was here, I nursed her myself, and she just slipped away from us.”
“So tragic,” I muttered, feeling like a hypocrite. “I wondered whether anything she had eaten might have made her condition worse.”
“Eaten?” she demanded sharply. “The poor woman couldn’t keep any food down. She took nothing except for barley water and a few sips of broth.”
I couldn’t think of a way to ask if the servants were trustworthy and the cook had prepared these items herself. “I expect her friends came to visit as we did and brought her all kinds of lovely foods she couldn’t eat,” I said. Even as I said it I had to agree that it sounded strange.
“I gave strict orders that she was to be allowed no visitors as soon as I saw how weak she had become,” she said firmly.
“Of course.” I nodded.
“Mrs. Hochstetter, might it be possible to say our final farewell to Dorcas?” I asked. “Her body has not been taken away yet, has it?”
“She still lies in her marriage bed,” Mrs. Hochstettter said. “I have not allowed anybody in there, on account of the virulence of the sickness. Anything that can kill a healthy woman in a few days should be given a wide berth and certainly not allowed to spread.”
“Of course not,” I said. “But as it happens I have recently recovered from the same influenza and I understand that one cannot catch it twice. And Emily works in a drugstore and deals with sick people every day.”
Mrs. Hochstetter was still regarding us with a quizzical stare. “If you insist, then I suppose you know what you are doing.”