Jack said, “What’s wrong? All the color just drained out of your face.”
“Smithson’s?” Her voice wavered a little. “What about it?”
“There’s a coffeehouse just opposite, do you know it?” Oscar asked, his tone wary.
“Yes,” Anna said. “I used to go there with my uncle Quinlan when I was very young. And—” She looked first Oscar and then Jack in the eye. “I was there today.”
? ? ?
BY THE TIME they had exchanged stories—Jack got out his notes both to be sure of the facts and to add Anna’s observations—it was eight o’clock. She started at the chiming of the hall clock.
“I thought you had to go back to work?”
Oscar raised both brows and tucked in his chin in what she thought was mock surprise.
“What is it you think we’re doing?”
“Oh,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Your parlor is far more comfortable than the squad room, I’ll give you that.”
Jack said, “And it smells better.”
“I should hope so,” Anna muttered. “Is it too late to go to Jefferson Square right now? Just to get a sense of how things are laid out, and where Mrs. Winthrop might have been going.”
“Possible, but not the best idea,” Jack said. “You were there this morning; we were there a couple hours ago. If someone involved in this case happened to see us there again—together—it might well send them packing before we’ve even figured out who they are.”
“You think that’s possible?”
Oscar said, “Probable, even. And after tomorrow almost certain.”
Jack took a folded piece of paper from his notebook and handed it to her. “This will run in five newspapers tomorrow.”
Anna skimmed it, and then looked at them. “This might help reduce the number of women who go to him, but how could it help in identifying him?”
The two men glanced at each other. “We have a suspect,” Oscar said. “We’ll be watching him.”
“Can I ask who it is?”
“No.” Jack’s tone was firm.
Oscar scowled at him. “Come on, man. She’s up to her eyebrows already. And if I have to remind you, she’s been behind most of the useful information we have.”
“I know that,” Jack said shortly.
Anna said, “Oscar, I know what this is. What we have here is the Brooklyn Bridge.”
The look on his face was almost comical, and so she explained.
“I wanted Jack to take me to the top of one of the arches,” she said. “This was before it opened. We had a philosophical disagreement about the boundary between protectiveness and paternalism. I think this is a similar situation.”
Oscar was trying not to grin. “And how did that turn out?”
“Not in my favor,” Anna said. “But this time it will.”
? ? ?
THEY TOOK A break while Oscar went back to Mulberry Street to collect some materials. Jack took Anna’s hand and led her outside to sit in the garden.
“Something Oscar said made me realize we aren’t taking advantage of this.” He gestured around himself. “I keep meaning to look into putting together a pergola. Would you like that?”
Anna lifted their linked hands and pulled him toward a small bench at the far end of the garden.
She said, “This will do for the time being. So, you’re going to have to convince me about Neill Graham.”
He considered for a moment. “Tell me first why you’re so sure he’s not involved.”
“These women may each have been desperate in her own way, but none of them was stupid. They had money—some more than others, but all of them were well off when compared to the average. They had households to run—and you know what that entails.” She drew a breath and held it for a few heartbeats.
“A woman like this, with money and position, a woman who isn’t stupid isn’t going to hand herself over to a twenty-one-year-old intern. That kind of woman wants nice offices and treatment rooms and all the latest medicines and instruments. She wants anesthesia and laudanum and a physician with many years’ experience. She wants decorum and white hair and distinction and manners, and she’s willing to pay for all those things. Graham is polite and solicitous, but I can’t see Janine Campbell or any of the others simply handing over a pile of money and then surrendering to his care. Have I convinced you?”
“Not yet,” Jack said. “But then you weren’t there when Graham told us what it was like to examine poor women. There was—revulsion, even hatred, in his whole demeanor. And his keen interest in the Campbell case and the others—there’s some kind of connection.”
“I take you at your word,” she said. “After talking to Mrs. Smithson today I wouldn’t be surprised if she were connected too. I have no idea how. Is there one simple scenario that pulls together all the small pieces?”
“That’s what we’re working on. Look, here comes Oscar with his maps and the rest of the case file. Anna.”
She looked up at him, waiting.
“Promise me something.”