The Gilded Hour

New York NY

Anna finished reading and handed the sheet of paper to Jack. Rosa was staring at the floor, her head bent. She was trying so hard to be a grown-up, it wouldn’t do for Anna to start crying.

“Rosa.”

The small face came up, slowly. Misery and determination fought for the upper hand.

Anna said, “You’ll need a three-cent postage stamp. I’ve got some in my desk.”

After some discussion they came up with a plan. Every week Rosa would write to another town, one she chose from the atlas she found in the parlor bookcases at Roses. One week she would write to a town in New York, the next in New Jersey. Anna would provide the paper, envelope, and postage stamp.

Margaret would help her with the wording, consulting now and then with Aunt Quinlan and the others. Rosa could continue writing these letters for as long as she liked.

Rosa asked Jack a question that another man would have had trouble answering. “Do you think I might find them this way?”

He reached out and put a hand on the crown of her head. “I’ve seen stranger things happen.”

Elise came in as Rosa left.

“I’m about to leave for the hospital,” Anna said. “If you want to walk with me you should get your things.”

“I will,” she said. “But I wanted to be sure you saw this.”

She put the New York Post on the table in front of Anna, and Jack immediately got up to come around and read over her shoulder.

? ? ?

NEW YORK POST

LATE EDITION

ARCHER CAMPBELL IN CUSTODY

STOLEN BEARER BONDS FOUND IN HIS POSSESSION

Acting on an anonymous tip, Detective Sergeants H. A. Sainsbury and M. P. Larkin of the New York Police Department yesterday searched the home of Archer Campbell at 19 Charles Street and found a number of stolen bearer bonds. Campbell resisted arrest and sustained significant injuries in his struggle with the detectives. He sits now in the Tombs awaiting arraignment.

Just weeks ago Campbell appeared in court to testify in the inquest into his wife’s sudden and tragic death. At the same time the couple’s four young sons disappeared without a trace and are still missing. The city mourned with Mr. Campbell for the loss of his family, only to find that their sympathy was ill placed.

The bonds found in his possession were just three of a larger issue of fifty. The Boston and New York police will interrogate Campbell in an attempt to uncover the location of the rest of the bonds.

“The Boston police tell us this was an older robbery,” Detective Sergeant Larkin told the Post. “It’s possible the rest of the bonds will never be recovered.”

It took a great deal of stern self-discipline, but Elise never asked about the newspaper article; she kept all her questions to herself and ignored the burn of curiosity in her throat.

Instead they talked about Regina Sartore’s surgery, which Anna had missed. To Elise Anna’s many questions felt something like an exam that she hadn’t studied for, but she answered with what turned out to be satisfactory detail. Finally she got up the nerve to ask about a different matter, almost as difficult as the newspaper article.

“Has there been any progress in the postmortem cases we talked about?”

Anna glanced at her in surprise, as if she had already forgotten the long conversation of just two days ago. Then her expression cleared.

“There’s been another case,” she said. “And a little forward movement. A witness who has some information the detectives are pursuing. Did you find the cases interesting?”

“The circumstances are terrible, but the discussion was interesting. Did the detectives agree that the doctor must be well established, and considered trustworthy?”

At that Anna smiled. “Just the opposite. They have a suspect. An intern, very young and untried. I’m not sure why exactly but they are as sure about him as I am convinced that you have the right of it, and they should be looking for someone older.”

They walked in silence for a while, and then Elise said what came to mind.

“Why couldn’t it be both?”

? ? ?

ON THE WAY out of the squad room a runner brought Jack a message that he opened and read on the spot.

Oscar waited, worrying the end of his cigar. “Well?”

“From Anna. It says, ‘Why are you assuming there is only one doctor? Could it not be the man you suspect as well as a more established physician, the two working together? Elise suggested this to me, and it makes sense.’”

“I can see where this is going,” Oscar said dismally. “Those two are after our jobs.”

This time they found Neill Graham’s landlady up to her elbows in soapsuds, but she was all good cheer, made offers of tea and cake, begged just a moment while she changed her apron.

Sara Donati's books