Murder on Lexington Avenue by Victoria Thompson

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    “I T’S FROM MR. MALLOY,” SHE TOLD SARAH, PASSING IT to her.
    Sarah ignored the small flutter in her stomach at the mention of Malloy’s name. He’d sent her plenty of messages in the months she had known him. This one shouldn’t cause her any special excitement. And of course, it wasn’t exactly a personal message. His familiar scrawl informed her that someone needed her professional services immediately and would she please come?
    The young footman didn’t appear to be as excited as the normal male who was sent to fetch a midwife. Usually, the messenger who came to summon her was nearly panicked by the time he reached her door. “I’ll just be a few minutes. I have to gather my medical supplies,” she told him.
    This distracted him from admiring Maeve, and he looked up in surprise. “Medical? Are you some kind of doctor?” he asked. “I never saw a woman doctor.”
    To his chagrin, Maeve and Catherine giggled at his ignorance. “She’s a midwife,” Maeve informed him.
    “What’s a midwife?” he asked, making them giggle again.
    “She delivers babies,” Maeve informed him.
    This surprised him, and his surprise dismayed Sarah. She glanced at Malloy’s message again and saw that it clearly said he needed her professional services. Was it possible this boy didn’t know someone in the house where he worked was expecting? Yes, she realized, that was indeed possible.
    She pulled out her medical bag and began to check her supplies to make sure she would have everything she needed.
     
     
    T ERRANCE YOUNG WASN’T YET THIRTY YEARS OLD. HE was his father’s son, stocky but not yet fat, and not particularly handsome. His mousy brown hair was already thinning and had been carefully pomaded into place to cover the bare spots.
    Sweat had beaded on Young’s upper lip, and he licked it off nervously. “I can’t imagine why you want to question me,” he protested unconvincingly.
    “Well, let’s start with what you and Mrs. Wooten were doing when I came into her room just now.”
    “We were talking,” he informed Frank defensively. He wasn’t very good at outrage, and Frank managed not to roll his eyes.
    “Are you hard of hearing?” Frank asked blandly.
    “Hard of hearing? No, of course not!”
    “Then why did you have to sit so close to her? She was practically in your lap.”
    The color bloomed in Young’s face, turning it crimson. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Then you’re even stupider than I thought,” Frank replied.
    Young decided to take offense at that. “You have no right to keep me here,” he tried.
    “You’re right, I don’t. Maybe I should take you down to Police Headquarters and lock you up instead.”
    The crimson stain drained from his face. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
    “Most people would think that seducing another man’s wife was wrong,” Frank countered.
    “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
    “Don’t I? Well, then, why don’t you explain it to me.”
    “It’s none of your business!” he tried desperately.
    “Of course it’s my business. If you and Mrs. Wooten are lovers and she’s carrying a child and Mr. Wooten would have known it couldn’t be his, then both of you have a good reason to want him dead.”
    “I never! How dare you even suggest such a thing! I could never . . . Mr. Wooten was like a father to me!”
    “And was Mrs. Wooten like a mother to you?” Frank asked curiously.
    His face grew scarlet again. “You can’t speak about her that way!”
    “What way?” Frank asked. “I didn’t intend to insult her, although it’s hard not to, knowing what I know about her. Answer my question, was she like a mother to you?”
    “My mother died when I was two,” Young told him, every word sounding as if it were being pulled from him like a bad tooth. “When my father and Mr. Wooten became partners, Mrs. Wooten was very kind to me, welcoming me into her home.”
    “Welcoming you into her bedroom,”