Table of Contents
PRAISE FOR VICTORIA THOMPSON andMURDER ON ASTOR PLACE,THE FIRST IN THE GASLIGHT MYSTERY SERIES
Victoria Thompson is off to a blazing start with Sarah Brandt and Frank Malloy in Murder on Astor Place. I do hope shes starting at the beginning of the alphabet. Dont miss her first tantalizing mystery.
Catherine Coulter, author of Double Take
A marvelous debut mystery with compelling characters, a fascinating setting, and a stunning resolution. Its the best mystery Ive read in ages.
JiM Churchill, author of The Merchant of Menace
Fascinating ... Sarah and Frank are appealing characters ... Thompson vividly re-creates the gaslit world of old New York.
Publishers Weekly
Spellbinding. A bravura performance that will leave you impatient for the next installment.
-Romantic Times
An exciting first in a series which will appeal to Anne Perry fans.
Mystery Scene
Gaslight Mysteries by Victoria Thompson
MURDER ON ASTOR PLACE
MURDER ON ST. MARKS PLACE
MURDER ON GRAMERCY PARK
MURDER ON WASHINGTON SQUARE
MURDER ON MULBERRY BEND
MURDER ON MARBLE ROW
MURDER ON LENOX HILL
MURDER IN LITTLE ITALY
MURDER IN CHINATOWN
To Roselyn OBrien and all the staff and volunteers
of the March of Dimes, in appreciation for all you
do to save babies.
SARAH HEARD THE WAILING WHEN SHE WAS STILL halfway down the street. She knew the sound only too well, the howl of a grief too great to bear, and she was certain she had arrived too late.
A midwife by trade, she had been summoned to deliver the third child of Agnes Otto, a strong, healthy young woman whom Sarah had seen only a few days earlier. Everything had seemed fine then, but if Sarah had learned nothing else from her years of midwifery, she knew that things sometimes went terribly wrong when a baby was making its way into the world, no matter how strong and healthy his mother might appear to be.
Certain of what she would find and praying she wasnt too late to save at least one of them, Sarah picked up her heavy skirts and tucked her medical bag under her arm. Dodging the puddles left from the freak rainstorm yesterday that had dropped over an inch of rain in a hours time, she hurried down the sidewalk, past the neat row of tenement buildings here on St. Marks Place, in the heart of Little Germany, until she reached the one where Agnes Otto lived. The front door stood open to catch what little air stirred in the early July heat, and Sarah was up the stoop and through it in an instant. Inside, the dark hallway was deserted, but the sound of weeping echoed down the stairwell. She followed it unerringly and found several women gathered on the landing above, just outside the door to the Ottos flat. They were crying and wringing their hands and sobbing into their aprons. That was when Sarah began to suspect that whatever was wrong was not what shed been expecting at all.
Then she saw the policeman.
He stood just inside the flat, the brass buttons of his uniform straining over his big belly, sweat streaming off his face in the oppressive heat, and his expression oddly panicked. His presence relieved her on one level. Nobody called the police because a baby or a mother died in childbirth. But the police didnt just show up for no reason, either. Something terrible had happened, even though it wasnt the thing Sarah had most feared.
Oh, look, Mrs. Brandt has come, one of the neighbor women said, seeing Sarah. Thank heaven youve come.
The policeman turned to look at her, and his sweaty face brightened. The midwifes here now, missus, he said to someone inside, someone who was crying more loudly than any of the women in the hallway. Ill just be on my way. Someone will let you know when you can claim the body.
The body? Good heavens, what was he talking about? Had something happened to Agness husband? No wonder everyone was hysterical.
Whats going on here? Sarah demanded of the policeman, but he was in too much of a hurry to leave. He tipped his hat as he passed, but he did pass, as quickly as he could push his way through the group of women and squeeze by Sarah, and then he hustled his bulky frame down the dark stairwell and was gone.
It is Mrs. Ottos sister, Gerda, one of the women obligingly explained, dabbing at her eyes with the comer of her apron. Somebody has murdered her!
The words brought back ugly memories that Sarah had worked very hard to store away forever. Her own husband had been murdered a little more than three years ago, and just last April, Sarah had helped solve the murder of another unfortunate young woman. Although she sometimes had to deal with death in the course of her work, that at least was natural. Shed hoped never again to encounter the kind that came unnaturally, from the violent hand of another.
Sarah didnt have to push her way into the Ottos flat. The women parted to allow her to enter, apparently as grateful for her arrival as the policeman had been.
Agnes Otto sat at the table in her small kitchen with her head on her arms, sobbing as if her heart would break. Plainly, Sarah would get no straight answers from her.
She turned to the women still hovering in the doorway. Is she in labor?
We do not know, one of them said. But we were afraid, with the shock of it ...
Sarah nodded. Shock had a way of hurrying things along, and Agnes was due anytime now. Sarah set her medical bag on the table and started to unbutton the jacket that fashion dictated she wear out in public, in spite of the heat. From the front room of the flat, the one facing the street, Sarah could hear the cries of a young child. That would be Agness daughter, who was about two. Looking around, she found Agness son, a boy of about four. He was huddled in the comer, practically under the sink, and staring at his mother with wide, terrified eyes.
Would one of you take care of the children, please? Sarah asked as she rolled up her sleeves. They shouldnt be here.
Two of the women hurried to do her bidding, removing the children from the flat and leaving her alone with Agnes. Do you want me to send for your husband? Sarah asked, gently stroking the other womans shoulders in a gesture of comfort.
Agnes didnt hesitate. She shook her head vehemently, then made an effort to raise her head. Her usually pale face was swollen and blotched with weeping. She brushed at her running nose with the cuff of her sleeve, and said, He will not come. He would lose his days wages.
Some men would count that a small cost to be able to comfort a pregnant wife, but Agnes knew her husband better than Sarah did. How are you feeling? Are you having any pains?
Pains? As if shed forgotten for a moment that she was pregnant, Agnes sat up in the chair and wrapped her arms protectively around her distended belly. Then she looked at Sarah and seemed to recognize her for the first time. Nein, I dont think so. Why have you come? she asked in alarm.
One of the neighbor boys came for me. I thought it must be your time.
I did not send for you. I did not think of anything but Her voice broke as she remembered her sister, and she covered her face with her hands.
I guess your neighbors thought you might need me. Sarah pulled out a chair and sat down beside Agnes. Can you tell me what happened?
