“You’re a very lucky girl to have come here,” Sarah told her.

“She certainly is,” Mrs. Wells said as she came into the room. “I hope you haven’t been bothering Mrs. Brandt, Aggie.”

“Oh, no,” Sarah assured her. “We’ve been having a lovely visit, haven’t we, Aggie?”

The child nodded vigorously, making Sarah smile. But when she looked up, Mrs. Wells was frowning. Before Sarah could wonder why, her expression lightened again.

“Maeve said you had something important to discuss with me,” she said. “I hope nothing is wrong.”

Sarah wanted to remind her that one of her girls had been murdered and nothing could be more wrong than that, but Aggie was there. Besides, it would be rude. Instead she said, “Perhaps we should close the doors… and send Aggie out to play.”

Intrigued and concerned, Mrs. Wells lifted Aggie from Sarah’s lap and stood her on her feet. “Run along outside now with the other children,” she told the child, shooing her out. “I mean it,” she added. “Remember what I told you about listening at doors.” She waited until Aggie’s footsteps died away, then pulled the parlor doors shut and turned back to Sarah. “You said nothing was wrong.”

“Nothing new,” Sarah said. “It’s just… Detective Sergeant Malloy and I were discussing Emilia’s murder, and he had a question I couldn’t answer. I was hoping you could.”

Mrs. Wells had grown appropriately solemn. “I thought Mr. Malloy was no longer investigating Emilia’s death.”

“He’s not, but I’m still concerned, naturally. We were just discussing the facts we knew, and I recalled you said one of the girls heard Emilia say she wished Ugo could see her in her new outfit.”

For a moment, Sarah thought she would deny it, but then she appeared to remember. “Oh, yes, I’d almost forgotten,” she said cautiously. Sarah couldn’t blame her for being cautious when they were discussing her girls.

“Do you remember which girl it was?”

She didn’t answer right away. After a moment, she asked, “Do you believe this Ugo killed Emilia?”

“It’s certainly a possibility,” Sarah said tactfully. “We just thought it might be a clue.”

“How could it be a clue?”

Sarah always got into trouble when she lied. “We think… that is, I don’t believe Emilia actually said that.”

Now Mrs. Wells was really confused. “Why not?”

“Because from what the other girls have told me, Emilia hated Ugo and wouldn’t have wanted to see him.”

Mrs. Wells gave her a pitying smile. “Mrs. Brandt, women who have been abused often profess to hate their abusers. Unfortunately, and for reasons I shall never understand, they also seem irresistibly drawn to them. Emilia herself went back to Ugo a second time, even after he mistreated her. If he had professed a renewed desire to have her, I’m afraid she might have returned to him yet again.”

Sarah herself knew this to be true. “We do know, however, that Ugo didn’t kill Emilia,” she explained. “In fact… Well, I’m not quite sure how to say this. I know it will be difficult for you to believe, but… we think Emilia was killed by a woman.”

“A woman?” she echoed, apparently stunned.

“Or a girl,” Sarah clarified. “I’m so sorry, but we think one of the girls here at the mission killed her.”

The blood had drained from Mrs. Wells’s face, and Sarah hurried to her side. “Are you all right? I’ve got some smelling salts in my bag, if you – ”

“No, please,” she said, stiffening her back and lifting her chin. She took a few deep breaths and the color slowly returned to her cheeks. “Really, I’m fine. It’s just… such a shock.”

“I know,” Sarah agreed, sitting back down on the sofa. “I didn’t want to believe it myself, but there seems to be no other explanation.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what led you to this conclusion. I can’t believe… It’s impossible!”

Sarah told her about the hat pin and how it had been used to kill Emilia.

“But how would someone know that would kill her?” Mrs. Wells asked. “How would a girl know it?”

“When we find the killer, we can ask her,” Sarah said.

“And how will you find her? I’m sure no one is going to simply admit it.”

“She won’t have to. I think you know who the killer is, Mrs. Wells.”

Mrs. Wells’s expression collapsed into despair. “I?”

“Yes. Remember I asked you about the girl who told you Emilia wanted Ugo to see her new dress? I think she made that story up so when you told it to the police, they would think Ugo was the killer. I think that girl is the killer, Mrs. Wells, and you’re the one who knows who she is. Who told you that story?”

Sarah watched the play of emotions across her face as she struggled with her desire to protect the living and her duty to find justice for the dead. “I thought… but you say it had to be a woman,” she murmured, absently rubbing her temple as if to ward off a headache. “I’m trying to remember exactly… But it couldn’t have been Maeve,” she insisted finally.

“Was Maeve the one who told you?” Sarah asked, feeling a chill.

“Yes, but she couldn’t have killed Emilia. She was here at the mission. She couldn’t have left without anyone knowing!” Before Sarah realized what she was doing, Mrs. Wells rose and threw open the parlor door and called, “Maeve!”

Instinctively, Sarah rose to her feet, ready for whatever might happen.

“Maeve, come here at once!” Mrs. Wells called again, and Sarah could hear the patter of running feet.

Maeve skidded to a halt in the parlor doorway, and Mrs. Wells pulled her inside and slammed the door shut behind her. “Did you tell me that Emilia wanted Ugo to see her in her new dress the morning she was killed?”

Maeve looked terrified, her eyes so wide Sarah could see a rim of white all the way around. “I… no, ma’am, I never.” She glared at Sarah. “I told Gina that when she asked me, too.”

Fortunately, Mrs. Wells didn’t ask what she meant by that. “But you did tell me she was going to see her lover, didn’t you?” she pressed.

Maeve looked at her uncertainly, obviously wanting to please her but uncertain exactly how she could do that. “I… no, not her lover. Her mother. She wanted her mother to see her dressed up fine.”

Of course! Now Sarah remembered that Gina had said something to that effect just before she’d noticed the blood on the hat pin. The shock had driven it completely from Sarah’s mind. “But why would she have gone to the park to see her mother?” Sarah asked. “She only lives down the street.”

Mrs. Wells turned to Sarah. Her face looked as if it were carved from stone. “Her mother sells paper flowers there.”

Sarah felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Mrs. Brandt, are you all right?” Mrs. Wells asked in alarm. “Surely, you don’t think… her own mother?”

Sarah remembered Emilia’s mother and how much she had hated the baby girl she believed had been spawned by rape. Had Emilia sought her out in the park that morning to flaunt her new respectability? Had old hatreds overwhelmed her? “I don’t know,” she lied. The idea made too much sense and explained all the strange details of the case. “But I’ll have to tell Mr. Malloy. If she did, he’ll find out.”

“God help her,” Mrs. Wells said.