SARAH HAD TO LEAVE YET ANOTHER MESSAGE FOR Malloy at Headquarters, but this time, at least, he wouldn’t be angry. He wasn’t likely to get it until Monday, though, so she would have to go to his flat tomorrow and leave one for him there, too. That would give her a good reason to visit Brian, which she’d been wanting to do anyway. She would’ve gone there right away except she had to get home to dress for the Halloween party she was attending with Richard Dennis. Why had she agreed to that? Probably, because she hadn’t realized she would be so close to solving a murder at this particular time.

As it was, Sarah couldn’t have felt less like socializing. She hadn’t liked Mrs. Donato very much, but she didn’t like learning she was a murderer, either. No matter how many times she was faced with evidence to the contrary, Sarah still wanted to believe mothers loved their children.

Sarah had to ask for Mrs. Ellsworth’s help in getting into the costume her mother had loaned her. She’d thought modern clothes were cumbersome, but the French Queen Marie Antoinette had borne the added burden of an enormously elaborate hairstyle.

“My goodness,” Mrs. Ellsworth exclaimed when she saw the wig. “Did women really put battle scenes in their hair back then?”

“The French had an odd notion of style, I suppose,” Sarah said, examining the miniature naval battle depicted in a cavern constructed in the foot-high mound of the wig. The dress itself was bizarre enough, with its full skirt, tight lacing, and décolleté neckline. Her mother had also insisted she wear the beauty patch on her cheek.

Sarah picked up a comb to part her hair so she could start wrapping it tightly around her head to go under the wig, but Mrs. Ellsworth cried out a warning that startled her into dropping it on the floor.

“Good heavens,” the old woman said, picking up the comb and placing it out of Sarah’s reach. “You can’t comb your hair at night. It’s bad luck!”

Wasn’t anything safe to do around Mrs. Ellsworth? “How am I supposed to get this wig on then?” Sarah asked in exasperation.

“You can use a brush, of course,” Mrs. Ellsworth assured her. “That’s why women only brush their hair at night: Here, let me help you.”

Sarah agreed with a sigh, telling herself she was irritable only because she didn’t want to go to a party.

By the time Mrs. Ellsworth had placed the wig on her head and helped her fasten it securely in place, she looked as if she’d escaped from a museum painting.

“I certainly hope Richard appreciates this,” Sarah said in disgust.

“I’m sure you’ll be the most beautiful lady at the party,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “You really should try to smile, though.”

That did make Sarah smile. “Have I been terribly grumpy?”

“Just a bit,” the old woman said tactfully. “If you really don’t want to go, I’m sure Mr. Dennis would understand.”

“It’s not that. I’m just… Well, I’ve discovered who killed that girl, the one who was wearing my clothes.”

“I’d expect that to make you happy,” Mrs. Ellsworth said with a puzzled frown.

“I’d expect it, too,” Sarah said with a sigh.

She was saved from explaining by a knock on the door.

“That will be Mr. Dennis,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I’ll let myself out the back door. Have a wonderful time!”

After thanking her neighbor for her help, Sarah carefully made her way to her front door, learning how to balance the contraption on her head and not knock anything over with her skirts at the same time. She opened the door to a tall Napoleon. He grinned broadly when he saw her. “You look magnificent.”

“I won’t if I fall on my face,” she warned him. “You must promise to stay by my side all evening and hold me upright.”

Richard raised his right hand as if taking an oath. “Nothing could tear me away. Come, my queen, your carriage awaits.”

The Graves family lived in a brownstone near Sarah’s parents. The interior of their home had been furnished in excellent taste, with furniture obviously imported from England but notable for its simplicity. They might be quite wealthy, but they felt no need to make a show of it.

Opal and Charles were dressed as Anthony and Cleopatra. Opal exclaimed over Sarah’s costume, then whispered how very glad she was to see Richard looking so happy again. Sarah ignored the provocation and allowed Opal to continue greeting her guests.

Opal found her later, enjoying a moment of solitude while Richard chatted with some business associates who were dressed as Knights of the Round Table.

“I’ve been dying to ask you how your investigation is going,” she said, taking a seat beside Sarah at the edge of the large ballroom.

“I think we’ve found the killer,” Sarah told her with a sigh.

“You don’t look very happy about it,” Opal said.

“That’s because… I know it’s hard to believe, but I think it may have been the girl’s own mother.”

“How awful! Of course, considering her background, I guess we shouldn’t be too shocked. Her family are foreigners, aren’t they?”

“Not all foreigners are murderers,” Sarah reminded her sharply.

“Oh, dear, I guess that did sound patronizing, didn’t it?” Opal said, chagrined. “I only meant… Well, I guess I did mean it badly, but… I can’t help thinking that people in other countries aren’t raised with the same sensitivities as we are. You must admit the Italians treat each other terribly.”

Sarah had to agree with that when she thought of the Black Hand. “Even still, it’s hard to think of a mother killing her child, although it happens with alarming frequency when people live in poverty.”

Opal patted her hand in a gesture of comfort. “Does Mrs. Wells know yet?”

Sarah nodded. “We haven’t arrested anyone though. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Mr. Malloy since I found out who it was.”

“That means she could escape,” Opal said in horror. “Good heavens, what if she kills someone else?”

“We don’t think that’s likely. She killed Emilia in a fit of passion. She wouldn’t have a reason to kill anyone else. As for escaping, she has no idea anyone even suspects her.”

“Thank heaven for that. But poor Mrs. Wells, this will be so difficult for her, with a trial and all the publicity. She’s already been through so much, and yet she has such strength. Did you know she lost a child in addition to her husband?”

“Yes, she told me.”

“She was such a comfort to me when Hazel died. I know she was to Hazel, too. In fact, she was Hazel’s last visitor. She told me they prayed together and that Hazel had finally found the peace she’d been seeking.”

“That would be a comfort,” Sarah agreed, thinking of Tom. How wonderful it would have been to know he’d found peace before he died.

“You ladies look entirely too serious,” Charles Graves informed them. “I’m afraid I must ask Mrs. Brandt to dance to cheer her up.”

“That should do it,” Opal said with a smile. “Dancing with Charles usually makes women laugh out loud.”

Her husband wasn’t the least bit offended. He took Sarah’s hand with as much dignity as he could while dressed like an ancient Roman and led her to the dance floor. With her towering wig, she was even taller than Opal, but he was accustomed to the difference in height. By the time the dance was over, Sarah was indeed laughing at his clever teasing. She would think about killers tomorrow. That would be time enough.

Much later, Sarah turned to Richard as they rode home in his carriage. “I had a lovely time tonight. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for accompanying me. I wouldn’t have gone alone. I haven’t been to a party like that since Hazel died.”

“Then that explains why Opal was so happy to see me there.”

“She and Charles have been good friends, although I suspect they’ve stuck by me mostly because of guilt.”

“Why should they feel guilty?” Sarah asked.