This had the desired effect of distracting her completely. “My help? Whatever for?”

“I know this will sound strange, but I’d like to see Dirk Schyler.”

“Dirk?” Her mother’s surprise instantly gave way to pleasure. “Of course! Oh, Sarah, this is wonderful!” As she had expected, her mother completely misinterpreted her interest in Dirk. “What made you think of him after all these years? Well, no matter. He’s perfectly suitable, exactly the kind of man your father and I would have chosen for you!”

Exactly the kind of man they would have chosen for her if she’d given them the opportunity, was the unspoken message. Sarah’s parents had never approved of Tom Brandt, but she hadn’t sought their approval or needed it. “Please don’t make any wedding plans just yet,” she told her mother with a smile. “That’s not the reason I want to see him.”

Her mother was a little surprised, but then she thought she’d figured it out. “Oh, of course not! We wouldn’t want him to think you were seeking him out or pursuing him, would we? Nothing is more likely to discourage romance than apparent interest from the female. But don’t worry, I will be perfectly discreet. I’m sure that seeing you again will be more than enough to spark his interest, though. His parents have been quite disappointed that he hasn’t married yet. He’s well over thirty, you know. They’ve put him in the way of every eligible young woman in New York, but he never even seems to notice them.”

Sarah was fairly certain she knew why. Dirk Schyler’s interests lay elsewhere. He didn’t want a respectable wife taking note of his comings and goings.

Although she should have dampened her mother’s enthusiasm for a match between her and Dirk Schyler, she knew that would only defeat her purpose. Her mother would be disappointed when nothing romantic developed between her and Dirk, but her mother had survived other, larger disappointments and would survive this one as well. In the meantime, her matchmaking instincts would motivate her to get the two of them together at the earliest possible moment.

“Can you think of any social engagements coming up at which you might encounter him?” Sarah asked.

Her mother considered. “Not really. He doesn’t regularly attend the usual functions anymore. I suppose I could organize a small dinner party and invite him, though,” she finally decided.

“That would be perfect,” Sarah said.

But her mother wasn’t finished. “I could organize a dinner party, but of course, your father would have to host it. And that would mean that you must see him first.”

See him and reconcile with him, was what she meant, and Sarah understood the conditions perfectly. Hadn’t she known this would happen? Her mother might look as delicate as a china doll, but inside she had a will of iron. She might use charm and grace to accomplish her purpose, but she was relentless. And Sarah supposed she was ready to be reconciled with her father. Otherwise, she would have found another way to contact Dirk Schyler, wouldn’t she?

“All right, Mother. When can I see Father?”

MALLOY CAME BY that evening. He looked tired. Sarah wished she felt more sociable, but she was too worried about meeting with her father the next day. Her mother had been wise enough not to allow her too much time to change her mind. Her only salvation would be if someone summoned her to deliver a baby. Malloy certainly hadn’t come for that.

“I hope you have some news,” she told him as he stepped into her office.

“I was hoping you did,” he replied.

The rain had finally stopped, and the air was fresh and cool, so they went out to the back porch. Sarah poured him some lemonade, and then she waited to hear what he had to tell her.

“That fellow Robert, the one on the list, he got married,” he said. “He hasn’t been going out to dance halls since before Gerda Reinhard died.”

Sarah pretended to be hearing this information for the first time. “So that probably means he’s not our killer.”

Malloy sipped his lemonade. “You might want to call on him, though. His wife will be needing your services soon.”

Ah, so that explained the hasty marriage and sudden domesticity. “I should give you some of my cards,” she teased him. “You could pass them out in your travels.”

Even in the fading sunlight, she saw his quick smile, gone in a moment. “What did you find out?” he asked, surprising her.

“Me? How would I find out anything?”

“I don’t know,” he said, settling more comfortably in his chair. “Maybe by questioning some of the other girls’ friends again, just like I did.”

“Malloy, you’re too suspicious.”

“And you’re a bad liar. What did you find out?”

She sighed in defeat. So much for keeping her activities secret from Malloy. “I found out that Luisa met the man named Will, the one from the list, at Coney Island. He spent a lot of money on her, and he bought her a gift.”

“What kind of gift?” She had his interest now.

“I don’t know. Her friend told me about it, but her sister denied it. She didn’t want me to think Luisa was a Charity Girl.”

“Can’t blame her for that, but it does make it hard when they won’t tell you what they know. Nothing can hurt the dead, but people forget that. You’d think they’d want to find the killer more than they’d want to protect the victims, but they never do.”

Sarah remembered the first case they’d worked on together and knew he was right. “They also said this Will could be rough when a girl didn’t do what he wanted.”

“Rough? You mean he beat them?”

“Luisa’s sister said he slapped them around. Not beat. She was clear that he didn’t really hurt them.”

“Since when doesn’t a slap hurt?” Malloy wanted to know.

“Since women want to pretend it doesn’t mean anything,” Sarah countered.

Malloy grunted. “What do we know about this Will?” he asked.

“He’s handsome, dresses well, and has a lot of money to spend. I haven’t met anyone who knew him personally yet. Or at least no one who will admit it. Maybe they don’t want to be known as Charity Girls, either.”

“He sounds a lot like your friend,” Malloy observed.

“My friend?”

“The fellow we met at Coney Island.”

Sarah hadn’t thought of that. Another reason to ask Dirk to go with her. He’d know exactly how a man like that would behave since he himself was a man like that. Except for being a murderer, of course.

“The first three girls all knew a man named Will who fits this same description,” Sarah reminded him. “No one remembered Gerda knowing Will, but she’d just met a fellow who sounds like him, the one who bought her the red shoes on Coney Island.”

“Could be somebody else,” he reminded her.

“And it could be the same man. If all these girls were killed by the same man, there’s bound to be some coincidences.”

“At least one,” Malloy agreed.

“I was thinking,” Sarah ventured, figuring Malloy would find out anyway. “I could go out to Coney Island and see if I can locate the store where Gerda got the shoes. Maybe they’ll remember something.”

Malloy frowned. “That’s probably a fool’s errand,”

Sarah smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, Malloy, I don’t expect you to go with me.”

“Good, then you won’t be disappointed.”

“And when I find the clue that solves the case, you’ll be awfully sorry you didn’t go with me.”

“I’ll manage to bear it,” he assured her wryly.

They fell silent. Sarah thought they had finished, but Malloy didn’t get up the way he usually did when he felt they had discussed everything necessary. After a moment she realized he had more to say to her, but for some reason he wasn’t saying it.

“Was there something else?” she asked, hoping to encourage him.

He drained his glass of lemonade, set it down carefully on the table, and stared out at the flowers blooming in her yard for a long moment before he finally said, “I went to that deaf school.”