In the Shadow of Gotham - By Stefanie Pintoff Page 0,99

secondhand account could provide.”

“You know, perhaps Michael and Lonny were acquainted,” Cora said. “They both came to Mamie in recent years. And they were cut from the same cloth, I’d say—too much money and neither one right in the head.”

It was one possible explanation.

“What about Mamie herself?” I asked. “Obviously she knew the details. Could she have shared them with the wrong person?”

Cora laughed. “Not Mamie. You don’t know Mamie if you think that. She has no close friends. No confidants. She keeps her own counsel, makes her own decisions.”

“It sounds like a lonely sort of life,” I said.

“Maybe,” said Cora. “But it protects her. She trusts no one. And honestly, no one trusts her, either.”

Given Mamie’s dealings with us, I could understand why.

“Are we done here?” Stella asked. She appeared exhausted and no doubt wanted to return home.

“Miss Gibson,” I asked, “may we help you in any way? Until this case is solved, we can offer you a measure of protection. We can even help you leave the city if you like.”

She thanked us, but declared herself perfectly comfortable with her current arrangement. “I’ve got a room on East Seventy-third Street that suits me fine.”

I watched her walk away, her blue scarf catching in the breeze behind her. From what I’d been told, Stella’s life had not been an easy one even before Michael Fromley terrorized her last winter. What she had now witnessed was undeserved. I could only hope that with time—and the care of friends like Cora—she could once again live a normal life.

We headed back uptown, talking over the new information we’d uncovered, and I considered a new angle: Had it been possible we were looking in all the wrong places—first, for Michael Fromley, and then for Sarah’s unknown assailant? We had been searching for connections to Sarah, connections to her world at Columbia. But my nagging suspicion that Mamie Durant somehow played an important role in this case had intensified.

That also raised a new possibility we had not yet considered: What if the killer had come to Dobson with Stella as his intended target—and encountered Sarah instead? If so, we would need to alter our approach to the investigation. I mentioned as much to Alistair as we descended into the Seventy-second Street subway station.

“It strikes me,” Alistair said, “that Sarah’s murder was carefully timed during a moment when she was alone in the house. If the killer’s target were truly Stella, it would have been even easier to isolate her during one of her household errands—to the ice house, to the basement, even alone in the kitchen or outdoors.” He paused a moment. “What troubles me more is the fact that Lonny Moore so little resembles the man Stella and Abigail had both described seeing the day of Sarah Wingate’s murder. They described a stout, heavyset man of medium height, whereas Lonny is short and pudgy.”

I had a different view.

“Though I’d like to think otherwise,” I said, “I fear neither Abigail Wingate nor Stella Gibson are the most reliable of witnesses. Abigail’s memory latched on to the only man she had seen that day. And as for Stella, until just a few minutes ago, she was convinced that the man she saw in Sarah’s room during the murder was Fromley himself.”

There were no strong leads. But based on what evidence we had, Lonny Moore seemed the most likely suspect. He had hated Sarah, and his jealousy had prompted him to steal her work. Either at Columbia or at Mamie Durant’s, he might have crossed paths with Fromley. There would be much to talk about with him, but after the ups and downs of this investigation, I would not pin my hopes on Lonny—at least, not yet.

CHAPTER 26

Upon our return to the research center, Alistair was greeted with sobering news: Two of the major papers—the Tribune and the Post—planned to run a story on Monday about possible improprieties on the part of Judge Hansen in the Michael Fromley case. Alistair’s name was as yet unmentioned. But that was only, Alistair maintained, because he had so thoroughly cowed yesterday’s reporters with the threat of a libel suit should they report the wrong facts. I wondered whether it was possible that a generous bribe had also worked to keep Alistair’s name clear of the story. It was understood that many news editors were not averse to such persuasion, especially when scandal was involved. With his personal reputation at stake, Alistair began to telephone his more influential contacts. But