Murder on Lenox Hill by Victoria Thompson Page A

the silence.
    â€œFine,” he said automatically.
    â€œHow is Brian doing in school?”
    â€œHe likes it a lot. My mother goes with him every day. She’s learning sign language, too.”
    â€œShe is?” Sarah exclaimed in surprise. “I thought she was against the whole idea.”
    â€œShe was, but then she realized that if he learned sign language, nobody at home would be able to talk to him. She knew I wasn’t going to learn it, so I guess she figured she’d have one up on me if she did.”
    â€œThat’s wonderful,” Sarah said.
    â€œDon’t let her know you think so,” Malloy warned. “She might stop, just for spite.” Mrs. Malloy didn’t approve of Sarah’s friendship with her son, which reminded them both of the many barriers to any other kind of relationship.
    The awkward silence fell again.
    â€œI—”
    â€œWhat did—” They both spoke at once, then stopped in embarrassment.
    â€œYou first,” he said.
    â€œI . . . I was just going to ask what brought you here today,” she said. “Unless you saw some omen that told you we’d made you a cake.”
    His lips curved in a quick smile that vanished instantly. “I was wondering if you’d let me look at your husband’s files again.”
    Now she was really surprised, and a knot of dread formed in her stomach, as it usually did when she thought of Tom’s death. “I thought you hadn’t found anything useful there.” He’d spent quite a few hours examining all of Tom’s medical files a few months back, when he’d thought he might find a clue to who had killed him.
    â€œI came across an old investigator’s report on his case, and it had some names in it. If those people were his patients, they might know something. It isn’t much,” he added hastily. “They might not even have been his patients, and if they were, they probably don’t know who killed him. But I thought it was worth a look.”
    â€œThen you don’t really have any new information about Tom’s death?”
    â€œNothing important, like I said. Just a few names.”
    â€œThen certainly, you may check his files.” Memories of her dead husband thankfully served to stifle her awareness of Malloy as a man. She led him into the front-room office where Tom’s files were still located. “Do you need any help?”
    â€œNo, it shouldn’t take more than a couple minutes.” He pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and consulted it before opening a file drawer.
    â€œI’ll clean up the kitchen then,” she said, for some reason not wanting to watch.
    Clearing away the plates and cups took only a few minutes. She really should get started on supper, although she and the girls wouldn’t be hungry for a while after eating all that cake. Sarah couldn’t even begin to think of anything as mundane as supper while Malloy was in her front room, though. As if drawn by a magnet, she returned to the front office.
    He was adding a file to a small pile of them on her desk. “That’s all of them,” he said.
    â€œThen they were his patients,” she said, not sure if she should be pleased or not. She wanted Tom’s killer caught and punished. She’d wanted that for years, so why did she suddenly feel apprehensive? Maybe it was Malloy’s manner. He didn’t look the way he usually did when he was working on a case. He had no sense of eagerness or excitement, no feral gleam in his eye from the thrill of the hunt. Instead he seemed weary, almost sad.
    â€œDon’t get your hopes up,” he warned gently. “It’s probably nothing important. And don’t even offer to help me,” he added with a glimmer of his old spirit.
    â€œI thought you were here to help me, ” she reminded him, feeling a glimmer of spirit herself. “Are you ready to begin your midwife