“His housekeeper will know about that,” I said. “If I can get her to talk. Is there anyone else who might be conversant with his personal life?”
Mary Cassatt shook her head, then said, “Of course there was his good friend Monet, but he has now forsaken Paris for his home in Normandy. I understand that Bryce often used to spend his weekends out there. It really is a delightful spot, so I’m told. I’ve never been invited personally.”
“I’ll write to Monsieur Monet and ask if I might visit him,” I said. “Old friends confide secrets to each other, don’t they?”
“I also understand that they had fallen out recently over Reynold Bryce’s anti-Semitic rants. He was always prejudiced, of course, but recently he had become so extreme and outspoken against the attempts to reinstate Dreyfus. It’s as if these attempts to give him back his old rank in the army have lit a flame under anyone with anti-Semitic leanings. All that fraternity feel that Jews are gaining too much power in banking and commerce in Europe and must be stopped. Ridiculous really when you realize that most Jews in the city are poor immigrants who have arrived from Russia or Poland with nothing and only want a safe place to feed their families.”
“If it was a Jewish rabble-rouser who had come to confront Bryce, he would certainly not have let him in,” Gus said. “He’d have had to climb in through a window and somebody might have seen that.”
“I don’t think there would be much point in my asking questions among the Jewish communities here,” I said. “If there are certain places where Jewish immigrants gather regularly. You’d know that, Sid.”
“I went to several synagogues but it would be no use, Molly. They’d never confide anything to an outsider. They didn’t even want to talk to me, a fellow Jew.” She got up from the sofa and walked across the room, pulling back the drape to peer out. “But I could have given it another try. I wish there was something I could do. I hate being cooped up here.”
“I trust I am not making your stay too unpleasant,” Mary said dryly.
We laughed. “You are being wonderful to us, Mary,” Gus said. “We can never thank you enough for taking us in and we only hope you are not compromising yourself by having us here.”
“Speaking of which,” Mary said. “The first order of business would be to send for Mrs. Sullivan’s things and have her move in with us.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t impose on you, Miss Cassatt. I have a young child for one thing.”
“Sid and Gus already told me about your baby,” she said. “And it seems to me that you have two ready-made child minders who are dying to amuse him, since they are not able to leave the premises. As for me, my family has gone home to America for a while, leaving me alone here, so I gladly welcome your company.”
“But is that the wisest thing for me to do?” I said while at the same time thinking there was nothing I’d like better than to be safely here with Miss Cassatt and my dear friends. “What do I tell Madame Hetreau? If I say I’ve given up the search and am going home, she’ll feel free to help herself to your things and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that. And if I tell her I’ve located you and am going to join you, she can pass that information on to the police.”
“That is a bit of a tricky problem.” Sid returned to perch on the arm of the sofa, beside Gus. “Molly is right. What can we tell her and not put ourselves in jeopardy?”
I thought for a moment then said, “I did suggest to her that you might have been taken ill with food poisoning as I’d been told that bad oysters had brought several people to the hospital. If I told her that this was indeed true, that you had gone out of town to visit friends and had been caught in an epidemic there—typhoid maybe—placed under quarantine, and not allowed to travel … that might satisfy her and also give you a good alibi.”
“You see, the girl is brilliant.” Sid clapped her hands.
“I can say that I’m now permitted to join you and am taking you your possessions,” I said.
They nodded, looking at each other with satisfaction.
“And the witch Hetreau will be delighted she can relet our rooms,” Sid chuckled.
“But that would be an awful task for you, Molly, packing up all our things,” Gus, ever the thoughtful one, said.
“How many of the items in the apartment are yours, apart from the clothes and Gus’s paintings?” I asked. “Does the furniture belong to you?”
“The place was furnished in a basic sort of way,” Gus said. “We did buy a few items, but given the circumstances, we’d be happy to donate them to Madame Hetreau, as Miss Cassatt certainly wouldn’t want them.”