by Rhys Bowen
“So they never found the hiding place of the child?”
“Never. They searched exhaustively with dogs, all over the es-tate, but the child was never found. The estate is huge, of course. Hundreds of acres of woodland and rocky mountainside.”
There was only one kidnapper then? He had no accomplice?”
“The police investigated thoroughly and no second kidnapper came to light, although it was suggested that the child’s nurse might have been in on the plot. It was the Flynns' chauffeur, you see. And the child’s nurse had been walking out with him.”
“But she didn't know anything of where the child might have been buried?”
“She denied all knowledge of the entire scheme.”
“How awful, Daniel. How very tragic for the Senator and his wife.”
“Very.” Daniel sighed. “Senator Flynn has thrown himself into his political work with extra vigor, but his poor wife has never re-ally recovered from the shock.”
“Did they have any more children?”
“A little girl, a year or so later, but the mother still grieves her lost son. She has recently turned to the Sorensen Sisters and has invited them to the house this summer, so that she can communicate with little Brendan.”
“Ah.” I looked at him over my champagne glass. “And you would like me to be there, as an observer.”
“It’s a perfect opportunity. I couldn't do it myself, as I am known to the Misses Sorensen, and to the Flynns. Splendid. Here comes the soup.”
We broke off while we worked our way through a creamy oyster stew, then a salad, then a dish of smoked fish.
“Now how am I to pass as the Senator’s cousin?” I asked in the pause before the main course was brought. “Surely he knows his own cousins?”
“Luckily for us,” Daniel said, “the Senator comes from a very large Irish family. He was born over here, of course. His parents came over in the famine with nothing. Barney grew up in the worst slums of New York. Truly a self-made man. His fortune started when he hired a barge, sailed it up the coast to Maine and returned with it full of ice. He also played Tammany politics to perfection— going from ward boss to state Senate. And with Tammany’s help he cornered the ice trade in the city.
“Now of course he’s a millionaire. He married money, which didn't hurt either. But he has a reputation of being generous to any of his relatives who arrive from the old country.”
“Yes, but surely such a shrewd man would do a little checking if I landed on his doorstep and claimed to be his long-lost cousin?”
“Of course he would, which is why your visit will be preceded with letters of introduction. I'll provide you with a complete family background and history. You must do your homework so that you don't make a slip. I have no doubt you can pull it off.” Daniel toyed with his fork as a roast chicken was brought to the table and dismembered in front of us. It was accompanied by tiny new pota-toes, pearl onions and peas. A generous portion was placed in front of me.
“Holy Mother. This is a feast,” I exclaimed, before I remembered that I should be playing the successful lady detective for Daniel—used to the good life. “And as a matter of interest, who will be paying my fee if I agree to accept the assignment?”
“The city, of course—just as the police pay for any undercover work.”
“And you will be providing a retainer, if I take on the case?”
“Naturally. Fifty dollars up front, the rest when you return. A bonus if you succeed in exposing the sisters.”
“It does sound very tempting.” My mind went to that empty larder and next month’s rent bill.
Then be tempted for once. It’s not often that I can tempt you these days.”
His eyes met mine as he paused with a forkful of chicken just below his lips.
This is a strictly business dinner, remember,” I said.
Daniel grinned, that wicked, attractive grin. Thefirstglass of champagne was going to my head. Champagne was still such a novelty to me that it had a strange and overpowering effect.
“Of course,” Daniel said. “Strictly business.”
I concentrated on attacking my chicken.
“This meal will seem like a light snack when you dine at the Flynns',” Daniel said, eyeing me with amusement. They like to eat well, I seem to remember.”
“Am I supposed to be used to such meals or am I a poor relation?”
“The relatives who stayed behind in Ireland are humble folk. But you shouldn't appear too much of a peasant, or Theresa Flynn won't take to you. It’s important that you get along well with her, or she won't ask you to be present at her séances.”
“Theresa—that’s Barney Flynn’s wife? Is she Irish also?”
“Yes, but her family came over to America before the Revolution. They own plantations in Virginia, so she was brought up as a spoiled Southern miss. One gathers that they weren't too thrilled about her marrying a peasant like Barney.”
“So I have to become the bosom pal of Theresa. When is all this to start?”
“The Sorensen Sisters are invited to the mansion the second week of June, after Barney comes home from Washington for the summer recess. If you arrive around the same date, that will give us sufficient time to collect all the information we need from Ireland, and write the necessary letters to secure you an invitation. I'm thinking also that the excitement of having the Sorensen Sisters in the house will subject you to less scrutiny.”
“Very good,” I said. The way I was feeling at this moment, bubbling with my third glass of champagne, I was ready to tackle any-thing. “And what should I do if I spot the sisters cheating?”
“Ill give you a telephone number where you can leave a mes-sage for me at all times. Call me right away. I'll come to the house myself.”
That statement should not have made me absurdly glad, but it did.
“Would you believe it?” Daniel said. “We have got through a whole bottle of champagne. You're turning into quite a drinker, Molly Murphy.”
“It was you who kept filling my glass,” I said. “And you should know that it’s having no effect on me whatsoever.”
Daniel smiled. “I think maybe a little ice cream and a coffee will restore both of us to sobriety.”
“I've never been known to turn down ice cream,” I said.
The ice cream was delicious but it didn't do much to counteract the champagne. I still felt only vaguely tethered to earth as I floated out on Daniel’s arm. I spied the flower girl, standing in the shadows beside the potted palm as Daniel hailed a cab. She was still staring at us and I wondered if she was recalling better times in her own life.
“A very satisfactory evening, Molly,” Daniel said as he climbed into the cab beside me and slipped his arm around my shoulders.
“I really don't think that’s proper, Captain Sullivan.” I attempted to move away.
“Just to make sure you're not swung around too violently, Miss Murphy. I'll wager the dreary, earnest Mr. Singer doesn't take you out to dine at places like this.”
“Let’s not discuss my relationship with Mr. Singer,” I said. “My personal life can be of no interest to you while you are engaged to someone else. We've been through this a thousand times, Daniel.”
“It is of concern to me and you know how I feel about you,” he said. “Dash it, Molly, you said yourself that you can't just shut off feelings for another person. You must still have feelings for me.”
Without warning he took me in his arms and was kissing me with abandon. I knew I should tell him to stop, but the champagne had numbed my limbs. It had also dulled my willpower and I had always liked Daniel Sullivan’s kisses.
“See, I knew it,” he whispered as we broke apart at last. “You do still have feelings for me.”
“What do you expect if you ply a girl with champagne.” I at-tempted to recover the last of my dignity. 'You don't play fair, Daniel. Stop the carriage. I'll get out and walk the rest of the way home.”
He grabbed my hand as I reached
up to attract the cabby’s attention.
“You'll do no such thing. Allright.I promise 111 behave myself for the rest of the journey. It’s just too tempting, sitting here in the dark beside you. It’s been too long since we've been alone together.”
“And it won't be repeated in the near future. Next time you invite me for a business meal, 111 come in my own cab and 111 drink water.”
Think of tonight as good practice for Barney Flynn,” Daniel said. “I understand he’s something of a ladies' man himself.”
“Surely not, with his wife present?”
Daniel just grunted.
“And you have no qualms about sending me into such a lion’s den then?”
“If anyone can handle Barney Flynn, you can. And you are a cousin, after all.”
The cab slowed and came to a halt. “I'd rather not take the horse up the alleyway, if you don't mind, sir,” the cabby called down to us. “He don't like backing up.”
That’sfine.I can easily walk the rest of the way,” I said.
Daniel helped me down. “Allow me to escort you to your house.”
“Probably better if you don't,” I said. “You have a history of not taking noforan answer.”
Daniel laughed. “Are you sure you're steady enough to walk on your own?”
“Quite steady. Not intoxicated at all. I'll look forward to your next instructions then, Captain Sullivan.”
I started out and heard Daniel’s laugh behind me as I teetered.
“It’s these narrow heels on the cobbles,” I said with cool dignity and made it safely down the rest of Patchin Place. He stood there watching me as I successfully negotiated my door key into the keyhole and let myself in.
“Good night, Daniel. Thank you for a lovely dinner,” I called. Thank heavens I hadn't let him accompany me. The way I was feeling ?t this moment I might well have weakened and let him come inside…
I put my purse down on the kitchen table. The lamp was still burning in the parlor and I saw the back of a head in our one arm-chair.
“You didn't have to wait up for me, Seamus,” I began and then stared as the man rose to his feet.
“Jacob,” I stammered. “What are you doing here?”
He came toward me. “I came to apologize for my behavior earlier this evening,” he said in a voice that was frigidly polite. “I thought that the brusque manner in which I turned you away had upset you badly. However, I see now that I need not have worried. I obviously don't have the claim on your affections I had believed.”
“I have just returned from a business meeting,” I said.
“Really, Molly. I am not completely naive,” he said. “Please don't lie to me.”
“I'm not lying.”
“You come home tipsy and in the company of your policeman friend and tell me you've been to a business meeting?”
“Believe it or not, it’s true,” I said. Part of me whispered that I should smooth things over, but the champagne was allfora good fight. '1 thought you were the one who promised not to put me in a cage. You loved my free spirit, I seem to remember.”
“I didn't think your free spirit extended to midnight outings with other men.”
“We are not engaged, Jacob.”
“No, but I thought we had an understanding.”
“We do. Although if you are going to question and mistrust me every time I leave my front door—”
“Surely I have arightto question and mistrust your assignations with other men?”
“No,” I said. “You have norightat all. Either you trust me or you don't. I thought you were different, Jacob. I liked you because you respected myrightto be an independent person. You didn't want to keep me wrapped in cotton, the way most men do. But in the end you are just like all the rest—devoted when it suits you, free-thinking when it suits you.”
“If that’s the way you feel…”
“I do.” I held the door open for him. “I think you should leave now.”
“Very well.” He bowed stiffly. “Good evening, Miss Murphy.”
With that he marched to the door. I experienced a strange mixture of sensations watching him go—indignation, guilt and maybe just a touch of relief. I wanted to get far, far away—away from Jacob and Daniel and all the complications in my life.
This assignment on the Hudson River could not start soon enough for me.
Five
When I woke in the morning, my eyelids heavy from those three glasses of champagne, I couldn't really believe that I had broken off my relationship with Jacob Singer. I had told myself that I never really intended to marry him, but I had become accustomed to relying on him and knowing that he was there. This assignment could not have come at a better moment.
I had barelyfinishedsending the children off to school with a strict warning that they go nowhere near the East River or their cousins when there was a knock at the front door. If it was Jacob, come to demand an apology from me, he wasn't getting one. If he had come to smooth things over, I was still in no mood to talk to him. I opened the door, conscious at the last moment that I was still in my apron with my hairflyingfree around my shoulders.
It wasn't Jacob. Instead, a thin beggar woman stood there, her eyes somehow too large for her hollow face. I'm sorry to trouble you,” she began, “but I have a favor to ask.”
Beggars were a common sight in the city but they didn't usually try their luck in the Village where most residents were immigrants or students or starving artists with no money to spare.
“I'm sorry,” I said, “but I've a family here to feed and barely enough to keep body and soul together ourselves. I'll bring you out a cup of tea and a slice of bread, but other than that—”
“I haven't come to you for money,” she said with dignity. “I think you can help me. When you stepped out of that cab and I heard you mention Senator Flynn’s name last night…”
Then I remembered why she had looked vaguely familiar. The flower grrl from outside the restaurant who had fumbled with the change.
“You sat at the open window,” she went on. ‘1 was able to over-hear most of your conversation.’
I eyed her warily, wondering what might be coming next. Had she found out that Daniel was engaged to another woman and wanted money to keep quiet about our assignation?
“It isn't polite to eavesdrop,” I said. “And anyway, I don't see what interest our conversation could be to you.”
“It was of great interest to me,” she said. “In fact, it was like a miracle. Then, when I found out who you were and where you lived, I knew you must have been sent from heaven in answer to my prayers.
“I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about, Miss …?”
“Lomax,” she said. “Annie Lomax. You talked about the Flynn baby’s kidnapping. You see, I was the child’s nanny.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” I muttered. In spite of years of being a heathen and missing mass, my hand went toward my forehead to cross myself.
“I was not blamed at the hearing,” she went on, as if a dam had broken and the pain and injustice of the past years was spilling out, “but I haven't been able to get another job since then. Everyone believed that I must have had something to do with it, you see, because the child was taken from his nursery in broad day-light, and because I was sweet on Bertie Morell. I've been reduced to begging on the streets and I don't think I'll make it through an-other winter. I've tried everything, miss, except I refused to consider prostitution, because I was raised to be God-fearing. Now I wouldn't have the chance to be a prostitute, even if I wanted to, the way I look.”
“I'm very sorryforyou,” I said, “but I don't see what I can do.”
She stared at me as if I was the simple one. “That man you were ivith, he’s a top policeman, isn't he? And you're some kind of in/estigator. I want you to clear my name,” she said. “Prove to them that I didn't do it.”
I took a deep breath. ‘You'd better come inside.’
I took her into the kitchen and s
eated her at the table with a :up of tea and some bread and jam. She must have been starving, 3ut she ate like a lady, chewing each morsel daintily.
“You must be something of an investigator yourself, Miss Lonax,” I said as she ate. “How did you manage to track me down?”
She looked up and smiled. “Oh, that wasn't too hard. I heard four gentleman friend give the address to the cabby when you came out of the restaurant.”
I gave her a decent time to finish eating. “Now, Miss Lomax,” I said, “I don't want to dash your hopes, but how do you think I can brove you innocent after all this time?”
“The police asked me lots of questions,” she said, “but they never found anything I did wrong, except they said I was negligent for not checking on the boy more often. He always had a good long sleep after lunch and I'd have disturbed him if I kept opening his door to check on him, wouldn't I?”
I nodded. “But you were friendly with the chauffeur who kiddapped the child?”
“We stepped out together a few times. Bertie was a likable enough fellow. Good-looking, too. But I never imagined in my wildest dreams that he'd do anything like this. In fact, I still have trouble believing that he did it.”
“But surely the police established that he was the kidnapper? They shot him when he went to collect the ransom money.”
A tired smile crossed her face. “Oh, I can believe that Bertie would help himself to money that wasn't his, all right. I'm not dening he wasn't entirely straight. He liked gambling and he got him self involved in a few shady schemes in his life. If he had found out where a large sum of money was to be left for the taking, he might well have decided to help himself to some of it. But kidnapping little Brendan? No, I can't believe it. He loved children. Little Brendan loved him. The prosecution said that was why die kidnapper had been able to take Brendan out of the house without a fuss—because Brendan was comfortable with him. Or because I was in on it too and I was the one who delivered the child to the kidnapper.”