In Like Flynn

by Rhys Bowen

  “Molly, that’s you,” Theresa whispered.

  In spite of the fact that I didn't believe, I thought my heart was going to jump out of my mouth. I didn't want to hear what any of my dead might say.

  “It’s your mother, Molly. She’s been trying to get in touch with you for some time.”

  God forbid. My mother! She'd be here half the night telling me all the things I was doing wrong. I opened my mouth but no sound would come out.

  “She says to tell you not to grieve. You are still her sweet and darling child. She’s not suffering from those terrible headaches any more, and she’s with your father and your little brothers, so all is well.”

  Suddenly it hit me—this wasn't my mother at all. It was Molly Gaffney’s mother. My father and little brothers were still alive. And it was all facts that I had inadvertently given the Sorensen Sisters at tea that afternoon. If the spirits had been real, they would have known that the person in the room was Molly Murphy and not Molly Gaffney. I smiled to myself. They were fakes, after all!

  Ten

  There were no other startling revelations at the séance that evening. Contact was not made with little Brendan. I suspected that Miss Emily and Miss Ella would keep up the suspense for some time so that they could continue to enjoy the hospitality of this pleasant house on the riverand the good food at table. The other women in the party were most impressed by the whole thing and went to bed babbling with excitement. Clara especially was like a new woman.

  “Johnny came back to speak to me. Imagine that, Theresa. I was never really sure that he loved me as much as I loved him, but he did. He sacrificed everything for me. He gave his life so that I could go skating with him. Wasn't he a gem?”

  “And you, dearest Molly,” Theresa said, moving closer to me. “How blessed you must feel, knowing that your mother is beside you all the time.”

  I didn't answer that one. One person I didn't want beside me all the time was my mother. I didn't even want Molly Gaffney’s mother! I smiled and nodded. Then I remembered why the seance had been conducted in thefirstplace. “I'm only sorry that the Indian chief didn't manage to contact Brendan tonight,” I said.

  “I am too, but I have great faith in the sisters,” she said. “I'm sure they'll contact my son for me before they go.”

  I was sure they would too—just before they were about to be thrown out. A sudden thought struck me. “Maybe they need some help with the room?” I asked.

  Theresa took my sleeve. “Oh good heavens no. The servants will do that in the morning,” she said. “You have to remember that we have lots of servants here, Molly. You are not required to work for your keep—apart from amusing me, that is.” And she smiled at me so sweetly that it melted my heart. If I don'tfindout the truth about Brendan’s kidnapping or the Sorensen Sisters, at least I can do some good for Theresa, I thought, as I made my way up the stairs to bed.

  I woke at first light. I had slept with the windows open and the sweet, soft smell of grass andriver, mingled with jasmine, wafted in to me. I lay there for a moment, listening to the dawn chorus of birds, realizing how far from nature I was in New York City. I hadn't thought I'd ever miss the green hills and the lonely countryside, but it was good to hear the birds again and to smell the sweet air. Then, feelingenergized and awake, I jumped up, washed in cold water and dressed. I opened my door but heard no sound. If the household was still sleeping, then I had time to do some snooping. I tiptoed down the stairs, holding my breath each time afloorboardcreaked. It wasn't easy to pick out the seance room door from the many doors in that long wall. I counted them off. The dining room had been at the back. Then we had walked past two more doors to reach the séance … I grabbed the door and opened it.

  And found myself staring at a charming music room. A white baby grand piano was in one corner. A pair of matching small armchairs graced a bay window, looking onto the lawns. The table between them held a crystal bowl of roses. There was no hint at all that a séance had been held here last night.

  “May I help you, Miss Gaffney?”

  Soames was standing in the doorway, impeccably dressed as usual, with that same haughty expression on his face.

  “Oh, Soames, you startled me,” I stammered. “I thought nobody else was awake.”

  “The servants rise at five,” he said. “Irisesoon after them. There is much to be done before the household stirs.”

  “I'm sure there is,” I said. “Tell me, was this the room where the séance took place last night?”

  “It was indeed, miss.”

  “The servants must have had to work hard to bring it back to normal this morning.”

  He shook his head. “The two lady spiritualists did most of it themselves last night. All the servants had to do was to remove the last of the black drapes and put the furniture back in place.”

  Of course, I thought. The sisters wouldn't want anyone to see how they managed those impressive tricks last night. I had tried to work out how they made that head appear, but I was still completely foxed by it.

  “I'm quite confused.” I attempted girlish laughter. “I thought I had left my fan in here.”

  “I will ask the maids if they found a fan when they straightened the room.” He ushered me from it in the most gracious but firm manner. “I'm afraid breakfast will not be served for another hour, but I can have the maid bring a tray to your room.”

  “Oh no, thank you. I wouldn't want to put her to extra trouble,” I said.

  “It’s her job, Miss Gaffney. All the occupants of this house are awoken with a tray of tea or coffee at their bedside.”

  “It’s a lovely morning,” I said. “I think I'll go out for a walk on the grounds. Do a little exploring.”

  “Very well, miss,” Soames said. “May I suggest you stay away from the cliff path. It is very narrow and leads to a long drop.”

  “Thank you, Soames. I'll be careful,” I said.

  “I'll send one of the maids to fetch your wrap, Miss Gaffney. The early morning air has a chill to it.”

  “Nonsense.” I laughed. “I'm used to the Irish mist. We grow up hardy.”

  “Very well, miss. I'll wish you a pleasant stroll then. Breakfast is served at eight-thirty.”

  As he spoke, he escorted me to the front door. “I'll be watching for your return, to open the door for you,” he said. “The front door is usually kept locked.”

  I stepped out into the fresh morning air. There was dew on the grass that soaked into my light summer shoes immediately but I was so glad to be out and free for a few moments that I didn't care. I crossed the lawn and stood looking down at the riveras it sped between rocks. The rowboat was still tied to the little jetty belowme. I made a mental note that a kidnapper could have come this way, but would have been in full view of the houseforthe whole time. It took skill to land a boat here, as I had seen. And anyone leaving the house would have had to get past a vigilant Soames!

  On either side of this central lawn area the terrain rose to wilderness and a rocky shoreline. I was intrigued by the butler’s warning about the cliff path. Where did the path lead? Did it mean that there was a way into the estate without coming along the road and through die main gate?

  I turned to my left, leaving the smooth lawn for a shrubbery, and soon picked up a path between tall rhododendron bushes. As I followed it, the path grew narrower and I had to hold my skirts close to me to prevent their getting snagged on bushes. I realized that I was glancing around nervously, which wasn't like me at all. The tension I had felt since I stepped ashore at Adare would not go away. Then it came to me that Brendan Flynn had been buried alive somewhere on these grounds. At this very moment I might be walking over his grave. Not a comforting thought. I found my-self glancing down at my feet as I walked. I had sensed a brooding presence about this place—more than just tragedy lingering in the air. I had been warned more than once to be careful here. But this feeling was enough.

  There was a sudden movement and a squirrel dashed across the path ah
ead of me, making me give an involuntary gasp. Then I felt truly ashamed of myself. Some private investigator I was turning out to be, if I jumped every time I met a squirrel. I was reading too much into servants' natural caution when speaking about their masters. Brendan’s little body might be buried somewhere around here, but he was long gone. I didn't believe in spirits, did I?

  At that moment I stepped around a large oak tree and a giant figure loomed up before me. I opened my mouth to scream but only a small squeak came out as he grabbed me by the wrists.

  “Hey, steady on,” he said, in a very human voice. “Don't scream. I won't hurt you.”

  I looked up into the face of a young man, rather good-looking in an insipid sort of way. He had fair hair, blue eyes and a some-what weak chin. Although he was dressed in casual country attire with open shirt and breeches, I could see that he was a gentleman.

  “I'm from next door,” he said, and I realized he looked almost as shaken as I felt. “I was just coming to see Mrs. Flynn on an errand from my mother.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Yes, I'm Roland Van Gelder. We live next door. Are you staying with the Senator?”

  “Oh,” I said, flushing and feeling foolish. “Mr. Van Gelder. I'm Senator Flynn’s cousin, Molly Gaffney Visiting from Ireland. I was just out for an early morning stroll. I wasn't expecting to meet anybody. You alarmed me.”

  “I'm sure I must have,” he said. “I was equally alarmed when you floated around that tree at me. Especially since my mother has been babbling on about séances.”

  We looked at each other and laughed.

  “Not exactly the intrepid white hunters, either of us, are we?” Roland said.

  “You're right,” I said. “It’s all this talk about ghosts.”

  Instinctively we both glanced down at our feet.

  “To tell you the truth,” Roland said, “I don't much fancy coming over here, not since—well, you know.”

  “It must have been terrible.”

  He nodded. “I helped them search, you know. Poor old Bamey Flynn was frantic. They never found the kid, of course, even using dogs.”

  I shuddered and wished I had let that maid bring my wrap after all.

  “Were you going somewhere, or would you care to accompany me to the house?” Roland asked. “I'm never quite easy when Barney Flynn’s around.”

  “Barney? He seems an amiable enough fellow.”

  “You're his cousin, my dear. And of course he’s damnably amiable when he wants to be. Charm the hind leg off a donkey, so my father says. But he and the old man were deadly enemies until recently. Until he got himself elected to the Senate, in fact. Oh, they had some great shouting matches, the pair of them.”

  “Your father was running for the same office, I believe?”

  Roland grinned. “He held the office in the state legislature, Miss Gaffney. Had done throughfiveelections. Barney Flynn used every dirty trick in the book to get my father out. Every dirty trick known to New York Irish politics—bribery, bully boys, the lot.”

  “Oh.” I couldn't think of anything else to say. I had lived in New York City long enough to have witnessed those things happening. The Irish in New York were known for dirty politics.

  “Look, I'm sure it wasn't all his fault,” Roland said. “He seems like a nice enoughfellow. It’s the Tammany machine. It kicks into gear when they've a candidate running. You should have seen the gears working when Barney decided to run for Senate—” He held a trailing shrub aside and we stepped out onto the lawns. “And lucky for him he had such a machine. The child was kidnapped a month be-fore the election. Barney was in no state to get out and stump.”

  “Poor man,” I said. “How terrible for him.”

  “Absolutely. But the sympathy vote didn't hurt him either. I heard he was behind in the polls until that happened.”

  I looked at Roland’s affable face with distaste. Beneath that pleasant exterior there was clearly a deep-seated animosity toward Barney Flynn. “How did you manage to get in here?” I asked. “Is there a way between the properties?”

  “Short cut.” He grinned like a naughty schoolboy. “Not many people know about it. Mother would think it awfully common to squeeze through a hedge, but I wasn't about to walk miles to the road, or take the time to saddle the mare.”

  “Ah.” I assigned that fact to my mental jottings. “And is that what the buder referred to as the cliff path?”

  “Oh no. That’s on the other side. There are no cliffs between our place and Adare. The real cliffs are between Adare and Jones Point. It’s an absolute wilderness over there. Make your way up that mountain and you'd think you were miles from civilization.”He looked up at the rocky crags, now glowing with the rays of the early morning sun. “I expect they buried the child over there. That’s what I would have done.”

  I stared again at the tangled wilderness and shuddered. It was too painful to think about.

  “I do hope you're coming to dinner tonight, Miss Gaffney,” Roland said.

  “If I'm invited.”

  “Oh, absolutely. That’s why Mother sent me over. She wants to find out how many she can expect. It should be a jolly evening. We have visitors from your part of the world. A couple of eligible bachelors, in fact, over here looking for rich American brides.”

  “What about yourself?” I asked. “Are you an eligible bachelor too?”

  He blushed like a schoolgirl. “Definitely, but please don't set your cap at me, Miss Gaffney, not unless you're terriblyrich, that is. You see, the old man’s fortune has gone downhill. We might even have to sell the place here. So it’s up to me to snag an heiress if I want to keep up the style to which I'm accustomed.”

  “I'm afraid I'm not at all an heiress, Mr. Van Gelder. So I must remind myself not to be swept away by your charm.”

  He let the sarcasm wash over him and blushed again. “Gee, Miss Gaffney,” he stammered.

  A likable idiot, I decided.

  As I was about to lead him to the front door, he grabbed my arm. ’So have you had a séance yet?” he whispered.

  “Yes, last night.”

  “And did things float around the room and heads appear and such?”

  “Something of the kind, yes.”

  His face lit up. “I'm dying to see it for myself. So is Mother. She is most insistent that the Misses Sorensen know they will be guests of honor at our dinner. To tell the truth, she really had her nose put out of joint when she heard that the Sorensen Sisters had agreed to come to Theresa Flynn. They'd snubbed her invitations for years, you know. So between the two of us she’s secretly hoping for a little séance over at our place. What do you think the chances are?”

  “I really couldn't say, Mr. Van Gelder. I'm just a guest here my-self. Youll need to speak to Cousin Theresa and I don't think she’s up yet. No one was stirring when I left the house.”

  “Oh dear. Have I come too early?” He pulled a pocketwatch from his breeches pocket. “Oh dash it all, it is early. Mother’s al-ways been an earlyriserso we tend to think that the rest of the world is out and about at seven. Never mind, I'll sit here on the steps and wait. It is most pleasant in the sun, don't you think?”

  “Very pleasant.”

  “Should we see if that Soames fellow will have some coffee brought out to us?” he asked.

  I didn't like to tell him that I'd rather have died than ask Soames to bring coffee to me.

  “Actually, I wasn't quitefinishedwith my morning walk,” I said. “If youll excuse me, I must get my full constitutional. Once around the park, you know.”

  He smiled. “I say, that’s dashed athletic of you. I suppose everyone in Ireland is fit and healthy? Lots of hunting andfishingand all that? At least that’s what my friends seem to hint.”

  I laughed. “We have our share of weakness and sickness in Ire-land, Iassure you. Why, my own mother died of—” I broke off. “Of influenza,” I added, quickly substituting the unknown Mrs. Gaffney for the too well known Mrs. Murphy. “But I
intend to live long and stay healthy.”

  I gave him a polite little bow, then turned back across the lawn. As I glanced up at the house I saw one of the drapes on the upper floor hurriedly fall back into place. Someone was watching my progress.

  Eleven

  This time I headed in the other direction, to the right of the house and toward the wilderness area where I hoped to find the cliff path. I was in the middle of forcing my way through the bushes when I heard a great crashing through the undergrowth, as if a large bear was approaching. I spun around and snatched up a rock to defend myself, but instead of a bear, a red-faced Bamey Flynn came storming through the bushes.

  “Molly!” he cried. “Where on earth are you going? Roland Van Gelder told me that you had come this way Not running away from us already, I hope?

  “Of course not,” I said. “I told Mr. Van Gelder that I was taking my morning exercise. I had heard about the cliff path and I wanted to see if there was a view to be admired.”

  “Holy Mother of God,” Bamey said, sounding more Irish than the Irish bom. “There is indeed a narrow path along the cliffs, but I wouldn't recommend it to any lady. It comes from the time when they had to portage canoes past the rapids here. Barely wide enough for a jackrabbit. Now, if you'd like to see around the es-tate, I'd be happy to show you around myself.”

  “He took my arm rather firmly and I was escorted out of harm’s way. Then he continued holding my arm as we recrossed the lawns.

  “I'm glad to have a moment alone with you, Molly,” he said. “I wanted to have a chance to talk to you about Theresa. How did youfindher?”

  “She seems very sweet,” I said, not knowing what answer he wanted.

  “It’s true. She can be sweet when she wants to. But remote, wouldn't you say? Frail, sickly. Almost as if she'd given up on life?”

  “Definitely frail,” I agreed. “I was scared to shake her hand in case I crushed it.”

  “She’s never recovered, you know,” he said. “From the tragedy, I mean. You did hear about our tragedy?”

  “Of course I did. It was in all the newspapers.”