City of Darkness and Light (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #13)

“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.”

“I’m not sure how I would manage to bring everything down the stairs by myself,” I said. “Madame’s husband might help if I paid him enough, but then would it all fit in a cab?”

“There is a carter I’ve hired on occasion when we’ve moved to the country for the summer,” Mary said. “A solid, reliable sort. I could send him to help you with the packing and to carry down the trunks.”

She stood up and clapped her hands. “Well, that’s settled then. I’ll send a message to him right away. And now if word gets out that I’ve got company, it is a delightful woman from New York and her baby that I’m entertaining. Nobody that might arouse any suspicion.” And she gave us a triumphant smile then strode from the room, leaving Sid and Gus looking at each other hopefully.





Twenty-five



The carter agreed to send over a wagon to Montmartre that evening. I refused Mary Cassatt’s offer to join them for luncheon, not wanting to leave Liam a moment longer and realizing the amount of work that lay ahead of me. The morning’s storm had passed, leaving a blue sky and steaming sidewalks. I went straight back to the Rue des Martyrs. When I told Madeleine that I would not be needing her services anymore she looked genuinely so crestfallen that I paid her double the amount we had agreed upon and promised to bring Liam to visit as often as possible. On my way out the baker shook my hand and thanked me for bringing his wife out of the depression that had engulfed her after the baby was born. Then I felt even worse about leaving her and realized I really would have to make an effort to visit, if and when I could solve Reynold Bryce’s murder.

Madame Hetreau was nowhere to be seen as I let myself into the front hall. I was tempted to tiptoe upstairs and get on with the job, but knowing the sort of person madame was, I realized she might accuse me of trying to smuggle out objects belonging to her when she caught me leaving. So I tapped on her door and she opened it, her hands white with flour.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said.

“I’ve come to say good-bye, madame,” I said.

“You’ve given up looking for your friends, have you? And you are returning to America?” She looked pleased.

“On the contrary,” I said. “After much searching I have managed to locate my friends. It is as I suspected. They went to visit acquaintances in a small village in Normandy not knowing that typhoid had broken out there and were immediately placed under quarantine…”