Death of Riley (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #2)

I opened my mouth to tell him that Captain Sullivan would have something to say if he talked to me like that. Then I realized I couldn't call on Daniel as my protector any longer.

“Are you always this rude?” I asked.

“Only to people who don't know when to keep quiet,” he said. “I could take you down to police headquarters for questioning if you don't watch your manners.”

Again it was so tempting. I let myself relish in the fantasy of this young upstart dragging me into police headquarters only to meet Daniel, but again my pride won out.

Sergeant Wolski pushed me aside, examined Paddy briefly, then turned to the constable who was waiting in the doorway. “Stabbed. Neat little blade—stiletto, by the look of it. He's probably taken it with him, but search around the place for it anyway. And the area outside. He may have tossed it through the window, or dropped it when he ran.” He pushed open the door to the back room. That was in equal chaos, with the filing cabinet lying on its side, still locked.

“Could have been a robbery attempt,” Wolski said. “Although I can't think that anyone believed Paddy had anything worth stealing.”

He went over to the filing cabinet and motioned for the constable to help him right it. “What's in here?” he asked me.

“His case notes, I think. That was private. He didn't want me touching it.”

“Any idea where die key is?”

“None at all.”

He came back to me. “So how is it that you've escaped with only a scratch or two and yet a wily old guy like Paddy gets killed?”

I could tell what he was thinking—that somehow I was in cahoots with the murderer.

“The answer to that is simple,” I said. “I arrived here to find Paddy slumped over the table and the place looking like this. I heard a noise in the back room and went to investigate—”

“With Paddy lying dead? That was either brave or stupid.”

“I didn't know he was dead, did I? I thought he was sleeping. It never occurred to me that…” I let the sentence trail off. “As I opened the door to the back room I surprised the intruder. He leaped up and swung a fist at me. I was knocked to the ground with considerable force. He jumped over me and got away through that window.”

“So did you get a good look at him? Anyone you've seen before?”

I shook my head. “I hardly had a chance to look at him before I was knocked over backward. I saw his back as he was running away—a slim young man, dressed in black. Dark hair, I think, and maybe a black cap on his head. Very agile, the way he moved.” I shrugged. “That's all I can tell you.”

“Send word to HQ with that description,” Sergeant Wolski called to the constable. “Tell them I'll need backup and the morgue wagon. And tell them to hurry up. He won't last long in this heat.”

“The young lady is hurt,” the constable said, eyeing the sergeant with obvious dislike. “Shouldn't she be attended to? I could have her taken home.”

“When I've finished questioning her,” Wolski said. “I'm still not satisfied about what she was doing here.” He pulled out a notebook. “I'll need your full name and an address.”

“As to that, I live with the O'Hallarans.” For the first time I was allowed to score a point. “You know Sergeant O'Hallaran? Captain Sullivan persuaded them to let me have their attic.” I couldn't resist that one. It obviously registered with Wolski too.

“So you say you were working for Paddy?”

“I just started recently.” I wasn't going to say how recently.

“Do you know what cases he was working on? Any ideas on who might have wanted to shut him up?”

“I'm afraid Mr. Riley didn't share his most sensitive cases with me. I know he was handling a couple of divorces, but that's all I can tell you.”

“I can't say I'm surprised,” Wolski said. He paced around the room, kicking idly at the papers on the floor. “He was asking for it, wasn't he?”

“What are you saying?”

Wolski grinned. He had an unpleasant, supercilious grin that made me want to slap his face. “What can you expect when he tried to play on both sides of the fence?”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning he'd work for both sides, the police and the gangs—whoever would pay him. That's what I call living dangerously. Someone was bound to get him in the end.” He turned to me. “You're lucky he didn't take you into his confidence or you wouldn't have lasted long yourself. All right. You can go home now. Have that cut lip taken care of.”

“So what will happen now?” I asked.

“We'll look for the man you described. We'll ask our informants with the gangs, but I'm not hopeful anyone will squeal.”

“And what about me? I'm still employed here, as far as I'm concerned. There are loose ends in his business I should tidy up if I can. When can I get back in here to clean up?”