Death of Riley (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #2)

“More interesting than fish-gutting,” I said. “Now why don't you go and look after Seamus while I get these youngsters their tea.”


I put cold tea compresses on my face all night and by morning it looked almost normal again. At least I didn't look like a woman whose fancy man has just beaten her up! I checked on Seamus, who was now sitting up and had some color in his cheeks. Thank heavens for small mercies. Maybe Nuala would be going home soon and I'd have some peace and privacy again.

I had been doing some thinking during the night. I found it hard enough to sleep in the heat anyway, and with a throbbing face and two restless children, it was nearly impossible. So I had lain there going through things in my mind. I had told Nuala that I was a private investigator yesterday, so now I was truly committed to going back to Paddy's place and proving to myself that I could do the job. And if I was an investigator, a woman of business, then I should look like one. Nobody would take me seriously if I looked like any factory girl in my white blouse and cheap cotton skirt. I still had Miss Van Woekem's two dollars. If I were sensible I would keep them for necessities, but I wasn't going to be sensible. I was going to find a dressmaker and have a costume befitting a serious businesswoman made for me.

And then I was going to solve Paddy's murder. I had no idea how, or where I was going to start, but I was confident that something would come to me as I cleaned up his rooms. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that it wasn't a gangland killing. If a gang had wanted Paddy paid back and silenced, then the stabbing would have been enough. There would have been no need for the desperate search through his papers. And there would have been no need to do it in his office. A quick stab with a stiletto on a busy street would have been more efficient. Someone had been looking for evidence Paddy had gathered recently.

Start with what you know—I almost heard Paddy's voice saying the words. What did I know? Precious little, really—that he had passed something to Daniel in the park, then stood observing a house in Gramercy Park for three days. That would be worth following up. I knew he had gone to Delmonico's, presumably to witness an assignation in a private room; it should be possible to check on that also. Then something happened on the way back from Delmonico's—he had overheard something that had rattled him enough to send me away and start him investigating in a new direction. That would be the key.

I closed my eyes and was close to drifting off to sleep when I remembered the other fact that I knew—Paddy's words to me before he died.‘Too big for me.” What was too big for him?

I drifted into uneasy sleep and dreamed of Paddy wearing a coat that came down to his ankles. “This is too big for me,” he was saying. “You'll have to wear it.”

In the morning I helped the children to wash and dress, impatient to be off and get started. They were painfully slow, with lots of bickering and Bridie crying, before I finally packed them off to find their cousins and set out on my own errands. My first call was to Wanamaker's Dry Goods on Broadway, where I decided that black would be unbearably hot for summer wear and chose a soft beige fabric instead. Then I located a dressmaker, conveniently only a block away, and ordered a double-breasted suit pattern in a manly style. The dressmaker assured me that this was favored by women in commerce. I could come in for a fitting that afternoon and she could have it ready for me by the close of die next day, if I paid fifty cents extra for the rush job. It was worth the fifty cents, even though I probably wouldn't be eating by next week.

Then, deciding it was in for a penny, in for a pound, I spied a printer's shop opposite and went in to have calling cards made. They were also promised for the end of the following day. It seemed that by tomorrow night, I'd be a fully fledged woman of commerce. I tossed back my head and practiced walking down Broadway the way a woman of commerce might stride. I even had to restrain myself from hailing a passing hansom cab!

It was with reluctance that I presented myself to Sergeant Wolski at police headquarters to pick up my own key to Paddy's door. I was dying to ask if he'd found out anything new, but then reasoned that he'd be hardly likely to tell me if he had.