Death of Riley (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #2)

“You don't care a damn about me!” I shouted back.

Then, without warning, he pulled me to him and kissed me hungrily. I had a moment of pure delight at the feel of his mouth crushing against mine again, until I came to my senses and wrenched myself free. “Just leave me alone, Daniel Sullivan. I can take care of myself,” I shouted, dangerously close to tears now. I picked up my skirts and ran for the door.

“Molly, please, listen to me,” he called after me.

“Thank heavens I never was your wife,” I retorted. “You'd have made an awful bossy husband.”

As I ran down the steps I was conscious of him standing at the top, watching me go. I fought to appear calm. He wasn't going to see how badly he affected me.

“And make sure you lock that door behind you when you leave,” I called up to him before I strode off down the mews.





Eleven

I turned onto Fifth Avenue but I'd only gone as far as the sidewalk cafe outside the Brevoort Hotel before I stopped. I wasn't just going to go home like a good girl. I could remember most of the details of Paddy's most recent cases, but I wanted to take them all down, just in case. I decided to go back and keep watch on the mews— good experience for my professional future. When Daniel left I'd go back in. I'd be able to see which case folders he'd taken with him and which he'd left. Maybe I'd get a clue from that the way his mind was working. And as to my own safety—what safer time to be in the place than right after a policeman?

I went back cautiously and passed the alleyway, crossing into Washington Square itself. I positioned myself in the shadow of the great marble arch where I could see the entrance to the mews. I waited and waited. It was hot, and what seemed like an eternity was, on hearing a neighboring clock chime, only half an hour. Maybe I wasn't going to be any good at this job after all. I couldn't see myself standing for three days like a statue, as Paddy had done in Gramercy Park. My mother said I was born impatient, along with all my other faults.

My attention began to wander. I watched some little girls turning a jump rope and chanting as they took turns to run in and out. “She made a drip drop. Dripping in the sea. Please turn the rope for me…” It was almost the same as the nonsense rhyme we had chanted at home and I listened, entranced. Luckily I remembered my mission in time and looked back to see Daniel striding out along the north side of the square, then crossing University Place. He didn't seem to be carrying anything. I waited until he was out of sight then headed back to Paddy's. For a moment it all seemed like a great lark, until I remembered that Paddy was dead and that the man I had been spying on was the one I had loved and lost.

Daniel had, indeed, locked the door behind him. I turned my key in the lock and went back inside. From what I could see, he hadn't moved anything. The folders from the file cabinet still lay on the floor. I picked them up and placed them on the table, ready to take them home with me. Then I went through the rest of the top drawer. Farther back I found several folders stamped CASE CLOSED, EVIDENCE DELIVERED, and a date, BILL SUBMITTED, and a date, but no stamp saying PAID IN FULL.

So not all of these big nobs were speedy about paying their accounts, I decided. Then something else struck me. I still worked here until somebody told me I didn't. There was no reason these people should get away without paying their bills just because Paddy was dead. P. Riley, Discreet Investigations still existed. It was up to the junior partner to collect what was owed.

I spent some time in a rather fruitless attempt at cleaning Paddy's chair, then I placed a towel on it before I sat. It didn't seem right to be sitting on his bloodstains, but there was no other chair in the place. I found clean writing paper and wrote, in my best penmanship, “It has come to our attention that our business with you was concluded three months ago and that the account is outstanding. We would appreciate payment at your earliest convenience.” I signed it “M. Murphy, junior partner, P. Riley Investigations.”