For the Love of Mike (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #3)

“I’m not one of them,” I said angrily. “In fact you’ve just rescued me. They dragged me in here.”


I saw two of the constables exchange a grin. “Out you go, girlie, and no tricks.”

I was escorted out to a waiting paddy wagon and shoved into the back with five or six members of the Eastmans.

“Whoever did this is going to be very sorry,” Monk said as the horses got up to speed and we were thrown around. “Who do they tink they’re messing with? Why do they tink I pay them protection money, huh?”

It was a mercifully short ride. As we were taken out, I saw that we were at Mulberry Street headquarters. Up the steps and into the building.

“What have we got here?” a bewhiskered sergeant asked.

“Five Eastmans and one of their molls. Chief wanted a word.”

“I am not anyone’s moll,” I said, stepping away from the column of men. “They dragged me into their building and the coming of your men actually rescued me.” I weighed up whether to use Daniel’s name, and decided that he owed me a favor. “You can ask Captain Sullivan if you like. He’ll vouch for me.”

“Is Captain Sullivan in the building?” one of the arresting officers asked.

“I think he just stepped out for a bite to eat,” the sergeant said. “Put her in a holding cell until he gets back. Oh wait, speak of the devil . . .”

Daniel Sullivan had come in through the front door. “What’s going on here, O’Malley?” he asked. He recognized the largest of the prisoners. “To what do we owe this honor, Monk? Gracing us with your presence?”

“Go to hell, Sullivan, and tell your chief he’d better watch the way he picks on innocent citizens or he’s going to be sorry. Tell him next time to send a hansom cab for me. The seats in your Black Maria are too hard—besides, I got my reputation to consider!”

“Please escort Mr. Eastman and his friends upstairs and let the chief know they’re here,” Daniel said.

“And the girl, sir. Says she knows you.”

Daniel looked at me and I saw his eyes open wide in astonishment. “Molly—what in heaven’s name have you been doing with yourself now?”

“Minding my own business, until these gentlemen pounced on me and dragged me into their building.”

“You know her then, sir?” the sergeant asked.

“Oh yes, I know her,” Daniel said, glaring at me angrily. “Take her up to my office. I’ll talk to her later.”

I tried to protest. I was escorted up the stairs and sat on the hard chair in Daniel’s glass-fronted cubicle, waiting for him. At least Monk Eastman and several of his men were now in custody. Maybe they could be persuaded to reveal if they had done anything with Shamey. I tried not to think what might have happened to him. Now that all the excitement was over, I found I was shivering. I had never seen Daniel look so angry.

At last he came storming up the stairs. “What in God’s name have you been doing, woman?” he shouted at me. “Do you know who those men are?”

“Yes, I do. Monk Eastman and his gang.”

“And didn’t I warn you about gangs? Didn’t I tell you about the turf war going on at this moment and the struggles for the cocaine business, not to mention the white slave trade? What on earth possessed you? You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I know that,” I said.

“If you don’t give up this absurd notion of yours, I’m going to have you arrested and shipped back to Ireland as a public nuisance—do I make myself clear?”

I knew this was a threat he wouldn’t carry out but, all the same, it brought me up with a jolt. I could never go back to Ireland, where there was a price on my head.

I decided to try humility for once. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I knew I was asking for trouble, but I was looking for young Seamus O’Connor. He’s been running errands for the Eastmans and I was worried about him.”

“Seamus O’Connor—the boy you brought over from Ireland?”

I nodded. “His no-good cousins got him mixed up with a gang.”

“And Molly, the champion, took it into her head to go and find him, single-handed? Sometimes I think you were born with a death wish.”

“I had no option, Daniel. I acted because I thought the boy was in danger—the boy is probably still in danger.”

“You could have come to me.” His voice was quieter now. He was gazing at me steadily.

“When will you get it into your head that I cannot keep running to you for help?”

“Are we not still friends?” he said. “And friends can ask each other for a favor.”

“Oh yes, and I can picture Miss Arabella allowing you to have friends like me,” I said angrily. “For one thing, I don’t wear the right sort of clothes.”

I saw him try to stifle the grin. “I’m really sorry about the other Sunday,” he said. “It must have been very unpleasant for you.”

“No more pleasant for you, I’d warrant,” I said, smiling also now.

“You behaved perfectly. I was most grateful.”