Hush Now, Don't You Cry (Molly Murphy, #11)

I glanced around the group, recognizing Irene and Archie Van Horn, Terrence, Eliza, Mr. Joseph Hannan as well as a few people I hadn’t seen before. One was a plump, motherly looking older woman; one a skinny youth. He was perched on the arm of her chair, a study in contrasts, making the rhyme about Jack Spratt and his wife spring into my mind. The third person was a thinner, younger, somehow softer-looking version of Joseph, presumably the third Hannan brother, the priest. And the only one standing was a portly florid man in a policeman’s uniform with enough braid on it to indicate he was someone important.

“Ah, here they are now,” he said as we came in. “Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, isn’t it? Please take a seat. I am Chief Prescott of the Newport Police.” There were two upright chairs near the door and we sat. It felt as if we had been called to an inquisition and tried to imagine what we were to be accused of.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan. I am told you are supposedly here as guests of Alderman Hannan.”

“Supposedly?” I began, but Daniel put a hand on my arm to restrain me.

“May we ask what this is about?” Daniel demanded. “Exactly why have we been dragged from our beds at this ungodly hour on what is supposed to be our honeymoon? If this is some kind of family gathering then obviously we do not belong here.”

“Precisely,” Mr. Joseph Hannan said, pointing a finger in our direction. “Exactly what I told you, Chief Prescott. What are they doing here at the same time as us? That was the first thought that went through my mind—and the other family members as well.”

“We are here because Alderman Hannan invited us,” Daniel said.

“You’re a good friend of the alderman, are you, sir?” the policeman asked.

“No, I don’t know him socially. We have crossed paths professionally.”

“See, what did I tell you?” Joseph Hannan began again. “None of us had any idea they’d be here. None of us has ever heard mention of them before.”

“You say you don’t know the alderman socially, and yet he invites you to his house at the same time as his family. Didn’t that strike you as odd, sir?” The police chief took a step toward us in a menacing way, as if he was expecting us to break down and confess all. I studied his face. It must have been handsome once, but the jawline was starting to sag and those red cheeks betrayed too much liking for alcohol. And the way he was looking at us was making a flush of anger rise to my own cheeks.

I could keep quiet no longer. “Look, if you believe we are gate-crashers here, and obviously that is what you are insinuating, why don’t you ask the alderman himself? I’m sure he must have arrived by now.”

I saw a quick glance pass between several people seated in the room.

“May I ask when you last saw the alderman, sir?” the police chief asked.

Daniel frowned. “A couple of weeks ago.”

“You haven’t seen him since?”

“I just told you,” Daniel snapped, then drew out his handkerchief as the words turned into a bout of coughing. Prescott waited until he had finished.

“I must apologize,” Daniel muttered. “I seem to have caught a chill after being drenched in that storm the other night.”

“You say you cross paths professionally,” the policeman said. “What kind of profession would that be, sir?”

“I’m a policeman, like yourself,” Daniel said. “If you want to know the details, the alderman and I were chatting and when he learned about my ruined honeymoon, and that he was partly to blame, he made the kind offer of the use of his guest cottage, and suggested this date.”

“He was partly to blame? What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about the tunnel collapse last month. The new subway system that Hannan Construction is building in the city. I’m sure you must have read about it. If not, Joseph Hannan can tell you. He runs the business these days, isn’t that right, Mr. Hannan?” He looked at Joseph.

“There was a cave-in,” Joseph said coldly. “Bound to happen from time to time, given the unstable nature of the soil under Manhattan and the many streams that crisscross it.”

“It was a bad cave-in and several men were killed, weren’t they?” Daniel continued. “And I was called back from my honeymoon to see if there was any evidence of foul play involved.”

“Foul play?” Joseph demanded, half rising to his feet. “What are you getting at?”

“An attempt to sabotage your construction, Mr. Hannan. That’s what I’m getting at.” He and Joseph stared at each other for a long moment then Joseph sat down again.

“You’re a detective of some sort, are you then?” Chief Prescott asked. The tone was hostile, almost insulting.

“Captain Sullivan, New York Police,” Daniel said. “Senior detective at Mulberry Street.”

“I see, sir.” I noticed a slight shift in attitude. “Could you tell me why Mr. Hannan specifically invited you here at the same time as his family?”

“He mentioned this date and we accepted.”

“So he never said why he wanted you here at this particular moment? Didn’t that strike you as a trifle odd?”