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

“Mrs. Sullivan.” The haughty look melted from his face and he looked absurdly young and embarrassed. “I am Donald Brady, Alderman Hannan’s secretary. It was good of you to think of us. Frankly we have heard absolutely nothing except for the scant information in the newspapers,” he said. “Would you care to step into my office?”


He held the door open for me and I went inside. The room was sparely furnished with an oak desk and filing cabinets. Clearly Alderman Hannan did not believe in spending unnecessary money. Mr. Brady pulled out a straight-backed chair for me. “Do sit down. Can I have Annie bring you anything? Coffee, water?”

“No thank you. I have just had coffee and I have a lot of business to cram into today. But I wanted to talk with you first.” I pulled my chair closer to his desk. “I don’t know if you have heard yet but it has been determined that the alderman was poisoned, with cyanide taken from his own garden shed.”

“We heard a rumor.” His face was white and shocked. “But it’s too terrible for words. Who would want to do such a thing? He was a good man, good for the city of New York. Look how many men he employed building the new subway.”

“I would like to find out who did this as much as you,” I said. “The police chief seems to think it was a family member. They, of course, are saying nothing and all seem shocked by the death. My husband and I think the alderman must have suspected something, or he would not have invited a well-known New York police detective to be present at the same time as his family. So I wondered—did Alderman Hannan ever mention to you why he was inviting my husband up to Newport?”

He shook his head. “Mrs. Sullivan. I am merely his secretary. He dictates to me. I write the letters and he signs them. He does not discuss his business with me.”

“Pity,” I said. “So you would have no way of knowing if anything was worrying him?”

“Something was,” he said. “He was quite out of sorts for the past couple of weeks. I took it that his anger might have had something to do with the subway tunnel collapse. You heard about that, did you? A sad occurrence—and several men were killed. Mr. Hannan was furious. He thought that maybe someone had been using substandard materials. He and his brother had an argument right here in the office. He said, ‘If I find out you’ve been cheating the company, lining your own pockets at the expense of mens’ lives…’”

“And what did his brother say?”

“He said, ‘You can’t threaten me. You forget I’m a partner in the company. You have no right to speak to me like that.’ And he stormed out. But right after, Mr. Hannan had me set up an appointment with his accountant.”

“I see,” I said. “And where might I find this accountant?”

His face became immediately guarded again. “Mrs. Sullivan, this is private company business. I couldn’t let outsiders be privy to what Mr. Hannan did or said.”

“Mr. Brady,” I said carefully. “From what I’ve observed I don’t believe the local police have a chance in hell of finding out who killed Alderman Hannan.” I saw him visibly flinch at the use of such strong language coming from a woman’s lips. I didn’t care. If he needed jolting a little to make him reveal things to me, then I’d jolt. I continued. “I’m sure he invited my husband there for a reason. My husband is now on the spot and the local police can use his expertise. Unfortunately he has been quite sick and is still unable to travel, so I volunteered to undertake this journey for him. I realize all this is unofficial and the New York police really can’t get involved, but Captain Sullivan is your best chance at seeing justice done for your employer.”

It was a good speech. I was rather proud of it myself, even if it did stretch the truth a little. I saw Donald Brady’s Adam’s apple going up and down above his stiff collar.

“Of course I would like justice for Alderman Hannan,” he said. “I’d like to do anything I could to help. I’ll give you the accountant’s name, but I can’t guarantee he will divulge any company secrets to you.”

“I understand.” I watched as he wrote an address on a piece of paper in fine fluid penmanship, and then blotted it dry.

“Would you happen to know if the alderman changed his will recently?” I asked.

He reacted to this with surprise. “I have no idea. If he did, he did not ask me to contact his attorney.”

“If you would be good enough to add his attorney’s name,” I said, pointing to the piece of paper, “at least I could speak with him. If the police chief thinks a family member responsible there has to be a good reason.”

He was looking more and more uncomfortable and wrote grudgingly.

“One last thing,” I said. “Would you know if the alderman has received any threats at all recently? I understand that there has been a falling out at Tammany Hall. The alderman was against the choice for the new leader.”

“He was,” Brady said. “He thought this Murphy was prone to corruption and would want to feather his own nest. Clearly Murphy has paid off enough men to get himself elected.”