In Dublin's Fair City (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #6)

“Perhaps I’d better go and pack up her things, now that Rose can’t do it for her,” I said. “Will it be all right to do that, do you think? She has so much clothing that it will be a mammoth task and if I’m not quick, the ship will have left for Liverpool.”


“The ship's not going anywhere until I’m done with it,” the inspector said bluntly. “and I’ll need to keep that cabin the way it is until my photographer arrives and my lads have finished.”

“But some of my things are up there,” I said. “Am I not permitted to take them with me?”

“Not until I’m done, and since all her possessions are to be shipped under your name, you’ll just have to wait and get them all at the same time, I’m afraid. You’ll not be going far, anyway. You’ll be needed for the inquest.”

“I wasn’t planning to go far,” I said. “My search for the missing woman will begin not far from Cork. I’ll probably take a room in that city.”

“That will do admirably,” he said. “I’m sure the inquest will be held at the Coroner's Court there. You’ll let us know where to find you as soon as you’ve taken lodgings.” He glanced up with that half smirk on his face, which I had once found friendly and now found annoying. “Luckily it's not easy to run away when you’re on an island and the ports are being watched.”

“I have no intention of running away,” I said haughtily. “I have no reason to.”

As he spoke, he continued to poke around the rest of the cabin, but in the end he shook his head. “Nothing more in here,” he said. “Right. Let's go upstairs again.” He picked up my valise. “You girls stay put until you’ve given your statements to my sergeant.”

“And our mistresses will be wanting us to finish their packing. We’ll get in awful trouble,” one of them wailed. “We had nothing to do with poor Rose's death, I swear it, sir, on my mother's grave.”

“Of course you didn’t.” He sounded almost kindly. “Go on with you then. Just make sure we’ve got your names and addresses.”

They gave him grateful smiles and fled. As we made our way back to the first-class deck we were greeted by another plainclothes’ officer. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to search the cabins, sir,” he said. “A good number of passengers are disembarking here and all their luggage is already packed up and stacked to go ashore.”

The inspector sighed. “Of course it would be. So much for that. Oh well, let's get on with that medical inspection. I’ll need you with me, Miss Murphy and let's have those cabin stewards as well. What were their names?”

“Henry and Frederick,” I said.

“Henry and Frederick. Got that, Connelly? Where's that blasted first officer? I want to know where we’ll be setting up shop.”

I followed him reluctantly. The shock of the last night, the lack ofsleep, and the knowledge that I might be confronting a killer made me feel positively sick. I touched the inspector's arm.

“Do I have to be there? I really don’t feel too well.”

“Don’t worry,” Inspector Harris said, sensing my discomfort. “I’ll be putting you and the stewards out of sight, behind a curtain or something. I want you to observe but not be seen. You let me know when you see anyone with whom you had any kind of contact during the voyage, anyone you noticed hanging around you, and we’ll have his luggage brought to us.”

We were led to the foyer and Henry, Frederick, and I were seated behind a screen of potted palms. Inspector Harris sat with the ship's doctor at a table.

“Right, send the first ones in,” the inspector called.

The first passengers were brought through.

“How long is this going to take?” a distinguished-looking man in a frock coat demanded. “I’m expected to preside over a meeting later today.”

“You’ll be free to go after the doctor has given you a quick examination, sir. We don’t want any of our passengers spreading disease now, do we?” the first officer said calmly.

“Spreading disease? Look at me, man. I’m fit as a fiddle. Stuff and nonsense. Well, go on then. Get on with it.”

The doctor examined his hands, throat, and eyes, then pronounced him fit to go. “Come, Martha,” the man instructed, and a meek little woman scurried after him.

A positive stream of passengers followed. Women with children, elderly couples were whisked through with the wave of a hand. Henry or Frederick singled out men whom they recognized as having attempted an audience with Miss Sheehan. As the inspector had predicted, some of them were indeed married and had their wives in tow. They were not pleased at being detained.

Mr. Fitzpatrick came past. He gave his address as Yonkers, near New York City, visiting Ireland on business. He had not attended the ball last night. He didn’t go in for such things and had spent the evening in the bar with a couple of other fellows discussing racing prospects.