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

I peeped around the potted plant as I heard Miss Sheehan's name mentioned.

“The actress, you mean?” I heard Mr. Fitzpatrick ask. “I believe I did observe her out on deck once. She wasn’t looking at all well, I thought. Has she been stricken with this sickness we’ve been hearing about? I have to tell you that I feel absolutely fine myself and see no reason to be detained any longer. I’m interested in a filly racing this afternoon, y’-know.”

I watched a police sergeant taking down details, and Mr. Fitzpatrick left. I tried to go through my conversation with him again in my mind. It had been a casual encounter, nothing threatening, but why say that he had observed me on deck once and not mentioned that he had spoken with me? I wondered whether there was any significance in this and decided that rumors must fly around enclosed communities like ocean liners. Perhaps he had gotten word of Rose's death and wanted to make sure he was not detained in any way.

I looked up with interest as Artie Fortwrangler came onto the scene. He smiled easily and gave his address as New York City and Newport, Rhode Island. He stated that his father was Arthur Fortwrangler III, and that he was destined for the family business when he’d completed his studies at Yale. Yes, he’d been at the ball, in a spiffing costume as Mephistopheles—quite sinister, you know. He answered the medical questions the doctor put to him without hesitation. He was feeling just fine and dandy,- no contact, as far as he could remember, with anyone who was sick, apart from Miss Sheehan, who had a sore throat. He admitted to an infatuation with Miss Sheehan, in fact, he claimed to have seen every single performance of As You Like It, in which she played Viola—even though he loathed Shakespeare. He also admitted, somewhat sheepishly, that he had taken this ship knowing that Oona Sheehan was to be a traveling companion and hoping to strike up a closer acquaintanceship with her. “They always say romance blossoms on the high seas, don’t they?” He grinned hopefully.

He looked puzzled when he was asked to wait in a nearby lounge, but went willingly enough. I heard the inspector sending for his bags and also giving instructions to requisition the Mephistopheles costume. As I watched him go, with his long, boyish stride, I couldn’t imaginehim killing anybody. He’d probably be the type who fainted at the sight of blood.

More people filed past. Teddy turned out to be the Honorable Edward Mulhane, and Bertie was Albert Everingham-Smythe—both harmless-looking young men who expressed extreme disappointment at not being able to meet Oona Sheehan. And then I stiffened. An older man had come into the room, dressed in shabbier fashion than those who had preceded him. Tweed jacket, impressive side whiskers. I realized with a start that he was the man I had observed watching me on deck.

“That's the older man who was following me,” I whispered. The message was passed along the line to the inspector. A low conversation followed. The inspector nodded and glanced in my direction. He shook hands with the other man, who then followed other passengers through the door that led to freedom.

“Wait!” I blurted out the word and stood up behind my potted palm. I saw the inspector glance at me and frown. Hadn’t he said himself that it wasn’t just young single men who would be under suspicion? Then a chilling thought entered my head—he might not be taking this exercise as seriously as I was. It struck me that he might not be observing the people who passed him as much as watching my reactions to them. I might still be the suspect he was observing, or he might be on the hunt for my accomplice.

Then, as the next passengers were ushered in, a note was passed to me.

“The man you identified is an inspector from Scotland Yard, apparently on the trail of a jewel thief. He will now be helping me with my inquiries.”

So there was a jewel thief on board the boat! No wonder robbery was the first motive that Inspector Harris had come up with. And the only person who could have told us if Miss Sheehan had any jewels on board was now lying under a sheet, murdered. I found myself feeling strangely relieved. If the crime had only been an offshoot of a robbery that went wrong, then I myself wasn’t in any danger. I could leave this ship and get on with my quest to find Tommy Burke's sister.





Twelve


A s the tide of passengers passing us slowed to a trickle, Inspector Harris rose and came over to us.


“You are free to leave the ship, Miss Murphy. I don’t think

there's anything more you can do for us today.”