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

“Probably,” he agreed. “Would you like to sign the book, and then I’ll have one of the boys show you up to your room.”


As I signed the book beside my name I realized that I was registered here as Molly Murphy. If anyone was tracing me, it was as good as waving a flag from my window and shouting, “Here I am.”

“Let me get your key, Miss Murphy,” the clerk said. He was about to hand it to me when a man came up to the counter, literally brushing me aside.

“Still no messages for me?” he demanded.

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Fortwrangler,” the clerk replied.

I dared not look at him.

“And still no word where Miss Oona Sheehan might be staying?” “No word at all, Mr. Fortwrangler.”

“I just can’t understand it. She can’t have vanished into thin air, can she?”

“I’m sure she has plenty of friends and family in the country,” the clerk said patiently. “She may not want her whereabouts to be known.”

“Look here,” Artie Fortwrangler said. “There's a twenty-dollar bill for the guy who finds her for me. Spread the word around, won’t you, Freddie?”

“I will, Mr. Fortwrangler, now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get this young lady up to her room.”

Artie Fortwrangler left me without even a second glance. I let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t recognize me without the wig and makeup. But he was clearly staying at the same hotel. It might be wise to stay wellaway from him in future. The clerk snapped his fingers and my bag was whisked before me up a broad staircase to a grand room on the first floor overlooking the green. It would have been more delightful if the floor had not again been littered with those large trunks.

“You don’t exactly travel light, do you, miss?” the bell boy said.

“I’m holding them for a friend,” I said. “I had hoped she would have arranged to pick them up by now. Is there somewhere we could store them, do you think?”

“I’ll ask for you,” he said, accepted my tip and disappeared.

I was left with the obstacle course again. At the very least I should have asked the boy to drag the trunks into a corner. I attempted to do so myself. As I yanked it down the edge of the carpet onto the parquet I heard a distinct clunk. Clothing would make no such noise, so what on earth was in there? I tried to open the trunk, but it was one of the ones that was locked. By now I was well and truly curious. I tried every key I could lay my hands on—the wardrobe, my train case, and at last, in desperation, my hairpins. Suddenly I heard the lock click, and I lifted the lid. A lovely coffee-colored silk ball gown lay neatly folded. I lifted it out. Below it the next layer was tucked neatly into a blanket. I opened that up and found myself staring down at a layer of rifles.





Eighteen


Iwas finding it hard to breathe as I rummaged beneath those first rifles and found more of the same, each layer wrapped in a blanket. The whole trunk was full of guns. When I removed the dresses from the unlocked trunks I found that both had false bottoms and they too contained rifles and ammunition.

For a moment I wondered whether Miss Sheehan was a crook, and then, of course, I began to suspect where they were destined. I had come across Irishmen in America supporting the cause of the freedom fighters back in the old country by sending over money and guns. It had never crossed my mind that Miss Sheehan could be such a patriot. A cowardly one, however, I decided. It was I who would find myself in hot water if the guns were discovered, since they had been sent across the country in my name. And she was safely on the other side of the Atlantic. It did cross my mind to wonder if she knew about the guns or whether we were both being used by outside forces. Then I decided that she knew very well. Why else would she have jumped ship right before it sailed. Why else would she have had the trunks shipped in my name?

I’ll call in the authorities, I thought, bristling with indignation. I’ll let them know the truth. That whole business of trading cabins had nothing to do with unwanted admirers, it was all a hoax to make me do her dirty work for her. I paced up and down in a height of agitation. I didn’t want those things in my room a minute longer. If the policeraided now, I’d be hauled off to Dublin Castle and likely as not be facing the hangman's noose.