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

“Nothing. But I must leave you. Until Tuesday then.”


I didn’t wait for a reply but hurried away and up the stairs. All but two of the trunks had already disappeared and two men were attempting to hoist one of the heaviest ones as I came in. They looked up, let go of the trunk and stood to attention.

“Sorry to disturb you, miss, but we were sent to collect the luggage,” a big, ugly brute of a man said. “We’re almost done.”

He had a face like a boxer's and great paws for hands, and I was glad I was meeting him in the safety of the hotel. The other one simply looked like a half-wit.

I composed my features to look calm and disinterested. “That's quite all right. I’m glad it's finally going. I’ve had to clamber over it, and it's been most inconvenient.” I waited until they had hoisted the trunk between them and then asked carelessly, “So who do you work for? Who sent you?”

“We work for the carter, miss. We got our instructions to come and pick up these trunks. We are in the right place, I hope.” “Quite right,” I said. “And where are you taking them?” “Just back to the warehouse, miss.”

They had reached my doorway and were easing the trunk through it. “And after that?”

He looked genuinely surprised. “I’ve no idea, miss. My job was to come and collect this luggage, and I just do what I’m told. Now if you’ll excuse us, this blessed thing weighs a ton.”

They staggered out. I went across to the window and peered down to the street. No sign of any vehicle. On impulse I decided to follow them. I ran out into the hall, but they were nowhere to be seen. Obviously they had been required to carry luggage down by some sort of back staircase and then, presumably, out of a tradesman's entrance. I snatched up my shawl from where it was lying on my dresser and raced down the stairs. I stood on the steps, scanning the street. Still no sign of any conveyance. And it was raining again. I put my shawl over my head and walked out onto the pavement.

“Are you requiring a cab, miss?” A hotel lackey stood ready at attention.

“No, thank you.” I walked to the corner and looked into the alley at the side of the hotel. There was a horse and cart standing under a streetlamp and as I came around the corner, the two men appeared from a doorway, grunting as they tried to hoist the trunk into the back of the cart. I shrank back into the shadows. If they were indeed taking the trunks only back to their depot, then there was no point in following them. Besides, I didn’t really want to know more than what was good for me, did I? The trunks were gone, and with them any danger to myself. I should be glad and leave them to it.

I was about to turn away when another man jumped down from the back of the cart.

“Is this the last of them then?” he asked, in a voice that made me stop and turn back to look at him.

“Jonnie and Donald are bringing down the last one now.”

“Good, then let's get out of here,” the man said, glancing up and down the alleyway.

He went to climb up to the driver's seat and the lamplight shone on his red hair. I must have gasped out loud because he looked up. For one brief moment our eyes met. I thought I must be seeing things,- it was my brother.





Twenty-one


L iam!” I shouted and started to move toward him.


He shot me a frightened glance, then turned and fled, run-

ning away as fast as he could. I took off after him, down the alleyway, the clatter of our feet on the cobbles echoing from the sides of the buildings. The nails in Liam's boots struck sparks on the cobbles, so fast was he running. Back at home I had been a fast runner too, able to keep up with the boys in any footrace. But in those days I’d been barefoot, with light cotton skirts I could easily hoist up. Now I was dressed like a lady, hampered by my dainty shoes, my tight skirts and petticoats, and that neat little waistline that made it impossible to breathe.