In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

I glanced down at myself and saw the shape of my leg, clearly outlined as I climbed into the carriage. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” I muttered and had the grace to blush before I laughed. “Well, I better not show myfacein this town again, had I?”


Daniel smiled too. “You won't be needing to show yourfacein this town again anytimesoon. I'm taking you home.”

Doors slammed, a whistle sounded and the train pulled out of the station.

“If you're taking me home, we're going the wrong way,” I said.

“We're going back to Adare first, of course.”

“I don't want to go back there,” I said. “Bamey Flynn knows I'm not his cousin. He was—” I broke off, unable to say the next words even to Daniel. “He was very angry with me for deceiving him.”

“Youll have me with you. I'll shield you from Barney Flynn’s anger,” he said. “Besides, it’s only to pick up your things, then 111 arrange to have you taken straight back to the city.” A thought struck him. “So how did he discover that you're not his cousin?”

“His real cousin Molly has been in the convent for the past two years,” I said, giving Daniel a haughty stare. 'Your informants certainly slipped up on that one.”

He started to laugh. “They certainly did.”

“It’s not funny, actually It might have cost me my life.”

He nodded. “You'reright.I'm sorry, really I am. Well, that’s it.”

“What is?”

“I've learned my lesson. I'm not sending you out on any more assignments, however tame they may seem. I'llfindyou a nice safe job in a hat shop.”

“Now can you see me working in a hat shop?” I had to smile. “I'd jab hat pins into difficult customers.” I shivered suddenly and wrapped Daniel’s jacket more tightly around me. It was easy to joke and make light of things, but I could have beenfisheddead from the Hudson. I suppose shock was beginning to set in. Home sounded particularly good to me—Bridie rushing up to wrap her little arms around me, Sid and Gus waiting to spoil me, Ryan to amuse me. Back to being myself again with no need for pretense. For a moment I wondered if I was really cut out to be an investigator. Then I thought of that hat shop again and decided that on the whole I liked the excitement of my life.

I stared out of the train window, watching the Hudson slip past, and thought how peaceful it looked. Who would ever guess that so much tension and misery went on in the great home on its bank? Much as I distrusted Bamey Flynn and would make sure I was never alone with him again, I did wish him some peace. His haunted face came back to me, the despair in those eyes as he shook Joe Rimes.

As the train slowed, coming into Peekskill, I looked out and saw die little church and a picture flashed into my mind: the young woman bending over Albert Morell’s grave and placing fresh flowers on it, then fleeing when she saw me coming.

“I can't go home yet,” I said, sitting up suddenly. “I have to see this through to the end.”

“But you have seen it through. Joe Rimes is dead.”

“But I'm not sure that Brendan is,” I said.

“What are you talking about? He was buried alive five years ago. He can't still be alive after all this time.”

As we pulled into the station, my gaze went to a woman standing on die platform with a sleeping child in her arms. The child was almost invisible under a white blanket with just little feet sticking out.

“Daniel?” I demanded. “Was a search ever madeforhim outside of the property? Was it ever considered that die ransom note might not have been telling the truth?”

“What do you mean?” Daniel opened the door for me and helped me alight.

“Didn't it seem strange to anyone that the child’s body was never found? If the underground chamber was built, as Morell promised, with a good air supply, then wouldn't dogs have been able to pick up the child’s scent? Even if the child had been drugged, wouldn't he have eventually woken and cried? And wouldn't someone have smelled a decomposing body?”

Daniel looked at me with surprise. “For a sweet-looking young girl, you can discuss remarkably macabre subjects,” he said.

“You haven't answered my question. Was there ever any conjecture that the child might have been hidden away somewhere else?”

“What would that matter now? The child would still be dead.”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “Daniel, I've had this nagging doubt ever since I saw that woman. And the more I think of it, the more sense it makes. From what I've heard of Albert Morell, I can't believe that he would do that to a child. Everyone agreed that he loved children. I love children and no amount of money in the world would make me bury one alive, even if I was sure he'd be safe.”

“So you are suggesting that he spirited the child away?”

“It’s possible, isn't it?”

“But his relatives and friends in Albany were questioned to see if any of them might be involved,” Daniel said. “All inquiries came up blank.”