In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

“You could have found us a wagon with a hood,” I answered. “Still, there is a carriage rug under the seat and they said it wasn't too far, didn't they?” I leaned down to reach for the rug and draped it around us.

Daniel didn't answer but sat looking miserable as raindrops landed on his straw boater. Luckily the brunt of the storm was still to the south of us. We could hear distant rumbles of thunder but we experienced no worse than a few raindrops. After stopping to ask for directions several times, we finally found ourselves bumping up a farm track while black and white cows scattered and a horse neighed a warning.

It was a small gray stone farm house, set stark and unadorned in the middle of the fields. There was a red bam to one side and a field of com growing tall to the other. As we pulled up outside the front door, it opened and a woman’s anxiousfacepeeked out. She looked from Daniel to me and I saw aflashof recognition register.

“Are you the former Johanna Foreman?” Daniel asked her.

“Yes. What do you want?” She was hugging her arms to herself as if she was cold, even though the air steamed with the heat of the day. She looked thin and undernourished, but maybe that was just because of her hollow cheeks and pallor.

“Just to ask you some questions, if you don't mind.” Daniel jumped down and assisted me.

“You'd better come in, I suppose.” She led us through into a small/dark kitchen. Theremainsof a recent meal still littered the scrubbed pine table.

“Do you have any idea why we might have come?” Daniel asked.

“I don't know who you are.”

“I'm Captain Sullivan, New York Police. This is Miss Murphy, who’s been assisting me.”

Johanna’s eyes darted nervously to the door and back.

“You used to know Albert Morell,” Daniel said.

“Albert who?”

“Morell. From Albany.”

She shook her head. “Never heard of him.”

“But you go to putflowerson his grave every week,” I said. “I saw you.”

“What do you want with me?” She sounded close to hysterics. “Why can't you let the dead rest in peace? Albert is gone. He paid, didn't he?”

“I realize he’s gone, Mrs. Clegg,” I said. “We're hereforanother reason. I think you can guess it, can't you?”

Again she shook her head. “I've no idea.”

“You have a son?” I asked.

I saw her eyes momentarily widen, then she nodded. “Yes. I have a son.”

“Can we meet him?”

“What for?”

“Is there any reason why we shouldn't?” Daniel asked.

“None at all. Billy!” she shouted. “Come down here at once.”

There was a clatter of boots on bare wooden stairs and a sturdy lad came into the kitchen. I recognized him too. Last time I had seen him, he'd been climbing on gravestones.

“What do you want, Ma?” he asked, eyeing us suspiciously.

“My boy, Billy,” she said. “Anything else you want with me?”

The moment I had a chance to observe him closely, I saw that he could not be Brendan Flynn. Indeed, I saw only too clearly who his father was. The boy had Albert Morell’s dark Italian good looks. At the moment this registered, I heard Daniel say in annoyance, That certainly isn't Brendan Flynn.”

“Brendan Flynn?” Mrs. Clegg demanded. “You're looking for Brendan Flynn? He’s dead and buried years ago.”

“Do you have any other children, Mrs. Clegg?” Daniel asked.

She shook her head. “I had problems with this one and they said I couldn't have any more.”

I could see how awkward that would beforher husband.

“Mrs. Clegg,” I said, holding her gaze, “we need to know whether Brendan Flynn is dead or alive. If there’s any chance he’s still alive, you have to tell us.”

She seemed to deflate before our eyes and hugged her arms to herself again. “Do you think I haven't asked myself that question, day after day?”

“What happened to the Flynn baby, Mrs. Clegg?” I asked. “Didn't Albert Morell bring him to you?”

“We didn't know, did we?” Johanna Clegg whimpered again. “Bertie knew I'd do anything for him, but I never dreamed … he said it was a little girl, his cousin’s child, and his cousin had died and he was going to take the child to his sister in Ohio, only he had to work all weekend first. Would we just keep the child there overnight and he'd make sure we were well paidforour services? We had no idea—the child had long fair curls and was dressed in a bonnet and petticoats. Bertie must have thought we were very stupid, because the moment I had to change him, of course I could see it was a little boy. Then we heard the news and Amos says to me, You know who we've got here, don't you?”

She looked at us, her eyes begging us to understand. “I was all for turning the child in at the nearest police station. But Amos wouldn't let me. He said we'd be arrested for aiding and abetting. They'd think we were in on the kidnapping and just got cold feet. Whatever we did now, we'd be in for it. And Amos had a record from his earlier years. He got in a couple of fights, you see. He said he wasn't going back to jail for all the tea in China.”