In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

That’sfine.I can easily walk the rest of the way,” I said.

Daniel helped me down. “Allow me to escort you to your house.”

“Probably better if you don't,” I said. “You have a history of not taking noforan answer.”

Daniel laughed. “Are you sure you're steady enough to walk on your own?”

“Quite steady. Not intoxicated at all. I'll look forward to your next instructions then, Captain Sullivan.”

I started out and heard Daniel’s laugh behind me as I teetered.

“It’s these narrow heels on the cobbles,” I said with cool dignity and made it safely down the rest of Patchin Place. He stood there watching me as I successfully negotiated my door key into the keyhole and let myself in.

“Good night, Daniel. Thank you for a lovely dinner,” I called. Thank heavens I hadn't let him accompany me. The way I was feeling ?t this moment I might well have weakened and let him come inside…

I put my purse down on the kitchen table. The lamp was still burning in the parlor and I saw the back of a head in our one arm-chair.

“You didn't have to wait up for me, Seamus,” I began and then stared as the man rose to his feet.

“Jacob,” I stammered. “What are you doing here?”

He came toward me. “I came to apologize for my behavior earlier this evening,” he said in a voice that was frigidly polite. “I thought that the brusque manner in which I turned you away had upset you badly. However, I see now that I need not have worried. I obviously don't have the claim on your affections I had believed.”

“I have just returned from a business meeting,” I said.

“Really, Molly. I am not completely naive,” he said. “Please don't lie to me.”

“I'm not lying.”

“You come home tipsy and in the company of your policeman friend and tell me you've been to a business meeting?”

“Believe it or not, it’s true,” I said. Part of me whispered that I should smooth things over, but the champagne was allfora good fight. '1 thought you were the one who promised not to put me in a cage. You loved my free spirit, I seem to remember.”

“I didn't think your free spirit extended to midnight outings with other men.”

“We are not engaged, Jacob.”

“No, but I thought we had an understanding.”

“We do. Although if you are going to question and mistrust me every time I leave my front door—”

“Surely I have arightto question and mistrust your assignations with other men?”

“No,” I said. “You have norightat all. Either you trust me or you don't. I thought you were different, Jacob. I liked you because you respected myrightto be an independent person. You didn't want to keep me wrapped in cotton, the way most men do. But in the end you are just like all the rest—devoted when it suits you, free-thinking when it suits you.”

“If that’s the way you feel…”

“I do.” I held the door open for him. “I think you should leave now.”

“Very well.” He bowed stiffly. “Good evening, Miss Murphy.”

With that he marched to the door. I experienced a strange mixture of sensations watching him go—indignation, guilt and maybe just a touch of relief. I wanted to get far, far away—away from Jacob and Daniel and all the complications in my life.

This assignment on the Hudson River could not start soon enough for me.





Five

When I woke in the morning, my eyelids heavy from those three glasses of champagne, I couldn't really believe that I had broken off my relationship with Jacob Singer. I had told myself that I never really intended to marry him, but I had become accustomed to relying on him and knowing that he was there. This assignment could not have come at a better moment.

I had barelyfinishedsending the children off to school with a strict warning that they go nowhere near the East River or their cousins when there was a knock at the front door. If it was Jacob, come to demand an apology from me, he wasn't getting one. If he had come to smooth things over, I was still in no mood to talk to him. I opened the door, conscious at the last moment that I was still in my apron with my hairflyingfree around my shoulders.

It wasn't Jacob. Instead, a thin beggar woman stood there, her eyes somehow too large for her hollow face. I'm sorry to trouble you,” she began, “but I have a favor to ask.”

Beggars were a common sight in the city but they didn't usually try their luck in the Village where most residents were immigrants or students or starving artists with no money to spare.

“I'm sorry,” I said, “but I've a family here to feed and barely enough to keep body and soul together ourselves. I'll bring you out a cup of tea and a slice of bread, but other than that—”

“I haven't come to you for money,” she said with dignity. “I think you can help me. When you stepped out of that cab and I heard you mention Senator Flynn’s name last night…”