In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

Barney came over with a glass of sherry in his hand. “Here you are, Molly You'll need this if you're going to face the séance afterward.”


I took it gratefully, glad to be occupied with sipping sherry rather than putting my foot in my mouth every time I opened it.

“Don't frighten her, Barney.” Theresa frowned at him. “I'm sure the séance will be a wonderful experience for all of us.”

“So where have your two voodoo ladies got to then?” Bamey asked.

“Behave yourself.” Theresa frowned again. “They have been preparing themselves.” She glanced up. “Ah. Here they come now.”

All conversation broke off as the Misses Sorensen came into the room. They were still dressed head to toe in black, but the dresses were now silk and Miss Ella wore a pleated silk turban. Apart from that, neither wore any other adornment and their faces looked deathly white against all that blackness.

“Miss Emily, Miss Ella. Do come in. I hope you feel up to joining us for dinner before the séance,” Theresa said.

“One has to eat occasionally,” Miss Emily said in her deep voice. “It is important to keep the body in good condition if one is to be open to the spirits.”

“How fascinating,” Cousin Clara said. “So tell me, can you call up spirits at will?”

“Certainly not.” Miss Ella had a sharper, higher voice. “My sister merely makes herself the vessel through which messages are received from the other side. It would be most presumptuous to think our role is anything more than that.”

“It is Chief Ojuweca who does all the work,” Miss Emily said, accepting the sherry glass from the butler’s tray. “Our spirit guide, you know.”

“How simply marvelous, isn't it, Theresa?” Clara said, beaming at Theresa. They have a real spirit guide. Is he a Red Indian?”

“An Indian chief,” Miss Ella said, looking smug. “We were most fortunate that he chose us, of all people.”

I pressed my lips together and tried not to smile. It was almost as if they were discussing servants or even patrons.

“So we don't actually know whether your Indian chief will be able to get in touch with Brendan then?” Theresa asked in a quavering voice.

Miss Emily shook her head. “My dear, we cannot command the spirits. Those who wish to make contact, do so. But we shall keep trying until we dofindyour son for you. I am most hopeful.”

Theresa let out a sigh. “Oh, I'm so glad. Thank you so much for coming. If only I can talk to him again, just once …”

Bamey went over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don't hope for too much, my dear. I don't want you hurt again.”

“Senator Flynn has little faith in our abilities, I can see,” Miss Ella said in her sharp voice. “It may be better if he doesn't attend tonight. The spirits can tell when they are not welcome. Some of them are very shy, you know.”

“Don't worry, ladies. I have no intention of coming,” Barney Flynn said. Theresa can do the talking for both of us.”

“I do wish you'd try to believe, Bamey,” Theresa said. “It would be so wonderful. I'm sure it would make you feel better too.”

Bamey shook his head. “How’s dinner coming along, Soames?” he asked. “Shouldn't the second gong have rung by now?”

“I'll go and see, sir.” Soames bowed and retreated gracefully. A few minutes later he returned to say that dinner was served. Bamey took Theresa’s arm to escort her down the hall and into the dining room. Mr. Rimes latched onto Belinda, who didn't look at all pleased. The rest of us followed, myself and Cousin Clara bringing up the rear. The long, polished table sparkled with chandeliers and silver and crystal. I was glad that Daniel had warned me about the size and extent of the meals or I might have eaten too much of the first courses and been completely full by the time the roast pork arrived. Each course was more delicious than the last. There were things I had never eaten before. I nearly put my foot in it again when I read the words “Seafood Mousse” on the gold-framed menu in my place and wondered if the next thing on my plate might be a mouse stuffed with shrimp!

Then there was wine to accompany the food—a different kind with each course. Remembering how tipsy I had been after Daniel’s champagne and that I needed my wits about me, I took only modest sips.

“Drink up, Molly. Drink up. It will do you good,” Bamey exhorted from the head of the table. I noticed he was following his own instructions well. His face had definitely become flushed and his eyes wild.

“I'm not yet used to wine, Cousin Bamey,” I protested, “but it’s very good. I'm sure I could develop quite a taste for it if I'm not careful.”

“A very dangerous thing, wine,” Miss Emily said. “It lowers the inhibitions and clouds the judgment. We never touch a drop.”