In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

“Oh no, Clara. Not a Van Gelder.” Theresa shook her head.

“For one thing, Bamey wouldn't hear of it. They are still arch enemies, you know, for all their politeness. And for another, they haven't two pennies to rub together. Belinda needs to marry someone with money. She has expensive tastes, don't you, my angel?”

I didn't think that Belinda’s smile was entirely friendly and wondered if Theresa Flynn’s money had been financing Belinda’s gorgeous outfits. As if in answer to my question Theresa went on, “Which reminds me. I had an idea in bed last night. Let’s have the dressmaker come out this week and we can have a new wardrobe made for Cousin Molly.”

I felt myself becoming hot all over. Posing as a cousin and eating their food was one thing. Having a new wardrobe made was quite another. “Oh no, Cousin. I couldn't possibly allow you to—” I began.

She waved a hand to cut me off. “Molly, I have quite made up my mind to find you a rich and handsome husband while you are in America, and your clothes, while charming, are a trifle passé. Please let me do this for you. It would give me such pleasure, like dressing a full-sized doll. What color do you think, Belinda? Not pink with that coloring. Pale blue? Lime green? What about buttercup yellow?”

I sat there, cringing with embarrassment, conscious that neither Belinda nor Clara was looking at me with favor at this moment.

“Please, Cousin, I beg you,” I stammered. “Anyone would think I had come here to take advantage of your largesse.”

“Why did you come, Cousin Molly?” Belinda asked. “Was it to avoid an unsuitable suitor at home?”

“No, nothing like that. Ireland’s a small country. I wanted to experience a bigger one.”

“Will you travel west and see the Great Plains, do you think?” Cousin Clara asked. “You must get your traveling in before winter arrives. Half the country is snowed in for the season and I'm sure you wouldn't want that.”

“She’s not going anywhere for a long while,” Theresa said firmly. “I'm keeping her here with me. You are my new toy, Molly, and 111 not relinquish you.”

We looked up as Bamey came in. “Any food left for me?” he asked. He lifted one lid, then a second. “Barely enough to feed a sparrow. Have you been stuffing yourself again, Clara?”

I could tell that the remark was a good-natured tease but Clara bristled. “Really Barney, sometimes you go too far. You know that I have a most modest appetite. I ate one of your eggs and two of your slices of bacon, if you really want to know, and if you'd like reimbursement for them then I'm sure—”

“Sit down, Clara. Relax. Can't a fellow have a lighthearted moment in his own home?”

“Not if it’s at my expense,” Clara said.

Bamey spooned a good mound of food onto his plate. “So I gather I just missed the company of a Van Gelder?”

Young Roland, sent over to see how many of us are coming to dinner.”

Bamey chuckled. “Sent over, my foot. Don't they have a tele-phone any longer? You know full well why he was sent. They want your voodoo ladies to hold a seance for them. She’s been trying to snag them for years and now you've outsmarted her. Van Gelders can't allow themselves to be outsmarted by mere Irish peasants.”

“Really, Bamey” Theresa looked annoyed. “Must you see the basest motive in everything?”

“I've seen too much of human nature, my dear, just as you have seen too little, and I can tell you with utter conviction that the Van Gelders would never have invited us to dinner if the Misses Sorensen were not currently under our roof.”

“Then if that’s how you feel, why did you accept their invitation?” Theresa asked coldly

Barney laughed out loud. “What, and miss a chance to eat old Van Gelder’s food?”

Theresa got up and moved away from the table. Cousin Clara followed her. I ate as quickly as I could, wanting also to make my escape. Only Belinda lingered on, chatting happily with Bamey.

As I made my way back to my room, I heard voices through an open door.

“You shouldn't let him get away with it, Theresa. You should re-mind him that it was your money in the first place. Make him dance to your tune.”

“Don't be so naive, Clara. You know full well that Barney is beyond dancing to anyone’s tune. I just wonder how much longer I can take it.”





Twelve

That evening five of us piled into the automobile to bedriven across to the Van Gelders' house. The chauffeur wasthen to come back for Miss Emily and Miss Ella, who hadgraciously agreed to join the party, although they were a little reluctant on the question of the séance.

“The atmosphere does have to be right, or the spirits simply won't come,” Miss Ella had said.