In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

Clara looked up suspiciously as I approached.

“I came to see if you needed any help,” I said. “I was sure you must be upset at being spoken to so rudely by the gardener.”

Clara pressed her lips together, then controlled herself and looked up. “It was most distressing, most. You have no idea what it’s like, Miss Gaffney, always being the poor relation. Poor, dear clara whom nobody really wants. They keep me on here as Theresa’s companion, but she doesn't enjoy my presence and rarely includes me in her excursions. Only when she needs someone to carry her packages.”

She looked away again.

I decided to take the plunge. “Do you often go into town shop-ping with Theresa?”

“She takes me with her whenever she goes into New York. As I said, she needs someone to carry her packages.”

I started, as if an idea had just come to me. “So Theresa must have taken you with her that day,” I said. “The day the baby was kidnapped?”

She looked up in horror that I should dare to mention it.

“I'm sorry,” I said hastily. “I shouldn't have brought it up, but I've only just heard the details and I'm so shocked by it all that I need to talk to someone about it.”

“It was awful,” she said, shuddering. “A true nightmare. Theresa and I had taken an early train to New York. We arrived back at around five and were met with the horrible news that the child was missing. Of course no note had been found at that stage.”

“Were you met at the station?” I asked.

“No, at the ferry. Theresa has a fear of small boats so we always rode the train as far as Garrison where there is a proper ferry across to the military establishment at West Point. The chauffeur always met us at the ferry dock.”

“The chauffeur came to meet you?” I blurted out. “But I thought he was the one who—”

“It just shows what a cool customer the man was. He did seem upset when he met us, but of course, he had to break the news that the child was missing.”

“Then he drove you back to the house?”

“At great speed. And even had the effrontery to join in the search.”

“When were the police called in?”

“When the ransom note was discovered, later that evening. Even though the note stated that the police were not to be involved, Barney didn't care. He just wanted his child found quickly. But, of course, by not obeying instructions it cost him his son in the end. They staked out the spot in the forest. Morell must have seen a movement among the trees as he came to pick up the ransom money, because he started to flee. And a stupid policeman shot him in the back.” She sighed and put her hand to her chest. “It is still as painful as if it were yesterday, Miss Gaffney. We all adored that child. He was the light of his mother’s life, and his father’s too. Everyone who knew him loved him. Even that devil of a chauffeur used to play with him and offer him candies, when all the while he was plotting to—” She broke off and put her handkerchief up to her mouth. “Forgive me,” she muttered through the handkerchief. “I find this subject too distressing and my cuttings will wilt if I don't get them into the ground quickly”

I left her, feeling guilty that I had stirred up her grief again. I had learned nothing more than that the chauffeur came to meet them from the ferry as scheduled. I wasn't sure what this proved, except that the man had a cool head. But I'd already established that much.

I stepped into the coolness of the marble hallway and let my eyes accustom themselves to the darkness. From Senator Flynn’s office I heard the sound of raised voices. “Dammit, Joe. I'll not stoop to that level.”

“You're going to have to do something, Bamey, and you're going to have to do it soon. Don't think that everyone loves you. They won't hesitate to use the scandal if they have to, you know.”

They can't have found it out. Nobody can have talked.”

There are no beans people won't spill for enough money. You should know that better than anyone, Bamey. And I'm warning you that there are no lengths to which they won't go.”

I tiptoed across the hall, not wanting to be caught eavesdrop-ping, and made my way up the stairs. It occurred to me that I had never visited thefirstscene of the crime—the nursery. I had promised young Eileen a visit and she'd probably welcome a change from her very boring and restricted routine. I stood outside the nursery door and knocked before turning the handle.

The nanny looked up, startled at my entry, and scrambled to her feet. Eileen jumped up too.

“Have you come to see my doll’s house?” she asked.

“Eileen, it’s not polite to ask questions of adults. Speak when you are spoken to. How many times do I have to tell you? May I help you, miss?” Her large, severe face had no humor in it and I didn't think Eileen could have a very jolly life stuck in the nursery with her.