In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

“I promised Eileen I would pay her a call,” I said, “and she promised to show me her doll’s house. Is it convenient? I haven't interrupted anything, have I?”


“I was just playing with my Noah’s ark,” Eileen said before her nurse could send me away again. “Come and see—isn't it beautiful?”

I didn't think the Noah’s ark was very beautiful. It looked rather well worn. The paint had faded on the wooden animals and some of them were missing an ear or a leg.

“It looks very nice,” I said. “Have you had it a long time?”

“A very, very long time,” Eileen said. “It used to belong to my brother. Did you know I have a brother in heaven? His name was Brendan, but we don't talk about him because it makes Mama sad. So now it’s my Noah’s ark. It used to be his favorite toy and now it’s mine.”

“I don't know what she sees in it.” Nurse sniffed her disapproval. “Her father buys her all these wonderful toys and she plays with that thing, day in and day out.”

I sat on a nearby stool and studied the line of animals she had arranged going over one side of the fireside rug and down the other. “You've got the elephant lined up with the camel,” I said, smiling at the child.

That’s because the other elephant and camel are lost and they'd be lonely” She looked up with her solemn little eyes. I realized I had yet to see her smile.

“Oh, in that case, I'm glad they've found a friend.”

I got up and walked around, examining the doll’s house and the rest of her toys. At the same time I noted that it was a comer room, with two windows, but no way down or up. The creeper didn't cover this part of the house. Through an open doorway I saw the night nursery with its small white bed. Whoever came to snatch Brendan would have had to come through the house, past Soames and all those watchful eyes.

The room would be any child’s fantasy—a large china doll al-most as big as Eileen herself, a small china tea set, books, paints, a doll’s cradle and a magnificent doll’s pram.

“What a beautiful doll’s pram,” I said. It was like a miniature real perambulator, compete with wicker hood and slung coach frame.

“Papa bought it for me. It’s called a baby buggy.”

I smiled. “In Ireland where I come from we'd call it a perambulator.”

“That’s a silly word. Buggy is better.”

“All right. We'll call it a buggy then. It looks very new. Have you only just got it?”

“No, she’s had it some time,” Nurse answered for her. “She doesn't have much opportunity to take it out, seeing that my legs are bad and I can't walk far.”

“Dear me, that’s a pity,” I said. “Maybe Eileen and I could go for walks together while I'm staying here?”

“Oh yes, please.” Eileen ran over and hugged my skirt. “I'd like to go for walks with you and I can take my doll out in the buggy too. Can we go now?”

Nurse glanced up at the cuckoo clock on the wall. ‘Your lunch will be served in forty minutes. By the time we have one of the servants carry the buggy downstairs and we get you dressed in your outdoor shoes and sunbonnet, there would be no time.”

“How about after your afternoon nap then?” I asked.

“Eileen has to go down to tea with her mother.”

“Eileen’s mother is sick in her bed today. I'm sure she won't want a visit if she’s not feeling well.”

“Is that right?” Nurse had obviously worked out that a walk with me would give her time for her own forty winks. “Well, there’s no denying the fresh air would do her good, as long as she doesn't run around and get herself too hot.”

“I’ll be back around three then, Eileen,” I said. “Make sure you have your doll dressed for an outing.”

“I will.” She nodded solemnly again and walked beside me to the nursery door. As I closed it quietly behind me a voice spoke in my ear, making me jump.

“Can I help you, Miss Gaffney? Did you lose your way again?” I turned around to see Soames standing behind me, looking down his nose in that disapproving way.

“Soames, you startled me,” I said. “I didn't see you coming up the staircase.”

“That’s because I came up the back stairs, miss Gaffney.”

“Oh, is there a back staircase?”

“Just for the servants' use, miss. Servants are not allowed to be seen on the main stair. That door you were trying leads to the nursery.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. “I have just been visiting Miss Eileen.” Was that a look of alarm that crossed his face? “What for?”

I had had enough of the supercilious butler treating me as if I was a snooping stranger. “Heavens, Soames. Miss Eileen is my own cousin. Do I need a permission form from you to visit her?”

He backed away. “I'm sorry, Miss Gaffney. I didn't mean to imply—”

“Well, imply you did. I went to visit the child because she invited me to see her doll’s house. And I should have thought you'd be glad for the poor little mite to have some company, stuck away on her own in there. It’s not natural for a child to grow up shut away with just that sour-faced nurse as a companion.”