In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

“It was a short cut from the carriage house, wasn't it?” Cook said. “As a matter of fact he wasn't supposed to be in the main house at all, but he'd drop in here from time to time, and sometimes he'd sneak upstairs to visit Annie.”


“That day the child was taken, did he come in through the kitchen then?”

She shook her head. “It was after lunch, wasn't it? I always take my forty winks in this chair, but I'd have woken up if anyone came to the door. I'd swear he didn't bring the child out this way”

“What about deliveries that day?”

“Deliveries?” She looked puzzled.

“Laundry? Grocery boy?”

“What are you getting at?” she asked.

“I was just wondering if the child could have been carried out in a laundry basket.”

She shook her head. The laundry is done right here, at that big copper in the scullery. Why do you think they keep all these maids?” She looked up at me. “There was no delivery that day and Bertie Morell didn't come through my kitchen. I reckon it was just what the police thought—he got his sweetheart, Annie Lomax, to bring the child to him.”

I couldn't think of anything else to ask her. “I can see my main problem here is not eating so much that my corset won't lace properly.” I smiled at her.

“You should be like Beulah, honey Ain't never worn a corset and don't intend to. And always enjoyed my food, as I expect you can tell from this body!” Again she shook with silent laughter. A woman after my own heart!

I looked up at the kitchen clock and noted that Eileen would be expecting me soon. I left Cook, fanning herself and rocking again, and took a few minutes in my room to collect my thoughts before I went to fetch Eileen. I had learned nothing new from Cook, or had I? That Albert Morell was possibly Italian. That he sneaked in through the kitchen on occasion. That he could be very charming. But all of the above still pointed to his guilt.

Eileeen was dressed for her outing in a large-brimmed bonnet, trimmed with lace. Her petticoats were stiffly starched and she was wearing stout walking boots.

'You mind your manners with Miss Gaffney,” the nanny said, “and don't go running and hurting yourself. Remember you're a lady.”

Poor little thing, I thought, as I took her hand. I thought back to my own childhood when my brothers and I ran barefoot on beaches and climbed on rocks and slipped and skinned knees and came home freckled and dirty. Whoever said that money couldn't buy happiness was right.

The doll’s pram was waiting for us outside the front door. Eileen took the handles and we set off across the lawns. She behaved like a perfect little lady, speaking only when spoken to and answering my questions in a small, grave voice. Even when I pointed out a flagbedecked steamer going upriver and encouraged her to wave to it, it was a sedate wave with no joy in it.

The day was hot and muggy. Flies buzzed around us and I found myself wishing I had not suggested this outing. Clearly Eileen found pushing the pram heavy going over the grass, but wouldn't accept help from me. At last we reached the shade of the trees.

“Let’s stop and rest for a while,” I said. “I don't know about you, but I'm all hot and sweaty.”

“You mustn't say sweaty. It’s not polite,” she corrected.

I sat on a fallen tree trunk and encouraged her to sit beside me. She did, cautiously smoothing her white dress.

“It’s nice here in the forest, isn't it?” I asked. “Almost as if we're explorers in the distant jungle. We could be miles from anywhere.”

In answer a squirrel ran across the clearing and up a big pine tree. Eileen jumped up excitedly. “Look, a squirrel. Can we pet it?”

“I don't think it will stay around long enough for you to pet it,” I said, “but next time we come out, we'll bring some nuts or bread-crumbs and see if we can get it to come down and eat.”

“Oh yes, let’s do that.” For a moment she was an ordinary little girl. “What other animals do you think there are in the forest? Are there bears or wolves?”

“I don't think so,” I said. “Foxes maybe, and badgers and lots of rabbits.”

“Will we see them?”

“If we sit very quietly, maybe we'll see a rabbit.”

She sat, holding her breath in concentration. A jay screeched above our heads. A pigeon rose with noisy flapping of wings. Eileen was entranced. Then suddenly I got the strangest feeling. I could swear that we were being watched. Nothing moved in the undergrowth. I heard no sound, but I could feel the back of my neck prickling as if hostile eyes were on me.

I had not until now given a thought to the fact that another child had been kidnapped in broad daylight from this place. And hadn't Joseph Rimes given some kind of warning to Barney earlier today—something about no lengths to which they wouldn't go? Was it possible that the original kidnapping had some kind of political motive and that Bamey knew more than he had told?