In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

“Who is that?” I asked, giving him an amused look. “Don't tell me it’s someone sent from the rabbi because you keep company with a Shiksa?”


“I'll walk you downstairs again,” he said and firmly took my arm. The afternoon seemed to be a progression of men taking my arm and walking me in directions I didn't want to go.

“What’s this all about, Jacob?” I asked.

“I'm sorry, Molly, I really am,” he said, talking under his breath even though there was nobody to hear us in the stairwell. “It’s just that—it’s awkward at the moment.”

“You've already said that once,” I reminded him. “What’s going on, Jacob?”

He glanced up die stairs again. That man, he’s my cousin, arrived out of the blue from Russia. There are three of them, actually. My cousin and two friends. They had no money and nowhere to go, so naturally I had to take them in. In other circumstances I would have introduced you, but, as you saw, they are rather rigid in their religious views. Bringing an unescorted girl—correction, an unescorted, non-Jewish girl—into my living quarters would shock them beyond belief. So just for the time being…”

“You want me to stay away.”

He looked at me with gratitude in his eyes. “I think it would be wiser. You know how I feel about all these antiquated traditions and customs, but they are newly arrived here. I can't spring too much on them, too soon.”

“So how did you explain me away?” I asked icily. “The mad-woman from the floor below? Come to borrow a cup of sugar?”

He looked embarrassed now. “I said you were one of our union workers.”

“I see.” I turned away from him, feeling the flush rising in my cheeks.

He put his hands on my shoulders and tried to turn me back to face him. “Molly, I'm sorry. It was stupid of me. I just couldn't think of a way of introducing you without upsetting them.”

“And upsetting me? That doesn't matter to you?”

“Of course it matters. I thought you'd understand.”

“And is it always going to be like this, Jacob?” I asked coldly. “If we did get married, would I have to move out of the house any time your relatives came near? Or hide under the bed? Or have to live my life pretending to be one of your union workers?”

“Of course not. Everyone who has a chance to.know you likes you. My parents like you.”

“Your parents tolerate me.”

Jacob sighed. “These things take time. When you have been raised in one culture and are suddenly thrust into another, with a completely different set of rules, it is not always easy to change. Me, I am a modern thinker. I am all for change. Many Jews are not.” His grip on my shoulders tightened. “And forgive me. I haven't even asked you why you came to visit. Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

“In your modern way of thinking is a young lady never allowed to visit her gentleman friend? Does she always have to wait for him to call upon her at his convenience?”

He laughed uneasily. “No. Of course not. On any other occasion I would have welcomed your presence.”

“On any occasion unless one of your relatives or friends was visiting.” I lifted his hands from my shoulders. “I'll leave you to your entertaining then, Jacob, and 111 see you when it is convenient to both of us.”

I pushed past the old men who were still deep in earnest discussion on the front stoop.

“It’s only for a litde while, Molly. Just until I've found them a place of their own,” he called after me.

I kept on walking. He didn't follow me. Anger was boiling inside me. I had first been attracted to Jacob because I saw him as a fellow free spirit. He was not bound by stupid rules of society. He wanted to change things for the better. Now it seemed he wasn't quite the free spirit I had thought him to be.





Three

I walked fast, pushing my way through the evening crowds along Rivington. As I came toward Broadway the street was completely blocked by a white wagon drawn by two horses. I drew level with it and saw the red cross on the side. An ambulance. You didn't see many of those on the Lower East Side. Most people here couldn't afford to be sick in a good hospital that cost money, and wouldn't want to go to a charity hospital, where they were liable to get even sicker. They stayed home and either got well or died. A couple of men in white uniforms were keeping the crowds back as a stretcher was carried out of the building.

“Another one,” I heard someone saying. “That makes three on this street alone.”

“What is it?” I asked.

The woman had a dark shawl draped over her head, in spite of the heat.