In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

“And who are you, miss? A friend of hers?” the constable asked.

“No, this young lady is my cousin, visiting from Ireland,” Barney said before I could reply. “Where did you come into contact with this person, Molly?”

Come into contact was the right description and I would have smiled, had not the situation been so tragic.

“In the village, right outside the saloon.”

“Do you know her name then, miss?” the constable asked.

“I only know that she’s a visitor to the area and she told me her name is Margie McAlister.”

“Sweet Jesus and Mary,” Barney Flynn muttered.

You know her, sir?” The constable looked up at Barney’s oath.

Barney’s face had turned pale. “She used to work for us. She was my wife’s nurse, when Theresa had a breakdown after our son was kidnapped. But she left us three or four years ago. I have no idea what she was doing back in the area.”

“Might she have come back to pay you a visit?”

“It’s possible, I suppose, although I can't think why. I don't believe there was any particular bond established between her and my wife. She was an efficient nurse and she did her job, but we certainly didn't look upon her as one of the family, as we do our cook, or Tom here.”

“Any idea where she might be living these days?”

“None at all,” Bamey said shortly. “As I say we have a large staff and they come and go. When my wife recovered we had no further need of her services.”

i“I believe she said she was living somewhere called George-town,” I said. “But at the moment she was staying in the area. She said she found it healthful beside the river.”

“Did she tell you anything else?” Bamey asked.

“Not that I can think of. We were both shaken up. We exchanged a few words while we recovered. It was strange, though. I mentioned that I was staying with you and she didn't admit to former service in your household.”

“Maybe she had come up in the world and was ashamed to admit her former domestic employment,” the constable suggested.

I realized this might have been true. I had noticed the good quality of her dress, and she had the money to take a summer trip for her health.

The constable lifted her left hand. “No weddingring,I notice,” he said. “Never mind. If she’s staying locally we shouldn't have much trouble locating next-of-kin. What on earth made her come along that cliff path, instead of at the main gate like any normal person?”

“We'll never know that now, I'm afraid,” Bamey said. “Maybe we should carry her up to the carriage house until you can arrange trans-port to the morgue. It would be most distressing for my wife and the other ladies present if they saw her in this condition.”

The procession moved on. I didn't follow them this time. Instead, I waited until they were swallowed up into the mist, then I made my way back to the cliff path until I was standing above the spot where she had lain. The cliff edge had been disturbed by Adam bringing the body up, but I could still see the ppint at which the edge had crumbled as she lost her footing and slithered down. I stared at it with interest, picturing her body as it had lain on the rocks. So she had not been on her way to visit the estate at all. She had been on her way out. If she had lost her balance while going in the other direction there was a tree branch she could have grabbed onto to save herself. But heading away from the estate the branch would have been behind her. And the position of her body backed this up, even though she may have bounced off rocks on the way down. I shuddered and turned away What a horrible end to such an attractive young woman.

Then a sobering thought struck me. What if she had not just lost her footing at all? Was it possible that somebody had crept along that path behind her and given her a good shove? For some reason that partly overheard conversation came into my mind, the man’s voice whispering, “What the devil do you think you're doing here? … You remember our agreement. … I paid you well enough!”