In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

“What a tragedy,” I said. “And so unnecessary.”


“I couldn't agree more, miss. If they'd only let him pick up the money, then we could have arrested him with no fuss as he came back to the main road. He'd arranged the pickup in the depths of the forest, you see. Bad mistake, if you ask me. Got himself trapped. That was why he tried to run for it.”

'You're talking about the chauffeur, Bertie Morell, aren't you?”

That’s right, miss. You could have knocked all of us down with a feather when we saw it was him. We all knew him, see. He was a regular in the village, always at the saloon, laughing and drinking with the local boys.”

“I wonder what made him do an awful thing like that,” I said. “From what I hear, he liked children, and he was devoted to the Flynn baby.”

“If you ask me, miss, he did it because he had to. I believe he was in the pay of someone or something.”

“Something?”

He lowered his voice and looked around, even though we two were the only people in sight. “I saw the note, miss. There was a black hand on the bottom of it.”

“A black hand?”

He nodded. “So I'm thinking that maybe the Senator wasn't paying protection money where he should be and the Black Hand sent Morell out to put the squeeze on him.”

“Holy Mother of God,” I muttered. This put an entirely different complexion on things. But if the Black Hand had been involved, why hadn't it come out earlier? Unless Barney Flynn had been so frightened of them and what they might do next that he'd kept it a secret. Now I was definitely going to write to Daniel!

I left the policeman, promising to have a cup of coffee sent up to him, and hurried to my room. This explained a lot. If Bertie Morell was really Italian by heritage, then maybe he had become involved with the Black Hand and had no choice but to carry out their commands. Maybe he had family members who would have suffered if he hadn't obeyed orders. I positively ran up the stairs, free, for once, from the encumbrance of my long skirts, and sat at my desk to write.

“There is something strange going on here, Daniel,” I wrote.

I know you wanted me to confine my efforts to two spiritualist ladies, but I noticed an atmosphere of tension in this house the moment I arrived. Since then another tragedy has happened. A young woman who used to work here has fallen to her death. I don't think it was an accident although it would be impossible to prove it. And I have just found out from the local policeman who was at the scene when the kidnap ransom note was delivered that the note was signed with a black hand. Was this known to the police? Did they ever do anything about it?

I signed and sealed the letter and decided to face the long walk into the village immediately after breakfast. Almost on cue the breakfast gong sounded. I tucked my letter into a book, just in case, and had just reached the bottom of the stairs when the front door opened and Desmond O'Mara came in. His hair was untidy and his face looked flushed as if he'd been running.

“Oh Miss Gaffney,” he stammered. “Is the Senator in his office yet?”

“I think he is, Mr. O'Mara.”

“Oh dear, then I'm in for it.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “I went across the river last night and I missed the last ferry back.”





Twenty One

I went into the dining room where I found the women in the middle of breakfast.

“Molly, have you been out for a bicycleride?” Theresa looked up from the toast she was spreading with marmalade.

“No, I think bicycles and I are maybe not meant for each other,” I said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you are wearing bloomers, my sweet.” Theresa laughed. I had forgotten all about the bloomers.

“Because they are so wonderfully comfortable,” I said. “I think I shall make a habit of wearing them.”

A gasp from Clara, a giggle from Belinda. Even Theresa looked shocked. “Molly, be careful. No gentleman will marry a woman he perceives to be a suffragist and a bluestocking.”

“I should think not,” Clara said. “Revealing the limb all the way to the knee? What will they think of next?”

“I went outfora walk,” I said. “I'll remove them after breakfast.”

“Do help yourself and sit down,” Theresa said. “And we have wonderful news.”

“News?”

“Yes. Miss Emily had a dream last night in which Ojuweca came to her and said he had someone who wished to speak with me tonight. So we're having another séance.”

“I thought Bamey forbade any more séances until you were well again.” Belinda wagged her finger, giving her sister a wicked smile.