In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

She was looking at me suspiciously now. “I thought you said you and Miss McAlister only met once. You seem awfully interested in her.”


“Only because I'm anxious to help you trace her family,” I said. “I can't get over them going about their lives, not knowing.”

“Maybe it’s better that way,” she said. “Everything in God’s good time. Now 111 just put these things in her valise and wait for instructions. Thank you for your help, miss. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay at Adare.”

And that was that. I was not going to find out why Margie McAlister had decided to visit Adare and whether she had concluded a meeting before returning along that cliff path.

The long road home seemed to go on forever. Sweat was running down into my eyes and flies were buzzing about me in the most annoying fashion when I heard the sound of an automobile coming up the hill behind me. Hope rose in me that the chauffeur had been sent out on an errand while I had been in the village. I stepped to the side of the road and waited expectantly. But it wasn't the Flynns' long, sleek car that came up the hill but a somewhat boxier, smaller model. I was about to step into the shade and let it pass when it slowed to a stop.

“Miss Gaffney, may we give you a ride, or are you out for another of your constitutionals?” Roland Van Gelder called to me.

“This time I'd most appreciate a lift, thank you,” I said and was heading for the automobile when I noticed the occupants of the backseat. Captain Cathers and Justin Hartley were sitting there. I had no choice. I could hardly declare that I had changed my mind and preferred walking. Besides, that would let Justin Hartley know that I was afraid to be with him. I just had to bluff it out again. I climbed into the front seat beside Roland.

“This is most kind of you, Mr. Van Gelder. I must confess that I hadn't realized what a long, hot climb it was from the village.” I took off my straw hat and fanned myself. “I'll never get used to this heat.”

“Quite different from the cold winds of Ireland, isn't it?” Captain Cathers said pleasantly. “I went to visit Hartley at the property he owns in County Mayo. I swear I was never warm once. The wind blows right through one.”

“Ah, but we Irish hardly notice it, Captain Cathers,” I said. “We are bom hardy.”

“Especially those of us from Connemara, wouldn't you say?” Justin Hartley said.

I kept fanning myself with my hat. “I thought you were English, Mr. Hartley, and I personally have never ventured far from my home in Limerick, so I couldn't pass an opinion about Connemara, although I do understand it is quite lovely there.”

The automobile bounced and lurched up the hill/making loud popping noises. As a comfortable means of transportation, I don't see how they will ever catch on. Give me a good enclosed carriage any day. We reached the crest and were just starting down the other side when we encountered a particularly large pothole. There was a lurch and a hiss.

“Damn,” Roland muttered under his breath. “Not another flat tire. I keep telling the old man that we have to have a more up-to-date model. Everybody out, I'm afraid. Come on, Cathers. Ill need a hand with the jack.”

We all got out. I went to stand in the shade. Captain Cathers rolled up his shirtsleeves in preparation. As the two men knelt be-side the back wheel, Justin moved closer to me. His hand gripped at my forearm.

“It was dark the last time we met,” he whispered. 'I thought I might have been wrong about you. I should have known when you fainted upon seeing me. Then I thought that my eyes must be deceiving me. After all, how could a peasant from a tumbledown shack be dressed in suchfineattire and acting like a lady? But now that I've seen you in daylight and heard your voice again, I don't doubt any more. I know exactly who you are, Molly Murphy.”

“Why do you keep on with this strange notion, Mr. Hartley?” I demanded. I tried to keep my voice even and not let him see even the slightest spark of fear. “Please come with me to the house and ask my cousin Bamey to verify my identity. That should put these flights of fancy to rest forever.”

“Very well, let us go now,” he said. “I don't think your so-called cousin will be too happy about harboring a wanted criminal in his house, and one who has lied to him about her identity to boot.”

“A known criminal?” I said. “So I'm not only a lady with a different identity, but a gangster’s moll on the run, am I?” I looked at him and laughed. “Be warned, Mr. Hartley—my cousin Bamey has a nasty temper and he’s very protective of his family. He may get out the horse whip to anyone insulting his cousin.”

“I'm willing to chance it,” Justin said.

“And what do you hope to achieve with this?”

“Justice, Miss Murphy.”

“My name is Gaffney, sir. I'm sorry your eyesight is so poor and that I remind you of someone else you once knew.”