In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

“It could help, Bamey. You can come and observe if you want to.”


“You looked ten times worse after that first session,” Bamey snapped. “I'm all for sending the fellow packing right now.”

“It’s Sunday, Bamey. Let’s not argue, especially not in front of poor, dear Molly. Well say a prayer and light a candle for you, my pet.” She bent to kiss my forehead. “Just ring for Alice if you want anything while we're at church.”

They left me then and I heard their voices as they came out of the front door.

“Do you think we should bring the priest back with us?” I heard Clara asking.

“Really, Clara, you are being too morbid,” Theresa snapped.

“Not the last rites, just to pray over her,” Clara said.

They passed out of my hearing.

That afternoon they took tea on the lawn and played croquet. I lay staring at the plaster moldings on the ceiling, willing myself to get better. I longed for a cup of tea, but wasn't about to risk drinking one. To tell the truth, I was now seriously frightened. Should I try telephoning Daniel to have him come for me? Would I recover if I were in Sid and Gus’s care? And of course the nagging worry behind everything else—did I really have typhoid?

In the evening a cup of clear broth was sent up to me, but I was too weak to drink more than one sip of it. I lay watching the sun set, feeling the cool evening breeze stirring the lace curtains and listening tQ the night noises. I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard a stirring in the vine below my window. I realized my windows were wide open to let in the breeze and wondered what wild animal, or even a rat, might be climbing up the trellis tofinda way into the house. If so, I was too weak to stop it from coming into my room. I had just decided that I was imagining things when a foot came over my windowsill.

I watched in silent horror as the foot was followed by a leg and a dark shape hauled itself into my room. I wanted to scream but I couldn't make my mouth work. If it were only a burglar, I would feign sleep and maybe he would pass me by. The shape stood up, revealing itself to be a tall man. He crept forward, reaching out in the darkness, obviously not seeing as well as I could. There was a lead crystal vase on the dresser beside my bed. Currently it held no flowers and would be heavy enough if I had the strength to lift it.

I tried to ease myself into a sitting position so that I could grab the vase, but the room spun around as soon as I sat up and I must have moaned because thefigureturned to face me.

Take another step and I'll scream to wake the house up,” I said.

“Molly? Thank God it’s you,” a voice said. “I was hoping I'd got theright window.”

“Daniel?” For a moment I wondered if his presence was part of a fevered dream. “Is it really you? I'm not hallucinating, am I?”

He put a warningfingerto his lips. “No, it’s really me,” he whispered. He came closer. “Are you all right?”

“Apart from the fact that I'm dying,” I whispered back and tried to smile.

“I tried to see you this afternoon but they wouldn't let me,” he said in a low voice. “They told me that you were indisposed.”

“I am,” I said. “Well and truly indisposed. But what are you doing here? I thought you wanted to stay well clear of the Flynns because they know you?”

“Oh, I told them I was staying in the neighborhood and I'd bumped into someone who knew you from Limerick and I promised her I'd give you the latest news from home.”

“I see. That’s good.” I closed my eyes as the room swung around again.

“Can we be easily overheard?” he asked, prowling around the room.

I shook my head. “I don't think so. But other people will have windows open, and sound carries on still nights like this.”

Daniel went across to the window and closed it. That should do it, if we only talk in whispers.”

“I can't talk louder than a whisper anyway,” I said.

Daniel brushed my hair back from my face. You're covered in sweat,” he said. “Lie back. Have you seen a doctor?”

Two of them. They both told me I had food poisoning and I'd befineif I ate nothing, which I'm doing. But the moment I eat or drink anything it all begins again. I've been vomiting my heart out for several days now.”

“That conjures up a pretty picture,” he said, but he was still stroking my hair tenderly. “Is there any particular time of day it comes on?”

“At night,” I said. “Always at night. I lie down and fall asleep feeling perfectly normal, then I wake up to the sweats and the cramps and the vomiting.”

“Do you drink anything before you go to sleep?”

Yes, they always bring up a milky drink or a cup of beef tea.”

He gripped my shoulders. “Did you drink it tonight?–

“No, just a few sips. I felt too weak. It’s still there on the bedside table.”

He picked it up, dipped his finger into it and licked the finger. “Did you notice a bitter flavor?”he asked.