In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

Then I made my escape and rapped on the door of number nine. After a disappointing minute during which I thought they might be out, the door was thrown open and my friend Gus stood there in all her glory. She was wearing an emerald green silk kaftan with a matching band tied around her forehead and she held a cigarette in a long ebony holder in her free hand.

“Molly, my darling,” she exclaimed. “What perfect timing. I sent Sid over to fetch you but you weren't home. Come in, come in, do.”

I was half dragged inside.

“Youll never guess who is visiting and pining for you?” she asked. I thought it wiser not to guess. You never knew who might be visiting Sid and Gus. She shoved me into the front parlor, which was brightly lit with candelabras to supplement the gas brackets.

“Here she is, I've found her,” Gus announced in triumph. “You can stop sulking, Ryan.”

I looked around me in delight. Lounging on the blue velvet sofa was my good friend Ryan O'Hare, wicked and fashionable Irish playwright. Next to him was another slim and lovely young man who gazed at me silently.

Ryan got to his feet. In deference to the hot weather he was wearing an embroidered cotton peasant shirt with frilly cuffs, opened down the front in comic opera fashion.

“Molly, my angel. I have been positively pining for you,” he exclaimed in his smooth, well-bred tones. “How long has it been?”

“At least since last week, Ryan,” I said, laughing as I accepted his peck on the cheek. “And I don't think you've missed me one bit.” My gaze moved to his silent companion and Ryan laughed delightedly.

“Perspicacious as ever, my sweet. This is Juan. He’s Spanish and speaks little English as yet. I'm educating him.”

“I'll bet you are,” Sid said dryly.

The dark young man continued to smile.

“Where on earth did you meet him, Ryan?” Gus asked.

“Waiter. Delmonico’s. Thursday last.” He patted my hand. “Juan. Miamuja Molly.”

Juan got to his feet and bowed. I nodded in return.

“So will you stay for dinner, Molly? We're entering a Chinese phase,” Gus said. ’Sid is experimenting with duck.”

“I'd love to,” I said. “I have just escaped from domesticity across the street.”

“Very tiring. Ryan, pour Molly some ginger wine. It should be rice wine, but we couldn'tfindany,” Sid said. “And excuse me if I have to return to my duck in the kitchen before it escapes from the pan.”

“It’s not still alive, is it?” I asked anxiously. One never knew with Sid and Gus.

Sid laughed. “Of course not, silly But I'm frying it at an awfully high temperature. I should be watching it.”

“I think I'd better come and help you, Sid,” I said.

Ryan handed me the drink, then refused to let go of my other hand. “Hurry back to me, my sweet. You know I pine when you are gone,” he said.

I laughed. “Ryan, you may not sound Irish but you know you're full of blarney. In fact you're just like other men.”

“Don't say that, for pity’s sake.” He gave an exaggerated look of horror. “You strike daggers at my heart.”

“Well, you are. Sweet and solicitous as anything when it suits them, and when it doesn't suit them, then we women don't exist.”

“There speaks a voice of bitterness, Molly Are you referring to Daniel the deceiver?” Sid paused and looked back from the doorway.

“No, to Jacob the spineless,” I snapped.

“Jacob? Good, kind, sweet Jacob who could do no wrong? That one?” Gus asked innocently.

The very same. I've changed my opinion of him.” And I re-counted the incident in Rivington Street. “I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that men are an infernal nuisance,” I concluded, “Life would progress more smoothly without them.”

“Ah, but just think how boring it would be without us around to brighten your dull little lives,” Ryan said, patting my hand.

Sid’s gaze was suddenlyrivetedto the window. “Speak of the devil, Molly,” she said.

“Don't tell me it’s Jacob come to apologize!” I pulled back the curtain to look out.

“No, it’s Daniel the deceiver, about to knock on your front door,” Sid said delightedly. “Do you think he’sfinallygiven up his betrothed and afortunefor a chance at true love?”

“I hardly think so,” I said. “I was with him only two hours ago and he was still betrothed then. Even the fastest automobile couldn't drive to Westchester County and back in that space of time. No, I ratherfearhe’s come to deliver another lecture about the dangers of getting mixed up with gangs.”

“Molly, don't tell me you've been doing foolish things again,” Gus said as I stood fascinated at the window, torn between wanting to know why Daniel was visiting me and not wishing to confront him again.

“Not intentionally. I spotted a pickpocket and had him arrested, only he turned out to be a gang member with a rather violent nature.”

“Trust you, Molly,” Sid said, shaking her head. “Well, are you going to goover there to confront him or do you want us to hide you?”

“I suppose I'd better…,” I began.

“No need,” Gus chimed in, joining us at the window. “Those sweet children of yours are directing him over here. Really, Molly, you must train them better in the art of lying.”