In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

The path led me around the big oak tree where Roland Van Gelder had startled me that day, so I knew I was heading in the right direction. The forest was silent. Not even a bird chirped from the treetops today, as if they too found the weather too hot for them. Even out of the sun the air was muggy and oppressive. Midges buzzed around my face and I brushed them away. As I came around the tree a figure loomed up in front of me and I opened my mouth to scream.

“Don't be afraid, Miss Gaffney, it’s only me.” And Roland Van Gelder stood there in a repeat performance of our first meeting.

“Mr. Van Gelder,” I gasped. “Do you make a practice of lurking behind this tree to scare poor helpless females?”

He grinned like a wicked schoolboy. “Not a practice, I assure you. I came over today because Mother is having a house party and I hate having to make polite conversation with people I don't know. And if I climb up onto that branch,” he added, “I have an excellent view of Adare and Miss Belinda sitting on the veranda.”

“You've been spying on us?” I demanded.

He blushed. “Not all of you. Just Miss Belinda. Don't you think she’s the loveliest creature you've ever seen?”

“I hope I don't look at her in quite the same way as you,” I said. “She doesn't return my affections,” he muttered. “I know why too.”

“You do?” Could he possibly know that she found him a boorish oaf?

“It’s because we no longer have a family fortune. Belinda is used to the finer things of life. We are reduced to meager circumstances, and I don't have a head for business, I'm afraid. My parents despair of me. All in all I'm a terrible disappointment to everyone.”

He was speaking in his soft, calm voice but suddenly I felt most uneasy talking to him. We were far from both houses, too far for anyone to hear me scream. I remembered Theresa telling me how Roland had a foul temper. And there was something chilling about a grown man who climbed trees to spy on people, wasn't there?

“I really should go,” I said. “I have to tell your mother important news.”

“News?” he asked innocently.

“Yes, I'm afraid that—” I broke off. “I'm afraid that we have had a spate of sickness at the house. We just hope that it isn't infectious and we haven't passed it on to you,” I added lamely.

“I see.” The way he was looking at me made me feel that he knew more than he was letting on. How long had he been spying from his tree? Had he seen the constable and the doctor arriving? Had he seen any of us weeping?

“Maybe you'd be good enough to show me the way through the hedge that you always use,” I suggested. “I have no wish to walk all the way up to the road on a day like this.”

“Okay,” he said affably. “Follow me.”

He took off at a brisk pace between bushes and past brambles until at last he squeezed through a gap in the tall cedar hedge. “Don't ask me to come anyfartherwith you,” he said. “And please don't mention to Mother that you've seen me. I don't want her to know where I am.”

“Of course not,” I said. “I thank youforyour assistance, Mr. Van Gelder.”

I let out a sigh of relief as he turned back into the forest. My heightened imagination had turned everybody I met into a potential killer.





Thirty

As I approached Riverside, the Van Gelders' solid brick house, I heard voices and saw that tables had been set out on the lawn and a game of croquet was going on. Several ladies stood under parasols, while one young lady concentrated on her croquet shot and her beau followed her, holding the parasol. I heard the thwack of mallet against ball and then a man’s voice calling,“Good shot, Emily,” and polite applause.

I skirted around them, hoping to make for the house without being noticed. And indeed, nobody looked up from the croquet game until I was about to enter through French doors and almost collided with Mrs. Van Gelder as she rushed out calling, “Roland—where is that wretched boy when I need him?”

She gasped and stepped back as I loomed up in front of her. “Miss Gaffney! What a pleasant surprise. You must have read my mind.”

“Read your mind, Mrs. Van Gelder?”

“As you can see, we're having a little house party here. They've just finished breakfast and were keen to play croquet before it be-came too warm. Nothing like the grand affairs we used to have in the summer, just a few old family friends, but I thought it might provide a little entertainment for you young people next door. Poor Miss Butler is used to a much livelier scene, I fear, and you too. So I wanted to send Roland over to Adare to invite you all, but I can neverfindthe useless boy when I need him.”

“I'm afraid we won't be able to accept your kind invitation today,” I said. “In fact I have come to bring you the most terrible news. Mrs. Flynn died during the night. We are a house in mourning.”

“That poor dear woman dead? God rest her soul. Still, it wasn't exactly unexpected, was it? She didn't look well when you dined with us a week ago and I gather she took to her bed the next day. And the poor thing was in torment about her son. And so delicate too.”