In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

This morning’s mail brought a letter from my family in Ireland.” He almost spat the words. “Lots of news, including a tidbit about my dear cousin Molly who has now been in the convent for the past two years. What do you have to say to that? Or do Mother Superiors let their nuns out on little jaunts across die Atlantic these days?”


I realized that I was alone in the woods with a man who had possibly killed two women and was no fool. What Itoldhim had to be as close to the truth as I could manage without alarming him.

“Senator Flynn, I'm deeply sorry for deceiving you and I ask your forgiveness,”I said. “My motive was entirely in your interest.”

“Go on.” His eyes were still glaring at me.

“I'm a sort of private investigator,” I said. “I was sent here to spy on the Sorensen Sisters. The New York Police thought that they were charlatans but nobody had been able to catch them at their tricks until now. Since my face was not known to any of you, it was thought I might just have a chance of exposing them.”

“And did you?”

“They left in a hurry, didn't they?” I asked. “Ifoundout enough to make them uncomfortable but probably not enough to prosecute them.”

“Would it not have been more correct to let me in on the secret? It is my house, after all.”

“For all we knew the entire household was composed of devotees of the sisters who would not have taken kindly to my efforts to expose diem.”

He nodded as if this made sense, but his eyes never left my face for a second, nor did he let go of my wrist.

“If you had completed your assignment, what made you stay on after they had departed? How do I know you're not a thief or some damned magazine reporter?”

“If you want proof of my credentials, I can show you my card. I have associates with the New York Police who can vouch for me. And as to why I stayed on—if you remember, I became sick the day the sisters departed. So sick that I wondered whether they had put a hex on me.”

He looked at me and suddenly he laughed. “You're a rum one, and that’s the truth. Full of Irish blarney. So are you telling me you're not from Ireland after all?”

“Oh no, sir, I'm newly arrived from Ireland, only not from a convent.”

I saw his expression change in a way that made me uneasy. “Not from a convent, eh? That much was obvious. And not a relative either. Well, that does change the situation, doesn't it? And nobody need know except for the two of us.”

He jerked me into his arms. I was so surprised and taken off guard that I didn't have time to react before he was kissing me roughly. I tried to push him away but he was like an animal, grabbing at me, attacking me.

“Stop it! Leave me alone!” I managed to gasp as I wrenched my mouth free of him. “Your poor wife is not yet cold. Holy Mother of God—have you no shame?”

“My poor wife kept me out of her bed for five long years,” he muttered. I could feel his heart thudding against my chest. “And I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you.” His hands started moving down my body. He was panting like a caged beast.

“Barney, stop this, please,” I pleaded. “Youll regret this later.”

“No, I won't. I haven't regretted one moment’s pleasure in my life so far and you owe me some return for my hospitality, Miss Whoever-you-are.”

With that he attempted to throw me down onto the grass. I tried to bring up my knee but was trapped by my own petticoats. It was as if the scene with Justin Hartley was replaying itself in front of my eyes.

“I owe you nothing,” I shouted, hoping in vain that someone would hear me. “Get away from me this instant. I'll summon the police and have you arrested!”

“I don't think so. The police are in my pocket. You should know that And there isn't a woman yet who has been dissatisfied with my lovemaking—and a whole string of them who can vouch for me.”

He was still attempting to throw me down, while I fought to get free of him. I tried to bring my hands up to his face but he grabbed my wrists easily in his big hands. A large oak tree was behind us and he forced me up against it, nuzzling at my neck and grunting as his knee thrust in between my legs and he triedtopull up my skirt.

“Damned stupid skirts,” he muttered.

I couldn't have agreed with him more. If women wore sensible clothing, diey'd be able to defend themselves better in the first place. I was just about thinking that there was no hopeforme when an indignant voice demanded, “Bamey—what in God’s name are you doing? Have you lost your senses, man?” And Joe Rimes stood behind us. He grabbed at Barney and dragged him away from me.

“You must be out of your mind, man. Your own cousin?” Joe took my arm. “I'm sorry, my dear. The Senator is out of his mind with grief—”

“She’s not my cousin, she’s an imposter.” Bamey was still breathing heavily. “She’s a little spy, that’s what she is.”

“What do you mean, a spy?” Joe’s voice was suddenly sharp. His grip on my arm tightened.

“An investigator, sent here to spy on us.”

“Good God. By whom?”

“The police, so it seems.”

Then get rid of her. Now. While we've got the chance.”

“What do you mean, getridof her?”

“What I say. Find a large rock and drop her into the river and no one will be any the wiser.”