In a Gilded Cage (Molly Murphy, #8)

I paused only to wash the grime of the trip from my face, then I went out again, straight to Emily’s drugstore. It was by now half past five. I didn’t know how late she had to work on Saturdays, but most stores had closed by this time. McPherson’s hadn’t. I glanced at the globes in the window and then went inside. Emily was at the counter, her face looking pale and strained.

“Oh, Molly, you came. Thank heavens.” She came around the counter to greet me and grabbed both my hands. “I went to see you yesterday evening but you weren’t home.”

“No, I was up in Massachusetts, working on your family background.”

“And did you find—” She looked up expectantly then shook her head. “No matter about that now. It’s not important. Not when my friends are dying. First Fanny and now Dorcas. There has to be something to it, Molly.”

“Unless it’s a very powerful disease.”

“But Dorcas was getting better. You saw for yourself. She didn’t seem to be at death’s door.”

“No,” I agreed, “she seemed like anyone else with influenza—under the weather, but not dying. But I don’t see why Anson Poindexter or anyone else would want to kill her.”

“She went to see Fanny the week before, that’s why.” Emily had been keeping her voice down. Now she raised it without thinking, looked around at the men still occupied in the back room, and lowered it again. “Fanny may have been suspicious. She may have told Dorcas something damning.”

“Well, even if she had, that wouldn’t explain Honoria, would it?”

“Honoria? What has she to do with this?”

“Honoria Masters—is that the woman you were speaking about the other day? Comes from a good family and now sings opera?”

“Yes, that’s her.” Emily smiled. “She was one of our Vassar classmates, you know. She had a lovely voice, even in those days. Then she went to study in Italy and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“She’s dead. I read it in the paper today. ‘Brief, unexplained illness,’ it said.”

Emily put her hand to her throat as she gasped. “And she went to visit Dorcas last week. I suppose she could have caught whatever microbe it was that killed Fanny and Dorcas, but . . .”

“She had no connection to Fanny Poindexter, did she?”

She shook her head at this, puzzled. “Only that we used to be students together. I don’t think she was part of Fanny’s current circle. They are mostly young married women like Fanny herself. Honoria was too busy with her career.”

“Well, then. We have to put the deaths down to a nasty sickness and nothing more.”

She nodded. “I suppose so. But I can’t rest until I’m absolutely sure. Maybe I’m being an hysterical female. Maybe I cared about Fanny too much, but . . .” She paused and looked at me strangely. She had obviously read from my face what I was thinking.

Because I had just remembered something I had not taken into account until now. Somebody had deliberately tried to run me down the other day—somebody in a big black carriage. There could be no other explanation for this except that someone didn’t wish me to arrive at the truth.

“I don’t think you are the hysterical type, Emily,” I said. “What time do you get off work? Maybe we could visit Dorcas’s family to offer our condolences this evening.”

At this she blushed bright red. “I’m afraid. You see, Ned and I—well, he asked me to go with him to a show and . . .”

I smiled. “Of course you must go on your outing with your young man. We can visit Dorcas’s family in the morning. It would probably be more seemly, in any case.”

We arranged to meet in the morning. I took the El train home and was just walking up Patchin Place when I heard my name called and turned to see Daniel behind me. “Ah, there you are,” he said, quickening his pace to catch up with me. “I was just coming to call on you. I’m glad to find you home for once. I had a free evening yesterday and I came over, all prepared to take you out for the evening, and you weren’t there.”

“No,” I said. “I was in Massachusetts.”

“Massachusetts? My, you do get around these days. Quite the globe-trotter.” He sounded a trifle annoyed.

“Just checking some details for a case I’m working on.”

I opened the front door and he followed me inside. The setting sun was shining in through the front windows, giving the whole place a pleasant rosy glow.

“And how is this case progressing?” he asked.

“Well, thank you. I think I’ve pretty much got it solved.”

“Good for you. You’re turning into quite the detective, aren’t you?”

I looked up at him to see if he was being sarcastic. He read my look and laughed. “No, I mean it. You’ll be an asset to me in my profession, I can see that.”

“Not if you won’t share your cases with me.”

“Ah, well, when we’re married it will be different.” He came over to me and slipped his arms around my waist, drawing me close to him. “In many ways,” he added. “I can’t wait until we can be together, Molly.”

“You haven’t asked me yet,” I said. “I may be so successful that I’ll turn you down.”