Murphy's Law (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #1)

Mr. McSweeney stepped out in front of us and held up his hand for silence, although we had been sitting in close to silence since we got there. "As some of you have heard, there has been a terrible tragedy. A man has been killed. You will all be asked to make a statement to the police. Interpreters will be provided for those who don't speak English. Please remain in your seats until you are called."

Then the young man in the tweed jacket stepped out in front of us. "We'd like to thank you all for your patience. I'm Captain Daniel Sullivan of the New York City Police. I'm running this investigation." He was brawny, well built, and looked far too young to be a captain of anything. "If any of you have anything at all that might help us solve this vicious crime, anything you know about the man who was killed, anything you saw or heard last night, then please come and tell me or one of my men. Even if you think it's something very small or unimportant, tell us. The last boat left the island at six o'clock last night, which means, as I'm sure you can figure out, that the crime was committed by someone who was among us last night and is still among us. None of you will be leaving this island until we've got this matter solved."

Interpreters got up and presumably translated what had been said. There were moans of anguish as the foreigners understood. One by one we were directed to stations where policemen and inspectors checked off lists. I went up when it was my turn. They asked my name and a clerk checked me against a master list.

"Traveling alone?" the policeman asked. "With my children, Seamus and Bridie. My husband will be meeting us when you let me out of this place." I was surprised how easily the words came out.

The policeman leaned over the desk and glanced at the master list. "You came on the Majestic. I see you're from the same part of Ireland as the man who died. Did you know him?"

"I'd never set eyes on him before I got on that ship." At least I didn't have to lie.

"But you did talk to him on the ship?"

"I talked to a lot of people. We were cooped up together there for seven days. Someone pointed him out

to me and told me his name. That's how I knew who he was. He was a loud kind of individual. You couldn't help but notice him."

"When you say loud, do you mean aggressive? Did he pick fights? Did you notice him having an argument with anyone in particular?"

I could hardly say, yes, with me.

"No, I just meant that he laughed loudly when the men played cards. He had a loud voice."

The men exchanged a glance, then the policeman nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. O'Connor. That will be all."

Eight

It was over. As easy as that. I went back to my seat. The children were still playing in the corner. I sat down and smiled at my neighbor. Suddenly I felt very hungry. Porridge with real cream, the way I used to make it at home, would have gone down a treat. But nobody brought around refreshments. The questioning must have taken an hour or more. Then the young man in the tweed jacket stepped out in front of us again.

"Sorry to have to detain you like this, when I know you're all itching to get ashore." He had an Irish name but the accent was very different from the brogue I was used to. "Some of you are now free to go. Interpreters, would you please tell those people who came on the Graf Bismark that they may now proceed to the usual immigration clearance. The following passengers from the Majestic are also free to leave." He read out a list of names. Mine was not among them. "Some of you have been asked to remain for further questioning. You may have information which can be of help to us. I don't anticipate you should be kept much longer--most of you."

The addition of those innocent words made alarm shoot through me. The more I was questioned, and maybe the children, too, the easier a slip would be. I had been so strong, so alert all this time. Now I just wanted it to be over and done with. We sat on the benches and waited. I looked around, trying to spot Michael, but I couldn't see him. I couldn't remember hearing his name called, but then I'd been listening so intently to hear my own name that I might have missed it. But he couldn't have gone, could he? Not when I had his five pounds in my pocket. I jumped when someone prodded me in

the back. "They're calling for you, Mrs. O'Connor," A policeman was beckoning me into a side room.

"Can you watch the children for me?" I asked one of the Irish women who was sitting beside me. The last thing I wanted was the children questioned.

"Don't worry, my dear, they'll be safe with me." She patted me on the hand, as if she was sorry for me.

I was led through to a little room with a desk and chair in it. The young New York detective was sitting at the desk, scribbling notes on a pad. He looked up when I came in.

"Mrs. O'Connor? Mrs. Kathleen O'Connor?"

There was something in the way he was looking at me --I could sense the heightened interest. He knows, I thought. He's been in touch with the English police and he recognizes me.

"That's right, sir." I sat on the chair indicated.

"From Stabane, county Derry. Sailed here on the Majestic to join husband, Seamus O'Connor, of Twenty-eight Cherry Street, New York City?"