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

Of course, there was one small point I had overlooked. I paused at the edge of a busy street, then jumped back as a cab clattered past me, spattering slushy mud in my direction. The point I had overlooked was whether or not Michael was truly innocent. He's a sweet, gentle boy, I reminded myself. Look how good he was with the children, how kind he was to me. And he planned that clever scheme with the money while we were heading for the island. Surely he wouldn't have been carefree enough to do that if his mind was full of murder. But something was nagging at the back of my own mind. It was that conversation we had as we waited to enter Ellis Island. "If he bothers you again, I'll kill him," Michael had said. "I could, you know. I'm not as innocent as I look."

I hurried across the busy street, dodging traffic and feeling the icy slush engulfing my feet. I had to trust him. He was trusting me. Not that I would have blamed him for killing O'Malley. Hadn't I wanted to kill the man myself? I just couldn't see young Michael Larkin sneaking to the kitchens, taking a butcher knife, and calmly slitting a man's throat. That would require a different personality altogether.

The wind off the East River was like a knife cutting through me. I leaned into it and ducked my face into my shawl. Another small point I had overlooked ... Daniel

Sullivan had obviously asked for background details on both Michael and myself. Any good policeman would do that, wouldn't he? And when the details came back about Kathleen O'Connor and her brother Liam then he might smell a rat. What if they sent a description, or worse still, a picture? If he found out I wasn't Kathleen O'Connor, then it would only be a matter of time before he found out who I really was. I had been so intent on saving Michael that I hadn't realized that I might still be in mortal danger myself.

It was a pity that Daniel Sullivan and I had to be enemies, I thought. In other circumstances I might have enjoyed flirting with him, instead of having to match wits with him to save my own skin.

The dismal buildings of Cherry Street loomed up out of the snow. I climbed the dark stairway without treading on any babies and knocked at the door on the fourth floor. Nuala opened it and stood staring at me, hands on hips.

"Well, would you look at that? Turning up like a bad penny! We never expected to see you again."

"See, I told you she hadn't gone away, Bridie," young Seamus said as the little girl ran to hug my knees. "She was fretting for you all day, Molly. She thought you'd gone away without saying good-bye."

"I'd never do that, Bridie darling." I picked her up and she snuggled to my cold cheek.

"Didn't Mrs. O'Keefe see her being shoved into a paddy wagon with her own two eyes?" Nuala demanded, looking for affirmation to Finbar who sat slouched at the table, a large mug of tea in his hands. "Shoved into a paddy wagon, that's what she said. I had a feeling from the very first time I set eyes on her. That one's no better than she should be. I said it to you last night, didn't I, Fin?"

I'm better than you, I wanted to say. But I really couldn't risk being thrown out into the snow on a night like this. I'd freeze before morning.

"If you really want to know," I said, "the police needed my help. A man was killed on

Ellis Island and I was the only one who saw the man who might have done it."

"I told you, it was in the papers this morning," Finbar said, showing, what was for him, considerable enthusiasm. "A man called O'Malley. His throat was slit from ear to ear."

"Holy Angels protect us," Nuala said, crossing her vast bosom. "Do they not have watchmen on duty at that place anymore?"

I didn't think it wise to inform her that it might have been one of the watchmen.

"Why would anyone want to do a terrible thing like that?" Nuala demanded.

"To stop him from getting into America, I would have thought," Finbar muttered.

This was an angle that had never struck me before. Of course, it made sense. O'Malley had made it as far as Ellis Island. Somebody had to make sure he didn't go any farther. Why? I had no way of finding that out, until the police uncovered O'Malley's true identity. I didn't suppose that Captain Sullivan would be willing to share details with me. But it was worth suggesting to him. For one thing, it might show him that neither Michael nor I were his prime suspects. I had a lot of work to do tomorrow.

"And I suppose your grand helping out at the police station meant that you had no time at all to be finding a job for yourself?" Nuala demanded. "If you're going to be here any longer, you'll be expected to pay your share of the upkeep of this place."

"My share? There's no way I could possibly earn enough to--," I blurted out, in my usual way. I was about to say "to pay for the fleet of maids it would take to clean up this pigsty," but little Bridie was clinging to me as if I was a lifeline. I swallowed back the rest of the sentence at the last moment. "To repay you for taking me in," I finished lamely, hating myself.

Nuala smirked. I wasn't sure whether she was easily flattered or sensed my insincerity.

"Don't worry. I'll be out looking for a job first thing in the morning," I said.

"They're in need of fish gutters at the market," Nuala stated. "It's not the most pleasant work in the world but it's money, and beggars can't be choosers."