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

"Oh no, my dear. Nothing so awful as a maid. Your duties will be much more pleasant. We run a little club here. Very exclusive. We only allow in the most cultured of gentlemen, I can assure you. You will sit and chat with the gentlemen, you will persuade them to buy you champagne--"

"But I don't drink champagne."

"--wh you will not drink, of course. And then, you will entertain them for the evening."

"Entertain? But I'm afraid I neither sing nor dance."

The woman shot a glance at the man. "You will not be required to either sing or dance. Now please. No more questions. You are quite fatiguing me."

I might have been brought up in sheltered Ballykillin, but I wasn't completely stupid. I had heard of things like this, whispers about Colleen Duhig who ran away to Dublin and came to a bad end.

"Wait a minute," I said. "I think there may have been some mistake. I'm not ... I mean, the kind of work I think you're offering ..."

"But you already accepted the job, didn't she, Jimmy?"

I noticed that Jimmy had moved to stand in front of the door. For the first time I began to feel truly alarmed.

"Look, thank you for your kind offer, but I've changed my mind. I'll be going now." I took a bold step toward the door. Jimmy didn't move. His arms were folded. He looked amused, too.

"Let me tell you something about myself," I said, "The last man that tried to rape me, I killed him."

"Splendid. Then you'll want to lie low for a while. You see, it was fate brought you to us today." Madame whatever her name was moved around me, examining me from all angles. "Peach, I think, to highlight the hair. Red hair is so striking when done properly. Or green, do you think,

Jimmy? Irish green for a sweet colleen?"

I wasn't sure what to do next. I looked around the room, wondering if there was something I could use as a weapon, but Jimmy looked like the sort of man who was not to be trifled with. If I broke down and cried, begged, told them I had planned to become a nun, would anything touch that woman's heart enough to let me go?

While we stood there, with time and reality suspended, there was a knock at the front door, a special knock, four short raps followed by one long. Jimmy opened it a sliver, not taking his eyes off me. A man squeezed past him into the room.

"Whaddya got there, Jimmy? New recruit?" he asked, then his eyes narrowed. "What the hell ya doin' with her? She was in the Harp Saloon half an hour ago, asking questions. She's working with the cops."

A hand flew out and struck me across the face. "You think you make a fool of me, girl?" the large woman demanded. "Who sent you here? That scum at the police department? If they think they can spy on Angelique and close us down, they can think again. They'll never get a thing on me."

My cheek was stinging and my heart hammering. "Wait a second, you don't understand," I shouted. "I'm not here spying on you. I am helping the police solve a murder that has nothing to do with any of you. I'm working with Detective Sullivan."

"Danny Boy Sullivan? The pretty boy himself?" Madame laughed. "He couldn't detect a pig in the middle of its sty."

I picked up on this straightaway. "You're right," I said. "He's useless, which is why I'm having to do the work. He's got my friend"--no, make it more tragic--"he's got my fianc`e, the man I love, locked up in the Tombs. He's all for sending him back to Ireland to hang for a crime he didn't commit. I'm just trying to find out the truth, so that I can convince this Captain Sullivan to let my dear Michael go."

Madame turned to Jimmy. "And so you blunder into Hell's Kitchen alone, asking questions? You're right, Jimmy. She really is too naive." She looked back to me. "My dear, sweet little one. Your life may be counted in hours or

minutes if you persist in poking your nose where you are not wanted. If you take my advice you will go back where you came from and stay there."

My heart leaped. She was going to let me go. "But I have to help Michael," I said. "I was just trying to find one of the Ellis Island guards who might be able to help me. They said he lived around here."

"She was asking about Boyle," the newly arrived man said.

"Boyle? Do we know him?"

"Bully Boyle. He's been here before." "Oh yes, Bully Boyle. The good tipper." She smiled, then looked hard at me. "This man Boyle--why do you seek him out?"

I felt as if I was walking on eggs. One false step and I was dead. "I thought he might have been on duty and unknowingly spotted the real killer." Careful not to implicate him. Careful not to seem too eager. "I know I'm grasping at straws, but the police are sure my Michael did it and they're not even looking any further."

"The police are idiots." Madame spat onto her plush carpet. She turned to Jimmy. "Take this girl to Boyle's. And you," she gripped my cheek, squeezing it none too gently, "you watch your step. You are not in your Irish village now." She snapped her fingers in demonstration. "Go on. Get out. And don't come back."

I didn't wait to be told twice.