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

"I know," I said. He was looking at me with such concern that I felt tears stinging in my eyes. "But I have to keep trying, don't I--unless you'll do something to help us."

He reached out and placed his hand on mine. "Look, I'll do what I can," he said, then hastily withdrew his hand. "I'll have them run a thorough background check on Boyle if it will stop you from visiting Hell's Kitchen again. But I still don't see how he could have been involved. The men from the night shift would have noticed if he'd stayed on after the day shift left. And what could have been his motive? If it was robbery, he'd surely have been skillful enough to take what he wanted while the man slept. No, Mrs. O'Connor--the way O'Malley was killed, someone wanted to make sure he was silenced forever."

"Have you found out any more about O'Malley yet?" I asked. "Do the English police know who he really was?"

"Not much," he said. "He's been a wily bird. O'Malley is definitely not his real name but from what Scotland Yard can gather, it seemed he lived high on the hog and he might have been involved in some high-level blackmail in London, but beyond that ..."

"So you don't know if he ever lived in Plumbridge, then?"

"Only you could tell us that, Mrs. O'Connor."

"And I swore that I never saw him before in my life. I still swear to that."

"He must have had a reason for carrying those newspaper cuttings, hidden in the lining of his trunk," Sullivan said. "They were the only items of any kind that tied him to a time or

place."

"So the question is why was he coming to America," I said. "Was he fleeing to America because he was the unknown tenth man who betrayed the others? Was he coming to America to unmask the man who betrayed the others? Or was the motive nothing to do with the Plumbridge Nine at all? What if that wasn't even his trunk--he could have bought it secondhand, not even knowing what the lining contained."

"You certainly have the Irish gift of the gab, Mrs. O'Connor," he said. "Too bad you're a woman. You'd have made a good lawyer." He gave me an approving smile. I liked that. Let's face it, I liked him. I wanted him to like me.

"The cousin with whom we're staying made an interesting statement," I said. "He said the reason O'Malley was killed was simple. It was to stop him from coming ashore."

"Meaning what?"

"You say he was a known blackmailer in London," I went on. "Is it possible that he had been to America before and blackmailed here, too? If someone was on the lookout for him and found that he was coming back on the Majestic, that someone could have slipped to the island to wait for him and make sure he didn't get to New York."

"Not as easy as you make it sound, Mrs. O'Connor." He was still smiling. "The island is patrolled, day and night. There's just the one ferry slip."

"There would be a way, if someone was desperate enough."

"And how do you suggest we find this elusive someone, Mrs. O'Connor?"

I shrugged. "Until you find out more details of O'Malley's life, I can't help you there. But something might show up in your check on Boyle. Why is he flush from time to time? Where did he spend that night? Had he ever had a chance to meet O'Malley before?"

"All right, all right!" He held up his hands. "I promised you we'll look into it. Now if you don't mind, I'm a very busy man. Thank you for your suggestions, though."

"And what about Michael?" I asked. "Can't you let him go?"

"Not unless you want to come up with his bail money. It would be more than my job's worth to release him before I'd found a more likely

suspect. The feds still want him handed over to them."

"If you send him back to Ireland, then there's no hope for him," I said. "You must know what it's like, coming from there yourself. It's hang first and ask questions afterward."

"Like the Plumbridge Nine?" He paused, giving me that searching look again. "Actually, I'm New York born and bred. Both my parents came over as children in the Great Famine. But I do get your point." He stood up. I took the hint and stood up, too. I wasn't about to let him tower over me. "I'm sorry, Mrs. O'Connor, I really am. I know you mean well and you've come up with some good suggestions. But they are just that--mere hypotheses, which means--"

"I know what hypotheses are, Captain. Strangely enough, I have read a book or two in my life. I won't be back until I can bring you concrete evidence."

As I walked out, I could feel his eyes boring into my back, all the way down the hall. I picked up my skirts, ready to go down the stairs.

"Kathleen," he called after me. "Please be careful."