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

"It has to be tied as tight as that or it slips. And you'll get in awful trouble if they see you with your cap crooked." She turned me around. I caught a glimpse of a severe

white-faced stranger in the mirror on the dresser. "Right. You'll do. Now we'd better get down there or we'll never hear the end of it."

Back down all those stairs, our feet clattering on bare boards. The candelabras were now in place, and between them large bowls of fruit and flowers. Daisy showed me the open chests of cutlery lying on a sideboard. "Do you know how to lay a table properly?"

"Only the Irish way," I said, not wanting to admit that I'd never seen a table laid properly in my life. Refreshments at the Hartleys' house had been limited to milk and a biscuit taken in the nursery.

"George, put out one place setting for her, then she can follow," Daisy said to the footman.

"I'm still busy polishing," George said. "Whoever put these away didn't do a good enough job at wrapping them. They've started to tarnish."

"Oh, all right. I'll do it." Daisy grabbed a handful of knives and forks. "Now, you start from the outside and work inward, as I expect you know," she said. "The little knife and fork are for the entr@ee, then the soup spoon on the right, then the fish knife and fork are in that box, then the meat--"

"Holy Mother," I said. "How many courses are there?"

"Seven, as usual. It's only for special occasions that they have twelve. This is just regular entertaining that they're always doing."

"They entertain a lot, do they?" I asked, putting out knives and forks as she had demonstrated.

"Oh, all the time. The mistress likes to think of herself as the number one hostess in the city. She's always entertaining the Vanderbilts, and the Roosevelts--all the hoity-toities come here."

My brain was working fast. Today was Saturday so if I counted back ... "I suppose they only entertain at weekends? They don't do this sort of thing on a Monday, say?"

"Oh, sometimes they do. They're either out to dinner or they've got somebody here all the time."

"What about last Monday? Did they have anybody to dinner then?"

"What would you want to know that for?" she laughed. "How can I remember back to last Monday?"

"I remember last Monday," George said

without looking up from his polishing. "They were out. I know because Sunday's usually my evening off but they had the mayor over then and Mr. Holmes told me I could take Monday instead because they'd be dining out."

So the alderman was not at home on Monday evening.

"I bet they come home at all hours when they've been out," I said. "Do they wake you up when they come in? They don't want to be waited on, do they?"

Daisy looked up from the place she was laying across the table. "Only the master and mistress's personal maid and valet have to help them get undressed. Mr. Holmes always stays up until he can lock up for the night. But we don't have to worry about that. We're sound asleep at the top of the house. They could let a herd of elephants run through the place for all we'd hear."

"Do you always chatter like this, Molly?" George demanded. "The mistress doesn't like servants chattering when they're supposed to be working."

"Sorry," I said. "I just like to get the feel of a new place. I won't say another word."

I went back to work. I was pleased to notice that I was quicker than Daisy and even Mrs. Brennan nodded approvingly when we'd finished. "This table looks a treat," she said. "And I must say your appearance is a big improvement over the last time I saw you, Molly. You look quite civilized now. Run and get yourselves a cup of cocoa, girls, before you put the carpet sweeper over the living room and the main staircase."

I followed the others back to the warmth of the kitchen. There were mugs of hot cocoa and big slabs of fruit cake waiting and I fell on them eagerly. It felt like days since I had had a decent meal. While we ate I was wondering how I could find out if Alderman McCormack had not come home on Monday night. Mr. Holmes looked like a meticulous kind of person. Perhaps he kept a diary or appointment book. I'd have to get a feel for the rhythm of the household to know when might be a safe time to go into the butler's private quarters. I couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

As soon as the cups were drained Daisy nudged me. "Come on, we've got sweeping

to do." She took me to a broom closet and handed me a square box on a long handle. "Go on, take it," she said impatiently. "Have you never seen a carpet sweeper before? What kind of households have you worked in?"

"We're not as up-to-date in Ireland," I said, "What do I do with this?"

"Oh, it's like a miracle. You just push it over the carpet and it picks up all the specks. You'll never want to go back to sweeping with a broom again."