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

I went to kneel on the rug before the fire and held out my hands to the blaze. Daniel followed me silently and perched on the arm of the chair beside me. I didn't want to look at him so I stared into the flames.

"Daniel, I have a confession to make," I blurted out. "My name is not Kathleen O'Connor and I'm not a married woman."

"You're not Kathleen O'Connor?"

I looked away. "I've been living a lie

and hating myself for doing it. I took her place to come here on the ship. The real Kathleen is dying in Ireland and this was the only way to get her children to their father."

"Holy Mother! You took her place! So that's why you moved out and deserted your babes in such a hurry. I thought it didn't ring true for you to walk out on your children so easily. Then who in God's name are you?"

"My name's Molly, Molly Murphy."

He stroked my wet hair from my face. "Molly. It suits you better than Kathleen. And tell me, Molly, are there any husbands or suitors I don't know about, waiting to beat me to a pulp for having designs on their beloved?"

"None, sir. I'm all alone in the world, and free and available."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said. "Then, being a gentleman, I shall not take advantage of a young lady half out of her mind with shock and restrain my passion until a more suitable occasion." He kissed me again, but tenderly this time. Then he got to his feet. "I'll go and make that tea now."

I watched him go with some regret.

Twenty-four

Now that Daniel Sullivan knew the truth about me, he behaved like a perfect gentleman and wouldn't let me spend the night in his bachelor apartment. I had a reputation to consider, he told me. Instead he got the Irish family on the ground floor to put me up for the night. They made me very welcome and in the morning their daughter lent me some of her own clothes. I wasn't going to wear that black maid's dress ever again. And I wasn't going to return it to Mrs. Brennan, either. I had learned my lesson. I was going to stay well away from the alderman and his household and leave the justice to police.

As I dressed and performed my toilet the next morning I was horrified to see myself in the mirror. My face was battered and bruised, black and blue like an overripe fruit.

"You can't go out, looking like that," Mrs. O'Shea said, shaking her head with concern. "Captain Sullivan says that a madman

threw you into the Hudson River and left you to drown. I hope they catch him. The city's not a safe place for young girls alone, that's for sure. You need to find yourself a nice, reliable man to take care of you."

"Yes," I said. "That wouldn't be a bad idea." Actually I had a man in mind.

He showed up around midday and winced when he saw my battered face in the daylight. "Saints preserve us. Look at you!"

"I'd rather not," I said. "I tell you one thing, I don't think I'll be chosen queen of the St. Patrick's Day parade looking like this."

"The bastard," Daniel muttered, taking my chin cautiously in his hand. "I hope we nail him."

"Have you arrested him?"

"Oh yes, we brought him in last night, and he promptly posted bail and departed again. He's a cocky so and so and he's going to bluff it out. He doesn't think we'll be able to pin anything on him."

"But you have to," I said. "He's killed two people. He almost killed me. Can't I testify?"

"Of course, if we have enough evidence to get it to court, but he was a smart devil. He used disguises and gloves on both occasions he killed. No fingerprints, no witnesses."

"But I'm a witness," I insisted. "I saw him on Ellis Island."

Daniel shook his head. "Wearing a disguise. And then wrongly identified Boyle and the alderman. A good defense attorney would make mincemeat of your testimony, I'm afraid."

"But he can't be allowed to walk free. What about Ireland--won't they send you all the information on him and on what he did?"

"He was let off for naming his friends in Ireland. He's a free man as far as they're concerned."

"But he's killed two people to keep those facts hidden."

"The problem with that is that he came into this country under the name of Billy Brady. There is no document linking him to his real name. Once he's over here with a new name, it's almost impossible to link to his past."

The implications of what he was saying were just dawning on me. I had come to this country as Kathleen O'Connor. If my identity stayed a secret between Daniel and me, I was safe.

"So what are you going to do?" I demanded. "You can't let him get away with it."

"I'll do everything I can, I promise you," he said. "But you stay out of police business from now on."

"But the alderman," I insisted. "He's involved in shady dealings, too. Can't you do something about that?"