Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #7)

“I would love to,” I said, “but—”

“But now you have a young woman upstairs who needs constant care. If you must have her here, Molly, then you’d better hire a nurse.”

“I suppose so,” I said, “but I can’t locate a good nurse on a Sunday, can I?”

“Your friends across the street, maybe?”

“And I can’t keep asking them to do me favors. They lead very social lives.”

He sighed. “I would have preferred not to go to New Haven alone. And I had hoped that, being Sunday, it would be the one night when you would not have commitments at that blasted theater.”

“Your language in my presence is becoming remarkably coarse,” I said primly. “You sound like Blanche Lovejoy.”

“She swears, does she?” He was looking amused now.

“Like a trooper.”

“And have you come face-to-face with the ghost yet? I saw the headlines in the newspapers. The press is lapping it up, making it sound as if the whole theater is under a curse.”

“It’s not funny, Daniel. As a matter of fact I did witness the ghost yesterday. A jug of lemonade leaped off the table, all over Miss Lovejoy, and I’m dashed if I can explain how it was done.”

“Nobody within reach to accidentally nudge the jug?”

“Only two actors on the stage and neither of them touching the table.”

“A piece of black twine, maybe? A quick jerk?”

“I examined the jug and the table for something like that. There was nothing.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts, spirits, phantoms, or anything of that nature,” Daniel said. “Keep looking. There will be a logical explanation.”

“In the meantime Miss Lovejoy left in hysterics and has threatened to close the show before it opens on Tuesday. She’s furious with me because I haven’t managed to apprehend the ghost yet.”

“Then you sound as if you need a day out. Could the girl be left, if you put out food for her?”

“I’d rather not,” I said. “I’m not sure how steady she is on her feet. What if she wandered off again, or fell down the stairs.”

“Blast it,” Daniel said, slapping a fist into his palm. “Isn’t there anybody you could call upon?”

“Do you think your landlady would keep an eye on her?”

“I suppose she might,” Daniel agreed.

“We could take her in a cab, I suppose,” I said, “but I hate to disturb her again when she is finally lying peacefully. I have to go to the dispensary and have a prescription filled for a sedative for her. Dr. Birnbaum thinks that sleep is the best medicine at the moment.”

“That’s it. Then she’ll sleep all day,” Daniel said.

“Daniel, I can’t leave her, even if she’s asleep,” I said.

“Then how do you plan to go to the theater every night?”

“As you say, I’ll have to find somebody. Maybe the woman who comes in to do Sid and Gus’s ironing may know of someone. I’ll ask them.”

As if on cue there was a light tap at the front door. My face lit up. “That will be them now.” I ran to open it, but no Sid and Gus stood there, instead an austere figure in navy blue.

“Mrs. Goodwin,” I exclaimed. “How good of you to call. Come in, please.” I ushered her inside. “Look who is here, Daniel. You know Mrs. Goodwin, don’t you?”

“Captain Sullivan,” she said evenly.

“Mrs. Goodwin. How are you?”

I noticed the difference in the responses instantly. Daniel’s was hearty, cordial, hers was restrained. Perhaps she still was not completely convinced that Daniel had had no part in the death of her husband at the hands of a gang. Or perhaps she was merely being deferential to a superior officer.

“I am well, thank you, Captain Sullivan,” she said. “A little tired after several shifts on night duty.”

“I know how that can be,” Daniel said. “In truth I long to be back with such inconveniences, rather than idling my hours away.”

“Has your situation not resolved itself yet?”

“And won’t be as long as John Partridge is police commissioner. I’m afraid that men like him do not want to lose face by admitting that they made a mistake. At the moment I am still on suspension, pending an inquiry which will probably never happen.”

“That is too bad,” she said. “Your fellow officers often speak of you and wish you were back among them.”

“Fortunately, Partridge may only be commissioner a few more weeks,” Daniel said, “and one hopes his replacement will look upon my case more favorably.”

“Would you both like some tea?” I asked. “I haven’t yet acquired the skill to make coffee.”

“Tea would be most welcome, thank you.” Mrs. Goodwin smiled at me. “I’ve come straight from night duty, but I thought you’d probably want to know the results of my investigation for you.”

“Investigation?” Daniel looked at me inquiringly.

“To see if any missing girls matched the description of our patient.”