“I hope so,” I said. “I’m disappointed that none of the letters we’ve received so far could be from her family. But maybe now that you’ve included the mention of the name Annie, it may trigger a response.”
As I showed the doctor to the front door, I found myself considering the alternatives I had so blithely put aside until now. If no family appeared, if sanity and speech and memory were not restored, what then? I knew I could never turn her out into the streets. But how could I saddle myself with the care of an invalid forever? Then my normal cheerful optimism took over and I decided I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. At this moment I had more urgent things to worry about, like walking across a stage in front of an audience without falling on my face.
I’d heard about stage fright before, but I never thought it would apply to me. In fact my mother was always scolding me for being too much of a show-off, ever since I got out of the pew in church and danced to the organ music (it was one of the livelier hymns). I was only three at the time but you’d have thought I’d brought the devil himself into the holy place, the spanking I got!
Since coming to America I’d been called upon to act various roles in undercover situations and managed to pull them all off successfully. So why should this latest role be any different? Why should I feel as if my insides were tying themselves into knots? I suppose it had to be because the potential for making a fool of myself was so great.
I was getting ready to leave for the theater when there was a tap on my front door. I hoped it was Daniel. I needed reassurance at this moment, and a good old touch of reality. Instead it was Sid and Gus who stood there.
“Well, here she is. The amazing disappearing woman,” Sid exclaimed as they came into the house.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“My dear Molly, we’ve seen neither hide nor hair of you for several days now. We tried your door yesterday and on Sunday and each time it was opened by such a fierce harridan that we were forced to retreat.”
“She’s the nursemaid I’ve hired to look after the girl while I’m away.”
“That’s what we gathered. So your sleeping beauty still has not awoken from her enchanted slumber?”
“She’s awake some of the time, although the doctor has administered sedatives to her. But she has neither spoken nor recognized that she understands us up to now.”
“And nobody has stepped forward to claim her?”
“Nobody, as yet.”
“Molly, what on earth will you do if she doesn’t get better soon?” Sid asked, but Gus cut in gently, “I expect it will sort itself out. It usually does with Molly. She lives a charmed life.”
“We came to offer you a treat and a respite,” Sid said. “We have obtained tickets to tonight’s opening of Blanche Lovejoy’s new play—it’s called Ooh La La. It’s supposed to be very French and very naughty. What’s more, there is a good chance that the theater ghost may put in an appearance. Do you want to come with us?”
I tried to stop myself from smiling. “I’m sorry,” I said, “but I have another commitment tonight. I’ve heard all about it, of course. And the theater ghost.”
“You’re not spending the evening with Dreary Daniel, are you?” Sid said. “That man has become excessively boring these days. Not a glimmer of a sense of humor at all.”
“I guarantee that I am not spending the evening with Daniel,” I said. “Although I don’t think you’d be too merry and gay if you had been wrongly dismissed from your job.”
“True enough,” Sid admitted. “So you’re sure we can’t tempt you to join us at the theater?”
“I have an assignment for a case I’m working on,” I said.
“Not going out dressed as a street urchin again, please,” Sid said. “Even Nelly Bly gave up on that as being too uncomfortable even for her.”
“No, this time I’m disguised as a schoolgirl,” I said with a smile.
“A schoolgirl—do tell!”
“I’d love to, but I can’t. Later all will be revealed, I promise.”
“I suppose that will have to do then,” Gus said with a sigh. “You are working too hard these days, Molly Murphy. You never seem to have time for fun.”
“I have to eat and pay the bills, Gus. I’ve no convenient aunts dying and leaving me a small fortune like you.”
“That’s true enough,” Gus said. “A steady income certainly does make life sweeter.”
“We must be off then, my sweet,” Sid said. “Gus is determined to find a new feather for her headpiece. Scarlet, no less. I told her she’ll look like a fallen woman but she insists.”
She gave me a knowing smile and took Gus’s arm to lead her out. I couldn’t help smiling as I closed the door behind them. Won’t they be surprised tonight!
When I arrived at the theater there was already a crowd milling around on the street and the back alley was positively seething with newspaper reporters. “Are you one of the actresses?” they asked me. “Have you seen the ghost personally? Do you think it’s going to put in an appearance tonight?”
Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #7)
Rhys Bowen's books
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