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

“So I take it you haven’t managed to unmask the ghost yet,” Ryan said. “I must admit that ghostly toppling of the pillar was rather spectacular.”


“Is that why you were there?” Sid asked. “You were hired to find the ghost?”

“Exactly.”

“And do you believe there really is one?” Gus asked. “Have you seen it? Sid and I were dearly hoping to. We’ve always wanted to see a ghost for ourselves, haven’t we, Sid?”

“Absolutely. I must admit it was rather exciting—the pillar crashing down in full view of everyone, just missing Miss Lovejoy! We were agog, weren’t we, Gus?”

“My dears, I was positively terrified,” Ryan said. “Unlike the rest of you I can’t abide ghosts. I grew up in a haunted castle and I hardly slept a wink until I was sent to boarding school. I’d stare at the wall all night to make sure it wasn’t coming through into my room.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry, because I don’t think this is a ghost,” I said. “I believe that someone is out to get Blanche Lovejoy.”

“Who do you think it is?” Sid whispered as she drew me out into the crowded street beyond the alley.

“I have no idea.” I glanced around to see if anyone could overhear us. “Each time it has happened, nobody has been spotted nearby. We’ve been able to account for the movements of practically everyone, except for the producer and the choreographer, but they wouldn’t be backstage during production. And if they were, they’d have been noticed. I’ve now witnessed three of these strange tricks and it’s still a complete mystery to me.”

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Lily getting into a hansom cab with a young man. Then I noticed that the young man was Mr. Roth. I hoped she knew what she was doing. I’d have to ask her all about it tomorrow.

“Come on, Molly, we’re taking you for a late supper at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.” Sid took my arm. “We’re meeting our friend Elizabeth, who is really you-know-who. She was in the audience tonight. I know she’s dying to speak to you again, and to hear what’s happening with the girl in the snowdrift.”

We climbed into a cab and off we went.

It was a merry evening and I came home after midnight to find Mrs. Tucker sound asleep in my armchair. My girl was sleeping equally peacefully upstairs. I didn’t have the heart to send my nursemaid home in the middle of the night so I brought down blankets to cover her, then went to bed. I woke in the morning to the smell of fresh coffee. Mrs. Tucker was up and bustling around my kitchen.

“Comfortable chair you’ve got there,” she said, not looking up from making toast. “I slept like a baby. How’s she doing today?”

“I haven’t looked in on her yet. I came down to see who was making coffee.”

“I’ve got the tray ready to take up to her,” Mrs. Tucker said.

I opened the bedroom door for her then hung back as she went inside. The girl sat up as Mrs. Tucker came in, and then, to my astonishment, she smiled. As Mrs. Tucker had predicted, good old-fashioned loving care was breaking through before science could.

“We’ll have you up and around and talking away nineteen to the dozen, won’t we, my pet?” Mrs. Tucker asked as she sat on the bed beside her.

She had just finished eating and Mrs. Tucker was carrying down the tray where there was a knock at the front door. It was Daniel. He came in, waving a newspaper. Giant headlines proclaimed GHOST STRIKES THEATER STAR WHILE HUNDREDS WATCH IN HORROR.

“I’ve been reading about the near disaster at the theater last night so I came round to see that you are all right.”

“I’m fine, thank you. Come on in and have some coffee,” I said.

“Wonderful. Thank you.” He removed his hat and placed it on the hall table. “I must say I’m relieved to find you unscathed. What a strange business. Presumably you didn’t catch the perpetrator?”

“I rushed backstage as soon as it happened. The stage hands were standing there and they saw nobody.”

“Could it have been one of them?” he asked.

“I don’t see how. They were all standing together. Anyone who pushed a pillar would have been noticed.”

“Unless they were all in it together,” he suggested.

“Why would they want to do it? What motive could they have?”

“Someone was paying them well enough to risk it? Someone wanted your leading lady out of the way—someone who was not connected to the theater, maybe, and wanted to make it seem as if it was a theater vendetta.”

“That’s not a bad thought,” I agreed.

“I was a detective once, you know,” Daniel said.

“I’ll go to see Blanche today and find out if anyone outside of the theater might carry a grudge against her.”

“I thought I might go back to New Haven and talk to the theater people there,” Daniel said. “I believe I’ve covered all bases with your Jewish bachelor.”