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

THIRTY-SIX

Once outside in the dark hallway, I wasn’t sure what to do next. I could hear sounds coming up from down below. Loud voices, the tramp of feet. It sounded as if the police were already in the building. Was it up to me to tell what I knew? Suddenly I just wanted to get away, back to my own world. I never wanted to see the theater or Blanche Lovejoy again.

I ran down the stairs and out the stage door. The news of the latest accident had already reached the press. The alleyway was packed with reporters and the curious. I was grabbed and manhandled as I stepped through the door.

“They say a girl was killed. Was it the ghost again? Did you see the ghost? How did she die?” The questions were shouted in my ears as arms grabbed me.

Then another arm was placed firmly around my shoulder. “Come on, Molly, we’re getting out of here,” said a calm voice in my ear, and Daniel was leading me firmly through the crowd and away. I had never been more glad to see him.

“Are you all right?” he asked as soon as we were safely away from the mob.

“Yes, I’m fine. How did you know?” I asked.

“I thought I might see the play for myself tonight,” he said. “I wanted to witness your acting prowess. Imagine how disappointed I was when you didn’t appear onstage.”

“Miss Lovejoy fired me.”

“Not for your lack of acting ability, I assume.”

“No, because I had already played my part and she no longer needed me.”

“Your part?”

“Innocent girl detective who has been unable to prove or disprove the existence of the ghost.”

“But you stuck around anyway?”

“Yes, and I’m glad I did.”

“You saw who killed that girl?”

I hesitated. No, I hadn’t actually seen anything more than a hint of a movement. “Not actually saw, but I think I know.”

“And it wasn’t a ghost?”

“No, it wasn’t a ghost.”

“The police are already there. Do you think you should go back and . . . ?”

“No,” I interrupted. “I don’t want to go near that place again. I’ve had enough, Daniel. Take me home. If the police don’t get a confession, then I’ll step forward. Right now I want to be as far away as possible.”

“You think you’re in danger, yourself?”

“Possibly,” I said. I turned and looked up at him. “Daniel, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“And I’m so glad you’re here, trust me,” he said. “When you didn’t appear onstage and then the word went around that somebody was dead, I was all set to burst in through that stage door and rescue you.”

“The dashing hero as always,” I said, putting my hand up to his cheek. He took my hand and kissed the palm. “Your hands are cold,” he said. “Where are your gloves?”

“Oh dear. Lost somewhere in that theater, I suspect. I’m not going back for them.”

“Do you want me to take you home?” Daniel asked. “Have you eaten this evening?”

“Not really. A cup of coffee, I believe.”

“Then shall we go and have a meal somewhere?”

I almost opened my mouth to say, “you don’t have any money at the moment, Daniel.” I swallowed back the words just in time. “I suppose we do have reason to celebrate,” I said. “I’ve just concluded two cases.”

“Two?”

“I gave my report to the Mendelbaums this afternoon, and I have deposited the check.”

“And they are happy that their daughter is marrying a boring and respectable young man?”

“They are happy that she’s marrying a dubious rogue,” I said. “And a stage-door Johnnie with strange ideas about—” I couldn’t say the word sex in front of Daniel, even though we had shared more than words on the subject.

“I suspect many rich young men go through that phase in their lives,” Daniel said.

“I hope you didn’t.”

“I was never rich enough nor at leisure. Do you fancy Muschenheim’s Arena? It’s fairly close by.”

“A little pricey for us, isn’t it? I may never get the money out of Blanche Lovejoy.”

“Write up your bill and I’ll collect it for you. And also what Oona Sheehan owes you. I guarantee they’ll pay up.”

Of course they would, I reasoned. Knowing what I knew, they’d have no choice. And Daniel was an intimidating presence.

“I am your employee, after all,” Daniel said. “I have to earn my crust somehow.”

“Not employee, affiliate,” I said.

“How about partner?”

“You want to go into partnership with me?”

“That’s right. Say to hell with the police department. Why should I wait around, holding my breath, for them to admit they made a mistake and wrongly accused me?”

“But your job, Daniel. Your status. You were one of their best officers. It would be quite a come-down to work the small-time cases that I get.”

“Do I get the feeling that you don’t want to work with me?”