“Stand aside please!” one of them bellowed. “Move back now. Go on, about your business, all of you.” The crowd backed up a little as his bully club was brought out. He reached the woman. “Now, what’s happened here?”
Fifty people tried to talk at once, shouting in various accents with much hand waving. If the circumstances hadn’t been so terrible, it would have been a comical scene. The constable held up his hands. “Ladies. Quiet. One at a time.”
I glanced at Sarah, then decided it was about time I helped. I stepped forward. “This woman’s baby has been stolen from the baby carriage,” I said.
He looked at me, determining immediately from the way I was dressed that I was not a resident here. “Did you witness it, ma’am?” he asked.
“No. We heard her screams when we were in that building across the street and came straight down. We have asked, but it seems that nobody actually witnessed it.”
He nodded. “It’s easy enough to lift a baby from a buggy around here without anyone seeing,” he said. He looked across at his fellow constable. “You’d better let them know at HQ. We might be looking at another one.”
The younger policeman nodded, fought his way back through the crowd then disappeared down the street at a great rate. The constable turned back to the young woman, who was visibly shaking, hugging her arms to herself as if she was cold. “Now then, what’s your name, my dear?”
“It’s Martha, sir. Martha Wagner.”
“So tell me exactly what happened, Mrs. Wagner,” he said.
The young woman fought to control her sobs. “I was shopping for my man’s dinner, the way I always do. I went into the butcher’s for sausages and I left the baby outside because there’s no room for a buggy in the shop. I was only in there a moment. Not more than a minute or two and when I came out…” she paused and gulped. “She was gone!” Her voice rose in a hysterical scream again.
“You were alone? No other kids to guard the buggy?”
“She’s my first. We’ve only been married a year,” the woman said. “We just moved here from Pennsylvania. My man has just found a job on a river steamer.”
The nun was patting her arm again. “We’ll pray for you, my dear, and for your little child that the good Lord watch over her and deliver her safely back to you.”
The young woman shook her head furiously. “I want her back now,” she said.
“We’ll do what we can,” the constable said, “and these things usually turn out well. So give us a description of the child.”
“They say she takes after me,” she said. “She’s three months old, real dainty like a little china doll with big blue eyes. Just a tiny amount of light hair like mine. Everyone says she’s like a little angel. Her name is Florrie. Florence after my mother who passed away last year.”
The constable duly wrote this down. He shifted uncomfortably as if unsure what to do next.
“I heard that there have been other kidnappings,” I said. “Does this fit the pattern?”
He looked at me as if I was speaking a strange tongue. “That’s not my job, ma’am,” he said. “I couldn’t say.”
“But surely the police must have some ideas? Haven’t you been asked to be extra vigilant?”
Sarah tugged at my sleeve. “Molly, we shouldn’t get involved in this. I need the help of these men. I don’t want to antagonize them. I’m sure they’re doing all they can.”
“They don’t seem to be,” I said angrily. “He doesn’t seem overly concerned. If it were my baby…” I stopped short as that awful vision flashed through my mind. My baby. If somebody stole my baby.
“The good sisters here will keep an eye open for your child,” the constable said, nodding to the nuns.
“We will indeed. And we can alert the sisters at the Foundling Hospital to be on the lookout as well.” She looked at her fellow nun for confirmation.
“But who can have taken her? Why would anyone do this?” The words came out as gulping sobs.
“I’m sure the baby will turn up again safe and sound,” the constable said. “Now why don’t you give us your address and…”
“Here we are, sir.” The young constable had reappeared, red-faced from running. “Another kidnapping, so they are saying.” He forced his way through the crowd. “Stand aside ladies and let the captain through.”
And to my horror Daniel materialized between the heads of the crowd. He strode impatiently to the center of the group with that confidence that bordered on arrogance.
“What’s going on, McHale?” he demanded.
“This woman’s baby’s been snatched from the buggy,” the constable said. “Just like the last one on Hester.”
“Are we sure it’s a kidnapping this time?” Daniel demanded. “Remember the last time they dragged me out only to find that the child’s grandmother had picked it up and gone into another store with it.”
“This lady doesn’t seem to have any relatives around here,” McHale said. “Newcomer to the city.”
The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)
Rhys Bowen's books
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