The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

I hated it when he was right. “I suppose so,” I admitted grudgingly.

He put his hands on my shoulders, drew me toward him, and kissed me. “Now up to bed with you. You need your sleep.” Then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him. “And you don’t look a bit like a spaniel,” he said. “Your ears are much nicer.” And he nuzzled at one of them.

“Wait,” I said. “I’m dying to know about the kidnapping I witnessed today. What did you find out? Did the lady get her baby back?”

“Molly, it’s past midnight. You need your sleep and so do I. And you know I shouldn’t discuss police matters with you.”

“But I witnessed it. I’ve a right to know.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he said, touching a finger to my lips. “We’ll talk about it in the morning. Off to bed with you.”

He slipped an arm around my waist and was about to escort me up the stairs when I said, in my most casual voice. “By the way, a letter came for my old detective agency today.”

“I hope you returned it to the sender,” he said.

“Hold your horses,” I said. “I was going to hand it to you to see if you knew of another private investigator who could look into the case. But the Irish woman who wrote it clearly has no money. She won’t be able to pay normal rates and you probably wouldn’t find any professional detective willing to take on her case. And this poor woman is worried sick about their niece who came to America and now has stopped writing to them. So I thought that since I had time on my hands…”

“Oh, no…” he began. “Molly, what were we just talking about?”

“Just a minute!” I snapped. “Would you stop behaving like the lord and master and listen to what I have to say. You know that raises my fighting spirit.”

“But, Molly—you are expecting a child. We have agreed that you should be taking it easy and not running any kind of risk, have we not?”

“I don’t intend to run any kind of risk. The person who wrote to me has the name of the household in which this young woman was employed. I thought I might ask some of our friends if they have heard of this family. You know, people like Miss Van Woekem who move in society. It’s a fairly uncommon name so what could be the harm in asking if anyone has heard of this family? And it would give me something to occupy myself with.”

He shrugged. “I have no objection to your visiting our friends, as you know very well. But…”

“I understand. If no one we know has heard of the family in question, I have to turn the case over to another investigator or write to the Irish people telling them I can’t help them.”

“Finally you’re showing some sense,” he said. “Now we’ve talked quite long enough. If you don’t need your sleep, I certainly do.”

He put his arm around me and led me firmly up the stairs.





Five

I must have been really tired because I awoke with the sun streaming down on me and Daniel no longer in the bed. I arose hastily, pulled on my robe, and went downstairs. Daniel was sitting at the kitchen table, dressed and ready for work, with a mug of coffee in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You should have woken me.”

He looked at me with concern. “You looked so peaceful lying there that I didn’t have the heart. And you had a bad night, didn’t you? Moaning and crying out in your sleep.”

“Did I?” I tried to remember. Something disturbing was lurking at the edge of my consciousness. “I must have had a bad dream. But I can’t for the life of me remember—” I broke off suddenly as a flash of memory came back. “Oh, I do remember now. The stolen baby. I dreamed that someone had stolen my baby and I was desperately searching for it. That poor woman, Daniel. She was distraught. Did you manage to help her?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s just going to be a matter of waiting. That baby will materialize again when the parents pay the ransom.”

“But how can they afford to pay a ransom? They were obviously dirt poor.”

“It’s been no more than a hundred dollars so far,” he said. “And people can usually scrape together that much from relatives and friendly societies and unions.”

“So it’s true what one woman said. It really was one in a string of kidnappings?”

He nodded. “It seems to be. Five of them now that we know about in the last couple of weeks, all over the Lower East Side. Of course there could be more cases that we don’t hear about. Parents might have been scared that something would happen to their child if they went to the police so they kept quiet, paid the ransom, and the child was returned.”

“And it was the same method of operation in each case?” I asked.

“As far as we can tell. Child snatched from its baby carriage, ransom note delivered to the parents, ransom money paid, and child returned safely.”

“That’s awful. And you have no idea who is behind it?”