The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

“You’d be amazed at how good I’m being,” I said. “Sweet, compliant, and only one step away from simpering.”


He laughed. “That will never happen to you. So you’re holding up all right under my mother’s ministrations? I must say you’re looking very well.”

“She treats me as if I’m made of fine china and might break,” I said, “I want to be helpful but she won’t let me do much. At least I’ve got Bridie here to keep me company. Hasn’t she grown up since she’s been with your mother?”

He nodded. “Far more outgoing and sure of herself. I told you Mother would never treat her as a servant, didn’t I? You watch, she’ll be scouting out potential suitors to make a good match for her before long.”

We walked silently over the soft grass.

“I’ve missed you,” he said. “I lived alone for so many years, I thought of myself as completely self-sufficient. But now I’ve become used to finding you there when I come home. It feels so empty without you.”

“Do you want me to come home?” I asked cautiously.

“No, it’s better for you to stay out here until the temperature cools down,” he said. “You’re clearly being looked after well and it would be purely selfish of me to want you to give this up.”

“I will, if it makes you happy,” I said.

He squeezed my hand. “You’re a good woman, Molly Murphy. But I want to make sure my son is born fit and healthy.”

“Oh, it’s a son, is it?” I asked, my eyes teasing his. “What if it’s a daughter? Are you going to throw her back?”

He laughed. “If she’s anything like you, I’m in for a rough time.” He stood there looking at me. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re learning to slow down to a woman’s pace and enjoy home and family. I was worried that after all the excitement of being a detective you’d never manage to settle.”

“Of course I miss the excitement,” I said. “Wouldn’t you? But I also have to admit that I ran terrible risks and I’m lucky to be alive today.”

“You certainly are,” he said. “At one point I was ready to lock you up for your own protection.”

“I might say the same for you. You take terrible risks. I worry about you all the time.”

“I’m a man. Men are designed to take risks.”

I turned my gaze to the magnificent roses that spilled over the far wall, conscious that I was being just a tad hypocritical with my husband and not quite honest either.

We had reached the shade of a massive elm tree at the bottom of the garden. A rough bench had been built around the trunk and we sat on this, looking back at the house. I turned to Daniel.

“You could enjoy the benefit of my expertise if you’d only share your cases with me.” I said in what I hoped was a casual manner.

“Molly, we’ve been through this. You know I’m not supposed to discuss police business.”

“Surely that doesn’t apply to your wife—especially a wife who has been a darned good detective.”

“As it is I’m already ragged by the other fellows about my wife solving my cases for me.”

“There you are then. So it doesn’t matter if you discuss them with me.”

Daniel sighed. We sat for a while in silence, listening to the click of a mower in a distant garden.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said. “I think your brother has left the city. We’ve not found a trace of him anywhere, and none of my usual sources of information in the Lower East Side has seen him.”

“That’s good news,” I said. “I was so worried he’d be caught.”

“Of course you were. I understand that. It can’t have been easy feeling that you were trapped in the middle. That was precisely why I wanted you safely out of the city.”

We fell silent again while I considered things. “We don’t know for sure that he was sent here to make contact with the anarchist group, do we?”

“We don’t.”

“Have you managed to find them yet?”

“The anarchists?” He shook his head. “Not yet. All that we have is the vaguest of hints—intercepted messages between Europe and America that mean nothing to any of us. And between you and me, I’ve backed off from trying too hard. After I found out that John Wilkie had approached my wife to work behind my back, I decided he could do his own searching without the help of my informants.”

“So you’re off that case then?”

“Not officially. But let’s just say that it’s no longer my main priority.”

“I’m glad,” I said. “Anarchists are known to be ruthless. I don’t want to find that our house has been blown to pieces with a bomb.”

He smiled. “I don’t think that’s likely to happen. They only blow up important people—people whose death can bring a country to its knees.”

“So you don’t know which country they are aiming at?”

He shook his head. “Although we have reason to believe it’s either England or America. Apart from that, as I say, it’s all rumor.”