“We’ll pop in here,” he said, opening the door to a pub.
She looked at him. “Are you sure you have time? You really are spending too much time on me.”
“I don’t think anyone could ever spend too much time on you,” he told her. He said the words lightly, but he knew he meant every one of them.
“Very gallant,” she told. “Still…”
“Don’t worry, I’m working.”
“Oh?”
“We’re at O’Malley’s.”
“So I see.”
“Eileen Brideswell’s favorite place. Not ostentatious, real Irish owners…a family hangout for the O’Briens. I’m sure Genevieve hung around here, too, so I can ask some questions while we’re eating.”
“And do you think that will really help you any?”
“I think she disappeared in a dark sedan and she was taken by someone she knew. It sounded as if it was a decent car, so I need to learn who she was hanging around with, and this might be one of the places where they spent time.”
“Aha.”
A pretty woman with a broad Irish accent approached them with a smile of recognition for Joe and led them to a cozy booth.
“Special is Irish bacon and cabbage,” she told them. “And, if I do say so myself, our potato soup is the best in New York.” She grinned and added, “Maybe in all of the New World.” With a wink, she left them.
“A friend?” Leslie asked.
“I’ve been here now and then,” Joe said. “But I think she saw me with Eileen Brideswell, and that makes all the difference.”
Their waitress approached them. She had dark hair, brilliant green eyes and a definite accent. Her name was Bridget.
“What would you like?” Joe asked Leslie.
“What else? Potato soup and the bacon and cabbage,” she said, with a light in her eyes.
“The same,” Joe told Bridget.
“I’ll bring the soup right out,” Bridget promised with a bright smile and flashing eyes.
“Bridget, how long have you worked here?” Joe asked.
“Oh…well, since I came into the country. A bit over six months now, I’ll be thinking.”
Joe reached into his jacket and produced a picture of Genevieve O’Brien. “Did you know this girl?”
“Genevieve O’Brien?” A look of deep sorrow entered Bridget’s eyes. “That I did,” she said sadly. She stared at Joe. “Ah, you’re the fellow looking for her, eh? For Mrs. Brideswell?”
He nodded. “Did she come in frequently?”
“Well, now, I can’t say frequently. But you know, she was working sometimes not far from here, so she had the occasional lunch here, yes. A lovely girl, she was. My heart breaks to think what might’ve happened to her.”
“Did she come in alone?”
A slow grin lifted Bridget’s rosy cheeks. “Sometimes, yes. Sometimes she’d be bringing a woman in with her, and they’d be…well, all cleaned up. But I would kind of know when she would bring in a…well, I guess the term here would be ‘working girl.’ She tried to make life better for people.”
Joe nodded, noticing the way Leslie was listening to Bridget, her own heart seeming to break for the girl she’d never known.
“You’re in her booth, you know,” Bridget said.
“We are?” Leslie asked.
“Oh, aye. She had the same booth—whenever it was free, of course. But Mrs. O’Malley…” She paused and indicated the hostess who had seated them. “She’d often hold it open, thinking Miss O’Brien might come by. The family was very supportive from the time her father-in-law, the elder Mr. O’Malley—he’s retired now, left the place to his son—first opened here. So Mrs. O’Malley—”
“Was she dating anyone, do you know?”
“I’m just a waitress here,” Bridget said.
He smiled. “That doesn’t mean you might not have noticed if she had someone special. Did she ever come in here with a man?” Joe asked.
Bridget frowned. “Once or twice, I guess.”
“Lunchtime? Cocktail hour? Dinner?”
“I saw her in here with a fellow once or twice. I think the one man was her boss. And the other…well, I guess she worked with him, too.” She offered a quick smile. “The one fellow was quite a looker. The boss…well, he wasn’t ugly as sin or anything, but he was a grump. You’ll have to excuse me now, please. I’ve got food that needs serving.”
She smiled and left them.
“You think she was dating someone who turned out to be…bad?” Leslie asked Joe.