In Like Flynn (4 page)

“So I have to become the bosom pal of Theresa. When is all this to start?”

“The Sorensen Sisters are invited to the mansion the second week of June, after Barney comes home from Washington for the summer recess. If you arrive around the same date, that will give us sufficient time to collect all the information we need from Ireland, and write the necessary letters to secure you an invitation. I'm thinking also that the excitement of having the Sorensen Sisters in the house will subject you to less scrutiny.”

“Very good,” I said. The way I was feeling at this moment, bubbling with my third glass of champagne, I was ready to tackle any-thing. “And what should I do if I spot the sisters cheating?”

“Ill give you a telephone number where you can leave a mes-sage for me at all times. Call me right away. I'll come to the house myself.”

That statement should not have made me absurdly glad, but it did.

“Would you believe it?” Daniel said. “We have got through a whole bottle of champagne. You're turning into quite a drinker, Molly Murphy.”

“It was you who kept filling my glass,” I said. “And you should know that it’s having no effect on me whatsoever.”

Daniel smiled. “I think maybe a little ice cream and a coffee will restore both of us to sobriety.”

“I've never been known to turn down ice cream,” I said.

The ice cream was delicious but it didn't do much to counteract the champagne. I still felt only vaguely tethered to earth as I floated out on Daniel’s arm. I spied the flower girl, standing in the shadows beside the potted palm as Daniel hailed a cab. She was still staring at us and I wondered if she was recalling better times in her own life.

“A very satisfactory evening, Molly,” Daniel said as he climbed into the cab beside me and slipped his arm around my shoulders.

“I really don't think that’s proper, Captain Sullivan.” I attempted to move away.

“Just to make sure you're not swung around too violently, Miss Murphy. I'll wager the dreary, earnest Mr. Singer doesn't take you out to dine at places like this.”

“Let’s not discuss my relationship with Mr. Singer,” I said. “My personal life can be of no interest to you while you are engaged to someone else. We've been through this a thousand times, Daniel.”

“It is of concern to me and you know how I feel about you,” he said. “Dash it, Molly, you said yourself that you can't just shut off feelings for another person. You must still have feelings for me.”

Without warning he took me in his arms and was kissing me with abandon. I knew I should tell him to stop, but the champagne had numbed my limbs. It had also dulled my willpower and I had always liked Daniel Sullivan’s kisses.

“See, I knew it,” he whispered as we broke apart at last. “You do still have feelings for me.”

“What do you expect if you ply a girl with champagne.” I at-tempted to recover the last of my dignity. 'You don't play fair, Daniel. Stop the carriage. I'll get out and walk the rest of the way home.”

He grabbed my hand as I reached up to attract the cabby’s attention.

“You'll do no such thing. Allright.I promise 111 behave myself for the rest of the journey. It’s just too tempting, sitting here in the dark beside you. It’s been too long since we've been alone together.”

“And it won't be repeated in the near future. Next time you invite me for a business meal, 111 come in my own cab and 111 drink water.”

Think of tonight as good practice for Barney Flynn,” Daniel said. “I understand he’s something of a ladies' man himself.”

“Surely not, with his wife present?”

Daniel just grunted.

“And you have no qualms about sending me into such a lion’s den then?”

“If anyone can handle Barney Flynn, you can. And you are a cousin, after all.”

The cab slowed and came to a halt. “I'd rather not take the horse up the alleyway, if you don't mind, sir,” the cabby called down to us. “He don't like backing up.”

That’sfine.I can easily walk the rest of the way,” I said.

Daniel helped me down. “Allow me to escort you to your house.”

“Probably better if you don't,” I said. “You have a history of not taking noforan answer.”

Daniel laughed. “Are you sure you're steady enough to walk on your own?”

“Quite steady. Not intoxicated at all. I'll look forward to your next instructions then, Captain Sullivan.”

I started out and heard Daniel’s laugh behind me as I teetered.

“It’s these narrow heels on the cobbles,” I said with cool dignity and made it safely down the rest of Patchin Place. He stood there watching me as I successfully negotiated my door key into the keyhole and let myself in.

“Good night, Daniel. Thank you for a lovely dinner,” I called. Thank heavens I hadn't let him accompany me. The way I was feeling ?t this moment I might well have weakened and let him come inside…

I put my purse down on the kitchen table. The lamp was still burning in the parlor and I saw the back of a head in our one arm-chair.

“You didn't have to wait up for me, Seamus,” I began and then stared as
the
man rose to his feet.

“Jacob,” I stammered. “What are you doing here?”

He came toward me. “I came to apologize for my behavior earlier this evening,” he said in a voice that was frigidly polite. “I thought that the brusque manner in which I turned you away had upset you badly. However, I see now that I need not have worried. I obviously don't have the claim on your affections I had believed.”

“I have just returned from a business meeting,” I said.

“Really, Molly. I am not completely naive,” he said. “Please don't lie to me.”

“I'm not lying.”

“You come home tipsy and in the company of your policeman friend and tell me you've been to a business meeting?”

“Believe it or not, it’s true,” I said. Part of me whispered that I should smooth things over, but the champagne was allfora good fight. '1 thought you were the one who promised not to put me in a cage. You loved my free spirit, I seem to remember.”

“I didn't think your free spirit extended to midnight outings with other men.”

“We are not engaged, Jacob.”

“No, but I thought we had an understanding.”

“We do. Although if you are going to question and mistrust me every time I leave my front door—”

“Surely I have arightto question and mistrust your assignations with other men?”

“No,” I said. “You have norightat all. Either you trust me or you don't. I thought you were different, Jacob. I liked you because you respected myrightto be an independent person. You didn't want to keep me wrapped in cotton, the way most men do. But in the end you are just like all the rest—devoted when it suits you, free-thinking when it suits you.”

“If that’s the way you feel…”

“I do.” I held the door open for him. “I think you should leave now.”

“Very well.” He bowed stiffly. “Good evening, Miss Murphy.”

With that he marched to the door. I experienced a strange mixture of sensations watching him go—indignation, guilt and maybe just a touch of relief. I wanted to get far, far away—away from Jacob and Daniel and all the complications in my life.

This assignment on the Hudson River could not start soon enough for me.

Five

W
hen I woke in the morning, my eyelids heavy from those three glasses of champagne, I couldn't really believe that I had broken off my relationship with Jacob Singer. I had told myself that I never really intended to marry him, but I had become accustomed to relying on him and knowing that he was there. This assignment could not have come at a better moment.

I had barelyfinishedsending the children off to school with a strict warning that they go nowhere near the East River or their cousins when there was a knock at the front door. If it was Jacob, come to demand an apology from me, he wasn't getting one. If he had come to smooth things over, I was still in no mood to talk to him. I opened the door, conscious at the last moment that I was still in my apron with my hairflyingfree around my shoulders.

It wasn't Jacob. Instead, a thin beggar woman stood there, her eyes somehow too large for her hollow face. I'm sorry to trouble you,” she began, “but I have a favor to ask.”

Beggars were a common sight in the city but they didn't usually try their luck in the Village where most residents were immigrants or students or starving artists with no money to spare.

“I'm sorry,” I said, “but I've a family here to feed and barely enough to keep body and soul together ourselves. I'll bring you out a cup of tea and a slice of bread, but other than that—”

“I haven't come to you for money,” she said with dignity. “I think you can help me. When you stepped out of that cab and I heard you mention Senator Flynn’s name last night…”

Then I remembered why she had looked vaguely familiar. The flower grrl from outside the restaurant who had fumbled with the change.

“You sat at the open window,” she went on. ‘1 was able to over-hear most of your conversation.’

I eyed her warily, wondering what might be coming next. Had she found out that Daniel was engaged to another woman and wanted money to keep quiet about our assignation?

“It isn't polite to eavesdrop,” I said. “And anyway, I don't see what interest our conversation could be to you.”

“It was of great interest to me,” she said. “In fact, it was like a miracle. Then, when I found out who you were and where you lived, I knew you must have been sent from heaven in answer to my prayers.

“I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about, Miss …?”

“Lomax,” she said. “Annie Lomax. You talked about the Flynn baby’s kidnapping. You see, I was the child’s nanny.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” I muttered. In spite of years of being a heathen and missing mass, my hand went toward my forehead to cross myself.

“I was not blamed at the hearing,” she went on, as if a dam had broken and the pain and injustice of the past years was spilling out, “but I haven't been able to get another job since then. Everyone believed that I must have had something to do with it, you see, because the child was taken from his nursery in broad day-light, and because I was sweet on Bertie Morell. I've been reduced to begging on the streets and I don't think I'll make it through an-other winter. I've tried everything, miss, except I refused to consider prostitution, because I was raised to be God-fearing. Now I wouldn't have the chance to be a prostitute, even if I wanted to, the way I look.”

“I'm very sorryforyou,” I said, “but I don't see what I can do.”

She stared at me as if I was the simple one. “That man you were ivith, he’s a top policeman, isn't he? And you're some kind of in/estigator. I want you to clear my name,” she said. “Prove to them that I didn't do it.”

I took a deep breath. ‘You'd better come inside.’

I took her into the kitchen and seated her at the table with a :up of tea and some bread and jam. She must have been starving, 3ut she ate like a lady, chewing each morsel daintily.

“You must be something of an investigator yourself, Miss Lonax,” I said as she ate. “How did you manage to track me down?”

She looked up and smiled. “Oh, that wasn't too hard. I heard four gentleman friend give the address to the cabby when you came out of the restaurant.”

I gave her a decent time to finish eating. “Now, Miss Lomax,” I said, “I don't want to dash your hopes, but how do you think I can brove you innocent after all this time?”

“The police asked me lots of questions,” she said, “but they never found anything I did wrong, except they said I was negligent for not checking on the boy more often. He always had a good long sleep after lunch and I'd have disturbed him if I kept opening his door to check on him, wouldn't I?”

I nodded. “But you were friendly with the chauffeur who kiddapped the child?”

“We stepped out together a few times. Bertie was a likable enough fellow. Good-looking, too. But I never imagined in my wildest dreams that he'd do anything like this. In fact, I still have trouble believing that he did it.”

“But surely the police established that he was the kidnapper? They shot him when he went to collect the ransom money.”

A tired smile crossed her face. “Oh, I can believe that Bertie would help himself to money that wasn't his, all right. I'm not dening he wasn't entirely straight. He liked gambling and he got him self involved in a few shady schemes in his life. If he had found out where a large sum of money was to be left for the taking, he might well have decided to help himself to some of it. But kidnapping little Brendan? No, I can't believe it. He loved children. Little Brendan loved him. The prosecution said that was why die kidnapper had been able to take Brendan out of the house without a fuss—because Brendan was comfortable with him. Or because I was in on it too and I was the one who delivered the child to the kidnapper.”

Then if Bertie didn't do the kidnapping, who did?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea. That’s what I want you to find out for me.”

“It’s been many years and the police investigated it thoroughly,” I said. They must have proved beyond doubt that Bertie carried it off alone.”

“They proved it to their own satisfaction,” she said. The public was clamoring for justice. A dead body solved it very neatly for them, wouldn't you say?”

“So you believe that someone else was involved and let Bertie take the rap?”

She nodded. “If Bertie had thought up any scheme to extort money, it would never have involved putting a child in danger.”

“And if anyone else had thought up the scheme and paid Bertie to help carry it out? What then?”

She thought for a moment, staring across my kitchen to where the sunlight came in dappled past the spindly ash tree in the back-yard. “I still don't think he'd have done anything that might risk little Brendan’s life. He wasn't that kind, miss.”

“Do you have any suspicions of your own as to who might have done it?”

She shook her head. “I've been over and over that day in my head. Mrs. Flynn had taken the train to New Yorkforthe day. The house was quiet. I put Brendan down for his nap as usual at one o'clock. I went to darn socks in my own room next door. When I checked on him at three, his crib was empty. He had just learned to climb out over the side, the little monkey that he was, so I went lookingforhim. But he wasn't anywhere to be found. I alerted the master, who was in the middle of a meeting in his study. He summoned all the servants and we searched everywhere—right down to the riverbank. Then that evening we found the ransom note at he front gate.”

“If the child could climb out of his own crib and wander away, then anyone could have taken a chance and snatched him.”

She shook her head violently. “He'd never have been able to wander off the estate by himself. It’s a good half-mile to the gate, and that was kept locked and there’s a gatekeeper at die lodge. It’s always possible that the kidnapper came by river, I suppose. There are places along the shoreline where a small boat could land without being observed, but”—she paused as if weighing the options, then hook her head again—”it was broad daylight. There are lawns ground the house, and there’s never a time you don't run into a servant or a gardener. And how would the kidnapper know that little Brendan would choose that very moment to climb out of his crib?”

I had to agree with her. If I were going to kidnap a child, I'd hardly have chosen broad daylight in the middle of the afternoon at the child’s own home, unless I were very sure of myself—which brecluded, in my mind, an outsider.

I extracted my notepad and pencil from a drawer in the kitchen Iresser.

“So who was in the house at the time?” I asked.

She frowned in concentration. “The Senator, of course, and Mr. Rimes?”

Mr. Rimes? Who’s he?”

“The master’s good friend and adviser. He started off by running Mr. Flynn’s first campaign, for the State Senate, and then he was asked to stay on and keep giving advice when Mr. Flynn went to Washington. The master thought a lot of him. Can't say that I did. He was rather rude and blustering for my taste. Not from the top drawer, if you get my meaning.”

“So they were in Mr. Flynn’s study together, is that right?”

“And both talking away nineteen to the dozen, if I know them, Both liked the sound of their own voices.”

“So they wouldn't have heard anything.”

She nodded agreement.

“Who else?”

“Oh, the Senator’s secretary would have been with them, taking notes.”

“And her name?”

“The secretary was a he,” she said. “A coldfishby the name of O'Mara. Desmond O'Mara.”

I scribbled it down, then looked up expectantly

“That’s all,” she said. “Like I said, the mistress had gone to town shopping, which meant that her cousin would have gone with her. This cousin, a spinster older lady called Miss Tompkins, lived with them, as a kind of companion for Mrs. Ffynn. Mrs. Flynn took her everywhere with her.”

“So no one else was in the house that afternoon except for the master in his study with his cronies?”

“That’s correct,” she said. “Except for the servants, of course.”

I was interested that she had hardly thought the servants worth mentioning, even though she had been one herself.

“And how many of them would there have been?”

She pushed her hair back from her face, resting her fingerson a grubbyforehead.”Let me see—the butler, of course—Mr. Soames. English. Very proper. Then there was a footman and the master’s valet, and the mistress’s lady’s maid, then just housemaids and parlor maids and cook and the scullery maid.”

“What about their names and anything you can tell me about them?”

“No point,” she said. “After the kidnapping, the mistress dis-missed everyone. She said she'd never be able to trust them again, so they went. They'd all be new now.”

“But did you suspect any of them at the time?”

There was one gardener, called Adam. A local man employed for the summer. I never liked the look of him—” She dared to look up expectantly. “Does this mean you're going to do it? You'll try and prove my innocence?”

“I'm going to be there anyway,” I said. “What harm can it do to ask ask a few questions?”

Her face lit up and I saw that she might have once been a very handsome young woman. “I've nothing to pay you with,” she said. “Of course, you can see that, can't you? But youll have my devotion and gratitude to my dying day if you can show them I had nothing to do with it. Youll have given me back my life.”

“I really can't promise anything, so please don't get your hopes up too high,” I said cautiously.

“If anyone can do it, I know you can.” She was still beaming at me as if I was some kind of celestial being, which made me un-comfortable. “You've got that look about you.”

“Where do you come from, Miss Lomax?” I asked.

“New York, miss. I was born in Yonkers.”

“To Irish parents?”

She shook her head. “No, miss. Scottish Presbyterians.”

I grinned. “Then for somebody without Irish blood, you've a good command of blarney.”

She looked puzzled. I reached across and patted her hand. “No matter,” I said. “But I will try my best for you.”

She drained the last of her mug of tea, then got to her feet. My conscience was wrestling with me. Could I, should I just let her go back onto the streets?

'Thank you again, with all my heart,” she said and opened the Front door.

“Just a minute, Miss Lomax,” I called after her. “How will I know where tofindyou if I have news? Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“You'll find on my patch of Broadway, miss. Right where you got out of the cab is where I sell myflowersevery evening.”

“But where do you live? Do you sleep on the streets?”

“Oh no, miss. A group of us girls shares a room down by the docks, in an alley off Water Street. Not exactly what you'd call a respectable neighborhood. I wouldn't want you contacting me there.” She looked up shyly. “I'll stop by your house from time to time, with your permission?”

The struggle with my conscience was still going on. I could take her in here, couldn't I? I'd be gone to the Flynns' mansion and she could maybe help look after the little ones. I knew it was a risk. She could, after all, be a complete crook. She could bring gangster cronies to take over my house. “Look, Annie,” I began. “May I call you Annie?”

She grinned. “A darned sight better than what most people call me these days.”

“Annie—I'11 be gone to Senator Flynn’s house in a while. You could stay here—”

She shook her head violently. “Oh no, miss. That wouldn't be right. You don't even know me, and besides, this fellow who supplies us with the flowers and lets us sleep in the room, he wouldn't take kindly to me sleeping somewhere else. He likes to keep us where he can see us, in case we do a bunk with more than our share of the profits. You're already doing more than enough for me. And if you can clear my name—well, I'll just tell that fellow what he can do with hisflowers, right?”

And she laughed.

I watched her walk down Patchin Place with a lump in my throat. Why had I agreed to do something that might be beyond my capabilities? And of course I knew the answer. Because that pitiful figure might have been me. I too had arrived in New York with nothing but the clothes on my back. I too had faced starvation and it was only by luck that I was not selling flowers or worse on the streets of the city. I'd had more than my share of luck. Maybe it was Annie Lomax’s turn.