In Dublin's Fair City (10 page)

“I have no intention of running away,” I said haughtily. “I have no reason to.”

As he spoke, he continued to poke around the rest of the cabin, but in the end he shook his head. “Nothing more in here,” he said. “Right. Let's go upstairs again.” He picked up my valise. “You girls stay put until you’ve given your statements to my sergeant.”

“And our mistresses will be wanting us to finish their packing. We’ll get in awful trouble,” one of them wailed. “We had nothing to do with poor Rose's death, I swear it, sir, on my mother's grave.”

“Of course you didn’t.” He sounded almost kindly. “Go on with you then. Just make sure we’ve got your names and addresses.”

They gave him grateful smiles and fled. As we made our way back to the first-class deck we were greeted by another plainclothes’ officer. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to search the cabins, sir,” he said. “A good number of passengers are disembarking here and all their luggage is already packed up and stacked to go ashore.”

The inspector sighed. “Of course it would be. So much for that. Oh well, let's get on with that medical inspection. I’ll need you with me, Miss Murphy and let's have those cabin stewards as well. What were their names?”

“Henry and Frederick,” I said.

“Henry and Frederick. Got that, Connelly? Where's that blasted first officer? I want to know where we’ll be setting up shop.”

I followed him reluctantly. The shock of the last night, the lack ofsleep, and the knowledge that I might be confronting a killer made me feel positively sick. I touched the inspector's arm.

“Do I have to be there? I really don’t feel too well.”

“Don’t worry,” Inspector Harris said, sensing my discomfort. “I’ll be putting you and the stewards out of sight, behind a curtain or something. I want you to observe but not be seen. You let me know when you see anyone with whom you had any kind of contact during the voyage, anyone you noticed hanging around you, and we’ll have his luggage brought to us.”

We were led to the foyer and Henry, Frederick, and I were seated behind a screen of potted palms. Inspector Harris sat with the ship's doctor at a table.

“Right, send the first ones in,” the inspector called.

The first passengers were brought through.

“How long is this going to take?” a distinguished-looking man in a frock coat demanded. “I’m expected to preside over a meeting later today.”

“You’ll be free to go after the doctor has given you a quick examination, sir. We don’t want any of our passengers spreading disease now, do we?” the first officer said calmly.

“Spreading disease? Look at me, man. I’m fit as a fiddle. Stuff and nonsense. Well, go on then. Get on with it.”

The doctor examined his hands, throat, and eyes, then pronounced him fit to go. “Come, Martha,” the man instructed, and a meek little woman scurried after him.

A positive stream of passengers followed. Women with children, elderly couples were whisked through with the wave of a hand. Henry or Frederick singled out men whom they recognized as having attempted an audience with Miss Sheehan. As the inspector had predicted, some of them were indeed married and had their wives in tow. They were not pleased at being detained.

Mr. Fitzpatrick came past. He gave his address as Yonkers, near New York City, visiting Ireland on business. He had not attended the ball last night. He didn’t go in for such things and had spent the evening in the bar with a couple of other fellows discussing racing prospects.

I peeped around the potted plant as I heard Miss Sheehan's name mentioned.

“The actress, you mean?” I heard Mr. Fitzpatrick ask. “I believe I did observe her out on deck once. She wasn’t looking at all well, I thought. Has she been stricken with this sickness we’ve been hearing about? I have to tell you that I feel absolutely fine myself and see no reason to be detained any longer. I’m interested in a filly racing this afternoon, y’-know.”

I watched a police sergeant taking down details, and Mr. Fitzpatrick left. I tried to go through my conversation with him again in my mind. It had been a casual encounter, nothing threatening, but why say that he had observed me on deck once and not mentioned that he had spoken with me? I wondered whether there was any significance in this and decided that rumors must fly around enclosed communities like ocean liners. Perhaps he had gotten word of Rose's death and wanted to make sure he was not detained in any way.

I looked up with interest as Artie Fortwrangler came onto the scene. He smiled easily and gave his address as New York City and Newport, Rhode Island. He stated that his father was Arthur Fortwrangler III, and that he was destined for the family business when he’d completed his studies at Yale. Yes, he’d been at the ball, in a spiffing costume as Mephistopheles—quite sinister, you know. He answered the medical questions the doctor put to him without hesitation. He was feeling just fine and dandy,- no contact, as far as he could remember, with anyone who was sick, apart from Miss Sheehan, who had a sore throat. He admitted to an infatuation with Miss Sheehan, in fact, he claimed to have seen every single performance of
As You Like It
, in which she played Viola—even though he loathed Shakespeare. He also admitted, somewhat sheepishly, that he had taken this ship knowing that Oona Shee-han was to be a traveling companion and hoping to strike up a closer acquaintanceship with her. “They always say romance blossoms on the high seas, don’t they?” He grinned hopefully.

He looked puzzled when he was asked to wait in a nearby lounge, but went willingly enough. I heard the inspector sending for his bags and also giving instructions to requisition the Mephistopheles costume. As I watched him go, with his long, boyish stride, I couldn’t imaginehim killing anybody. He’d probably be the type who fainted at the sight of blood.

More people filed past. Teddy turned out to be the Honorable Edward Mulhane, and Bertie was Albert Everingham-Smythe—both harmless-looking young men who expressed extreme disappointment at not being able to meet Oona Sheehan. And then I stiffened. An older man had come into the room, dressed in shabbier fashion than those who had preceded him. Tweed jacket, impressive side whiskers. I realized with a start that he was the man I had observed watching me on deck.

“That's the older man who was following me,” I whispered. The message was passed along the line to the inspector. A low conversation followed. The inspector nodded and glanced in my direction. He shook hands with the other man, who then followed other passengers through the door that led to freedom.

“Wait!” I blurted out the word and stood up behind my potted palm. I saw the inspector glance at me and frown. Hadn’t he said himself that it wasn’t just young single men who would be under suspicion? Then a chilling thought entered my head—he might not be taking this exercise as seriously as I was. It struck me that he might not be observing the people who passed him as much as watching my reactions to them. I might still be the suspect he was observing, or he might be on the hunt for my accomplice.

Then, as the next passengers were ushered in, a note was passed to me.

“The man you identified is an inspector from Scotland Yard, apparently on the trail of a jewel thief. He will now be helping me with my inquiries.”

So there was a jewel thief on board the boat! No wonder robbery was the first motive that Inspector Harris had come up with. And the only person who could have told us if Miss Sheehan had any jewels on board was now lying under a sheet, murdered. I found myself feeling strangely relieved. If the crime had only been an offshoot of a robbery that went wrong, then I myself wasn’t in any danger. I could leave this ship and get on with my quest to find Tommy Burke's sister.

Twelve

A
s the tide of passengers passing us slowed to a trickle, Inspector Harris rose and came over to us.

“You are free to leave the ship, Miss Murphy. I don’t think

there's anything more you can do for us today.”

The thought did cross my mind to remind them that I was an investigator and maybe there was something more I could do to help. Then I decided that I was still a suspect and might easily have been the victim. Miss Sheehan had deliberately put me in harm's way, and if I were sensible, I’d escape while the going was good.

“So can I collect my belongings from Miss Sheehan's cabin now? It's only a few bits and pieces I have there, but a lady can’t be expected to travel without her toiletries, can she?”

He nodded without smiling. “Very well. I’ll send a constable up with you. And we’ll need an address to forward Miss Sheehan's stuff. Remember, you’re to stick around the area for the inquest.”

“When will that be, do you think? I can’t stay in Ireland indefinitely.”

“Within the next week, I’m sure. I haven’t yet got in touch with the coroner. We’ll let you know the details. I’ll be making the main Cork Police Station my headquarters until this matter is sorted out, so you’ll know where to find me.”

“Thank you.” I picked up the bag I had recovered from Rose's cabin, and went ashore wearing Miss Sheehan's smart, striped two-piece costume. After what she had put me through, I felt it was the very least she could do for me. It's wonderful what clothing can do for a person. No sooner had I stepped down the gangway than I was besieged by cab drivers, all wanting to give me a ride to the train station.

“Where's the rest of your luggage, my lady?” one of them asked, attempting to wrestle my small valise from me.

My lady? That was definitely a step up. I smiled graciously and said that it was being sent on to my hotel. Then I allowed him to lead me to a nearby two-seater cart. He helped me to climb up, and we joined the crush of vehicles attempting to leave the port. Once I was seated comfortably, I had a chance to become aware of my surroundings for the first time, and memories came rushing back to me: the tang of seaweed and fish in the air, the fishing nets drying on the quayside, the seagulls wheeling overhead, and from an open window the sound of a fiddle being played. I was quite unprepared for the flood of emotion these produced in me. I hadn’t thought much of Ireland since I fled almost two years ago. Frankly, I had been glad to get away from it. I hadn’t believed I could ever be homesick, but now I felt tears welling up in my eyes that I was home again and this was my land.

“What did you say?” I asked the driver, aware that he had been talking.

“I was saying it was a grand day to be coming home, my lady. They don’t make skies like that in America, I’ll be bound.”

I looked up at the white puffy clouds scudding across that clear, glass blue sky and agreed with him.

“You’ll be taking the train for Dublin, I don’t doubt,” he went on.

“No, I’m staying in Cork for a while,” I said. “I have business to attend to there.”

“Then why don’t I take you all the way myself,” he said. “Dolly is as willing and frisky as a colt, and I’ll charge you no more than that smelly old train.”

For the first time in ages I laughed. “Do you think I’ve been away from Ireland so long that I’ve forgotten what blarney sounds like?” I asked, and he laughed too. But it was a delightful autumn day, and I was in no hurry. What could be the harm in riding those five miles in the fresh air?

“Very well,” I said, “only let's agree on a price now.”

As it turned out I had been away from Ireland long enough to have forgotten several things, one of them being that the weather never stays constant for more than an hour or so. Dolly proved to be neither frisky nor that willing either and toiled slowly up the long hill out of Queen-stown. I enjoyed the view down to the harbor with the great liner dwarfing the freighters and fishing boats around it until troubling thoughts crept to the edge of my conscious mind, reminding me that a girl lay dead on that ship, and that her killer was still at large. If I had decided not to go to that ball...IfI had sent Rose away and been in the cabin alone, I might have been lying there instead of Rose. There had been other times when I would have wanted to help find her murderer, but I confess that this time I just wanted to get as far away in the least time possible. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as the horse's head drooped and she went almost into a trance of slowness.

“You said she was as ‘frisky as a colt,’“ I reminded the driver. “I’d like to make Cork before the weather changes. I glanced up at the sky. A stiff breeze had sprung up from the west, sending those clouds scudding faster across the sky. Bigger and darker clouds raced in to take their place, and we were halfway there when the first raindrops spattered onto us.

“Do you have a hood to this contraption?” I asked.

The driver grinned as he shook his head. “A little bit of rain never hurt anybody,” he said. “Don’t you ladies always carry an umbrella?”

“My luggage is still on board the ship,” I reminded him, “and my umbrella with it.”

He did, however, produce an old blanket which I suspect had been used on the horse. I attempted to shield myself from the worst of the rain with it and eventually made him pull up at an inn so I could take shelter until the storm had passed. The gray drizzle persisted, and I arrived in Cork at last, feeling chilled and miserable.

“And where will you be staying?” he asked.

Having been dubbed “my lady,” my vanity took over and I didn’t want to diminish myself in his eyes by suggesting some clean and simple establishment. Besides, my expenses were being covered, weren’t they?

“I’ve never been in Cork before,” I said, “but I’m sure there are some fine hotels here.”

“I wouldn’t know one from the other myself,” he muttered, “not having stayed at a hotel in my entire life, but I’ll take you to St. Patrick's Street. The Victoria Hotel is about the best Cork has to offer, so I hear. It's the sort of place where the gentry hobnob.”

As we approached St. Patrick's Street, a wide and elegant boulevard with gracious stone buildings on either side, we were treated to another dose of cloudburst, so that I went up the steps of the Victoria Hotel looking less like “your ladyship” than I had hoped.

“Who would have thought the weather would have turned on us so quickly?” was the closest the clerk at the reception desk came to acknowledging that I looked like a drowned rat. I showed him my letters of credit and was taken to a spacious room. I’d have been overwhelmed at the opulence of it had I not spent the last week in a first-class cabin and thus become used to such finery. All the same, it was very nice, and I admired the molded ceiling, the velvet drapes, and the regency-striped wallpaper while I waited for the enormous bathtub to fill with hot water in the white-tiled bathroom. If only I could invite my family to visit me here, I found myself thinking—showing, of course, what a shallow person I really was. Then I reminded myself that I could not contact my family. Nobody in county Mayo must know I was here or the warrant for my arrest might resurface. So far I had been lucky, and I had pushed my luck too many times recently. I was here to perform a simple task. I was going to do it and then go back to America and get on with my life.

Which made my thoughts turn to Daniel. He hadn’t entered my head for a day or so. Was that a bad sign? Surely young lovers pined for each other constantly, thought of nothing else, and sighed with deep longing for the moment when they could rush into each other's arms again. I suppose it was because my courtship with Daniel had taken so many strange turns that I had learned to shut him from my mind and not dare hope for a future together. I was still finding it hard to picture that future.

I sat at the writing desk and wrote him a quick note, informing him that I had landed safely and would be based here for the next few days.I didn’t mention Rose's murder or the strange circumstances on the ship. No need to inflict any more worries on him at this moment when he was clearly still in the deepest fear for his own future. I hesitated at signing it “love, Molly” and signed it just with my name instead. Then I repeated the same sentiments in a letter to Sid and Gus and finally a note to Inspector Harris, care of the Cork Police Station, letting him know where he could find me.

The rain had now stopped, so I ventured out to find the police station for myself. Cork was an elegant city with lots of fine buildings, but after New York it felt like a sleepy backwater. Not an automobile to be seen on those broad streets, no electric tram cars, just the occasional horse-drawn cart or carriage. The sidewalks were not crowded with New York's teeming crush of humanity, and it was so quiet that the seagull's cries and clip-clop of horse's hooves were the only sounds over the sigh of the ever-present wind. It was like being in a city that time had forgotten.

At the end of the street I came to a wide river, and I stood on a bridge savoring the feel of the fresh Irish air in my face. And a surge of excitement swept through me—I was back in my homeland, I had money in my pocket, and a straightforward task to fulfil. Free and independent—what more could I wish for?

Then, of course, I was reminded that life wasn’t as simple as I was making it out to be. I wondered how the police were getting on with solving Rose's murder. Had their search turned up any suspects? And more to the point, had Miss Sheehan telegraphed from New York to give some explanation for her strange behavior? I wondered if she felt guilty about what had happened to her servant. Maybe servants were as expendable to her as young lady detectives. Had she really tricked me into traveling in her place because she knew her life would be in danger? In which case, why not report her suspicions to the police? Why not hire a bodyguard to look after her? The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.

I turned away from the river and set off again at a brisk pace. I located the police station and handed in the note for Inspector Harris. The young policeman at the counter eyed me with obvious interest, asked me if I was new in town and where I might be staying. I was gratified to notice his expression change when I told him the Victoria Hotel.

After that I made my way back to the hotel in time for afternoon tea, which I ate among the potted palms to the sound of an orchestra composed entirely of elderly men. It was most civilized, to be sure. I was interrupted in the middle of a chocolate eclair to be told that my luggage had now arrived and had been taken up to my room. I went up to see, opened the door, and stopped short: my train case was on a side table and the entire floor was taken up with five huge trunks. Miss Shee-han, it seemed, did not believe in traveling light.

How on earth was I going to deal with that amount of luggage? I sincerely hoped she would arrange to have it collected right away, or I’d be forever clambering over a mountaineering course to reach my bed. I tried to drag one of the trunks into a corner, but it was too heavy for me to move alone. Two of them were locked and I possessed no keys. One was open. I rummaged through it but it contained only clothes. I supposed that those beaded capes and velvet evening dresses must weigh a ton. I stared at them, puzzled. If she had really not planned to travel in the first place, why pack what must have been a good portion of her clothing? Which brought me back to my first theory: she had spotted someone on board who represented danger to her and had decided to remove herself from harm's way.

I decided to go back to the police station and see if there was any news yet.coming down the steps of the hotel, I bumped into Inspector Harris, on his way to see me.

“I was coming to see you, Inspector,” I said. “Is there any news?”

He shook his head. “Nothing that I can tell you at the moment.”

“So that medical inspection didn’t turn up any suspects? No red hairs on garments or crumpled stewards’ uniforms stuffed into luggage?”

He shook his head with a smile. “I’m afraid not. We saw how nicely our man cleaned up after himself in your cabin. And no fingerprints. He's a careful, tidy sort of chap, by the look of it, and we’ll have a devil of a time catching him. But we’re not about to give up yet.” He glanced up at the imposing portico of the hotel. “I take it Mr. Burke is financing this fancy establishment,” he said.