In Like Flynn

by Rhys Bowen

  “Don't be afraid, Miss Gaffney, it’s only me.” And Roland Van Gelder stood there in a repeat performance of our first meeting.

  “Mr. Van Gelder,” I gasped. “Do you make a practice of lurking behind this tree to scare poor helpless females?”

  He grinned like a wicked schoolboy. “Not a practice, I assure you. I came over today because Mother is having a house party and I hate having to make polite conversation with people I don't know. And if I climb up onto that branch,” he added, “I have an excellent view of Adare and Miss Belinda sitting on the veranda.”

  “You've been spying on us?” I demanded.

  He blushed. “Not all of you. Just Miss Belinda. Don't you think she’s the loveliest creature you've ever seen?”

  “I hope I don't look at her in quite the same way as you,” I said. “She doesn't return my affections,” he muttered. “I know why too.”

  “You do?” Could he possibly know that she found him a boorish oaf?

  “It’s because we no longer have a family fortune. Belinda is used to the finer things of life. We are reduced to meager circumstances, and I don't have a head for business, I'm afraid. My parents despair of me. All in all I'm a terrible disappointment to everyone.”

  He was speaking in his soft, calm voice but suddenly I felt most uneasy talking to him. We were far from both houses, too far for anyone to hear me scream. I remembered Theresa telling me how Roland had a foul temper. And there was something chilling about a grown man who climbed trees to spy on people, wasn't there?

  “I really should go,” I said. “I have to tell your mother important news.”

  “News?” he asked innocently.

  “Yes, I'm afraid that—” I broke off. “I'm afraid that we have had a spate of sickness at the house. We just hope that it isn't infectious and we haven't passed it on to you,” I added lamely.

  “I see.” The way he was looking at me made me feel that he knew more than he was letting on. How long had he been spying from his tree? Had he seen the constable and the doctor arriving? Had he seen any of us weeping?

  “Maybe you'd be good enough to show me the way through the hedge that you always use,” I suggested. “I have no wish to walk all the way up to the road on a day like this.”

  “Okay,” he said affably. “Follow me.”

  He took off at a brisk pace between bushes and past brambles until at last he squeezed through a gap in the tall cedar hedge. “Don't ask me to come anyfartherwith you,” he said. “And please don't mention to Mother that you've seen me. I don't want her to know where I am.”

  “Of course not,” I said. “I thank youforyour assistance, Mr. Van Gelder.”

  I let out a sigh of relief as he turned back into the forest. My heightened imagination had turned everybody I met into a potential killer.

  Thirty

  As I approached Riverside, the Van Gelders' solid brick house, I heard voices and saw that tables had been set out on the lawn and a game of croquet was going on. Several ladies stood under parasols, while one young lady concentrated on her croquet shot and her beau followed her, holding the parasol. I heard the thwack of mallet against ball and then a man’s voice calling,“Good shot, Emily,” and polite applause.

  I skirted around them, hoping to make for the house without being noticed. And indeed, nobody looked up from the croquet game until I was about to enter through French doors and almost collided with Mrs. Van Gelder as she rushed out calling, “Roland—where is that wretched boy when I need him?”

  She gasped and stepped back as I loomed up in front of her. “Miss Gaffney! What a pleasant surprise. You must have read my mind.”

  “Read your mind, Mrs. Van Gelder?”

  “As you can see, we're having a little house party here. They've just finished breakfast and were keen to play croquet before it be-came too warm. Nothing like the grand affairs we used to have in the summer, just a few old family friends, but I thought it might provide a little entertainment for you young people next door. Poor Miss Butler is used to a much livelier scene, I fear, and you too. So I wanted to send Roland over to Adare to invite you all, but I can neverfindthe useless boy when I need him.”

  “I'm afraid we won't be able to accept your kind invitation today,” I said. “In fact I have come to bring you the most terrible news. Mrs. Flynn died during the night. We are a house in mourning.”

  “That poor dear woman dead? God rest her soul. Still, it wasn't exactly unexpected, was it? She didn't look well when you dined with us a week ago and I gather she took to her bed the next day. And the poor thing was in torment about her son. And so delicate too.”

  I nodded silently.

  “Well, dear me,” she went on, putting her hand to her ample bosom, “this changes everything. I was planning to have dancing tonight, but it wouldn't berightnow, would it?” She looked across in the direction of Adare. “And what about the croquet? Do you think I should stop them from playing?”

  “I am sure Senator Flynn wouldn't expect your house to go into mourning, as long as no loud music comes in our direction,” I said. “You do have guests, after all, and they will expect to be entertained.”

  “How thoughtful you are, my dear.” She smiled at me. “And how kindtocome all this way to tell us the news.”

  I flushed with guilt as my motive had not been at all unselfish. “I wondered—” I stammered, “if I could possibly use your telephone? Senator Flynn is busy in his office and I didn't like to disturb him, but I do have a very important call to make.”

  “But of course,” she said. “Come this way. And afterward you must at least come and meet my guests and have a glass of lemonade with us.”

  “You're most kind.“ I followed her into the house and was led to the telephone in the master’s study. I fervently hoped that she wouldn't stand behind me listening, but she was tact itself and dosed the door behind her. I picked up the receiver and asked the operator to connect me to police headquarters in New York City. No, I didn't know the number, but it must be one that she could find out easily. She did and soon came on to say that I was connected and could go ahead.

  “I'd like to speak with Captain Daniel Sullivan,” I said. “It’s very urgent.”

  “Captain Sullivan? Hold the line please.” 1 heard a muffled conversation, then the voice came back on the line again. “Captain Sullivan is off duty today. Would you like to speak to one of the other officers, or the sergeant on duty?”

  “No, thank you,” I mumbled. “You don't happen to know if Captain Sullivan is at home, do you?”

  “I'm just an ordinary constable, miss. He don't keep me informed of his social engagements.” He ended with a chuckle. “But there are plenty of other officers here who could help you if it’s urgent.”

  “No. No, thank you.” I hung up and dialed his home number. It rang and rang. I put back the receiver and stared at it for a long moment. Tears of frustration welled up in my eyes. I had counted so much on being able to talk to Daniel and now I'd have to wait until he came to rescue me. I would have to go back to a house where there was at least one murderer present. I supposed it was possible that the person who pushed Margie McAlister to her death was not the one who administered an overdose of sleeping powders to Theresa Flynn, but that really did seem like a surfeit of murderers in one location. Besides, in my limited experience one murder inevitably led to another.

  I had just put down the telephone into its cradle when the study door opened. Justin Hartley came in and shut the door be-hind him.

  “Finally we're alone, Molly Murphy,” he said.

  “Really, Mr. Hartley, we've just experienced a great tragedy at Adare and I'm in no mood for your extraordinary games,” I said. “Now please stand aside and open this door before I start yelling.”

  “I wouldn't do that, if I were you,” he said. “I don't want to upset my hosts by summoning the police to their residence, but I will if I have to.” He moved toward me. “I must say, Molly Murphy, that I'm most impressed with your
transformation. Quite the elegant lady, aren't we? I knew my mother made a mistake when she educated you with my sisters. I told her it would lead to nothing but trouble and it has.”

  “I can take your nonsense no longer,” I said and went to push past him. He grabbed my arm and spun me around.

  “I can prove that you are not the Senator’s cousin,” he said, “but a peasant girl from Connemara. A peasant girl who tried to kill me.”

  He has written to Ireland, I thought, and he saw thefearflash across my face. I was furious with myself immediately, but it was too late. “And how can you prove it?” I asked.

  “Molly Murphy had a little scar on the side of her neck. She got it from falling out of a tree on our estate. I noticed it the other day when you were fanning yourself with your hat. So I no longer have even a shadow of doubt.” He was gloating. “I must say you've playeda good game, Molly. Quite impressive. I like a woman with spunk. In fact, if circumstances were different, I mightfindmyself quite attracted to you.”

  “I, on the other hand, would not be attracted to you if you were the last man on earth,” I said. “Now let go of me this instant. My relatives are waiting for me at Adare.”

  He was smiling now, such an unpleasant smile. “Goodness me, Molly Murphy—won't your newfound relatives be surprised when theyfindyou arrested and dragged home in chains?”

  When I had left Ireland, I was a peasant girl with no one to speak on my behalf. But I'd had to stand on my own feet ever since and I'd learned a thing or two in the process.

  “And why do you think that I might be arrested, Mr. Hartley?” I turned to face him.

  “For attempted murder, of course. You're damned lucky that it wasn't for murder itself. If my dog hadn't run home and raised the alarm, the doctors say I should have bled to death. Instead, I had to endure months in the hospital and I'll never be truly fit again.”

  I didn't let my gazefalter.“It’s strange that you should see it that way, Mr. Hartley. I saw it as trying to defend myself against attempted rape. And if it’s any consolation, I never meant to hurt you.

  I was just trying to push you away from me. It was purely accidental that the floor was slippery and you went over backward and hit your head on our stove.”

  “No matter what the circumstances, it was a vicious attack that left me almost dead. People have swung for less.”

  “In Ireland maybe, where we are ruled by foreign invaders and where we Irish have no voice. But this is America, Mr. Hartley, where all are equal in the eyes of the law and where forcing your attentions on a young woman against her will earn you a trip to Sing Sing across the river. So it would be your word against mine, and”— I challenged him with my eyes—“I happen to have a very good friend who is a senior captain in the New York Police, who will come to my aid at the snap of my fingers. If you want to risk it, Mr. Hartley, go ahead, but I warn you, I'm not the helpless little peasant girl who ran away a year ago. I have plenty of powerful friends in these parts.”

  With a thrill of recognition I saw that he was surprised, alarmed even.

  “And I suppose you'll be telling me next that the Senator really is your cousin?”

  “Why should I not have discovered a newfound cousin in America?” I demanded, not wanting to resort to the outright lie. “As you know yourself, we Irish breed like rabbits. I probably have cousins all over the place. Cousin Bamey Flynn has been very good to me, and he’s another powerful man, one who would not take kindly to any rogue who attacked me.”

  I could see that I had him. His eyes darted nervously toward the door.

  “You exaggerate,” he said. “It certainly wasn't an attack. How was I to know you didn't welcome my attentions?”

  “I thought the words ‘no’ and ‘get out of my cottage’ were quite self-explanatory.”

  “I thought you were just playing hard to get.” He laughed nervously.

  “You ripped the front of my dress,” I said. “You told me that you owned me as much as any of the animals on the farm. You forced me onto the kitchen table and you would have raped me. It was an attack. And it wouldn't go down too well in an American court oflaw.”

  “I'm sure I didn't—” he began.

  “If you want to put it to the test, I'm game to take you on,” I said. “Go on. Call in Mrs. Van Gelder. Admit to what you did to me in front of all of her guests. Then come over to Adare and tell my cousin Bamey who is grieving the death of his wife.”

  Justin’s mouth dropped open. “Mrs. Flynn?”

  “Died last night. And I'm needed by my grieving relatives. So if you will excuse me—”

  I opened the door and he didn't stop me. I came out of the study to find Mrs. Van Gelder hovering by the French windows.

  “Ah, Miss Gaffney. There you are. It must be such a strain, having to convey such bad news. You look quite pale, my dear. Would you like to sit down? Should I have the chauffeur drive you home?”

  “No, thank you. I can walk back the way I came, along the river,” I said.

  “At least take a glass of lemonade with us before you go,” she said. “We will have to break your news to my guests, and I'd appreciate your support. I fear the poor dears will be so disappointed when they hear there is to be no dancing tonight.”

  I really didn't want to have to face a bevy of strangers at this moment but I had no alternative. Mrs. Van Gelder took afirmgrip on my wrist and I was literally dragged out to the terrace. The croquet game was still going go and more guests were watching from the terrace steps. It seemed that the Van Gelders had invited an impressive number to their house party.

  “Your attention please, everybody!” Mrs. Van Gelder clapped her hands as if she was bringing a class of schoolchildren to order. “I'd like to introduce you to Miss Gaffney from Ireland. Miss Gaffney is a cousin of Senator Flynn who lives next door and she has come, I'm afraid, with the most tragic news.”

  The croquet players froze in mid-action so thatthey resembled a French painting by one of those delightfully modem Impressionists. Everyone was staring at us. Mrs. Van Gelder nudged me and I realized that she expected me to deliver the bad news myself.

  “I regret to inform you,” I said, finding it hard to deliver the words with all those eyes upon me, “that my hostess, Mrs. Flynn, passed away last night.”

  There was a collective gasp. A couple of the women began to swoon and were caught by attentive males. An older woman fanned herself. Nobody made the sign of the cross, indicating that this was entirely a Protestant gathering. Nobody cried or wailed, indicating that it was entirely non-Irish.

  I hoped just to slip away at this point but they had surrounded me. Was Mrs. Flynn in ill heath? It wasn't typhoid, was it? They had come from the city for that very reason … Questions were peppered at me. Mrs. Van Gelder placed the glass of punch into my hands. “Drink this, dear. It will make you feel better.”

  “Mrs. Flynn’s death—was it an accident?” a voice asked. I turned to answer and found myself looking straight at Daniel Sullivan. What’s more, Miss Arabella Norton was standing at his side, looking as lovely as ever in a pink lace dress with matching parasol. No wonder he had been able to reach my bedroom window so easily the Sunday night after church. He had been staying with the neighbors as part of their house party. I forgot about tragedy and intrigue as I fought back anger and jealousy. He hadn't come all the way from the city because he was concerned with my welfare. He had only bothered to check on me because he was staying in the house next door with his fiancee. Would he have given me a second thought if he hadn't been so close by? I fought with my emotions and tried to remain calmly professional. I had, after all, been hired to complete an assignment.

  “No accident, sir,” I replied and saw his eyebrows react to my meaning.

  “I must come to pay my respects to the Senator,” he said. “He is an old and good friend of myfamily. May I escort you back to Adare, miss?”

  “Daniel, we have to finish our croquet gamefirst.” Arabella tugged at his arm. “Yo
u can't just desert our team, especially not when we're winning.”

  “Arabella—Mrs. Flynn has just died. Where is your sense of decorum?” Daniel frowned.

  Arabella gave a silly giggle and tossed back her head. “It’s not as if I knew her well. I only met the woman once, I'm sure. Indeed, I'm very sorry for her, but life has to go on, doesn't it, and I don't see how our not playing croquet can make anything better for anyone.”

  “If you'd care to take a seat and wait, Miss Gaffney?” Daniel said. His eyes were Imploring. I chose not to be implored.

  ”Please don't concern yourself with me,” I said stiffly. “I can find my own way back, and I choose to be alone at atimeof such grief. Please excuse me, Mrs. Van Gelder, but I am needed at Adare.” I handed her my untouched glass of lemonade, nodded politely to the assembled company and made my exit.

  As I left I heard Arabella’s high, clear voice saying, “Dotellme, Daniel, does every girl in Ireland have red hair? They all look the sametome.”

  If it had been a happier occasion, I would have smiled.

  Thirty One

  I reached the gap in the hedge and squeezed through. There was no sign of Roland anywhere near the big oak tree. Maybe he had other vantage points from which to spy on Belinda. I was reluctant to go back to the house but I realized that I had to act normally until Daniel arranged for my departure. He had promised me he would get me out and I didn't think he would forget that promise—unless Arabella was in the middle of another stupid croquet game. I felt tears stinging at the back of my eyes and angrily brushed them away. I knew perfectly well that Daniel was engaged to another woman. I thought I had learned to accept it by now, but it was always a shock to see them together. At least he would come over to Adare as soon as he could. That was a comforting thought. And once he appeared, I would find a way to share my suspicions with him and he would take charge. Thus reassured, I made my way back through the undergrowth.

  A twig cracked on the path ahead of me. I looked up and found myself face tofacewith Bamey Flynn.