In Like Flynn

by Rhys Bowen

  “She left you to go where?”

  To get married, mademoiselle. She left me to marry a great brute of a farmer. Amos Clegg, he was called. She was a delicate little thing and I did not think she would make a good farmer’s wife, but beggars can't be choosers.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked. “She was an attractive girl, I understand. She could presumably have chosen from a selection of beaux.”

  She leaned closer to me. “She was unwise, mademoiselle. She got herself into trouble and the man who trifled with her affections could not marry her. So this Clegg person was willing to overlook the circumstances and she went off to live on afarmin the middle of nowhere.”

  “In the middle of nowhere? Far from here?”

  She shrugged in that remarkably Gallic way. “Me, I do not con-cern myself with the geography of tlW New York countryside.“

  “So she hasn't been back to visit then?”

  “On one occasion, but it is again several years ago now. I'm afraid I can be of no more help to you.”

  Our next dash was to the county courthouse where Daniel had to do some fast talking to get us inside as they were about to close. But once in the department of records we unearthed a helpful clerk and within half an hour we knew that Amos Qegg’s farm was outside a place called Rhinebeck, back along the train route to New York City.

  We grabbed another quick bite to eat as we waited for the down train. “We'll have time to go there tonight, won't we?” I asked. “At this time of year it shouldn't become dark until almost nine, which gives us at least two more hours of daylight.”

  Daniel shrugged. “Anything to get this over with and get you out of my hair.”

  I tossed back my head. “Fine, if you want to get me out of your hair,” I said. “After today I won't be bothering you any further.”

  “I didn't mean it like that,” he said, went to ruffle my hair and thought better of it. “And how is the earnest Jewish photographer bearing his separation from you? Have you received ten letters a day, full of yearning?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I've told Mr. Singer that I need time to consider what is best for my future,” I said. “I thought I'd have time to mull things over on this assignment, but I hadn't banked on people getting killed and me being poisoned.”

  “One never does,” Daniel said, making me laugh.

  It was just under an hour by train back to Rhinebeck, one of those pleasant, sleepy towns on the banks of the Hudson. We at-tempted to secure a cab at the station, upon being told that the only hack was out on a job, we were able to rent a horse and buggy from the local livery stables. Then we set out through rolling country-side, along leafy lanes, up hill and down dale. It felt about as remote as my part of Ireland and it was hard to believe that it was within a train ride of bustling New York City. Moments after we set out, the first raindrops spattered onto the buggy. The promised thunder could be heard rumbling in the distance and the sky became heavy.

  “Our timing couldn't be better,” Daniel said dryly. “It looks like youll have the chance of getting yourself soaked twice in one day.”

  “You could have found us a wagon with a hood,” I answered. “Still, there is a carriage rug under the seat and they said it wasn't too far, didn't they?” I leaned down to reach for the rug and draped it around us.

  Daniel didn't answer but sat looking miserable as raindrops landed on his straw boater. Luckily the brunt of the storm was still to the south of us. We could hear distant rumbles of thunder but we experienced no worse than a few raindrops. After stopping to ask for directions several times, we finally found ourselves bumping up a farm track while black and white cows scattered and a horse neighed a warning.

  It was a small gray stone farm house, set stark and unadorned in the middle of the fields. There was a red bam to one side and a field of com growing tall to the other. As we pulled up outside the front door, it opened and a woman’s anxiousfacepeeked out. She looked from Daniel to me and I saw aflashof recognition register.

  “Are you the former Johanna Foreman?” Daniel asked her.

  “Yes. What do you want?” She was hugging her arms to herself as if she was cold, even though the air steamed with the heat of the day. She looked thin and undernourished, but maybe that was just because of her hollow cheeks and pallor.

  “Just to ask you some questions, if you don't mind.” Daniel jumped down and assisted me.

  “You'd better come in, I suppose.” She led us through into a small/dark kitchen. Theremainsof a recent meal still littered the scrubbed pine table.

  “Do you have any idea why we might have come?” Daniel asked.

  “I don't know who you are.”

  “I'm Captain Sullivan, New York Police. This is Miss Murphy, who’s been assisting me.”

  Johanna’s eyes darted nervously to the door and back.

  “You used to know Albert Morell,” Daniel said.

  “Albert who?”

  “Morell. From Albany.”

  She shook her head. “Never heard of him.”

  “But you go to putflowerson his grave every week,” I said. “I saw you.”

  “What do you want with me?” She sounded close to hysterics. “Why can't you let the dead rest in peace? Albert is gone. He paid, didn't he?”

  “I realize he’s gone, Mrs. Clegg,” I said. “We're hereforanother reason. I think you can guess it, can't you?”

  Again she shook her head. “I've no idea.”

  “You have a son?” I asked.

  I saw her eyes momentarily widen, then she nodded. “Yes. I have a son.”

  “Can we meet him?”

  “What for?”

  “Is there any reason why we shouldn't?” Daniel asked.

  “None at all. Billy!” she shouted. “Come down here at once.”

  There was a clatter of boots on bare wooden stairs and a sturdy lad came into the kitchen. I recognized him too. Last time I had seen him, he'd been climbing on gravestones.

  “What do you want, Ma?” he asked, eyeing us suspiciously.

  “My boy, Billy,” she said. “Anything else you want with me?”

  The moment I had a chance to observe him closely, I saw that he could not be Brendan Flynn. Indeed, I saw only too clearly who his father was. The boy had Albert Morell’s dark Italian good looks. At the moment this registered, I heard Daniel say in annoyance, That certainly isn't Brendan Flynn.”

  “Brendan Flynn?” Mrs. Clegg demanded. “You're looking for Brendan Flynn? He’s dead and buried years ago.”

  “Do you have any other children, Mrs. Clegg?” Daniel asked.

  She shook her head. “I had problems with this one and they said I couldn't have any more.”

  I could see how awkward that would beforher husband.

  “Mrs. Clegg,” I said, holding her gaze, “we need to know whether Brendan Flynn is dead or alive. If there’s any chance he’s still alive, you have to tell us.”

  She seemed to deflate before our eyes and hugged her arms to herself again. “Do you think I haven't asked myself that question, day after day?”

  “What happened to the Flynn baby, Mrs. Clegg?” I asked. “Didn't Albert Morell bring him to you?”

  “We didn't know, did we?” Johanna Clegg whimpered again. “Bertie knew I'd do anything for him, but I never dreamed … he said it was a little girl, his cousin’s child, and his cousin had died and he was going to take the child to his sister in Ohio, only he had to work all weekend first. Would we just keep the child there overnight and he'd make sure we were well paidforour services? We had no idea—the child had long fair curls and was dressed in a bonnet and petticoats. Bertie must have thought we were very stupid, because the moment I had to change him, of course I could see it was a little boy. Then we heard the news and Amos says to me, You know who we've got here, don't you?”

  She looked at us, her eyes begging us to understand. “I was all for turning the child in at the nearest police station. But Amos wouldn't let m
e. He said we'd be arrested for aiding and abetting. They'd think we were in on the kidnapping and just got cold feet. Whatever we did now, we'd be in for it. And Amos had a record from his earlier years. He got in a couple of fights, you see. He said he wasn't going back to jail for all the tea in China.”

  I felt a sudden chill of apprehension. “So what did you do, Mrs. Clegg?”

  “He did it, not me.” Her voice rose alarmingly. “I didn't want him to, but he wouldn't listen. He cut the boy’s hair and dressed him in our boy’s cast-off clothes so he wouldn't be recognized. Then he set off with the child and returned without it. I said, Did you leave the child where he'd be safely found and taken home?' And he said he wasn'triskingthat, wasn'triskingthe child being traced back to us, so he took him into Albany. He said he was planning just to dump him on a city street, but one of those orphan trains was in the station and when no one was looking, he put Brendan with all the other orphan boys.”

  I heard Daniel gasp. My heart was beating so loudly I expected the others to hear it.

  “What is an orphan train?” I tried to make my voice obey me.

  Daniel was frowning. They gather up orphans from the cities in the East and take them tofamiliesout West. It gives them a new chance at life, so they say.”

  “So Brendan could be anywhere in the country?” I stammered.

  Johanna Clegg nodded. “I've prayed for forgiveness every day, but that won't bring him back, will it? Those poor people. That poor couple, not knowing their son is alive.”

  “It’s too lateforhis mother,” I said. “She died this week.”

  Johanna gave a great choking sob. “Oh, Lord have mercy. What did we do? I didn't want him to—I begged him, but you don't know Amos—”

  Without warning the front door was thrust open and a hulk of a manfilledthe doorway. “I thought I told you no strangers on the property,” he bellowed. “Who are they? Getridof them.”

  “I'm a New York City policeman,” Daniel said, “and we're here about the Flynn baby.”

  They know,” Johanna Clegg whimpered to her husband.

  They wouldn't have found out if you hadn't opened your big mouth, you stupid cow!” Amos Clegg raised his arm as if to strike her. Daniel stepped between them.

  “That wouldn't be wise,” he said, “not unless you want to spend the night in jail.”

  “You can't stop a man from hitting his own wife,” Amos Clegg said with a sneer. “It’s the law.”

  “Go ahead and try if you want,” Daniel said. They faced each other—two big strapping men, eye to eye.

  Amos Clegg lowered his arm, still glaring at Daniel.

  “Get out of my house,” he said. “Go on. Out with you. My wife is soft in die head. She rambles. There’s no way you can ever prove that we had anything to do with the Flynn baby.”

  “I think there is,” I said. I had been watching young Billy Clegg sitting in a comer, eyeing us shyly while he pretended to play with some toy soldiers. Among the soldiers was a red wooden elephant.

  Thirty-four

  Ineed to take this, if you don't mind,” I said to the child as I bent to pick up the wooden elephant. “It came from Brendan Flynn’s Noah’s ark and I know one little girl who will be very happy to see it.”

  “Out! Now! Before I get my shotgun!” Amos Clegg roared. He opened the front door wide. The rain had now started in earnest, great fat drops thudding down onto the dirt.

  “You can't send them out in this, Amos,” Johanna begged. “There’s going to be a storm any minute.”

  “It was their choice, coming here,” Amos said. “This ain't the Bible. I don't have to offer shelter. You folks had better make a run for it before the creek rises.”

  I wondered if Daniel was going to attempt to arrest them and was glad when he turned and said, “We'll be back, Mr. Clegg, with a warrant for your arrest.”

  “You can't prove anything. I ain't done nothing wrong,” Amos blustered, waving his fist dangerously.

  “Threatening a police officer will do to start with,” Daniel said. He led me outside and assisted me aboard the buggy and cracked the whip. As we started off, we could hear Amos Clegg yelling at his wife. Probably hitting her, too. My mood matched the foul weather. I felt plunged into gloom. I should have been jubilant that Brendan was still alive, but the odds of finding him were slim. And I couldn't stop thinking about the cowering Johanna, who had chosen marriage to that brute rather than bear a child in shame. Maybe she had had no choice. It was an unfair world where women were punished and men went their merry way.

  It was the last of a gloomy twilight and thunder now rumbled over the mountains across the river.I draped the rug over us, but it soon became sodden and we huddled together miserably. Heavy splatters of rain soon turned into a solid, drenching sheet. We couldn't see more than a few yards ahead of us. Then the horse stopped so abruptly that I was almost thrown over backward.

  “Oh no,” Daniel groaned.

  What had once been a gentle ford was now a raging torrent, wide and fierce.

  “We can'triskcrossing that,” I said.

  “Even if I could persuade the horse to try, which I don't think I can,” Daniel agreed.

  “So what do we do now?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Go back and try tofindan inn or some kind of shelter until the water goes down.”

  It took long weary minutes to back up the wagon and turn it around. The horse clearly thought little of Daniel’s horsemanship and eyed him with disdain out of the comer of its eye. In the end I had to jump down, take the bridle and sooth the animal into backing up. I had just got the wagon turned around and was attemptingtoclimb back aboard when there was a brI'lliant flash of lightning right overhead, accompanied almost simultaneously by a mighty crash of thunder. The horse neighed and took off at a full gallop. I was thrown down from the buggy and landed in the mud. By thetimeI had picked myself up, they were out of sight.

  I ran in the direction they had disappeared, but I had little hope of catching a galloping horse, especially as my skirts became sodden and weighted with mud. I was soon soaked through, shivering, and feeling very sorry for myself. Darkness had now fallen and there was no sign of any light indicating a place where I might take shelter. I slithered and trudged along the muddy track until I could make out a shape lying to one side. I made my way toward it and found Daniel lying there, unconscious.

  “Daniel, are you all right?” I knelt beside him and cradled his head in my arms. He felt cold.

  “Daniel. Speak to me, please!”

  He still didn't move.

  I fought to remain calm. “Daniel. It’s Molly. Wake up, please.”

  I put my cheek to his mouth but was able to detect no warm breath on those cold lips.

  “Please don't die,” I begged. “You can't die. I won't let you. Please.”

  I sat there while the rain beat down on us. I tried to shield him with my body, but it was hopeless. Tears streamed down my face and mingled with theraindrops.I had neverfeltmore lost and alone in my life. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to leave him to go for help. I didn't know where to go. Then lightning flashed again and it occurred to me that I was likely to be struck if I stayed where I was. I wasn't doing Daniel any good sitting here crying. I dragged him to the side of the road and laid him under some bushes. “You'll be safe here until I come back,” I whispered. “I don't want to leave you, but I have to. I'm going to get help, Daniel.”

  But I felt as if I was talking to a rock. I started to walk away. At the nextflashof lightning, I looked back. He hadn't stirred. I kept walking. Then there was a great gust of wind followed by a moment’s silence, during which I heard quite clearly, “Why am I having a cold bath?”

  “Daniel!” I ran back to him.

  He was sitting up holding his head. “My head hurts,” he muttered. “What am I doing here?”

  “The horse bolted. You must have been thrown out and hit your head.”

  “I couldn't have been thrown. Not an experience
d horseman like me. It must have been a branch that knocked me down.”

  The old cocky Daniel. I threw my arms around him. “Saints be praised, you're all right.”

  “Of course I'm all right. What happened to the horse?”

  “Long gone,” I said. “And we're in the middle of nowhere.”

  “You'd better help me up,” he said and staggered to his feet, letting out a yell of pain.

  “Go carefully now. Is anything broken?”

  “My legs seem to be okay,” he said, “but you yanked me straight into some thorns.” A swift thought crossed my mind that men are much better in theory than in reality!

  We staggered together along the track, hoping that the horse had recovered from its fright and was standing waiting for us. No such luck. It was the most gloomy and desolate side road that I had ever seen. The half darkness had now turned to absolute blackness and we stumbled over rocks and stepped into deep puddles.

  “This is madness,” Daniel said at last. “We needtofindshelter.”

  “Show me a light and I'll take you to shelter,” I snapped, my sweet nature wearingremarkablythin at this point.

  As if in answer, aflashof lightning I'lluminated a structure in a field to our left. We managed to climb over the wall and stumbled over tussocks of grass until wereachedit. To our disappointment it wasn't a house but a disused bam, half tumbledown by the looks of the lumber that lay around it. We got in easily enough and found a dry corner at the back where some hay was still stacked

  “At least there isn't a hull in it,” I said, and started to laugh.

  He went to put his arm around me, then grunted in pain.

  “What is it?”

  “My shoulder. Ahhgh. I've definitely done something to it. What I need now is a good shot of whiskey to take away the pain. You wouldn't like to run to the nearest saloonforme, would you?”

  “Fat chance,” I said. “My devotion only goes so far. And if I found a saloon, you don't think I'd be coming back, do you?”

  I helped him off with his jacket, with many groans and protests, and eased him onto the bales of hay.