Then a small voice whispered that I didn't want to be safe and secure and bored. I wanted to know I was alive and independent. I knew I was alive at this moment, but for how much longer?
I could see daylight fading in that small square of barred window. A uniformed policeman came by and poked a tin mug of water and a hunk of bread and cold meat through the bars, as if he were feeding the lions at the zoo. I sipped at the water but felt too sick and worried to eat.
More hours went by. I tried to sleep, but couldn't. Then heavy footsteps came down the hallway. My cell door was unlocked.
“Look lively. You're wanted again. The chief wants a word with you.”
I was hustled down the same tiled hallway and into another room, brightly lit with an electric lightbulb. This time a large mustachioed man in shirtsleeves sat at a desk, with other policemen standing around him.
“Miss Murphy, sir,” my escort said, thrusting me toward the desk.
“Ah yes, Miss Murphy. The one who uncovered the plot single-handed.” The man at the desk had several chins and was leering at me. “I understand you are one of our more promising detectives, Miss Murphy. I should keep you on here, to give my boys some lessons.” Chuckles from those standing around him.
“No, sir, I'm very much a novice detective,” I said. “But I worked for a man who was one of the best and he was killed. I thought I owed it to him to find out who killed him. It was only by luck that I stumbled upon a picture of the man who shot the President this afternoon, found that he was on his way to Buffalo and put two and two together. I left a message with a captain at the New York Police Department and came straight to Buffalo in the hope of preventing this tragedy.”
He was still looking at me through piggy eyes with a leer. “Friend of yours, Captain Sullivan?”
“An acquaintance,” I said, lowering my eyes.
He smirked unpleasantly. “Acquaintance, huh?”
“Yes, sir. But if you could contact him, he'd vouch for me. He knew I was trying to find Paddy Riley's killer. And I sent him the photos—”
He held up his hand to quieten me. “It seems he has friends in the right places, this Captain Sullivan. You've been given a glowing testimonial. I'm to understand Miss Murphy is true-blue and has been instrumental in helping the police before. We've had a message from the governor's office and been instructed to let you go.”
A great wave of relief swept over me.
“Now?” I stammered. “I'm free to go now?”
He spread his hands in a gesture of futility. “You will, of course, leave particulars of where you can be contacted with us, and you will not think of leaving the country. Who knows what might come out when this investigation digs further.”
The feeling of relief was incredible. “It won't uncover anything that implicates me,” I said, “or Mr. O'Hare. We risked our lives just now, trying to stop your assassin, and all we got for our pains was bruises and torn clothing.”
“Yes, well…” my interrogator began. “Our lads were just doing their duty, you know.”
“For what it's worth, Fm very sorry indeed for what happened to the President,” I said. “Was he killed?”
“He was still alive last time I heard,” he said. “Able to speak.”
“Well, that's good news, isn't it.” I attempted a smile. “We'll just hope and pray for the best.” Then I made my exit.
I came out of police headquarters into the dark street. A large crowd was milling around, still in an ugly mood by the look of them. I hesitated, not sure what to do next. Should I take the next train home? Should I wait and see if I could do anything more for Ryan? I didn't know whether he had been released before me or whether he was still locked in a cell somewhere. The least I could do was to tell his theater company the news. And I had left my overnight bag in his green room. I tried to slip through the crowd unnoticed and find myself a cab, since I had no idea of the layout of this town.