Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #7)

I took his hands. “Daniel, don’t worry too much. I’m sure it will all be all right in the end.”


“I’m trying to share your optimism,” he said, “but if you’d been through what I’ve just experienced . . .”

I thought it wiser not to mention my own recent experiences. Men like to believe that they have the harder lot. I reached up and stroked his cheek, then recoiled. “You haven’t shaved, Captain Sullivan. Shame on you coming to visit a young woman without attending to your toilet first.”

At this he laughed, grabbed my wrists, and drew me close to him. “I recall another occasion when you were not so particular about the state of my whiskers,” he said.

I recalled that occasion all too well. “And it is not to be repeated until your situation is resolved,” I said, putting my hands on his jacket front and exerting firm pressure to keep him at bay.

He nodded. “Very well then. One kiss and I’ll go. But tomorrow let us have fun for once. The snow up in Westchester County was amazing. I’d love to show you what it looks like—not gray city slush, but untouched sparkling whiteness. I’m sure you’ve never seen such snow in Ireland.”

“You want us to go up to Westchester? I’m afraid that’s not possible. I have a case I’m working on.”

“Then not as far as Westchester. Surely you can spare some time for Central Park. They have an ice-skating rink and children will be tobogganing. We could take a sleigh ride. You can spare an hour or two for that, can’t you, Molly?”

I was truly weakening this time. “I’m sure I can,” I said. “The man I am following is safely at work in his office during the day with no time for getting into trouble.”

Daniel beamed as if I’d just given him a gift. “Then I’ll call for you at eleven. How long has it been since we had a day’s outing together?”

“Too long,” I agreed.

“Until tomorrow then.” He took me in his arms and kissed me gently on the lips. Our lips were still cold from the frigid night air, but they quickly warmed up, as did Daniel. The kiss turned from chaste to demanding and before I allowed myself to respond, I stopped him. “Daniel, no.” I held him away, my hands on his cheeks. “Not wise. Go home.”

“If you insist,” he said with a sigh, and went.





FOUR

Of course the moment I had shut my front door I regretted sending him away, and the very next moment I remembered something else. I had promised to have luncheon with Sid, Gus, and their friend, the intriguing Nelly Bly. Now what was I going to do? I dearly wanted to do both. I debated the matter and in the end Daniel won out. I reasoned that Sid and Gus had their guest to entertain them, whereas Daniel had been through such hard times that he needed me more than they did.

So early next morning I went across Patchin Place to explain, and to beg to postpone our luncheon by one day. My friends naturally found this amusing.

“You see, Gus. What did I tell you? I knew she’d cast us aside the moment that man walked back into the picture. He snaps his fingers and she drops everything to attend to him,” Sid said with a wink.

“I do not, in normal circumstances,” I replied hotly. “It’s just that it’s been so long since Daniel and I had a chance to behave like a normal couple and go out to enjoy ourselves. I assure you that I do not come running every time Daniel Sullivan snaps his fingers.”

“Do you think we should let her off just this once, Gus?” Sid asked.

“She obviously enjoys this man’s company, although I can’t think why,” Gus replied.

“I suppose he is what might be described as handsome, in a roguish way.”

“And he may be trying to make amends for his past behavior.”

They were both watching me with amusement as they carried on this conversation.

“If you must know,” I said, interrupting, “I really want to see the ice-skating and tobogganing in Central Park. I’ve never experienced such things in my life. It doesn’t really snow in my part of Ireland.”

“Of course.” They nodded sagely together. “That would be the only reason.”

“You two are quite exasperating sometimes,” I exclaimed. “But I do beg your forgiveness for my rudeness. Please apologize to your friend Elizabeth and tell her I look forward to taking lunch with her tomorrow.”

As I went to leave, Gus called after me, “And what do you plan to wear for this outing in Central Park?”

“Certainly not my waif’s britches,” I said. “I do have that big woolen cape. That should keep me warm.”

“Quite wrong,” Gus said, looking at Sid, who nodded.

“Well, I don’t possess one of those delightful outfits trimmed with white fur that one sees in the women’s magazines,” I said. “The woolen cape is the only warm outer garment I own.”

“You have the very thing, don’t you, Gus?” Sid said.

“I do, indeed.” Gus rushed up the stairs and soon reappeared holding a mid-length red velvet cape, lined with fur.