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

“Holy Mother of God,” I exclaimed as Gus thrust it at me. “I couldn’t possibly wear this.”


“You don’t think the color goes well with your red hair?”

“Not at all. But it’s much too fine. I couldn’t borrow such a garment from you without worrying that I’d spoil it.”

“Nonsense.” Gus laughed. “I hardly ever wear it. Better you give it an outing than to let the moths have their way with it. Go on. Take it. Dazzle Daniel and everyone else in Central Park with your appearance.”

She insisted on trying it on me and I left their house feeling like a queen.

Daniel’s eyes widened when I appeared at the front door in all my finery. “You look—absolutely stunning,” he said. “New clothes? Your detective agency must be doing well.”

“Only borrowed for the occasion,” I said, “but my agency is doing remarkably well. I’ve had one assignment after another since I got back from Ireland. I rather think that Mr. Tommy Burke was pleased enough with me to refer me to his friends.”

“It’s nice to know that the trip to Ireland turned out to be successful after all,” Daniel said. He slipped my arm through his and escorted me down Patchin Place. Turned out successful after all, I thought grimly. One brother killed, one banished, and I could never go home again. Hardly a resounding success. But at least I had put Tommy Burke in touch with his lost sister. Maybe his money would help the freedom movement and somehow help make up for its lost leader.

“Watch your step!” Daniel snatched me back as I was about to walk out into the path of a carriage charging down Greenwich Avenue at a ridiculous pace.

“Right,” he said. “Let’s see where we can best hail a cab.”

“Daniel, you can’t afford this anymore,” I said without thinking. I saw from the set of his jaw that this was the wrong thing to say. I had just been telling him how my business was flourishing, and now I reminded him that he was on suspension with no pay until he knew of the outcome of his case.

A cab drew up beside us and I got in without saying another word.

“So what case are you working on that involves dressing up as a ragged boy?” he asked.

“Very simple, really. A Jewish couple wants to make sure that the young man the matchmaker has found for their daughter is all that she says he is.”

“And is he?”

“So far his behavior has been beyond reproach. I followed him to Forty-second Street—”

“Aha,” Daniel said.

“—where he was collecting a suit from his tailor,” I finished.

“If your case involves the Jewish community, you should ask your friend Mr. Singer to do some snooping on your behalf,” Daniel said. “Do you ever see Mr. Singer these days?”

I knew the comment was meant as a barb. There had been a time I had considered marrying Jacob Singer, when Daniel had still been engaged to Arabella Norton and I had believed we had no hope for a future together.

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” I said. “Besides, he wouldn’t move in the same circles as this Mr. Roth. Jacob is active among the poor and downtrodden. This young man is a recent Yale graduate who is employed in the family shipping business and dines out at the best restaurants.”

“He sounds highly suitable,” Daniel said. “Why are these people employing you?”

“To find out if he has any hidden vices,” I said, giving Daniel a wicked smile.

“And has he?”

“Not that I’ve yet discovered, but most men do, you know.”

Daniel looked at me, then sighed. “And so you are fully occupied while I sit twiddling my thumbs. It’s all wrong, isn’t it? Men are supposed to be out earning the daily crust while young ladies are supposed to sit home idly playing the piano or doing their embroidery, waiting for their lord and master to return.”

“Not this young lady,” I exclaimed. “I’ve never had an idle day in my life and if I did I should die of boredom, as, I suspect, most women in such situations do. And we are only speaking of the privileged few. For most women their life is drudgery from sun up to sun down.”

“True enough,” Daniel agreed, “although I hope there will come a future time when you are content to learn to play the role of housewife and mother.”

“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we,” I said.

He went to say something but I stopped him. “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” I said, patting his hand as one would calm a child. “As you said yourself, today is for having fun. We’re nearly there. Look how the snow sparkles in the sun.”

The cab pulled up beside the wrought-iron gates leading into Central Park. The cabbie jumped down and helped me from the cab as if I were a fine lady. Daniel paid and then offered me his arm. I felt like a fine lady as we swept together into Central Park. Just as we were about to enter, a surprised voice called, “Why, Captain Sullivan, sir!” And the constable on guard saluted Daniel.