The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

“Thank you,” I said. “You have my address. If the perfect girl shows up, I’d certainly like to meet her.” I stood up to go, then lingered. “There’s one more thing,” I said. “I was going to ask you yesterday before we were interrupted. Is it possible that a girl called Maureen O’Byrne came to your agency about a year ago?”


She frowned. “The name doesn’t ring a bell, but we deal with so many girls. A year ago, you say?” She called into the outer office, “Jessie, would you check the books and see if we ever had a Maureen O’Byrne as a client, about a year ago?” She turned back to me, “Was this a girl you possibly wanted to hire?”

“Possibly,” I said. “Actually I’m trying to find where she is employed now for her relatives at home in Ireland. She hasn’t written for a while and they’re worried. I just thought that Maureen might well have been to an agency such as your own.”

Jessie poked her head around the door. “Nobody by that name that I can see, Mrs. Hartmann.”

“Thank you, Jessie,” she said. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sullivan. We can’t help you.”

“What about a Mrs. Mainwaring?” I asked. “Have you ever supplied her with servants?”

“Does she live in New York? We don’t really handle clients outside of Manhattan.”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem,” I said. “Maureen wrote to her relatives that she’d found a good position with a Mrs. Mainwaring. And that was the last they heard from her.”

“I’ve never dealt with a woman of that name,” she said. “But there must be twenty or more agencies like ours in this part of the city, not to mention the more exclusive ones further uptown.”

“Would you be kind enough to give me the names of some of those agencies?” I asked.

“I can have Jessie write out a list of those we know,” she said. “Was this Miss O’Byrne a relative of yours? You’re going to a lot of trouble for her.”

“I like to help when I can,” I said. “I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”

“Not at all. Always glad to help a potential future client.”

I came down the stairs again with a list of similar agencies in my purse. Unfortunately they seemed to be in areas that Daniel wouldn’t want me to go. I suppose that made sense if they wanted to attract girls straight from the boats—but they were off limits to me. I fought back annoyance again until I told myself I was, as usual, being too impatient. I could easily write to the addresses I had been given. It would only be a question of waiting a few days, and her family had already waited months. A week or so longer wouldn’t make much difference.

Thus appeased for now I came out to the street and stood staring across at the shop window where the kidnapping had taken place. Other women pushed baby carriages past the shop, some pausing to chat as they met a neighbor. The scene was peaceful and ordinary as if no tragedy had happened there. I wondered if the couple at the center of yesterday’s drama had received their ransom note yet and how they would possibly come up with the money. I wondered what would happen if they couldn’t come up with the money. Would the baby then wind up floating in the East River with a note tied to it to warn future victims to pay up? It made me feel sick to think about it.

I was about to make my way home when I froze. Someone I recognized was hurrying straight toward me. He was absolutely the last person that I ever expected to see again—my brother Liam.





Six

It couldn’t be true. For a second I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me, but the sunlight was falling directly onto that flame-red hair, making it glow brighter even than my own, and the way he swung his arms in that rolling, jaunty way when he walked was so familiar to me. The last time I had seen him was two years ago, when we’d had to flee together from Ireland after a failed prison break that had killed my other brother Joseph. I’d left Liam hiding out in France, wanted by the English. So what on earth was he doing walking down a busy street in New York in broad daylight?

“Liam!” I exclaimed in delight and moved forward to throw my arms around him.

Instead he took a backward step. He looked startled, afraid, and for a moment I thought he was going to bolt on me. But his eyes lit up and he managed the ghost of a smile. “Molly. It’s good to see you. How are you?”

“Well, thank you.”

His eyes traveled over my person and reacted when he noticed my belly. “It’s a little one you’re carrying, is it? Does that mean that—” He broke off, trying to phrase the question correctly. I could see he was trying to catch a glimpse of my left hand.

I read his meaning and laughed. “Yes, in case you’re wondering, Liam, I’m rightly and properly married. To a captain in the police force no less. I’m Mrs. Daniel Sullivan.”

I saw his glance become wary. “A captain of police. Well, well.”

“I would have written to tell you the news, but I had no way to contact you.”

He nodded. “It’s better that way.”