Read on for a sneak peek at Rhys Bowen’s

next Molly Murphy Mystery

In a Gilded Cage

Available soon in hardcover from Minotaur Books

ONE

It is a well-known fact that we Irish are prone to bouts of melancholy, even without the help of the bottle. I suppose it goes along with the Celtic temperament and long, wet winters. Anyway, I was experiencing such a bout myself as I trudged home through a rainstorm that was wetter and colder than anything I had experienced at home in Ireland. March winds and April showers bring forth May flowers—that was how I learned it at school in Ballykillin. Well, it was now the middle of April and the gale that was accompanying the rain was worse than anything we’d experienced in March. I would never understand the New York weather! One minute it could be sunny and springlike and suddenly the temperature would plunge thirty degrees and we’d be back in winter again.

We had endured a particularly long, cold winter, with snow well into March. The bleak conditions had produced all kinds of sicknesses and people had been dropping like flies as influenza of the nastiest kind had turned to pneumonia. Even I, usually known for my robust constitution, had succumbed and spent over a week with a raging fever that finally subsided, leaving me feeling weak and drained. It had been almost three weeks now and I had hardly left the house until my small detective agency, X. P. Riley and Associates (I now being sole proprietor and associate rolled into one), received a job offer I simply couldn’t turn down. It was from Macy’s new department store, at Thirty-fourth Street and Herald Square. They wanted me to look into a case of shoplifting that even their own store detectives had not managed to stop. Naturally I was thrilled and flattered, and I accepted immediately. I would have crawled from my deathbed for such an assignment. If I was successful, who knew where it might lead?

The weather had finally been springlike when I set off for work that morning, which was why I’d worn my light business two-piece and not thought to take a top-coat or a brolly. Both of which I was now regretting as I came out of Macy’s to find that the temperature had plunged again and it was blowing a gale. Within seconds I was soaked to the skin, freezing cold, and thoroughly miserable.

I should have been feeling on top of the world. I’d just concluded another successful case. In the guise of a new counter assistant I had spotted the pilfered goods being smuggled out in the trash by one of Macy’s own employees and then retrieved from the big trash bins by an accomplice. I had been handsomely rewarded for my services and was glowing with pride, dying to share my news with somebody when I stepped out of Macy’s back door and into the gale.

I had hopped on a passing Broadway trolley and later regretted this move as well, as I had to walk home from Broadway with the rain driving straight into my face and one hand jamming my charming spring hat onto my head. By the time I was halfway home I was well and truly sorry for myself. I was still weak, of course. I was not usually the kind of person who wallowed in self-pity or thought of herself as a helpless female. But as I trudged onward I was overwhelmed with gloomy thoughts. I longed for home and family and someone to take care of me.

I suppose this wave of blackness and insecurity had something to do with my intended, Daniel Sullivan. We weren’t officially betrothed yet, but we had definitely reached the stage of an understanding. And it was this that was making me unsettled and jittery.

Had my mother still been alive, she would have relished telling me that I was never satisfied. I suppose she was right—when Daniel had been in disgrace and on suspension from his position as captain of police, he had shown up on my doorstep every single day, and I had found myself wishing he’d be reinstated quickly, not just for his sake but for mine too. I found myself seriously wondering whether marriage and domestic bliss were what I wanted for myself.

But recently he had been reinstated under the new commissioner of police and since then I had scarcely seen him. He had popped in once while I was at the height of my sickness, expressed concern, and then fled, not to be seen again. So now I was filled with doubts: did this lack of attention mean that he had tired of me, or was he merely taking me for granted now that he had more interesting ways to spend his time? If I married him I’d have to come to terms with the fact that this was what life as a policeman’s wife would be like. And how would I take to being the good little woman, sitting at home with my darning, waiting for him and worrying about him? Plenty of food for thought there. Never satisfied, I chided myself. Wants security but doesn’t want to be tied down. Wants love but wants freedom. Wants . . .

I never did get to the third want, as a great gust of wind swept off the Hudson and snatched my hat from my head. I gave a scream of despair and leaped after it. It was a new hat, my first extravagant purchase since my detective agency started to make money, and I wasn’t about to see it disappear under the wheels of a passing wagon or hansom cab. I lifted my skirts and chased it in most undignified fashion to Fifth Avenue. Then a particularly violent gust caught it again and swept it out into the street just as I was about to pick it up. I didn’t think twice as I ran after it. There was an angry honking and I was conscious of a low black shape hurtling toward me.

“Holy mother of God,” I gasped as I flung myself to one side. The automobile screeched to a halt inches in front of my hat, which now lay in the mud.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing,” shouted an angry voice. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“I’m sorry,” I began, then my mouth dropped open as the gentleman removed his driving goggles and I recognized him at the same moment he recognized me. “Daniel!” I exclaimed.

“Molly, what a damned stupid thing to do,” he snapped. “These machines go fast, you know. And they don’t stop on a dime. They’re not like horses.”

“I said I was sorry,” I snapped back, feeling foolish now as a crowd gathered. “The wind took my hat and I wasn’t about to lose it.” As I said this I stepped gingerly into the mud and retrieved the hat, which was rain-soaked and definitely the worse for wear.

“Climb up,” Daniel reached across to open the door for me, “and I’ll drive you home. You look as if you’ve been dragged through a hedge backward.”

“Thank you for the compliment, kind sir,” I retorted, and was about to say I’d rather walk. But common sense won out, of course, and I dutifully climbed up to sit beside Daniel in the automobile.

“What were you doing out in this rain without an umbrella?” Daniel said, still glaring at me angrily. “You have no business being out at all on a day like this. You’ve been seriously ill, Molly.”

“I was feeling better and, anyway, I had an assignment,” I said. “It was too good to turn down. And if you want to know, when I left home at seven this morning the sky was blue. And believe me, I’ve regretted the decision to wear my spring clothes every moment of the last half hour.”

Daniel looked at my angry face, with my hair plastered to my cheeks and drops running freely down my nose, and started to laugh. “I shouldn’t laugh, I know.” He attempted to stop smiling. “But you really do look like the orphan of the storm. Come here. Let me kiss that little wet nose.”

He pulled me toward him and kissed the tip of my nose, then put his hand under my chin and repeated the process on my lips. His mouth was warm against mine and I found myself climbing down just a little from my high horse.

“Right, let’s get you home and out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia,” Daniel said. “I have to be back at headquarters within the hour, though.”

He released the brake and put his foot on the accelerator pedal. The machine responded by coughing, bucking like a wild bronco, and then dying. Daniel muttered a curse under his breath and stepped down into the storm. “Now I’ve got to start the blasted thing again,” he said. I watched while he took out the crank, went around to the front of the vehicle, and cranked several times before the contraption coughed and sprang to life. Daniel hopped in smartly before it could stall again and we were off. I glanced at him and started to laugh. “Now who looks like the orphan of the storm?” I said triumphantly.

In a minute or so we had pulled up outside my little house in Patchin Place. It is a street some might describe as an alley, but I think of it as a charming backwater in Greenwich Village. Miraculously the rain chose the same moment to stop, and a patch of blue appeared between the dark storm clouds. Daniel climbed down and came around to assist me. I opened the door, put on the kettle, and went to change out of my wet clothes. There wasn’t much to be done about my sodden hair but at least the rest of me looked dry and respectable as I came downstairs again.

“Sometimes I despair of you,” Daniel said. “Sit down. I’ll make the tea.”

He took the kettle from the hob and filled the teapot. “You don’t have any brandy or rum to put into it, I suppose?”

“I don’t,” I said. “I live a very frugal life, as you well know.”

He smiled. “Pity. Well, at least this will be hot and sweet. Better than nothing.” He poured me a cup. “Get that down you, woman.” He looked at me with fond exasperation. “You haven’t an ounce of common sense in your body, have you? When you’re not risking your life by chasing murderers you’re risking it by not taking care of your health. This is not an ordinary influenza, you know. I can’t tell you how many funeral processions I’ve witnessed in the past weeks. One of our own men, a strapping lad of twenty-five, went down with it and was dead within three days. And yet you go running around in a storm when you should still be in bed.”

“I couldn’t turn it down, Daniel,” I said. “It was Macy’s department store. They were offering a handsome fee and it was a case their own store detective hadn’t managed to crack.”

“And were you successful?”

“I was. They thought they had a clever shoplifter, but it turned out to be a conspiracy of their own employees—a counter assistant who dropped small items into a passing trash bin and another accomplice who retrieved the items from the trash. I was lucky enough to spot a bottle of perfume disappearing from a counter.”

“Good for you,” Daniel said. “Now let’s hope you live to enjoy the spoils.”

“I’m feeling much better,” I said. “Or at least I was when I set out this morning. And I can’t say you’ve seemed overly concerned about the state of my health until now. You took one look at my fevered brow and beat a hasty retreat, never to be seen again.”

Daniel grimaced. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry about that.”

“I understand that gentlemen have an aversion to being around sickness.”

“No, it wasn’t that, I assure you. I was most concerned about you.”

“So concerned that I’ve not seen you in two weeks and had to throw myself in front of your automobile to get your attention.”

He managed a grin. “Actually I’ve been on a case that has kept me busy day and night. I’ve hardly even had a chance to sleep.”

“What kind of case is it?” I took a long swig of hot tea and felt the warmth going through my body. “Let me know if I can be of help.”

Daniel smiled in a way that I took as patronizing. “My dear girl, you know I can’t discuss a criminal case with you, and I certainly wouldn’t let you help me.”

“You don’t think I’m any good as a detective?” I asked.

“I think you’re very competent in your own way,” he said cautiously, “but I have to play by the rules, and besides, I try to keep you well away from murders of any sort. So you stick to your kind of investigations and I’ll stick to mine.”

“Don’t be so damned patronizing.” I flung the tea towel in his direction.

“My, we are testy, aren’t we?” He laughed. “And I wasn’t intending to be patronizing. I’m glad that your business is going well, but you know my feelings. I’d be much happier if you didn’t have to work and especially if you didn’t have to put yourself in harm’s way. Now that I’m back on the job, we can make proper plans for the future. I’m saving up for a house, Molly.”

“You haven’t asked me to marry you yet,” I reminded him.

“I intend to do it properly, at the right moment,” he said.

“And you don’t know that I’ll say yes.”

Those alarming blue eyes flashed. “No, I don’t know that, but I’m hopeful. At least you’re now seeing the reality of what life with me will be like. Odd hours. Coming and going. Calls in the middle of the night, and times when you’ll see nothing of me for days on end.”

“You make it sound so delightful. It’s a wonder I don’t accept you on the spot,” I retorted, and he chuckled.

“I know I’ve been neglecting you recently,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you when this case is successfully concluded, I promise.”

“You must get Easter off, surely? Why don’t we walk in the Easter Parade? I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“The Easter Parade? Oh, come, Molly. That is for the nouveaux riches wanting to show off their expensive hats, and I’m afraid that sodden chapeau of yours wouldn’t be able to compete.”

“I don’t wish to compete. I just want to experience things that New Yorkers do,” I said. “And I’d like a chance to stroll up the avenue with my beau on my arm for once.”

“I wish we could, but the answer is no, I don’t get Easter off. Not while people are killing each other all over the lower portion of Manhattan.” He drained his teacup and stood up. “Speaking of which, I have to go, I’m afraid. I’m expected at headquarters. Good-bye, my sweet. Take care of yourself, please. No more walking out in the rain until you are completely recovered.” He came over to me, kissed me on the forehead, and was out of the front door before I could even respond. I went to the door after him and watched him working furiously to crank that machine to life.

“You should stick to horses, they’re easier to start,” I called after him.

He looked up and grinned. “This is an experiment. The commissioner of police wants to find out if automobiles might be useful in police work. So far I’m not impressed.” He gave another mighty jerk as he said this and the machine sputtered into action. With that he leaped onto the seat, waved, and reversed down Patchin Place.

TWO

As the automobile chugged away from Patchin Place, the front door opposite me opened and my neighbor Sid’s face peered out. “Hello, Molly. What was that infernal noise we just heard?”

“Daniel driving an automobile,” I said. “He rescued me from the rain and drove me home.”

“Come on over and have a glass of wine,” Sid said. “We’ve got exciting news to share.”

I needed no second urging to join her. My neighbors Elena Goldfarb and Augusta Walcott, usually known by their irreverent nicknames Sid and Gus, never failed to bring joy into my life. They were generous to a fault and always experimenting with new foods and cultural experiences, making each visit to their home an adventure. The fact that their own choice of lifestyle was not a universally accepted one was neither here nor there.

Sid ushered me into the drawing room with a flourish.

Gus was sitting in one of the armchairs beside a roaring fire, a glass of red wine in her hand and a black lace shawl, hung with jet beads, around her shoulders. In contrast Sid was wearing baggy trousers that looked as if they’d come from a Turkish harem. I scarcely noticed their strange manner of dress any longer, although I could see that it might appear startling to strangers.

Gus looked up. “Why, you’ve found Molly. How clever of you, just when we needed her. And did you discover what the infernal noise was?” she asked.

“It was Molly’s Captain Sullivan, driving an automobile. But he delivered Molly from the rain so is to be pardoned on this occasion, one feels.”

“What were you doing out in the rain to start with?” Gus frowned at me. “You are supposed to be staying in bed and recuperating. You’ve been quite ill, you know.”

“I know, and I would have been much worse if you two hadn’t looked after me so well. But I had a job to do at Macy’s department store and the weather this morning seemed quite balmy, so off I went without an umbrella or top-coat. Luckily the wind blew my hat in front of Daniel’s automobile, so he motored me home.”

“Horrid contraptions, automobiles,” Gus said. “They’ll never catch on, you mark my words. Think how noisy the city would become if everyone owned one. Gus and I think that flight is the transportation of the future. We should all have personal hot air balloons and drift serenely through the clouds.”

“Rather inconvenient, don’t you think?” I said. “We’d all be bumping into each other and if a strong wind came up we’d wind up in Boston when we wanted to go to Philadelphia.”

Gus chuckled. “Ah, but think of the romance of flight. Why would one care about the destination? Sid, we have to find someone with a hot air balloon and cross the country in it. Think of sailing over the Rockies.”

“Think of making a hard landing on a mountain peak,” I said.

“Molly, you are entirely too practical. For heaven’s sake, pour the girl a glass of wine and tell her about our grand outing.”

Red wine was poured from a crystal decanter. I took a sip, savoring the smooth warmth as it went down my throat. I was still such a newcomer to luxuries like wine that each new tasting was a delightful experience.

“It’s Hungarian,” Sid said proudly. “We’ve never tried Hungarian wine before and this one is called Bull’s Blood so of course we had to try it. It’s divine, isn’t it? Gus is now quite determined to go to Hungary and see the bulls for herself.”

Gus chuckled. “You also expressed a desire to sail down the Danube from its source to the Black Sea.”

Sid perched on the arm of Gus’s chair and sighed. “There are too many choices in life. Too many places to go and things to do. And then one feels that one’s life has become too frivolous and selfish and resolves to do something for the good of humanity.”

“And if one is smart, one combines the two—adventure and philanthropy,” Gus said. “Such will be our outing on Sunday, I hope.”

“Sunday? Where will you be going on Sunday?”

“The Easter Parade. Where else?”

I registered surprise. “I should have thought that you two were the last people on earth to want to parade in your finery.”

“We are,” Sid answered, “unless it’s for a good cause. We plan to march as part of the VWVW brigade.”

“The what?”

“It’s an acronym for Vassar Wants Votes for Women,” Gus explained. “We’ll be part of a contingent of Vassar alums, bringing our cause before the populace of New York and, we hope, making more women conscious of the basic civil right still denied them.”

I nodded approval. “I wish I’d been to Vassar so that I could join you.”

“We’d love you to join us, Molly,” Sid said. “But we felt that you would not be strong enough to walk the length of Fifth Avenue so soon after your sickness.”

“I’ve a good Irish peasant constitution,” I said, “and I was used to walking miles a day at home. I’m sure I’d be able to do it.”

“Then I say the more the merrier.” Sid raised her glass to me. “Nobody need know that you are not a Vassar girl. As it happens we haven’t had the response we hoped for and will be low on numbers, so you’d truly be helping the cause.”

“In that case I gladly accept. I suggested to Daniel that we take part in the parade and he was most scathing about it. He said it was only for the newly rich to show off.”

“That is, of course, true,” Sid agreed.

“Some of the Four Hundred also participate every year,” Gus said. “I have relatives who always take part.”

“Gus has relatives in every city, I swear,” Sid commented, looking fondly at Gus.

“Will we be expected to dress up and wear fancy hats?” I said, beginning to have doubts as I realized that Vassar girls tended to be wealthy. “Because you’ve seen the extent of my wardrobe.”

“Absolutely not. Your business costume will be ideal. We aim to look like responsible members of the community, not pampered darlings full of frippery. And they’ll give us a sash to wear and a banner to carry, stating our purpose. So wear comfortable shoes. It’s a long march.”

“It’s not that long,” Gus interjected. “Only ten blocks. And I’m sure there will be a carriage available should one of the young ladies need to ride.”

“I’ll not need to ride and I’ll come prepared,” I said. “In fact I’m willing to do my share to help the cause. It is ridiculous that a businesswoman like myself should not have a say in the government.”

“Well said, Molly. I can see you’ll be a regular firebrand.”

“Let us just hope that Sunday is fine and dry,” Gus said. “It would be too bad if it rained as it did today.”

“Will it be called off if it rains?” I asked.

“It’s never been called off, has it, Gus?” Sid asked.

“Not that I can remember,” Gus agreed. “The smart set don’t care, of course. They simply raise the hood of their carriages and proceed from church as usual. But there would be a dearth of spectators if it rained like today.”

“So most people ride in carriages, not walk?”

“Almost everyone does. We are walking so that we stand out and exhibit our solidarity with the masses,” Sid said. “The parade starts at ten o’clock, so we’ll leave here in time to muster at nine forty-five.”

“Muster? You make it sound like a war.” I laughed.

“It is,” Sid said soberly. “An out-and-out war that must be won, Molly. We have lived as poor, dependent creatures for too long, at the mercy of our lords and masters. Now it is time we took control of our own destiny.”

Inspired and inflamed, warmed by red wine and rhetoric, I went back to my own house.