Through the Window(6)

Of course I hadn’t been looking out of the window all day. I got up to attend to Liam. I attended to my own toilette. But I saw most things that happened on Patchin Place. Perhaps Sid and Gus had observed Mrs. Emory leaving, but I suspected they hadn’t.

It was fortunate that this was one of the evenings when Daniel wasn’t working until all hours, because the suspense was killing me. I’ve never been known for waiting patiently. My own mother was always scolding me for it, and I guess I hadn’t improved that much over the years. Daniel turned up about eight o’clock and a big smile crossed his face when he saw me up and dressed.

“Well, here’s a sight for sore eyes,” he said, coming over to me with his arms outstretched. “My wife up and dressed and looking positively blooming. Motherhood agrees with you, my dear. How is my precious son?”

“Fed and sleeping again,” I said. “Growing chubbier by the minute.”

“I told Molly she should be back in her bed,” Daniel’s mother said, coming out of the kitchen as Daniel took me in his arms. “Too much excitement will curdle her milk.”

“Excitement” Daniel released me. “What excitement is this?”

“You had a visitor,” Mother Sullivan said before I could answer. “A man from down the street. He was in a great state. Thinks his wife has run off and left him.”

“What’s this?” Daniel turned to me.

“Mr. Emory,” I said. “You know, the couple who moved in this summer.”

“The wife you tried to befriend and the husband who keeps a tight rein on her?”

“That’s right. She has been missing since yesterday,” I said.

“He’s worried that she’s come to a bad end,” Mother Sullivan said. “Supposed to pay a call to folks on Long Island but never got there. Molly thinks she might have run away.”

Daniel looked at me long and hard. “He came wanting to talk to you,” I said. “Something’s clearly not right there, Daniel. I think you should go over to see him right away.”

“Not until he’s got some food in his stomach,” Mother Sullivan took his arm and attempted to lead him over to the table. “Have a heart, child. The man’s been working all day. Let him eat first. I’ve made your favorite Irish stew, Daniel.”

Daniel glanced at my face again then he said, “No, thank you, mother. I think I’d better go to see Mr. Emory before anything else. The stew will keep. I won’t be long.”

“And I’m coming with you,” I said.

“Are you sure you should be running around in the night air?” Mother Sullivan demanded. “You’ll catch pneumonia if you’re not careful in your weakened state.”

“I’ll be fine.” I took down the shawl again. “It’s only three doors down the street.”

Daniel closed the door behind us. “What is it?” he asked. “I could see in your face that there’s more to this than you were saying.”

“I think there has been foul play, Daniel,” I said. “I couldn’t say it in front of your mother, but something’s definitely not right. Mr. Emory asked me to see if she’d taken any of her clothes with her. Now why would he do that? Couldn’t he look at her wardrobe himself and see that items were missing? It’s my belief he wanted me to think she’d run away.”

“Why would he do that?” Daniel asked.

I leaned closer to him. “Because he’d killed her,” I whispered.

“Killed her?” Daniel reacted sharply. “Molly, that’s a terrible accusation to make. What makes you come to that conclusion? Isn’t perhaps your past experience as a detective letting your imagination run away with you?”

“Have my detective skills served me well these past few years, Daniel Sullivan?” I demanded. “Haven’t you yourself admitted that I’ve a good eye for detail?”

“I have, and I have come to value your judgment,” he said. “but I’m concerned that you’ve never liked the man, and you’ve suggested before that he abuses his wife, even though we have no evidence of that.”

“Then I’ll give you my evidence of this,” I said. “First, the clothes that were supposedly taken made no sense. If you were going to run away, would you take a silk afternoon dress but not the matching under-slip? Would you leave your winter coat when the weather is turning cold? And your stout shoes? And would you not bother with underwear or nightclothes?”

Daniel shrugged. “She might have bought new clothes to take with her and left her old life behind.”