Free Death of Riley by Rhys Bowen

die.”
    “Your Aunt Nuala says a lot of stupid things,” I said. “We'll say a little prayer for him together and put him in the Blessed Mother's hands, all right?”
    We were in the middle of our prayer when Shamus crawled into bed with us. “I want to pray for my daddy too,” he said.
    I fell asleep with an arm around each of them. In the morning I gave them bread and jam and tea and left for work with strict instructions that they weren't to make noise, they weren't to touch anything and they weren't to try cooking on my gas ring. Actually I was more concerned about Nuala. I didn't doubt for a moment that she'd be going through my possessions, if she hadn't done so already. Fine. Let her. It wasn't as if I had anything of any value, except for some letters Daniel had written me—I would have to burn them as soon as I got a chance.
    As soon as I reached Riley's place I explained that I might need to be spending more time at home because someone had to care for the children. I had expected that he'd see this as an opportunity to point out another reason why women were no use to him in business, but he merely nodded distractedly. “Go on then. Clear off.”
    I stood there, staring at him. He hadn't looked up from a notebook on his desk in which he was doodling a lot of angry black spikes.
    “Hold on a minute. This doesn't mean you're firing me, does it?” I asked. “I mean, I've done a good job for you here. This place looks clean as a whistle and I've run your errands … and I didn't mean I wasn't coming to work at all. Just that I'd like to check in on the little ones from time to time.”
    “Yes, I suppose you haven't done too badly, considering,” he said grudgingly, “but I've got some serious work to do. I don't need someone hanging around me, polishing and scrubbing around my feet. Things have taken a very unexpected turn.”
    He started thumbing through the small black notebook, scowling in concentration. “You found out something last night at Delmonico's?” I asked excitedly.
    “Not Delmonico's. Afterward. In the saloon. They didn't recognize me, see, because I was still in my waiter's gear. They didn't think anyone could overhear them.” He was clearly rattled, otherwise he'd never have babbled on to me like this. “I can't really believe… I mean, him of all people, and I never took it seriously.” He looked up, almost surprised to see me still standing there. “Look, why don't you clear off. I've got work to do. This is no time to have a woman around die place.”
    “Should I pop in later to see if there are any errands you want run?”
    “I won't need errands run. I'll be out and about.”
    “I could keep an eye on the office for you and greet potential clients.”
    “I don't want you poking around when I'm not here. Go on. Hop it. Oh, and if you see your friend Captain Sullivan, you might tell him that Paddy would like a word with him, on the quiet, so to speak. I'll be at the usual place this evening.”
    I was dismissed. The thought of going back to the room with two lively children and Nuala next door was not appealing, but I had nowhere else to go. The weather didn't encourage strolling the boulevards. If I'd had my way, I'd have been swimming in the East River with the boys, but the only swimming ladies were allowed to do was out at Coney Island, where Daniel had taken me one Sunday. And that wasn't what I'd call swimming—a little discreet bobbing at the edge of the waves in bathing suits with so many frills that they weighed a ton.
    Little boys were splashing one another with water from a horse trough on Broadway. A few drops came in my direction. “Whoops. Sorry, miss,” the boys called, grinning. I smiled back.
    It seemed that boys were allowed to get away with anything. My mind went back to my adventure in boy's costume and the way I had passed through the streets as if invisible. I liked that. Sometime I'd use it again, when Paddy Riley finally trusted me enough to send