Free For the Love of Mike by Rhys Bowen Page A

the armchair indicated on the other side of the fireplace. “Coffee would suit me very well, thank you.”
    She was looking at me, head cocked to one side in another remarkably birdlike posture. “You’re looking well,” she said, “and more . . . established. You’re more sure of yourself since the last time we met. So tell me, is your detective business flourishing?”
    “Hardly flourishing yet, but I am currently engaged in two interesting cases.”
    She leaned forward in her chair. “Do tell me—all the details.”
    She listened attentively while I told her about the garment factory, making annoyed tut-tutting noises as I described the conditions there. “If anyone can sort them out, then you can,” she said, “Now, about this missing girl.”
    “Her name is Katherine Faversham. English landed gentry, living in Ireland. I thought that if she was staying with society friends anywhere in the city, you might hear of it.”
    Coffee arrived and was poured. Miss Van Woekem took a sip, then looked up. “Faversham,” she said thoughtfully. “Faversham. The name doesn’t ring a bell. Of course, if she has married a penniless scoundrel, she might not wish to make her presence known to friends of the family. Although if she is married, her family presumably has lost authority over her and can do nothing.”
    “My job is to locate her,” I said. “How they persuade her to come home is not my concern. When I find out under what financial circumstances she left Ireland, I’ll know where to start looking, but in the meantime I decided it couldn’t hurt to put my spies to work.”
    Miss Van Woekem cackled. “Your spies. I like that. I have always wished to be a spy. In fact, if I had not been born a woman, I might well have volunteered my services to the government. I will keep my ear to the ground, my dear, and report back to you.”
    “Thank you,” I said. “I knew I could count on you. I am really glad that—”
    I broke off at the sound of voices in the hallway outside. Before I could finish my sentence the door was flung open and a young woman burst in with a great rustle of silk.
    “I’ve caught you at home, how wonderful!” She stood with arms open, a vision of loveliness in lilac silk, with a white fur wrap flung carelessly around her shoulders and an adorable little bonnet, also fur trimmed. “I wasn’t supposed to come to town this weekend, but Alicia Martin dragged me to a concert at Carnegie Hall last night and I’m so glad we went because it was an Italian tenor. You know how I feel about Italian tenors because you’ve promised to take me to hear Mr. Caruso the moment he comes to New York—and then we spent the night with Alicia’s aunt in a really interesting apartment in the Dakota. I’d always thought only poor people lived in apartments, but Alicia’s aunt isn’t at all poor and summers in Paris. Then this morning we were about to go strolling in Central Park but I said that I had to surprise my darling godmother first—are you suitably surprised?”
    “Oh yes,” Miss Van Woekem said. “Most surprised.”
    “You don’t seem overwhelmed with delight at seeing me.” The young woman pouted.
    “I am very pleased to see you, of course, Arabella, but, as you may notice, I already have company.”
    “Oh.” The girl’s mouth formed a perfect circle and she appeared to notice me for the first time. I saw her taking in the cut and quality of my clothes. “Oh, I didn’t realize. Have I burst into the middle of an interview for a position in your household? I’m awfully sorry.”
    “I am entertaining a good friend,” Miss Van Woekem said calmly. “Allow me to introduce you. Miss Murphy, this is my goddaughter, Arabella Norton. Arabella, this is Miss Molly Murphy, a famous private detective who was actually trying to capture that odious man when he shot President McKinley.”
    “Really? How amazingly exciting. I think I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”
    “Maybe.” I knew