All That Is Hidden--A Molly Murphy Mystery by Rhys Bowen

Author:Rhys Bowen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

Twenty-One

Sunday, October 20

If Daniel was shocked he didn’t show it. “Please come in, Mr. Hearst, Commissioner,” he said, and led the way into the front parlor. Without asking he poured them both a drink of whiskey. “Please have a seat.”

“Thank you, Sullivan.” The police commissioner took the drink and sat. He was younger than I had expected with hair parted in the middle and a handlebar mustache. My gaze went to the other man, the power-hungry Mr. Hearst I had heard so much about. He was also younger than expected, clean-shaven and wearing a rather gaudy tie and a large-stoned ring on his little finger. I hovered in the doorway, not sure if I was welcome in their conversation but determined to hear anything that might impact our life. “I’m sorry to come by so late, but Mr. Hearst and I needed to talk to you before the news gets out about Big Bill.”

“I’m actually very glad you came,” Daniel said. “Doyle is not up to a high-profile case like this. I was hoping that now I will be taking my hat out of the ring for sheriff I could help with the investigation.”

“That’s what we wanted to talk about, I’m afraid.” The commissioner turned to the other man. “Mr. Hearst? Would you like to take it from here?”

“Yes.” Mr. Hearst cleared his throat. “Sullivan, I think you might have known or at least guessed that I was behind the request for you to join the Tammany ticket. I appreciate that you put yourself at some risk and inconvenience to infiltrate Big Bill’s inner circle. Has that paid off? Do you have any idea what happened to my reporter?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, Mr. Hearst,” Daniel said. “Big Bill was friendly toward me, but I don’t think he trusted me. I do have enough evidence already to bring some serious corruption and bribery charges. My feeling is that he was capable of having your reporter murdered if it suited his interest, but I have no proof. Now that he is dead, it is a moot point.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Hearst spoke forcefully. “It is more important than ever that we find out what happened to Ronnie Walker. He is not the only one who has disappeared. He was investigating the deaths of dockworkers who appeared to cross Tammany Hall. He had statements from three wives whose husbands met with accidents after they had a dispute with Big Bill or one of his flunkeys. Now I don’t give a damn what political party you vote for at the end of the day, excuse my language, Mrs. Sullivan.” I started. I had been standing as inconspicuously as possible, not wanting to be asked to leave the conversation. He saw the shock on my face and took it that I had been upset by the use of the word, not at being discovered. Then, to my continued amazement he smiled, and I could have sworn that he winked at me. A ladies’ man, then! That was interesting.

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