Tell Me, Pretty Maiden - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,3

could be settled. It occurred to me that he could at least have written to let me know his plans. Men are always so bad at that kind of thing.

I was just approaching the corner of Sixth when I saw a scuffle going on. A couple of my fellow street urchins were facing one another. One of them was a tall, skinny chap, about my own height, and he was facing a little runt half his size. But it was the runt who was obviously the attacker.

“Go on, beat it. This is my spot,” he was shouting in his high, childish voice, “and if ya ain’t careful, I’ll fight ya for it.” He raised his hands in true prizefighting stance.

I stopped to watch, not giving much for the little one’s chances. Instead the older boy shrugged. “Keep it. Ain’t no good anyway,” he said, then shouldered his broom and strolled away. There was something about the way he walked that made me follow him. It took me a good half-block before I realized what it was that had made me suspicious. He walked like a girl. Boys saunter. They plant down their feet carelessly. They kick at things. This one was treading carefully, taking small steps. I smiled knowingly to myself. It was no street urchin but another girl in disguise, like me.

TWO

Intrigued now, I fought my way through the crowd to catch up with her. Why another woman should want to dress up as a street urchin, I had no idea. The only other female detective I had met in New York City was Mrs. Goodwin, but she was employed by the police and wore a uniform. I was determined to keep this woman in sight until I could find a suitable opportunity to confront her. At least I didn’t have to worry about her fighting temperament.

Then I heard the rumble of an approaching El train over our heads. The young woman suddenly dashed up the steps to a station platform. I went to follow her, but I didn’t have a ticket. She pushed through the barrier and onto the train while I was left fuming and waiting in line at the ticket booth. For the second time in one evening I was furious with myself. If she truly had been another woman detective, then maybe we could have worked together and helped each other on occasion. God knows how hard it is to survive as a woman in a man’s world and how lonely such a profession can be.

My small back alley of a street called Patchin Place was in wintry darkness as I approached it, picking my way along the narrow trough that had been cleared through the snow. As I fished in my pocket for my front door key I realized I dreaded the prospect of an empty house on a cold dismal evening. I’m really not a creature designed for the solitary life at the best of times, and at this moment I longed for nothing more than a roaring fire, hot drink, and good company. I knew where I could find all of the above, but I hesitated to burst in on my neighbors so late in the evening, especially when they were entertaining friends whom I had not yet been invited to meet.

For a long moment propriety battled with longing. Being of a Celtic disposition, of course longing won out. I picked my way across the street and knocked on their door. It was opened by Sid wearing her customary gentleman’s velvet smoking jacket, her Turkish cigarette in its long ebony holder resting gracefully between her fingers. She was the picture of bohemian elegance but she was eyeing me with horrified suspicion.

“What do you want?” she demanded. “Go on. Clear off.”

“Sid, it’s me. Molly,” I said.

A surprised smile spread across her face. “Bless my soul, so it is. What on earth are you doing out this late, dressed in that extraordinary manner? No, don’t tell me. Gus will want to hear it too, and I know our guest will be thunderstruck to meet you.” She was already chuckling as she ushered me into the house and then threw open the drawing room door with a dramatic gesture.

“Prepare to be astonished, Gus,” she said. “And as for you, Elizabeth, here is a street urchin hot on your tail.”

I stepped into the delightful warmth of their drawing room. A big fire was blazing in the hearth. The heavy burgundy velvet drapes shut out the chilly