Away in a Manger: A Molly Murphy Mystery - Hardcover

Bowen, Rhys

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 1250052033 ISBN 13: 9781250052032

Publisher: Minotaur Books, 2015

Synopsis

From the author of In Farleigh Field...

It's Christmastime in 1905 New York City, and for once, Molly Murphy Sullivan is looking forward to the approaching holidays. She has a family of her own now: she and Daniel have a baby son and twelve-year-old Bridie is living with them as their ward. As Molly and the children listen to carolers in the street, they hear a lovely voice, the voice of an angel, and see a beggar girl huddled in a doorway, singing "Away in a Manger." Bridie is touched by the girl's ragged clothes and wants to help her out if they can. They give her a quarter, only to watch a bigger boy take it from her. But Molly discovers the boy is the girl's older brother. They've come from England and their mother has disappeared, and they're living with an aunt who mistreats them terribly.

Molly quickly realizes that these children are not the usual city waifs. They are well-spoken and clearly used to better things. So who are they? And what's happened to their mother? As Molly looks for a way to help the children and for the answers to these questions, she gets drawn into an investigation that will take her up to the highest levels of New York society.

This is another compelling and richly drawn mystery from New York Times bestseller Rhys Bowen.

About this title

About the Author

RHYS BOWEN is the author of the Anthony and Agatha Award–winning Molly Murphy mysteries, the Edgar Award-nominated Evan Evans series, the Royal Spyness series, and In Farleigh Field. Born in England, she lives in San Rafael, California.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Away in a Manger

By Rhys Bowen

St. Martin's Press

Copyright © 2015 Rhys Bowen
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-250-05203-2

CHAPTER 1

New York City, Wednesday, December 13, 1905

"Tis the Season to be jolly," sang the carolers outside Grace Church, while across Broadway the brass band of the Salvation Army thumped out "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," in competition. It seemed as if the whole of New York City was suddenly caught up in the Christmas spirit. I maneuvered Liam's buggy along the crowded sidewalk, checking to make sure that Bridie was walking close beside me. In such a crowd one couldn't be too careful. Everyone seemed to be laden with packages and baskets of food items needed for holiday baking. It had been a year of optimism, with President Roosevelt elected for his first full term of office and the Wright brothers showing the world that airplanes really could stay up in the sky for more than a few seconds. We were definitely in the age of progress.

I pulled Bridie back from the edge of the street as an automobile drove past, sending up a spray of slush and mud. So much for the age of progress, I thought, as some of it splashed onto my skirt. It had snowed the night before, the first snow of the season, creating an air of excitement, until the sun had come out and started to melt it, making the sidewalks slippery, dirty, and difficult to navigate. As we reached the corner of Tenth Street the young crossing sweepers were busy at work, clearing a pathway through the slush so that we ladies didn't get the hems of our skirts dirty.

"Merry Christmas. God bless you, lady," they called out, holding out raw little hands covered in chilblains. I felt guilty that I hadn't a penny or two ready for them, but the truth was that there were so many of them. How could I possibly choose one? And it was not only the crossing sweepers with their hands out. There were beggars of various sorts every few yards along Broadway, from hunched old women to pitiful children. Then there were those, like the crossing sweepers, one step up from beggars — the newsboys, the flower sellers with their tiny sprigs of mistletoe and holly. There were just too many of them. It hadn't been a year of progress for all of New York, that was clear enough. Immigrants were still arriving in their thousands, cramming into the already jam-packed Lower East Side and trying to support their families any way they could — many by selling a few eggs, roasted corn, bootlaces from a pushcart. I passed a baked potato stand with its enticing aroma. Several young boys stood around it, holding out their hands to the glowing charcoal until the owner drove them away.

As we moved away from the choir of carol singers, who were warmly wrapped in scarves and cloaks against the cold, I became aware of another voice — small, high, and beautiful.

"Away in a manger, no crib for a bed," it sang. "The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head."

Bridie heard it too and tugged at my sleeve. "Look, over there," she said.

I looked. A small girl was sitting in a doorway of Daniell's Haberdashery Store, huddled against the cold in a thin coat. She held out a tin cup as she sang, but people passed her without noticing her.

"Do you think she's an angel, come down for Christmas?" Bridie whispered to me.

She certainly looked like one. She had almost white-blonde hair and big blue eyes in a little heart-shaped face and her voice was so pure and sweet that it brought tears to my eyes.

"We have to give her something," Bridie said firmly, but I was already reaching into my purse.

"Go and give her that," I said, handing over a quarter.

She looked at it critically a

Edition details

• Publisher: Minotaur Books
• Publication date: 2015
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1250052033
• ISBN 13: 9781250052032
• Binding: Hardcover
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 256