Lies That Comfort and Betray

  “And Father Brennan?”

  “My contact in the archbishop’s office informs me that he’s settled in nicely to his new parish,” Josiah informed her. “There are a lot of Irish in Boston. He should feel right at home.”

  “Until he has to be moved again,” Geoffrey said. But that was the Church’s affair. There was no proof of wrongdoing of any kind. He’d have to let it go.

  “I don’t know which city is worse, New York or London,” Prudence said, peering out at the crowded streets, the multitude of horse-drawn vehicles jockeying for position, the piles of dung swept against every curb by hordes of ragged urchins. It was a little better as they approached the MacKenzie mansion on Fifth Avenue, but only by degree.

  “I wouldn’t live anywhere else,” Josiah said. A staunch and loyal New Yorker, he was convinced there was no other place on earth that could rival his beloved metropolis.

  Prudence smiled. She shared Josiah’s feelings, though she’d never put them into words. It was a case of being New York born and bred, she decided. Unlike the masses of immigrants who hoped to move on through the city to something better, she knew she belonged here. Her bones sensed it, even when they were being rattled around in a carriage lurching its way across cobblestoned streets.

  New York was exciting and dangerous, beautiful under a blanket of snow or garlanded with the green of springtime, ugly in the tenement districts, brutal when the gangs rich people never saw set out to maim and kill each other. She and Geoffrey had a foot in both New Yorks. They lived in opulence and safety, but the nature of the work they had chosen to do carried them into the darker city where life was raw and passions flared to killing intensity with the speed of a Lucifer match striking fire.

  “Kincaid,” Prudence called into the speaking tube that connected the interior of the carriage to the driver perched high above them outside. “I’ve changed my mind. You can drop the baggage off at home later. Right now I’d like to go to Wall Street. To the office.”

  Geoffrey touched one hand to his forehead in mock salute.

  Josiah knew he’d been right to lay in a new supply of German pastries and freshly ground coffee this morning. There was nothing momentous on the horizon for the firm of Hunter and MacKenzie, Investigative Law, but there were a number of inquiries that might prove promising.

  Prudence wondered if anything could match the challenge of the case they had just solved. When you think you’ve seen it all, something entirely new comes along, her father’s voice reminded her. Judge MacKenzie had never underestimated the depths to which human wickedness could sink.

  His daughter was learning the same lesson.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Somewhere amongst the many drafts of this novel I needed a new character. Thanks to Eileen Brady who provided me with just the person I didn’t know I was looking for.

  No book ever springs to life entirely on its own. Many voices contributed to the telling of this second of Prudence MacKenzie’s adventures, but none with greater fidelity than those of my Tuesday Critique Group. Thanks to Joyce Sanford, Louise Boost, and Betty Barry for being there with editorial pens at the ready.

  As always, editor John Scognamiglio and agent Jessica Faust saw what all the rest of us missed and pointed it out. Just when you think you’re finished, it’s time for a few more revisions.