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are your two dollars back. I won't be needing the suitable dress after all.”
    She closed my hand around the dollar bills. “Keep them. Your wages.”
    “Oh, but I couldn't possibly—” I began.
    “Wages earned,” she insisted. “Good luck to you, Molly Murphy.”
    Then I was coming down the front steps into Gramercy Park. Last night's storm had dispelled the stifling heat, leaving a crisp blue sky and a fresh breeze. The smell of jasmine wafted from the gardens. A maid was sweeping front steps and the swishing noise echoed from the tall buildings around the square. A milk cart approached with the neat clip-clopping of hooves and then the reassuring clink of milk bottles as the milkman made a delivery. It was strange, but I felt as if I'd stepped into a new world. I ran down those steps, ready for anything.
    My first disappointment came as I crossed the street. My future employer was not in the gardens. I slipped through the fence and went around carefully, in case he was hiding behind a shrub, but the only occupants were two nursemaids who walked side by side pushing their charges in high wicker prams. After a careful search I had to admit to myself that he wasn't there. I sat on a bench and waited. It was, after all, early in the day. Maybe his vigilance didn't start until after a hearty breakfast. I waited and waited. The cool morning melted into uncomfortable midday sun. At last I admitted to myself that he wasn't coming.
    I left the garden by the way I had entered and went to find the constable on Fourth Avenue. He was standing under the awning of a corner grocery shop, looking redfaced and sweaty.
    “Not more trouble, miss, I hope?” He brought up his nightstick to touch his helmet to me.
    “Not at all, officer. The man, Paddy, you called him, hasn't appeared today. I was wondering if you knew where I could find him.”
    “And what would you be needing to find him for, I'd like to know, miss? Not to lodge a complaint, I hope. I did tell you he was harmless.”
    I leaned closer. “I understand he is a private investigator.”
    The constable glanced around worriedly, as if I had given out this information to the world and not just to him. “You're not thinking of making trouble for him, miss? I swear to God the man wasn't doing any harm.”
    “I might have work for him.” I gave him something close to a wink. This was an outright lie, but I'd become so good at lying recently that it seemed a shame to let the skill get rusty.
    He leaned closer to me now. His breath smelled of onions and I wondered if he'd had them for breakfast. “If Paddy doesn't want to be found, then nobody's going to find him, although I believe he operates out of a place on lower Fifth Avenue.”
    “Fifth Avenue!” I had been here long enough to know that Fifth Avenue was the haunt of swells.
    “A man in his job needs an address where the clients won't be afraid to visit him, doesn't he?” the constable said. “But in truth Paddy's on the lower part of it—the part that's seen better days.” He stared out across the street. “Of course I remember it when Fifth Avenue
was
Fifth Avenue, right down to Washington Square. Only the real nobs lived there.”
    “You wouldn't happen to know where on Fifth Avenue?” I asked hopefully. The day was heating up by the minute and I, of course, had come out without my hat again.
    He shook his head. “That's not part of my beat, miss. Below Fourteenth, anyway.”
    “Thank you, officer. You've been very helpful,” I said.
    “Always glad to send business in Paddy's direction,” he said. “Tell him Constable Hanna sends his regards.”
    I was glad that Fifth Avenue wasn't too far away. I'd already worn out one pair of soles in this city and it was always a big decision whether to squander five cents on the trolley or the elevated railway when the distances were great and the weather was too hot for walking. I continued down Fourth Avenue until I reached Union Square and then intended to