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booth next to him. She had been in charge of serving hors d’oeuvres all day but was still moving spryly.
    “What is it Sean, me luv? Are yuh finally gone to take me away from all this?”
    “Well, maybe not tonight, Mary,” he joked back, “but soon. What would really do me good would be fer yuh to tidy up a bit fer me. I got this here pressing engagement tuh keep.”
    “It better not be with who I’m thinkin’, young Daugherty, or you’ll be getting your handsome self in over your head. The next goovernor don’t want no shanty Irishman around his little princess.”
    “Let me be ah worryin’ about that, Darlun,” said Sean. “A fella has tah be settin’ his sights high these days.” He took off his apron and tried to stroll casually towards the servant’s entrance of the main house.
    Nodding and smiling at his fellow workers in the kitchen, Sean walked nonchalantly towards the door that would lead him into the main house. Once inside, he moved stealthily down the dark corridor towards the faint glowing light. He had ventured down this hall by accident the first time he had served a party at the Carver’s and thought he remembered a small table along the wall filled with fresh cut flowers. It would be very top heavy and he didn’t want to bump it. As he approached the door to the library, a draft made the gaslight flicker ominous. Just that spring storm he had noticed developing earlier, he thought to himself.
    He turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly against the breeze that was blowing though the open French doors leading to the balcony. An occasional flash of lightening from the gathering storm illuminated the room inside. The fanciful carvings on the French baroque furniture showed like taunting goblins in the fitful light. He moved through the room cautiously by touch more than sight until he heard the struggle on the balcony.
    “Sarah?’’ he whispered frantically.
    There was no answer. Then came a woman’s scream. Sean bolted through the French doors. At the far end of the balcony, he saw three men exiting - one was so large he had to duck his head as he passed through the doorway. Sean ran to the stone railing and caught himself. People were already running into the courtyard towards the body of a large woman in a blue dress lying limp on the granite sidewalk. One of them looked up towards the balcony and saw him standing frozen against the lightening of the evening sky.
    “It’s Sean Daugherty!”

CHAPTER 4
A MAN OF THE WEST

    “Mike, the chief wants to see you,” said the fat desk sergeant nervously. “He’s waiting in the detective’s interrogation room.”
    “Don’t be so fretful, Neebe,” said Detective McGhan, his hands behind his head and his feet on a chair. “It’s bad fer yer digestin’.”
    “Well, I’m not telling you what’s good for you or anything,” said Neebe, “but I’m talking about the Chief of Police, not the Chief of Detectives.”
    “Barnes?”
    “Yes, sir. In the flesh.”
    “What would get Humphrey Barnes out ov city hall this ‘arly in the mornin’?”
    “I don’t know,” said Neebe impatiently, “but if he wanted me to tell you he would have called me on the telephone and stayed downtown.”
    “True enough, Sergeant Neebe,” said Detective McGhan. “He does luv tuh use his new tellyphone.” Mike rose and stretched the kinks from his muscular frame. “I was supposed tuh meet Bockleman fer breakfast. This meeting better be important. I was planning tuh give him another lesson at playing cards.”
    “How come you never play chess with him? He always wants to play you.”
    “That’s easy enough,” replied Mike, “I dun’t know how tuh play. He’d like tuh be the one doing the instructin’ fer a change but…”
    “Sergeant Neebe!” came a shout from down the hall that cut Mike off. “I told you to get Lieutenant McGhan in here immediately!”
    Neebe’s face flushed and he looked at Mike helplessly.
    “Okay, Sergeant,