Murphy's Law (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #1)

"But you'd notice if someone wasn't wearing his uniform?"

He nodded. "The boy probably would. He's the one who casts off."

I looked at the boy. "Do you know the guard called Boyle? Would you remember whether he

took the last boat from Ellis Island the night before the man was murdered?"

The boy stared at me blankly. "There's a lot of people works on the island, ma'am. They comes and they goes. And when it's cold weather like this, they makes straight for the cabin and stays there. So I couldn't rightly say--"

"And I couldn't rightly care," the old man finished for him. "We gets paid to sail this thing across to the island and back, not to remember who sails in it." He dug the boy in the side. "Come on, young'un. Let's go get some breakfast."

And they walked away from me without another word. So much for my first attempt at interrogation. My respect for Daniel Sullivan rose a little. He seemed to be able to get answers out of people. Of course, he could threaten them with the Tombs, which certainly helped. ...

I wasn't sure what to do now. I hung around the dock area a while longer, wondering who else might have noticed whether Boyle did or did not take that last boat back to the city. All we knew was that he had signed out on the island. That didn't mean he had left with the other members of his shift. So that would be the next thing to find out. I'd have to be back here when the last boat of the day docked and ask his fellow guards if they remembered. Of course, if Boyle was among them, it would make it not only difficult but dangerous. I had been regarding this as an academic exercise and it suddenly struck me-- if Boyle was the killer and he found me poking my nose where it wasn't wanted, I'd be in a lot of danger. So maybe I'd better start with a more subtle approach. I would need to find out where he lived. Daniel Sullivan would know, but I wasn't about to go asking him.

Just as I was chilled to the marrow and about to head away from the waterfront I noticed two men in Ellis Island watchman uniforms making for the moored government launch. I ran up to them.

"Excuse me, but you work on the island, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," one of them said. They were young, freshfaced men and they were looking at me suspiciously as if they weren't sure of my motives.

"I wonder if you know a guard called Boyle. Big man, lots of whiskers."

"Bully Boyle? Yes, I know who he is," one of them said.

"Bully?"

"Just a nickname. I think his real name is Bernard, isn't it, Dan?"

Dan nodded.

"You wouldn't have been on the same shift as him the night before that murder on the island, would you?"

"What's this all about?" the other man asked. "I'm trying to help a friend of mine. The police have him locked up in the Tombs at the moment. I just wondered if either of you took the same boat as Mr. Boyle the evening before the murder."

"I might have," the first, friendlier, one said. "I think we were on the same shift, but I really can't tell you whether he was on the boat with us. It's been so cold lately, we all make for the cabin and stay there. It's a tight squeeze so I really only noticed the men right next to me. Why are you interested in Mr. Boyle?"

"Because the police think that someone might have borrowed his uniform to commit the crime." This was an outright lie, but I didn't want Boyle to think he was suspected.

The men looked at each other, then the first one shook his head. "Sorry, but I really can't be of help. At the end of the shift I'm so tired, all I can think of is getting home and putting my feet up."

"Would either of you happen to know where Mr. Boyle lives? Maybe I could go and talk to him myself."

"I have a feeling he lives in Hell's Kitchen," one said, looking at the other for confirmation.

"Somewhere around that area," the other confirmed. "A lot of the Irish guys seem to live there."

"And where would I find Hell's Kitchen?" I wondered for a moment whether they were pulling my leg. Surely there wasn't really a place called that?

"You just follow West Street along the docks until you get to Twenty-third. It starts around there. Between the Hudson and Eighth Avenue. It's quite a way from here. I'd take the El if I were you."

"The L?"

"The elevated railway. See the steam coming up over there? That's the train stopping at the Hudson Street Station. And I wouldn't go there

alone, miss. It's not the sort of neighborhood a young girl like yourself should be wandering around in."

I couldn't say I had no money for the elevated railway and nobody to call upon to go with me. Seamus would probably come with me if I asked him, but he was working from sunup to sundown. And I wasn't about to wait for Sunday. I'd have to take my chances now.

"Thank you for your concern, sir," I said. "I won't do anything foolish."

Then they went on their way down to the harbor, and I started up West Street, along the edge of the Hudson River.