Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“Molly, what a delightful surprise,” he said. “We were expecting some German friends of Fritz’s but you’ll do equally well. Come on in.”


He ushered me into a comfortable suite with plush armchairs, table, and writing desk at one end, a bedroom area at the other. It was meticulously neat, with no clutter other than a pile of books. Dr. Birnbaum was sitting at the desk. He got up in a hurry as I came in and looked rather awkward at finding me there—possibly because he was entertaining Ryan in his rooms.

“Miss Murphy,” he said, clicking his heels and bowing. “To what do we owe this honor?”

“I have a favor to ask, Dr. Birnbaum. It’s about the case we’ve been discussing. The murdered girls.”

He eyed me warily. “I hope you don’t wish to be my assistant again. That was rather embarrassing for me.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll not embarrass you again. You’ve kept abreast of what is happening, have you?”

“Ah yes. I read that they plan to exhume the other girls who were murdered.”

“They did so today. I was present.”

“And how did you manage this feat? I can’t picture those two officers inviting you along for the ride.”

“They didn’t even know I was there.” I caught Ryan’s eye, and we exchanged a grin.

“Gott im Himmel, you never fail to astonish me, Miss Murphy.” Dr. Birnbaum mopped his brow with his handkerchief. “Please do be seated. Ryan, will you please pour our guest a glass of wine?”

I took the armchair offered.

“No wine for me, thank you,” I said, as Ryan picked up the bottle, shrugged, and poured himself a glass. “I’ll not detain you for more than a moment. You have probably also heard that these girls might not have been prostitutes at all, but ordinary, respectable young women dressed up to give the appearance of that kind of person.”

“Extraordinary,” he said. “Our killer has gone to a lot of trouble. And why, I ask myself? If he wanted to abduct young women and kill them, why not do so and hide their bodies? Bury them under the floorboards, drop them into a lake, dig graves for them in a forest. The chances of their ever being found would have been slight. So why advertise them and go through all this pretence?”

“Maybe because prostitutes don’t matter?” I suggested. “If the murdered girls are thought to be ladies of the night, then nobody will care too much who is killing them. Perhaps this is what the killer thinks.”

“Didn’t I tell you she was a bright girl, Fritz?” Ryan asked. “The flower of Irish womanhood.”

I decided he had already attacked that wine bottle before my arrival. He was at that expansive stage of drunkenness we Irish go through. Morbidity would come next.

Dr. Birnbaum stroked his blond beard reflectively. “Possible. Although there is something here that I can’t quite grasp. Something is not true to type, or at least to any type that I have come across. A brutish man who violates a girl and then kills her so violently and yet displays all the characteristics of a mind cunning enough to have baffled the police until now. He’s reckless enough to take extreme risks, yet well behaved in his daily life so that he is not suspected. It is almost as if we’re dealing with two people. This kind of split personality is most fascinating to me. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“And I can’t wait to catch him,” I said. “It makes me sick to think of those poor girls, imagining they were about to meet an admirer, only to be lured to their deaths.”

“An admirer, what is this?” he demanded.

I told him everything Mrs. Goodwin and I had found so far.

“Going to meet a boy?” He looked perplexed. “I find it hard to believe that we are dealing with a boy here. A young man kills in the heat of passion. He would then be likely to panic and try to hide the body at all costs. These deaths are coldly calculated and the whole execution of the plot carried through to perfection. No, I do not think we are dealing with a boy.”

“Then how were the girls lured to their deaths? At least two of them took risks to meet with a young man. He must have been attractive and exciting enough for them to risk their parents’ wrath.”

Dr. Birnbaum shook his head. “I can’t answer that. But what did you want me to do for you?”

“I wondered if you would be able to match up hair samples for me? I have obtained a strand of hair from one of the dead girls. I hope to obtain hair from the girl’s home, from a locket or a hairbrush, and I wondered if you would have the means to examine it under a microscope.”

“I always travel with a microscope,” he said. “It is not the biggest or best model, however. I could give you a preliminary answer, but to make a detailed analysis, we would have to go to a good laboratory. I am sure the police must have this facility. Why not take the hair to them?”

“I intend to,” I said, “but I would like to confirm my suspicions first.”