Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“If we can find one of Letitia’s hairs at her home, a doctor will try to match the two samples under a microscope.”


“Amazing,” she said. “I am sure Letitia’s family will be able to find any number of her hairs. A locket, maybe, or the hats she wore, or even a comb she left behind. I’ll telephone them today and have the hairs sent down by train. With any luck we’ll know, for sure, before I depart for Europe on Monday.”

“It would be unfortunate for you, if you had to leave with such terrible news hanging over you,” I said.

“But better than not knowing.”

I nodded.

“And what news on Daniel?” she asked. “You are still working on his behalf? Is he out of that horrible jail yet?”

“I’m afraid not. I have made some progress, but I don’t think it’s going to get us anywhere.”

“You’ve found the person who was out to discredit Daniel?”

“I think I have, but it’s no use,” I said. “It’s the police commissioner himself, the one on whose evidence they will convict Daniel.”

“What reason does he have to hate Daniel so?”

“He may be involved in a horse-doping scandal that Daniel was investigating.”

“But surely such a minor scandal wouldn’t make anyone go to such lengths,” she said.

“He prides himself on his moral rectitude. Perhaps he couldn’t bear that any hint of scandal should tarnish his reputation.”

“Then why not just have Daniel removed from the case and put another officer in his place—one who wasn’t so competent?”

She had a good point there.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I really don’t know. All I know is that time passes, and I can see no way of securing Daniel’s release.”

“But why is he in prison if he hasn’t even been tried yet?” Arabella asked. “I don’t know much about these things, but couldn’t he just pay them bail and they’d let him go?”

“That’s the problem,” I said. “Because he has been accused of having ties to a gang, his assets have been frozen. He doesn’t want to ask friends or family because he doesn’t want word to get to his father, who is quite ill.”

“Daniel does have his noble side then, after all,” she said, “but in this case it’s rather silly of him, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think he’d ever forgive himself if his father had a heart attack because of him. It wasn’t too bad when there was hope of setting him free in the near future, but the longer this drags on, the more it seems that…” To my horror tears started trickling down my cheeks. I turned away but not quickly enough.

Arabella came over to me and put her hand awkwardly on my shoulder. “My dear Miss Murphy, please do not distress yourself. I’m sure everything will be all right. The truth will come out. They won’t let an innocent man languish in jail.”

“But they will,” I said. “Who will believe me? Who will believe Daniel against the word of a powerful man like the commissioner of police?”

At that moment the door opened and Miss Van Woekem came in.

“Molly Murphy!” she exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing here?” She took one look at my tear-stained cheeks as I quickly tried to wipe away the tears with a handkerchief. “Although I hardly think it was wise to come here with my goddaughter in residence, knowing your sentiments about each other. I hope you two haven’t been at each other’s throats.”

“Oh, but Godmother, that’s all in the past,” Arabella exclaimed. “Miss Murphy and I are now the dearest of friends. She came because she had news for me in a quest of mine.”

“And Miss Norton was comforting me when I became distressed.”

Miss Van Woekem looked from Arabella to me. “Wonders will never cease,” she said. “And what is this quest of yours, child?”

“It’s—” Arabella looked at me for inspiration.

“Miss Norton wanted me to locate a friend of hers. I appear to have done so.” I nodded to Arabella. “I really should be going. There is much I need to accomplish, as I’m sure you do, too. Please excuse me if I rush away, Miss Van Woekem.” I bowed to her and made for the front door.

“I’ll make that telephone call today and attempt to supply you with what you need,” Arabella called after me.

“I must say the Irish are an emotional race. Now what was all that about?” I heard Miss Van Woekem saying as I closed the door behind me.





THIRTY-FOUR




I went to visit Mrs. Goodwin on my return, stopping off to buy a bunch of grapes at a greengrocer’s. Her neighbor let me in. She was clearly enjoying herself, having established herself as queen of the household, bossing around the nurse and Mrs. Goodwin.

“I’ve made her a junket,” she said, ready to give me my instructions, too, “and I’ve some calf’s-foot jelly cooling and a poultice all ready for her ribs.”

“I keep telling her a poultice isn’t going to help with a cracked bone, but she won’t listen to me,” the nurse said.