Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“Down to the pier then, I think,” she said to me, and we made our way back along the Bowery.

The pier stretched out like a ghostly arm into the black ocean. The bathing house beside it was already shut and in complete darkness. I looked down to see white lines of waves rushing at the beach and lights along the pier twinkling in the water. It was a festive scene, but I was as taut as a watch spring. The couples who passed us would be finding the darkness romantic, I thought. Then my mind went to two couples in particular. Did Rosa Rosetti and Dilly Lindquist have high hopes of a romantic evening when they strolled arm in arm along the boardwalk? When had they been lured into a carriage? When had they first begun to feel afraid? Not here, surely, where there were always people within earshot.

I looked around me. Here on the boardwalk there was a steady stream of pedestrians, but down those steps, on the beach, or maybe under the boardwalk, it would be completely dark now. A good place to go for a stolen kiss, perhaps, but also complete darkness for more sinister motives. Except—I watched figures going up and down those steps. She would only have to scream and help would be at hand. And if he killed her down there, how in heaven’s name did he manage to carry the body to a waiting vehicle?

“This is the bar they mentioned,” Mrs. Goodwin said, “and if I’m not mistaken, that’s the man we are looking for with one of his girls now.”

A flashily dressed young man, in jaunty derby and white spats, was wagging his finger as he shouted at a young girl. She was scantily dressed and shivered as if it was cold, which it wasn’t. Even the thick lipstick and rouge couldn’t disguise how young she was.

“You Goddamn well get back to work, you lazy bitch,” he was growling, “or you’ll feel the back of my hand across your face.”

Mrs. Goodwin stepped in with me right behind her.

“Are you Harry?” she asked.

“What if I am?”

“I’ve a few questions to ask you,” she said.

“Oh yeah? And why should I answer your questions?”

“Because of this.” She whipped out her badge in a way that made me green with envy. This is what a private investigator lacks, I thought. Each time we talk to someone we have to win them over and make them want to talk to us. We can never force them to, like the police.

He laughed. “Go on. That ain’t real. There ain’t no women cops.”

“Want to test it if I blow my whistle?” she asked.

The bluster subsided a fraction. “You can’t do nothing to me. I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

“You were threatening that young girl. And you know she’s underage.”

“What young girl? Oh—that’s my little sister. I have to keep her in line.”

“And I’m a sergeant in the marines,” she said, making him chuckle. “Look, Harry. I want to talk to you about the girl who was murdered. Jewel—was that her name?”

“Yeah, Jewel. Pity about that. Nice kid.”

“So what can you tell me about her murder?”

“Nothing. It happens sometimes. The guys get carried away. Some of them like it rough. The girls, too. Hazard of the job.”

“You don’t know who she went with then?”

“If I did, I’d break his face in. He lost me one of my best workers.”

“So there’s nothing you can tell us to help us catch this man?” she asked. “You must know that several more prostitutes have been killed since then.”

“The girls in the city? Same guy, is it?”

“We think so. It might be only a matter of time before he comes out here again,” she said. “So is there nothing you can tell us?”

“She was jumpy that night,” he said. “She told another girl that she didn’t want to go through with it. ‘I can put up with a lot if they pay well,’ she said to the girl, ‘but that’s a bit much.’”

“So you think she suspected there would be violence?”

“I don’t know. That’s all I can tell you. She didn’t show up when she was supposed to and next morning they found her body.”

“Thanks, Harry,” she said. “Let’s hope we catch him.”

“Me, too.” His eyes fastened on me. “Don’t tell me you’re a lady cop as well?”

“I’m her little sister, the same as she’s yours.” I indicated the young girl, who had stopped shivering and was looking on with interest.

“I could put you to work if you’re ever out of a job.” His eyes flirted with me. “Good-looking healthy girl like you.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather gut fish at the Fulton market,” I said.

He laughed and we parted amicably.

“I suppose we should get back and see how the fight’s progressing,” Mrs. Goodwin said. “And I must confess I could do with a sit down. My side is killing me.”

“All right.”

We made our way back to the Bowery.

“Look,” I said as we walked back at a more leisurely pace. “There is the Streets of Cairo Pavilion. That’s where the Rosetti girls went and right after that Rosa discovered the note. I suppose it’s too much to expect that our man always operates in the same area?”