“And at the same time?” Mrs. Goodwin shook her head.
“If it’s someone from the city, he probably only comes out here occasionally.”
And if it’s that innocuous divinity student, I thought, he’s now supposedly at a camp in the wilderness. We’d have to have the police check on that.
The Inman Casino loomed ahead of us.
“I truly need to rest,” Mrs. Goodwin said, “but I understand that we only have limited time. I’ll claim I’m feeling faint and have them bring out a chair into the fresh air for me. That way I can keep an eye on you as you explore.”
“Good idea,” I said. “Don’t worry. I won’t go out of sight. I just need to see for myself what attractions lie along this part of the street.”
I left her installed outside the casino and crossed to the Cairo Pavilion.
“Closing in ten minutes,” the turbaned man outside was shouting. “Only ten minutes to see the glories of the harem.”
Some of the food booths were also in the process of shutting down for the night. Only the dance palaces, the beer halls, and dubious-looking clubs were still going strong. I looked into them but didn’t risk going inside. The boy could have been a day-tripper and have spotted Rosa anywhere. Finding a needle in a haystack was an easy quest compared to the one I had set myself. And yet I was sure that the other girls had met their killer in the same way. He had dumped the subsequent bodies on the same two streets. Did that mean he was a creature of habit? Did he always frequent the same part of the Bowery? I looked around me for young men standing alone.
Then a midget jumped out in front of me, making me jump out of my skin. “Last chance for the freak show, lady!” he shouted, in a funny high voice. “Ten cents to see the most amazing, most disgusting spectacles you’ll ever set eyes on.”
I looked up at the frontage of the pavilion. This then was the freak show that the Rosetti sisters had been to before they had entered the Cairo Pavilion. On the wall were painted the various freaks exhibited inside. The snake woman, the world’s smallest horse, the bearded lady, the mule-faced boy, the human tree.
I stopped, finding it hard to breathe. Wasn’t that what Rosa Rosetti had murmured before dying? Tree. Tree. And at this very spot she had found the note in her pocket. I turned to go back and fetch Mrs. Goodwin, and instead I found myself staring into Detective Quigley’s face.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Good evening, Detective,” I managed to say calmly. “Did you tire of the fight?”
“I must confess that I did,” he said. “I only came along because Captain Paxton suggested it, and it’s good to keep on the right side of the top brass. Frankly I find it a barbaric practice, so I made an excuse to come outside, and then I ran into Mrs. Goodwin. I must say I was surprised to see her. I thought she was still in the hospital. She told me she was keeping an eye on you, that you suspected this area had something to do with the Ripper. If it truly does, aren’t you taking an incredible risk?”
“I’m staying within sight of Mrs. Goodwin,” I said, “and the casino is crawling with police right now.”
“Even so,” he looked at me in that supercilious way of his, “this case should be left to professionals. What exactly did you have in mind?”
I pointed at the freak show. “I’d like to go in here and take a look for myself.”
“You’ve got a taste for freaks?” He laughed.
“No, but there’s something I’d like to check on. It could be important. Could I ask you to follow at a safe distance behind me, in case I need you?”
“I suppose so,” he said. “Will you not tell me what could be so important in a freak show?”
“I’d rather not, until I’ve checked it out for myself,” I said. “I may be quite wrong. And anyway, Mrs. Goodwin will be presenting all our findings to Captain Paxton. I think you’ll be surprised at what we’ve discovered.”
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Trying to beat us at our own game?”
“Only trying to help,” I said.
Quigley sighed and looked around impatiently. “Okay. Hurry up, if you’re going in here then. I can’t take too long. Paxton will wonder where I’ve got to. I don’t want him to think I can’t stomach prizefights.”
Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)
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