There was silence in the room.
Then Mrs. Goodwin stepped forward until she was facing Captain Paxton. “You knew my husband,” she said. “You thought he was one of the best. And he was. And you know me. I’m not given to flights of fancy, and neither is this young woman. If she says that Detective Quigley tried to kill her, I believe her. I also believe that she has uncovered the truth about those girls. We now know how they were transported and dumped on city streets.”
“We do?” Paxton asked.
She nodded and glanced at me. “They were transported in one of our own police wagons, driven by Detective Quigley.”
“This is absolute balderdash,” Quigley said. “One accusation after another for which you have no proof and can have no proof.”
“Oh, but I do,” Mrs. Goodwin said. She placed an envelope on Captain Paxton’s desk. “At Miss Murphy’s suggestion, I searched various police vehicles. In one of them I came up with this hair. It belongs to Rosa Rosetti.”
“Rosa Rosetti? Who the hell is she?” Quigley demanded.
“The last of the girls to be killed by that poor, depraved creature, while you stood by and did nothing to stop him,” I said. “An ordinary working girl who left behind parents and three sisters, and who went to Coney Island on her day off to have some fun.”
“The police lab has been able to confirm that the hair found in the police wagon matched Rosa Rosetti’s,” Mrs. Goodwin said. “She was, beyond a doubt, transported in that wagon. A blood spot was found nearby and I believe they also have ways of identifying blood types these days.”
“What do you say to that, Quigley?” Captain Paxton exclaimed. “Byrne, Connelly!”
Two constables came running.
“You’re fools, the lot of you.” Quigley spat out the words. “Meddling, interfering women. Try and prove it in court, I dare you. No jury will take you seriously.”
He let himself be led out of the room.
THIRTY-NINE
It wasn’t exactly the celebration we had hoped for that evening. Quigley was under arrest, for the time being anyway. After leaving police headquarters, I had gone straight to City Hall to face Police Commissioner Partridge and tried to convince him that Daniel should be released. I didn’t have high hopes that Quigley would confess to planting the evidence that implicated Daniel, but I put the case before the commissioner.
“May I ask you one thing?” I said. “Whose idea was it that you tour the Lower East Side streets that day?”
The commissioner frowned then nodded. “You’re right. It was young Quigley. He wanted to show me exactly where the East Side Ripper had struck.”
“So he was with you when you came upon Captain Sullivan?”
“No, he’d left us just before that, but he knew which route we’d be taking.”
“So now do you believe that he planted the evidence on Captain Sullivan?”
He sighed. “Unless he confesses or we find the gang member who handed over the letter, I have to believe what I saw with my own eyes. If we can get Monk Eastman to testify that Sullivan had no ties to his gang, then I suppose the jury will believe him. But I can’t see Eastman being willing to go to court for anyone.”
“So you’re still going to let it go to trial?” I asked. “Even after I’ve told you everything Quigley has done?”
“I have no alternative. I have to follow the course of the law. It is my job.”
“And is it also your job to dope racehorses?” I demanded without thinking. It just came blurting out.
“Dope racehorses? My dear young woman, what are you talking about?”
“That day at Brighton Race Track,” I said, “the favorite dropped down dead. The horse that won belonged to your syndicate. So I’m wondering if your eagerness to keep Daniel in jail has anything to do with the fact that he was investigating that doping.”
“How utterly ridiculous,” he said. “It’s true I do have a share in a racehorse, but I don’t even follow the sport myself. It was merely an investment, as it was for all my partners.”
“On the other hand,” I said, “the papers will believe that you knew something about it if I tell them. The ordinary people had lots of money riding on that favorite. They won’t think very kindly of you and your fellow syndicate members—especially you, with your campaign to clean up the city.”
His face went red. “Are you threatening me, young lady?”
“I’m just showing you how easy it is to cast suspicion on an innocent person,” I said. “How easy it is to convict someone on circumstance and hearsay.”
“You should have been a lawyer,” he muttered.
“Maybe I will be someday.” I couldn’t resist a smile. “Does that mean you’ll reconsider Captain Sullivan’s release?”
“I’ll reconsider it,” he said.
“Now?”
“Don’t push your luck, young lady,” he said.
That was the best I was going to get for now.
Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)
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