Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

What I needed was someone to accompany me, someone who could run for help or let the police know if something bad was about to happen. I couldn’t think who that person might be. Sid and Gus would not even allow me to go into Eastman territory. Jacob would accompany me if I asked him, but I wasn’t going to put his life in danger or mark him as an enemy of the Eastmans when his work was so firmly within their territory.

Then suddenly I had a flash of inspiration. I did know a member of the Eastman gang—or at least, a junior member. Seamus’s unpleasant cousin Nuala, with whom I had stayed briefly on my arrival in New York, had three sons. Last time I met them the two oldest had become Junior Eastmans, running messages for the gang and helping with little assignments like knocking over the stalls of those vendors who weren’t paying their protection money. Malachy, the oldest boy, had never been the most likeable child and had probably become rotten through and through by now, but I had let him live with me when his family was thrown out of their house. And maybe he felt some kind of gratitude for the way I had taken care of his cousins. On the other hand, maybe he couldn’t care a brass fig and would be only too delighted to hand me over to his gang bosses. It was a risk I had to take.

I took care not to make myself too attractive or desirable, thus removing all suggestion of future white slavery. This wasn’t hard to do, as it happened. I certainly didn’t look like my normal red-cheeked and freckled self. In fact I looked quite pasty faced and hollow eyed. I stuffed my hair under my straw hat and buttoned my costume jacket up to my neck. Then I let myself out of my front door, ready to meet my fate.

Instead I met a strange figure in flowing saffron robes wafting down Patchin Place. It took me a moment to recognize him.

“Holy Mother of God, Ryan. What are you doing?” I blurted out as Ryan O’Hare swept magnificently toward me.

He spread out his arms in blessing. “Our dear friends have convinced me to try out the Buddhist lifestyle,” he said. “I saw a picture of a Buddhist monk in a journal, and I thought those robes looked divine. I just had to try them.”

“Buddhist monks have to shave their heads,” I said, starting to laugh.

“Yes, well there are lengths to which one will not go.” He ran his hands through his luxuriant dark curls.

“And I believe monks have to be celibate,” I went on.

“You are taking all the fun out of this,” he said, wagging a scolding finger at me. “I am merely trying out the lifestyle, not making a lifelong commitment, you know. Eating fruits and nuts and chanting. That’s about it, really. Oh, and not stepping on ants. That’s about all I can handle. And I must say it is divinely funny to watch people’s reactions to my lovely robes. They couldn’t take their eyes off me on the trolley.”

“I’m sure they couldn’t,” I said. “They certainly make you look even more gorgeous than usual.”

“You are too kind.” He blew me a kiss. “But you, on the other hand, dear Molly. Not looking your best, I fear. You have such lovely hair. Why hide it in that manner?”

“Because I’m about to do undercover work, and I have to look prim and severe,” I said.

“Ah. The big case.” He nodded. “Is this all part of the Save Daniel attempt?”

“It is,” I said. “And Ryan—can I ask you to do something for me? Something very secret?”

“You know I adore secrets. What is it?”

“If I don’t come home tonight, would you tell Sid and Gus that I went to meet Monk Eastman today? It would probably be too late to do anything, but at least I’d like someone to know.”

“My dear child, how utterly foolish of you. I must forbid it.”

I shook my head. “I’m not too excited by the prospect myself, Ryan, but I have no choice. There are things I can only find out by talking to the Eastmans. I couldn’t tell Sid and Gus because I know they’d do everything they could to stop me.”

“And I should, too,” Ryan said, stepping in front of me.

“I’ll be careful,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm. “I’m going to have Nuala’s son Malachy escort me. He’s a Junior Eastman, so I should be all right.”

Ryan shook his head. “That police captain certainly doesn’t deserve everything you are doing for him. I hope he’s duly appreciative.”

“I hope so too.” I looked away. “And what about your own court case?” I asked, steering the conversation away from too dangerous waters.

“Which case was that?”

“The person who stole the script of your play.”

“Oh, that.” He waved it aside. “The Buddhist lifestyle tells us to forgive our enemies.”

“I’m impressed, Ryan.”

“And between you and me, I’ve heard that the play is so dreadful, it won’t even run a week. It probably won’t even make it through the tryouts in Philadelphia.” He gave a wicked smile. “And I’ve also met a fascinating new friend.”

“Also a Buddhist?”

“No. He’s a doctor. A European doctor. Very erudite.”

“Doesn’t sound at all your type.”

“You underestimate me, Molly. I can be intellectual if I wish. I have been learning all about the workings of the human brain. Do you know how many circuits there are operating within the brain?”