Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“As a matter of fact I was,” he said.

“And the first prostitute was found murdered under the boardwalk there. Then is it possible that somebody didn’t want you out on Coney Island for some reason?”

He shrugged. “Possible, I suppose, but again I have no idea who. We only selected Coney Island as the site for the prizefight because it’s one of those places where the police don’t interfere too much. They stay away from the Gut, where pretty much any type of criminal activity abounds.”

“The Gut,” I said, not liking the sound of it.

“A place where you are not to set foot,” he said.

“But the rest of Coney Island must be safe enough for a working girl out enjoying her Sunday. I’d be one of thousands. You wouldn’t have to worry about me.”

“I do worry about you, all the time,” he said. “And I absolutely forbid you to get involved with the East Side Ripper case. Prostitutes on the Lower East Side exist under the watchful eye of the Eastmans. You might have had an amiable chat with Monk once, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be in a good mood next time, or that he’d take kindly to snooping. You might wind up as one of those working girls in one of Monk’s brothels if you’re not careful. And I mean it, Molly.” He glared at me again with those hollow, bloodshot eyes.

“I’m not stupid, Daniel,” I said. “I’ll be careful. But what you just said has made something occur to me. The press seems to think that a monstrous serial killer is at work on the Lower East Side—a man who hires prostitutes for the sport of murdering them. What if these girls have been killed by their pimp or protector because they wanted to escape from that lifestyle?”

“Then you’re back to Monk Eastman,” Daniel said. “He might not control every single prostitute on the Lower East Side, but the pimps pay their protection money to him.”

“So he’d know,” I said.

“Molly! What have I just been saying to you?” he shouted, and his voice echoed from the bare stone walls.

“What do you expect me to do?” I was shouting, too. “Go home and let you die? Look at you, Daniel. Someone’s got to get you out of here, and I don’t think he’s going to do it.” I glanced across at Mr. Atkinson, leaning against the wall, watching me warily.

Daniel spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “Go and talk to horse trainers if you wish, but you’re not poking your nose in the other matter. Do you hear me?” He put his hand to his mouth to stop the coughing. “Besides, as I told you, I had only just been put on that case. I’d discovered nothing of importance. And if you want to know my opinion—I think all this is a waste of time. The cases I was working on can have no relevance to my current plight. The horse-doping case isn’t serious enough, and I had barely started the second investigation.”

“We can’t leave any stone unturned, can we?” I said. “I haven’t exactly been successful in the other areas I’ve searched. I’ll go out to Coney Island and snoop around your racetrack. Other than that, I can’t really think what to do next. Find out more about Mr. Partridge and his background, I suppose. This is proving very hard, Daniel.”

“I know it is. And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you are doing for me,” he said. “You’re a grand girl, Molly Murphy. Without you I don’t know what I’d do.” He reached out toward me. The bars were narrow enough so that just his fingers poked through.

“Yes, well, somebody’s got to take care of you with this mess you’ve got yourself into.” I tried to keep it light; but his fingers, stretching toward me, were imploring me to touch him. He desperately needed warm, human touch, I could see that. I reached out and interlaced his fingers in mine.

“Stay away from the prisoner. You two will get me into trouble,” Mr. Atkinson complained, stepping forward to separate us. “I brought Miss Murphy here as a special favor.”

“It’s about the only thing you’ve done right so far, Atkinson,” Daniel growled.

“Daniel, Mr. Atkinson is doing his best,” I said. I had pretty much decided that the best course of action would be to boost the lawyer’s confidence and turn him into an ally. “It’s not easy, you know. As you can hear, we’ve encountered one dead end after another.”

“If Mr. Atkinson is doing his best, he’ll be good enough to move away and let me have a minute alone with my young lady,” Daniel said.

“I’ll get into trouble for bringing her in here,” Atkinson protested. “Please release her and let her step away from the grille.”

“Oh, come on, Atkinson, what do you think she’s going to do, slip me a cake with a file in it through the bars?” Daniel demanded.

He motioned me to come closer to him. For a second I thought he wanted to kiss me, but as his lips came close to my ear he whispered, “Watch out for Atkinson. I don’t trust him. We don’t know who he’s working for.”

Our eyes met and I nodded.