Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“Molly, I was quite desolate when we tapped on your door and nobody was home.” Ryan came around the table to plant a kiss on my cheek. “I have told Fritz so much about my adorable friends that he insisted on meeting you. So let me introduce you: Miss Murphy, this is my dear new friend Fritz Birnbaum, Dr. Fritz Birnbaum, lately of Vienna.”


I took in the neatly trimmed blond beard, the pale face, the light eyes, the immaculate dress. The doctor and I both reacted at the same time.

“Dr. Birnbaum!” I exclaimed at the same moment that he said, “Miss Gaffney.”

“Miss Gaffney?” Ryan demanded.

“You two have already met. How splendid,” Sid said. “Have some punch.”

“Dr. Birnbaum and I met at Adare, Senator Flynn’s house on the Hudson River,” I said. “Unfortunately at a most difficult time.”

“Indeed yes. Poor Mrs. Flynn. I feel so responsible. I wish I could have done something to save her.” His English was fluent, although delivered with a pronounced German accent.

“We all wish that, Dr. Birnbaum,” I replied.

“But you—you were her cousin, were you not?”

“Not really,” I said. “As you have been told, my real name is Molly Murphy. I am a private investigator. I was sent to the Flynn mansion to pose as the senator’s cousin.”

“Gott im Himmel! So foul play was suspected from the first?”

“There was such a web of lies and deceit at that place that it was hard to tell what was suspected,” I said tactfully. “Now I just pray that the Flynn family finally finds some peace.”

“I join you in your prayer,” Dr. Birnbaum said.

“Let’s have no more talk of gloomy things.” Ryan waved an elegant hand between us. “Today is for happiness and goodwill among friends.”

“So you already know that Dr. Birnbaum is a real-life alienist, Molly?” Sid asked.

“Yes. He was brought to Adare to treat Theresa Flynn.”

“He has been giving us the most exciting insights into the mind of the East Side Ripper,” Gus said. “Positively spine tingling.”

“Really?” I tried not to sound too interested. “And what conclusions has Dr. Birnbaum come to? Can you tell us what kind of person the killer is, Doctor?”

“Not the kind of person you might think, Miss Murphy. I did research in Vienna with my mentor, Professor Freud. Mass murderers are rarely obviously depraved and violent people. They are often models of the virtuous life. They are professional men, pillars of the community.”

“Pillars of the community? Hiring prostitutes?” Gus said in surprise.

“Perhaps he did not hire the women for the normal purpose, but lured them away with the intention of stamping out vice and punishing them for their sins,” Sid said.

Birnbaum nodded. “That is indeed a possibility, Miss Goldfarb. But I’m inclined to think that such crimes of passion are driven by baser motives. You’d be surprised, Miss Walcott, how many supposedly virtuous men are married to a socially correct wife but get their pleasures elsewhere.”

“I suppose so,” Gus said. “But most men don’t end up by making killing a part of their pleasure.”

“They often lead lives where all emotional outlets have to be suppressed. But inside this fire rages. The first time the killing is accidental, but it gives them such a rush of excitement that they have to duplicate the feeling. And the need to kill becomes more and more intense, just like a drug.”

“But surely it would take a base and violent man to disfigure a woman in the way described in the newspapers?” Sid asked.

“There are several reasons for wanting to disfigure a victim,” Dr. Birnbaum said, gravely stroking at his neat, blond beard. “I’m afraid this is not a suitable topic for mixed company, however. I have no wish to make the ladies swoon.”

This produced merry laughter from Sid and Gus.

“I am delighted to tell you, Dr. Birnbaum, that you are looking at three ladies who have never swooned in their lives. What’s more, Miss Murphy has conducted undercover assignments in the most depraved quarters of the city. So please continue.”

“Very well.” The doctor took a sip of punch before continuing. “In my experience the murderer disfigures his victim for two reasons: first, when she is still alive, because he is essentially ashamed of what he is about to do and doesn’t want her to look at him. If he dehumanizes her, somehow it makes her easier to kill. Second, when she is already dead, so that the corpse cannot be identified.”

“Interesting,” I said, “and which do you think it is in this case?”

“I haven’t been privy to enough details yet,” he said. “I only learned of this case last week and immediately went to offer my services to the police. I am meeting with the officers in charge of the investigation on Monday. Then I hope to find out more.”

I made a mental note of that. If at all possible, I wanted to come along to that meeting. I’d have to think how to broach the subject.

“How will you be able to tell whether the victims were alive or dead in this case?” Sid was asking.