Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“Then she could have been brought over rooftops from another street altogether.”


She nodded, glancing up and then down. “If she was dropped from a height, the body will show signs of considerable bruising, especially if she was, as you say, still alive. And it would be a miracle if the fall didn’t kill her outright.”

“We’ll never know unless we see the body for ourselves,” I said.

She looked at me, half excited, half doubtful. “Are you suggesting that we go to the morgue and take a look?”

“You are a police officer, after all,” I said. “Look how you found that cigar butt. What’s to say there’s not something else they’ve overlooked.”

She shook her head. “Did anyone ever tell you that you were trouble?” she demanded.

“Constantly. Since I was born.” I grinned, and she returned the smile.

“Well, come on then. No point in hanging about,” she said, and set off at a lively pace toward Canal Street.





TWENTY




As I hurried to keep up with Mrs. Goodwin, a thought struck me. “Wait,” I called, grabbing at her blue serge sleeve.

“You’ve lost your stomach for the morgue after all?” she asked, turning back to me.

“It’s not that. It’s just that the two detectives in charge of the case might still be there. They took an alienist with them but wouldn’t let me come along. So I don’t think they’d take it too kindly if I turned up while they were there.”

She gave me a suspicious frown. “And how, in heaven’s name, did you think they’d invite you to join their little party?”

“Because I know the doctor in question. He was willing to let me accompany him as his assistant. He understood how important this is to me. But the snooty one of the pair, Detective Quigley, absolutely said no. No women allowed.”

“I understand that this is important to you, but what did you really hope to gain by going to the morgue? What do you think the sight of a dead body can tell you?”

I sighed. “I wish I knew. Maybe I’m chasing at straws. But someone worked very hard to bring about Daniel Sullivan’s disgrace. Someone must have had a very good reason. So I’m thinking that either it was Police Commissioner Partridge himself who wanted Daniel out of the way, or somebody who didn’t want a particular case solved. He was only working on two cases, remember. It could be something to do with the doping at the horse track, but then even if a doping scandal came to light, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. However, we’ve just seen carriage tracks and a cigar butt on Elizabeth Street. What if we’re dealing with an important man who doesn’t want to be unmasked? A man of substance who has this unnatural bent to murder prostitutes?”

She stared at me, long and hard. “Why don’t we go and have a cup of coffee first, and then you can tell me how far you’ve got. Maybe I’ve a way to help.”

We had just turned onto Canal when I espied a young man coming toward us, his derby hat set at a jaunty angle above an innocent and angelic face. At first glance he looked like a well-dressed bank clerk on his day off, but I knew better. I had met him once before, to my cost. He went by the name of Kid Twist, and he was Monk Eastman’s right-hand man and enforcer. But encountering him in broad daylight, in the middle of a busy street, was too good a chance to turn down.

I nudged Mrs. Goodwin. “Wait a moment. We have to talk to that man. Maybe he can help us.”

“Do you know who that is?” She clutched at me and held me back.

“Of course. It’s Kid Twist. I’ve had dealings with him before. But who would know better about missing prostitutes in the area? And what can happen to us here in the midst of this crowd?”

Her face was a mask of hate. “It’s not just that. The Eastmans killed my husband—they and their cronies. They beat him to death. I won’t rest until they are all behind bars or dead themselves.”

“I can understand you’d feel that way,” I said. “Believe me, I’d want justice too, if it had happened to my man, but I can’t let this chance slip through my hands. You wait over here, if you don’t want to have to face him. I’ll be quite safe, and you can keep an eye on me, in case he tries anything.”

She let me go, reluctantly. I dodged between delivery wagons and ran to catch up with him. “Kid. Mr. Twist. Wait a second,” I called.

He turned around, eyed me suspiciously. “I’ve seen your face before,” he said. “Whatta you want?”

“I need to talk to you for a moment. It’s about these prostitutes. Another one was found dead this morning.”

“Yeah. Dat was too tragic. What about it?”

“I just wondered—well, I know you work with Monk Eastman, and I know he controls most of what goes on around here.”

“He’s very active in the community, sure,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

“So those girls? Did they work for him? Do you know who they were?”

“I didn’t hear about no girls going missing,” he said.