Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“Another part of the city, you mean?”


“Daniel says the first dead girl who fit this pattern of killing was found under the boardwalk at Coney Island. So maybe our killer preys on Coney Island prostitutes but now finds it more exciting to dump them on city streets.”

“This is something we should share with the detectives in charge,” Sabella Goodwin said.

“I’m sure they must have thought of it themselves and wouldn’t take kindly to being told how to conduct their case by a couple of women.”

She grinned. “Quigley wouldn’t, that’s for sure. Conceited young fellow. He’s planning to go to the top in a hurry.”

And might have found Daniel stood in his way? The thought flashed across my mind.

“What about McIver?”

“He’d like to go all the way to the top on Quigley’s coattails, I reckon,” she said. “He’s certainly bright enough, but lazy. Quigley’s meticulous, by the book. McIver’s the opposite—any means to get to the end. It will get him into trouble one day.”

We continued along the sidewalk in silence. I was thinking about two ambitious young men, one of them prepared to take risks to get what he wanted. They had both been handed this plum assignment when Daniel was arrested. Did either of them want promotion badly enough that they were prepared to go to extreme lengths for it? And if either of those detectives had set up Daniel’s betrayal, then these dead girls were of no use to me at all. I didn’t really need to go to the morgue.

Because, to tell the truth, I was having serious second thoughts about what lay ahead. I had seen a few dead bodies in my lifetime. I hadn’t enjoyed those experiences and they had been but fleeting glances—and my stomach had been more stable in those days. To see a body laid out on a marble slab, its face badly disfigured, was something I might not be able to handle. What if I fainted or threw up in front of Sabella Goodwin and the doctor at the morgue?

As we sat at the coffee shop under the EI station I tried to come up with a plausible excuse to get me out of what lay ahead. Before I could think of anything, however, Sabella Goodwin smiled at me. “I’m so glad you’ve agreed to come to the morgue with me, because I have to confess—I’d never have summoned the nerve to go there alone.”

As I didn’t answer she went on. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have found an ally. I’ve been trying to make those men in the police department see that we women are just as capable of carrying through an investigation as they are. We may not be strong enough to chase after crooks and arrest them, but we can do the legwork as well as any man.”

“And I’d like to see any man chase after crooks if he had to wear corsets and long skirts,” I said, and she laughed.

“We’ll show them, Molly. We’ll go to that morgue and solve their case for them.”

It looked as if I was going to the morgue, whether I wanted to or not.





TWENTY-ONE




The city morgue is on the grounds of Bellevue Hospital beside the East River. We hopped off the train at Twenty-third Street and walked up First Avenue. At first glance the hospital didn’t live up to its name. Several dreary brick buildings, chimneys belching smoke, provided more of an aspect of dark satanic mills than the beautiful vista promised in the name. Of course, I might have seen it through a prejudiced eye at this moment, because, in truth, my reluctance had grown with every step. Now my knees were positively trembling, and worse still, my stomach had started to churn. I had hoped that the coffee and bun I had just eaten would have calmed my insides for the next hour. Now the bun lay like a lead weight, refusing to be digested. I took a deep breath and attempted to pull myself together. I was going to do this. It was clear that Sabella Goodwin already admired me and thought of me as a kindred spirit. My pride wasn’t going to let that image be shattered if I could help it.

We found the main gate in the high brick wall, more prisonlike than hospital, and were directed toward the morgue with several curious and pitying glances. I expect they thought we’d come to claim the body of a dear one.

“Ah, here we are,” Sabella said, and I noticed that her voice didn’t sound too confident either.

“Why don’t you go ahead and find out if the detectives have left?” I suggested. “I don’t want to cause a scene and spoil your chances by being here.”