Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“It’s a big, bustling place,” Sid said. “New Yorkers practically live there during the summer months, so it’s no wonder you hear it mentioned so often.”


Of course she was right, and I was overreacting again. After all, what possible connection could there be between the patrician Letitia and some murdered prostitutes? Then the chilling thought came to me—one of the girls had not been a prostitute, had she? Letitia’s Coney Island connection did need to be investigated after all.

“So tell me, at the settlement house, was there any hint of a young man who might have been interested in Letitia?”

“As a matter of fact there was,” Sid said. She was still looking very pleased with herself. “He’s a divinity student who volunteers there from time to time. I was told that he seemed quite smitten with Miss Blackwell and awfully anxious to help her.”

“And was she smitten with him?”

“That wasn’t mentioned. In fact, her devotion to her fiancé was stressed.”

“Has he been seen there since that day?”

“Apparently he has gone home to his family for the summer. They live in Newport, Rhode Island.”

“You have his name?”

“We do,” Sid said. “You see what wonderfully efficient sleuths we are.”

“And since my family has numerous acquaintances in Newport, it should be easy enough to find his address,” Gus added. “You’ll just have to make us partners in your firm, Molly.”

“In fact, we’re all ready to go out to Newport and interrogate the suspect,” Sid said.

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” I said hastily, imagining the stir it would cause if Sid and Gus started interrogating.

“You’ve done marvelously,” I added. “And you’ve saved me precious time when I have not a moment to spare.”

“So you’re no closer to rescuing Daniel?”

I sighed. “I wish I could say yes, but that’s just not so. I have leads, I have theories, but nothing that’s a clear indication of the path I should follow.”

“What about the murdered prostitutes?” Sid asked. “Did Dr. Birnbaum actually take you along with him to the morgue?”

“The officers in charge wouldn’t let him,” I said. I had been going to tell them of my adventure with Sabella Goodwin when Gus said firmly, “And quite right, too. What good could possibly come from going to a place like that?”

“And it can have no bearing on Daniel’s case, Molly,” Sid added.

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” I said. “My latest theory is that the commissioner of police himself is the one I should be investigating. He is the only one who could have arranged with ease to come upon Daniel at exactly the incriminating moment. And he plans to visit The Tombs this week. Arabella suggested the guilty party would want to gloat over his victim.”

“Do you have any idea what Daniel might have done to upset the police commissioner? I’d have thought they should be on the same side,” Gus said.

“Daniel himself has no idea,” I said. “I’m going to the Herald tomorrow to look through old newspaper articles. Maybe some sordid aspect of Mr. Partridge’s past will come to light.” I sank my head into my arms. “I wish Paddy Riley hadn’t been killed. I could have learned so much from him. I’m a hopeless detective, you know. I just stumble upon things, more by luck than by skill.”

“I know this case means a lot to you, Molly, but Sid and I feel you’ve been overdoing it lately,” Gus said with concern. “You’re not looking well. Why can’t you rest for a couple of days? You’ll feel so much better.”

I should tell them the truth now. I tried to form the words in my head, but I couldn’t. Then it occurred to me that by tomorrow Mrs. Goodwin might have set up an appointment for me with a certain lady. Whether I would have the nerve to keep that appointment, I really couldn’t say.

“I’ll take a rest soon, I promise you,” I said.





TWENTY-FOUR




The next morning I woke to gray skies and steady, unrelenting rain. Hardly the sort of day to be out and about. Not that I felt much like being out and about anyway. My day started with a bout of sickness that left me feeling hollow and frail. And I didn’t want to miss Mrs. Goodwin’s visit. I hoped she’d stop by on her way home after her night shift. I felt excited and anxious at the same time, as if I was waiting for the results of an important examination. Don’t get your hopes up, I told myself. Perhaps the woman will want too much money. Perhaps she’ll refuse to see me. And if she agreed? My heart started racing at the thought of it. Was there any sin worse in the universe than killing your own child? And yet what sort of life would it be for the both of us? How could I go through with this on my own?