Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

I hesitated. “I brought her some flowers,” I said. “Would there be some kind of vase somewhere to put them in?”


“How lovely.” She leaned toward the roses and sniffed. “Reminds me of my girlhood. My father always grew yellow roses. Yes, there should be some jam jars in a cupboard. Go to the next ward and ask one of the sisters. Tell her Sister Mercy sent you.”

I thanked her and soon had my jam jar filled with water. Not the most attractive vase in the world, but it suited quite fine. It also gave me an excuse to go back into the room to put them on the bedside table. There was no sign of Sister Mercy, and I was just putting the jar down when Mrs. Goodwin gave a little sigh. I turned to her, and her eyes were open.

“You’re awake, that’s wonderful,” I said.

She stared at me, trying to place me, and I feared she might have lost all memory of who I was.

Then she gave a faint smile. “Molly Murphy. What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” I said. “How are you feeling?”

“Just fine until the morphine wears off,” she said. “Before that I felt as if a herd of elephants had been dancing all over me. I was almost run over, wasn’t I?”

“You certainly were. The nurse says you were very lucky. You’ve got away with a couple of cracked ribs. The horse’s hooves must have missed you entirely.”

“Luckily I heard it coming, and I was able to fling myself aside at the last moment,” she said. “I think some part of the carriage or the shafts must have struck me in the side.”

“Were you able to see what kind of carriage it was?”

“It all happened so fast,” she said, “and it was dark and raining. And the vehicle itself was dark. That’s all I remember.”

“Was someone deliberately trying to run you down, do you think?”

“Oh, absolutely. The horse was at a full gallop and coming straight for me. The funny thing was that just before it happened one of the local urchins came and told me there was something odd in the gutter on the corner of Elizabeth Street, and that I should come and take a look at it. I found it where he said. It looked like a piece of red satin, halfway down a drain. I was just bending down to examine it when the horse came flying at me.”

“So you were lured there, and the man was waiting for you?”

“It seems that way.”

“Why? What had you discovered since we parted?”

“I’m darned if I know,” she said. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Maybe it will come to me, but as of now, I can’t think of anything. Of course my head’s still fuzzy with that morphine.”

“Do you think you could find the child again, and we could discover who sent him?”

Sister Mercy appeared in the doorway. “I thought I sent you home,” she said severely to me.

“I was just putting the flowers on her bedside table when she woke up,” I said. “Isn’t that wonderful news?”

“It certainly is. However, if you want her to make a speedy recovery, you’ll leave her to rest in peace.”

“I will,” I said. “I’m just going. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You could fetch my mail for me,” she said, after a moment’s thought. “We may have had a reply to my advertisement by now.”

“I’ll do that right away,” I said. “What is your address?”

“It’s 429 East Seventh, just past Tompkins Square. It’s a brownstone with two bay trees in pots outside.”

“That’s easy enough,” I said. “Do you have the key?”

“There’s one in my purse, wherever that is.” She tried to look around, then sank back with a sigh of pain. “Why don’t you ask my neighbor for the spare? Mrs. Oliver. At 431. She keeps a spare, just in case.”

“All right. And what else can I do for you? Are there any family members you’d like me to contact—anyone who should know you’re in the hospital?”

She shook her head sadly. “No one at all, my dear. I have a sister in Ohio, but apart from that, nobody anymore. My husband was killed, as you know, and I lost my only child to diphtheria.”

She gave me a questioning glance and I could tell what she was asking. Was I still pregnant?

“I did visit your friend Mrs. Butler last night,” I said, “but I changed my mind.”

“Ah.” She closed her eyes and grimaced. “The painkiller is wearing off, I see. I feel literally as if I was kicked by a mule.”

“I’ll send for the doctor,” Sister Mercy said. “He’ll give you another dose, and I know he plans to strap your ribs today, which will help with the breathing.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow then,” I said, touching her hand gently. “Is there anything I can bring you? Some grapes? Oranges?”

She patted my hand. “You just take care of yourself,” she said. “Stay away from the Lower East Side.”

“I will.”

“Promise me you won’t go there alone.”

“Very well. I promise.”

As I left I heard Sister Mercy saying, “A nice young friend you’ve got there, Mrs. Goodwin. A real saintly girl.”

If she only knew, I thought, with a grim smile.





TWENTY-SEVEN