Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

I stared at it with growing excitement. She had gone to meet a boy at Coney Island. It had to be connected with the disappearance of the other girls. I had learned something else important too—she had gone to meet a boy. We were dealing with a young man, attractive enough to make girls want to take risks to meet him.

I wanted to show this to Mrs. Goodwin straightaway, but I knew I had no hope of making it past the platoon of guard nuns once more this evening. I’d just have to be patient and wait until morning. By that time the morning post would have arrived as well, maybe bringing us more letters. I was just putting the letter back into its envelope when I heard a noise at the front door. I stood in the kitchen doorway and saw the door handle start to turn. Of course the bolt held the door firm. The door handle then jiggled, and the door was shoved with considerable strength.

My heart was racing. If he found that he couldn’t get in through the front door, would he just go away or try to break in? I went and looked out of the kitchen window. Breaking in through the rear of the house would be almost impossible. There was a tiny square of yard, fenced off from other yards and with the wall of another house at the rear. So he could hardly climb in that way. I had to make sure I got out safely and went to find that constable again. I decided I’d bluff it out.

“There’s someone at the front door, I think, Bessie,” I called in my best Irish accent. “Would you go and see who it is?”

Then I crept into the front parlor and peered through the lace curtains. There was nobody to be seen. Now the horrible truth dawned on me that he might be crouched down by those potted bay trees, out of my line of vision from this window, waiting for me to come out. I stayed safely out of sight behind the curtains and waited. Then I spied a welcome sight—the constable was making his rounds again, coming along the other side of the street. I unbolted the front door, glanced in both directions, saw nobody, then ran to intercept him.

“He was here again,” I gasped.

“Who was, miss?”

“The man who broke into Mrs. Goodwin’s house. He tried to get in at the front door, but I’d bolted it from the inside.”

“A man, miss? Can you describe him?”

“I didn’t see him,” I said impatiently. “I looked out through the window, but I didn’t see him.”

“I’ve been standing on that corner over there for the past fifteen minutes and haven’t seen any men on the street. Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I’m very sure. The door handle jiggled,” I said. “Then he shoved the door hard, trying to force it open. He must have escaped while you were making your rounds.”

“Maybe,” he said.

Another idea struck me. “Have there been any vehicles passing on the street?”

He frowned. “Not recently. There was a delivery on the square earlier. And the butcher’s boy came by on his bicycle.”

Bicycle, I thought. Somebody could make a hasty getaway on a bicycle.

“Any other bicycles?”

“Not that I noticed,” he said. “Look, miss, I think you’re getting a bit overexcited about this—possibly because you’re upset about your friend’s accident. Why don’t you go home and have a nice lie down and a cool drink.”

There was nothing more to be done today, so I accepted his suggestion. “You will keep an eye on the place, and you will report it to the right people?”

“I’ve already done so, miss,” he said. “So don’t you worry. Nobody’s going to break into the house again.”

I collected the letter and locked the front door. Of course I couldn’t bolt it from the outside, but it was the best I could do. Besides, he’d already been through Sabella’s papers. I couldn’t think of anything else in the house that might be of interest to him. So why had he come back this afternoon? Had he come back because he knew I was there? This wasn’t likely. How would he know I had any connection with Mrs. Goodwin or that I’d be sent to pick up her mail? Then I took this one stage further: Was the mail the reason he had come? He had seen the advertisement in the newspapers and wanted to make sure the letters that could incriminate him never got to Mrs. Goodwin. Possibly there had been letters in an earlier post that were now in his possession.

I made a resolve to come back early tomorrow morning in time to intercept the first post of the day before I went to see Mrs. Goodwin in the hospital. One thing I was sure of was that we were on the right track. Something we were doing had definitely gotten him rattled.





TWENTY-EIGHT