She tried to prop herself up again. “Ah yes, the letters about the girls. You have them with you?”
I produced them from my purse. She read them in silence, then she nodded. “I’d say the one from the Italian father could well be the girl we saw on Monday, don’t you agree?”
“I do,” I said. “And you’ll note that other one—the Swedish girl, Dilly Lindquist. She had a secret meeting with a boy at Coney Island.”
She nodded. “Yes, we have to go out there as soon as possible. You feel that Coney Island is significant, don’t you?”
“We know that the first girl to be murdered was a prostitute at Coney Island and her body was found under the boardwalk there. Now we have proof that a second girl went to meet someone at Coney Island and never came back. But that’s not all. I’ve also been asked to trace a missing heiress who supposedly ran away with a penniless young man. It probably has nothing to do with this case, I realize, but it’s interesting that she was supposed to go to Coney Island on the day she disappeared. With a young man who was not her fiancé.”
Sabella Goodwin frowned. “And do we know this young man’s name?”
“Oh yes. My associates have visited his mother. He is from a good family, summering in Newport, Rhode Island.”
“Close enough to make the train journey,” she said, “and rich enough to hire a carriage when needed. We must pass this information on to the detectives.”
“He is supposedly away for the summer, helping out at a camp for city children in the wilds of New England,” I said. “Nobody has verified this yet, or exactly where the camp is. It might be within reach of a train station and the city.”
“Good work,” she said. “It all fits very nicely. Son of a rich family. Not quite comfortable with girls, or not quite right in the head. Shielded by his family. Yes, I think our detectives should question him as soon as possible. Write down all your information on him, and I’ll give it to them next time I see them.”
I was loath to do this, but I couldn’t quite determine why. I suppose that until then it was our case—mine and Sabella Goodwin’s—and I didn’t want simply to hand it over to two supercilious young men, who clearly had no regard for me or my skills.
“I could go and check him out myself first,” I said.
“You’ll do no such thing,” she retorted. “If this charming young man is indeed our East Side Ripper, he is devious and cunning, and very good at killing. I certainly don’t want you to wind up as his next victim.”
“He wouldn’t have to know that I have anything to do with this case,” I said. “I’m merely investigating the disappearance of a Miss Blackwell.”
Sabella shook her head firmly. “If he’s killed her, do you think you wouldn’t be next? And at a camp in the wilderness, you don’t think he’d have ample opportunity?”
She did have a point. “Very well. I’ll write down the information for you. But I’m going to stay with you until you are safely moved to your own home and have a nurse installed. Shall we ring for Sister now and see if we can arrange this?”
Mrs. Goodwin looked at me and laughed. “You’re a very forceful young woman, do you know that?” she said. “I’ve always been told that I was aggressive for a woman, but you take the cake.”
I smiled, too. “It comes from having to fend for myself in New York. If I don’t stand up for me, nobody else will.”
“That’s why you have to behave sensibly and not take too many risks,” she said. “If you have nobody watching out for you, you’re very vulnerable. And I don’t think I’ll be well enough to be your bodyguard for some time yet.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of myself,” I said. “I’ve no wish to wind up as the Ripper’s next victim.”
Surprisingly, Sister Mercy thought that moving Mrs. Goodwin to her own home was a good idea.
“More chance for peace and quiet,” she said. But she looked at me as she said it, and I read her thoughts.
By that evening Sabella was installed in her home with the next-door neighbor, who had supplied me with the key, fussing over her and making chicken soup. She was going to stay the night, and a real nurse was to arrive in the morning. What’s more the constable I had spoken to earlier was assigned to keep an eye on the house. I went home feeling much relieved and tried to get a good night’s sleep before my own ordeal the next day.
Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)
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