Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

By the time I returned to the city, all traces of mist had vanished and the sun scorched down on me as I sat on the ferry deck. I was glad to disembark and catch the train back to Mrs. Goodwin’s house. She was already looking much better after a good night’s sleep, and she was very interested to hear that a strange police captain had been part of the group.

“That sounds like Captain Paxton from your description,” she said. “Dear me. Quigley and McIver aren’t going to be at all pleased that he’s been put in charge of the case over them. He’s one of the old school of policemen. Worry everything like a terrier until you shake something loose. He’ll make their lives hell, I can tell you.”

“Is he likely to solve the case, do you think?”

“He stands as good a chance as anyone,” she said. “He doesn’t have Captain Sullivan’s brain or intuition, but he’s a solid investigator. My husband thought highly of him. They were old pals.”

“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” I said. “Maybe he’ll be happy to fill us in on the progress of the investigation.”

She snorted. “Absolutely not. Quite the contrary, in fact. He was vehemently opposed to women on the force in any capacity and became quite apoplectic when there was a suggestion of using me undercover. To him women belong in the home, doing their sewing and raising children. His own wife is a poor browbeaten creature who does just that. And she has eleven children.” She raised her eyes in despair. “I asked her once if she’d never heard of birth control, and she said her husband wouldn’t countenance such a thing.”

“There are plenty of women like her who are under their husband’s thumb,” I said. “If I do marry, I’ll not let that happen to me.”

She smiled then. “I can believe that.”

“So what next?” I asked. “Do you really want to turn all our information over to this Captain Paxton and go back to our sewing?”

“Much as it grieves me, I suppose we’ll have to,” she said. “I’m in no fit state to do more investigating, and I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if Captain Paxton found you snooping around.”

“At least we should be sure of our facts before we turn them over,” I said. “We don’t know yet that those missing girls really are the ones they’ve just dug up. It could be coincidence. They could have run away from home for any number of reasons.”

“So what do you suggest?” she asked.

“I’m thinking I ought to go to the morgue, much as I don’t relish that task,” I said. “We have to find out the truth. If we can positively identify just one of the girls then we’ll know we are on the right track. And we should also contact their families. We need to get a complete description and to know if the girls have any distinguishing marks that would help us identify them.”

“Yes, we certainly need to do that,” she said. “Now, let’s see again, where did they live?”

“One in Brooklyn, one in Queens,” I said. “Both convenient for Coney Island.”

She gave me her knowing look. “You want to go to Coney Island, don’t you?”

“I really think it’s the key to everything,” I said. “I think we’re looking for a young man who preys on impressionable young girls at Coney Island. But I’ve no idea how he contacts them, or where he finds them, and I’ve really no idea how we’d start looking in that kind of crowded place.”

“Maybe I’ll be feeling strong enough in a few days to go there,” Mrs. Goodwin said.

“Don’t be silly. That’s the last place you should go,” I said. “You’d get pushed and jostled and you might damage your ribs even worse.”

“I’m a tough old bird,” she said. “And I believe you can rent bath chairs on the boardwalk. You could push me around in a bath chair.”

I laughed. “I’d like to see that.”

She chuckled, too, then put her hand to her side. “I’m on the mend, but I’ve a way to go yet,” she said. “I’m going to have to rely on you for a while.”

“I’ll go to the morgue later today,” I said. “I don’t want to risk getting there when it’s swarming with police.”

“And what do you hope to find?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Confirmation that those other girls weren’t prostitutes either, and just maybe…” I let the rest of the sentence hang. I couldn’t tell her what my suspicion was at this stage because it was too fanciful.