Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“All right, then.” I nodded to him and went up to the ticket booth.

“Just closing, missy. You’ll have to hurry,” the ticket taker said. I paid my ten cents and stepped into a dark hallway. After a few paces it opened into a dimly lit room. A jungle scene had been created and suddenly I spotted the snake woman. She was entwined around the branch of a tree. When she saw me, she eased herself over a rock and slithered toward me. And—she really did have a human torso and the tail of a snake. I stared at her, repulsed, fascinated, as her long tail twitched with a life of its own. Then I remembered the reason I was here and moved on, down the next hall and into a room, this time decorated like a stable yard. Standing in front of one of the stables was a little horse, no bigger than a large dog. Where the snake woman had been somehow frightening, the horse was delightful. And there was no trick about it, either. It was definitely real.

One more hall and the bearded lady. She was fat and repulsive and only invoked my pity. I averted my eyes so that she shouldn’t catch me staring at her and hurried down the next passage. And there he was—the human tree. He was a giant of a man, brawny, muscled, but there was something wrong with him. Even in the dim light I could see his disfigured face with great gnarled lumps and bumps protruding from it. A great lump came out of one cheek, half closing one eye. The same scaly lumps grew out of his skin, which was flaking off in other places. His hands had fake twigs and leaves extending from them and there were fake leaves on his head. His feet were apparently hidden in the earth.

As I stared at him in horrified fascination, I noticed that he was staring right back at me, appraising me.

“Last call. Closing in five minutes.” I heard the distant shout. “All customers head for the exit.”

I glanced back, hoping to catch a reassuring glimpse of Detective Quigley. Had this hideous tree man taken a fancy to certain girls who came to stare at him, managed to slip notes into their pockets, and then lured them back to kill them? I heard a rustling sound and spun around to see the tree man lifting his feet out of the fake earth.

“Show’s over for the day,” he said, in a deep, rumbling voice. “I can go now. You want to come for a drink with me, little lady?”

“Uh—no thanks,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I’ve got a friend waiting for me.” I could hardly make the words come out without my voice trembling.

“Then why are you here alone? Where’s your friend? Bring her along, too. Come on. Come for a drink.”

He was moving across the painted scenery toward me. I stepped back, shaking my head.

“You don’t want to come because I’m so ugly. That’s it, isn’t it?” he said.

“No, of course not. It’s just—my boyfriend—” I was already backing away, hoping that Quigley would emerge from the darkness.

He was still coming toward me. “Go on, admit it. I disgust you. You don’t want to be near me. Just like all the others. I see them looking at me. How do you think that feels, huh? Seeing beautiful girls and knowing that I can never touch them because I look like this. Well, I’m a man, and I’ve got a man’s body and a man’s desires.”

Suddenly he reached out and grabbed me. His strength was enormous. His hand felt as if it was crushing my arm.

“Mr. Quigley!” I shouted. “Help! In here. He’s got me.”

I heard feet along the passageway and to my relief Detective Quigley came into the room.

“Let go of her at once,” he commanded. “I’m a police officer.”

The big man looked up in surprise and dropped my arm.

“Are you all right?” Quigley asked me. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“Just scared me,” I said.

“No harm done then,” he said. “Some of these freaks are mentally as well as physically unsound. Let me get you out of here.” He took my arm. “And you,” he said, wagging a warning finger at the tree man, “you’ve been warned before, haven’t you?”

As soon as we had left the room, I grabbed Officer Quigley’s arm. “Wait, Detective. That tree man,” I whispered urgently, “don’t let him escape. You have to arrest him.”

“That man?” Quigley looked back. “Because he made a grab at you?”

“No, because he’s the East Side Ripper.”

Quigley looked at me in amazement. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m sure of it. It all fits,” I said. “Two of the dead girls went to meet a mysterious man on Coney Island.”

“Yes, but—do you think any girl would go to Coney Island to meet him?” Quigley looked back in revulsion.