Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

It wasn’t easy to rest, knowing what I knew. I saw how easily Carter Quigley could convince the authorities that I was out of my mind and have me removed to an insane asylum where I could no longer present a risk to him. A man who could orchestrate his own fiancée’s killing, who could knowingly allow innocent girls to be killed so brutally, had to be stopped at any cost; and it annoyed me to be trapped in bed, powerless to do anything. But then I rationalized that it would not be safe for me to be out at large on the streets, where Carter Quigley could find me.

I expected him to show up at any moment, but I suppose he, too, must have been weighing his options. Perhaps he wasn’t going to risk having me committed to an asylum, I decided. Perhaps his plan was to have me killed in a nasty accident, like the one that almost claimed Mrs. Goodwin. I realized that if I didn’t act first, I’d never feel safe again.

I got up, dressed rather unsteadily, and asked Sid and Gus to come with me to police headquarters. When I arrived, I asked to speak to Captain Paxton, and we were ushered up the stairs to his office. I told him the whole story. I presented him with Dr. Birnbaum’s letter. He nodded gravely then opened his door. “Have Quigley come in here,” he said.

That was the last thing I wanted, having to meet him face-to-face. He arrived, looking surprisingly calm.

“Miss Murphy! You are recovered from your ordeal already?” he said. “What a frightful shock it must have been to you.” He turned to Captain Paxton. “This is the young lady I managed to rescue from the clutches of that madman on Coney Island last night. Last night she was hysterical and out of her mind. In fact, I feared that the shock of what she went through had deranged her permanently.”

“I assure you I am perfectly sane, Mr. Quigley,” I said. “I remember every detail of what happened last night. I have now told everything to Captain Paxton.”

“This young lady charges that you were part of these killings,” Captain Paxton said. “She charges that you plotted to have your fiancée killed.”

“My fiancée ran off with another man,” he said bitterly. “I am heartbroken, naturally, but I would not wish vengeance.”

“Your fiancée is one of those bodies you watched disinterred last Friday,” I said, “as you very well know.”

“Those bodies were decayed beyond recognition, I’m afraid,” he said. “I have no way of knowing if one of them was my dear fiancée or not.”

“The hair was not decayed beyond recognition,” I said. “I have here a letter from Dr. Birnbaum, whom you know, testifying that the hair matched the strand in a locket belonging to Letitia’s mother.”

“How awful,” he said. “Then you bring me the very worst news possible. Until now I had hope that she’d return to me.”

“You knew very well that she wouldn’t return to you!” I shouted. “You lured her to Coney Island yourself, then pretended she had never arrived in New York. You went to her home and made it appear as if she had run away.”

Quigley smiled sadly. “I’m afraid you are delusional after all. I’m so sorry.” He turned to Captain Paxton. “I suggested she would need treatment, sir. A stronger mind than hers would have snapped after what she went through. I might suggest she be examined by a doctor?”

“I’ll prove that you were involved in Letitia’s death,” I said.

“How could you possibly do that?” he asked. “If she really is one of those bodies in the morgue, then the monster who killed her is dead and can no longer testify.”

“But other people can,” Mrs. Goodwin said, coming into the room. “I’ve just returned from Coney Island. Several people remember seeing you there with your fiancée.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Quigley snapped. “Out of all those thousands of people on Coney Island, no one could possibly remember me.”

“Except for those poor souls who have nothing better to do than to observe those who stare at them,” Mrs. Goodwin said. “I have interviewed the snake woman and the bearded lady. I showed them your fiancée’s picture. They remembered that the man who followed Molly through the exhibit late last night was the same man who came in with that young girl on his arm. The bearded lady remembered particularly because the young girl was crying. ‘Don’t let’s stay here another minute,’ she was saying. ‘It’s too cruel. Making them objects of fun. It’s not right.’”

“So I might have taken her to Coney Island once during the last year or so. She did get distressed. I was sensitive to her wishes and brought her straight home. But that was some time ago.”

He looked straight at me. You can’t touch me, his expression was saying. You’ll never prove that I had anything to do with it.

“Now really, sir,” he said. “If these women have no more strange accusations to make, I should be back on the job. I don’t know why they’ve taken it into their heads to attack me in this way, when I am in mourning for my fiancée and when I was responsible for saving Miss Murphy’s life last night.”