Oh Danny Boy

by Rhys Bowen

  Then the sounds of spades digging into earth, spades hitting something hard, and exclamations and grunts as a coffin was lifted. I could make out the shape of it as it was laid on the grass. Then the group moved off and the process was repeated. I crept to another stunted tree and flattened myself against it. I could see the party more clearly now. The man in the dark suit and top hat was probably the coroner. There were several policemen in full dress uniform. I thought I recognized McIver standing beside an older man wearing a captain’s uniform. A couple of young constables brought up a rear guard, watching with disinterest as the convicts dug and grunted as they raised another coffin. This one must have been the most recently buried as there were sounds of coughing and retching and some of the men produced handkerchiefs to hold over their faces. McIver and the captain backed away as the coffin was dumped on the ground with a dull thud.

  It suddenly struck me that they were not about to open the coffins here. They would be shipped back to the morgue and examined there. I wondered for a moment why I had gone to all this trouble, until I remembered why Mrs. Goodwin had wanted me here. It was in case the killer himself showed up to watch.

  A sudden gust of cold mist wrapped around me, making me conscious that I was standing all alone behind this stunted tree, cut off from any help should a hand suddenly come around my mouth. I spun around, scanning the mist-swept island nervously. What was that dark shape? Had something moved beside that hump of rock? When a seagull skimmed overhead and screeched, my heart nearly stopped.

  A third body was exhumed, then a fourth. The mist was starting to clear now, revealing a rocky shoreline and then shining blue water. It was also about to reveal my hiding place. I realized that Old Tom and I could find ourselves in trouble if we were spotted on the island. I made my way back to the jetty as quickly as possible, keeping to the places where the mist was still thick. I was out of breath as I climbed down to the rowboat and obviously disturbed Tom’s forty winks.

  “Back so soon?” he asked. “See all you wanted to?”

  “It was a waste of time,” I said. “The coffins are still sealed. They’ll be taking them back to the morgue before they open them. I’ll just have to find a way to take a peek there.”

  “You might not like what you’ll see,” Tom said. “I’ve seen corpses in my time. The sea washes them up, you know. It’s a sight that would turn a grown man’s stomach.”

  “I know,” I said, “but I have to know the truth.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I suppose the truth is better than not knowing, one way or the other.”

  With that he pulled away from the dock and started to row. We were halfway back to City Island when we heard the deep chug-chug of an approaching motor and the big government launch sped past us, rocking our tiny craft with its wake.

  THIRTY-TWO

  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.

  I left Mrs. Goodwin in the capable hands of a nurse. On my way out I muttered a warning that she was never to be left alone with anyone, and that no strange men were to be admitted on any pretext. The nurse nodded and flexed a beefy arm. “Don’t worry. Nobody gets past me.”

  I went home for lunch. I wasn’t sure whether I should write to Daniel again. I knew he must be longing to hear from me, but I couldn’t tell him any of the things I wanted to. I couldn’t even give him any hopeful news. But it had been a couple of days now without a letter from me. So I sat down and wrote a bright, cheerful note, telling him how hard I was working on his behalf, and how I felt I was getting somewhere at last. This was quite untrue, but I had to keep somebody’s spirits up, didn’t I? My own were pretty much in the dumps.

  It was late aftern
oon when I set out again for Bellevue Hospital and the morgue. I had left it as late as I dared, because I was dreading what would happen next. I had fainted at the smell of formaldehyde and the sight of a body under a sheet. How much worse would four decomposing bodies be?

  They probably won’t let me in anyway, I told myself to give me courage. I’ll ask the doctor for a description of his findings and then I can go home. This reassured me a little until the high brick wall around the hospital grounds came into sight. It was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other and force myself in through that gate. I walked around the morgue twice, trying to see in through the windows and to spot if the police were still in evidence. Then I took a deep breath, got my handkerchief at the ready, and pushed open the front door.

  The marble-floored entry hall was deserted, but the smell was stronger than ever—sweeter, more cloying. Instantly my stomach lurched, and I swallowed back bile. I was not going to disgrace myself again. I went over to the double doors that led into the autopsy room, put my ear to them, and listened. I could hear sounds of low voices inside. Did that mean that the police officers were still here? I had no wish to face an angry Detective McIver or Quigley, or that new captain either. I just wished I could see what was going on. There was no keyhole, but I put my eye to the crack in the door. I got a glimpse of a white coat moving. No sign of blue uniforms.

  Then suddenly the white coat was growing larger, coming toward me. I leaped back and flattened myself against the wall as the door was flung open and a young man appeared.

  “Tell them I’m ready for the next one,” a voice called from the autopsy room, “and go and get yourself a cup of coffee. You look as if you’re going to pass out on me.”

  “I’m all right, sir, honestly,” the young man called back. He had an earnest schoolboy’s face with round wire glasses, and he did look decidedly green. I wondered if he’d chosen the right profession. Maybe this was a required element of medical training. He passed by without noticing me and pushed open another door down the hall. I had recognized the first voice as that of the same doctor we had seen before. I mustered my full courage and stepped into the autopsy room before the door swung closed on me.

  The first thing that assailed me was the smell, so overpowering that my eyes started to water and I could feel myself retching. Like rotting meat on a summer’s day but far, far worse. I put my handkerchief to my nose but even the eau de cologne on it did little to help. There were two bodies lying under sheets on marble slabs and one—my stomach lurched alarmingly—was lying fully exposed. I tried not to look, looked anyway and a little cry escaped from my lips. The doctor spun around.

  “My dear young woman, what are you doing here? This is no place for you. Out with you.”

  “I agree with you completely, but Mrs. Goodwin sent me,” I said. “I need to talk to you urgently, if you could spare one minute.”

  “I’d be glad of a minute’s fresh air,” he said. He crossed the room and wiped his hands on his apron, like a butcher, before opening the door for me. The warm summer air had never felt better as we came outside.

  “Now, what is it?” he asked. “I only have a moment before my student brings me the next body, if he doesn’t keel over in the process.” He smiled at me.

  As rapidly as I could, I told him about the letters we had received from relatives of missing girls.

  “So you want to discover whether your missing girls could be the ones lying on my slabs here?” he asked gravely.

  “Can you tell for sure whether these girls were real streetwalkers or not?” I asked. Somehow I couldn’t make myself use the word “prostitute” in the presence of a man. “Streetwalkers” was hard enough.

  “If you are asking me whether any of these girls was still a virgin, the answer is that I can’t tell for certain,” he said. “You understand that it’s summer. Decomposition sets in rapidly. The soft tissues don’t last long.”

  I stared out across the green lawn, trying to stay calm and detached and not let the image of what I had just seen creep back into my mind.

  “I went back over the notes from the past autopsies and it would appear that there had been recent sexual activity in each case. Which might have meant the predator was successful in his attempt on those occasions.” He looked up at me. “And you say the missing girls were of Italian and Swedish background?”

  I nodded.

  “One of the young ladies I have just examined had the most lovely fair hair,” he said. “She could be your Swedish girl.”

  “Lovely fair hair?” I asked.

  “Oh yes. Luxuriant hair, almost white blond. I got quite a shock when we opened the coffin. It was covering her, draped over her shoulders like a cloak.”

  I found I was trembling. “And is it possible to identify someone by their hair?”

  “Oh yes,” he said. “If the family has kept some hair in a locket, we can examine and compare the hairs under a microscope and make a good match.”

  “Would it be possible for me to take some strands of that hair for comparison?” I asked.

  He looked at me oddly. “Why would you be doing this?” he asked. “Isn’t this a job for the police? They were all here today, you know. They’ve already taken hair samples as well as Bertillon measurements.”

  “Mrs. Goodwin plans to turn everything over to her superiors as soon as she’s completed her part in the investigation,” I said, “but there are a few things she wants to complete first.”

  “Then why isn’t she here herself? Don’t tell me she couldn’t take it, when you were the one who fainted?”

  “She met with an accident,” I said. “She was run down by a horse and carriage.”

  “Dear me,” he said. “That’s unfortunate. But she survived all right?”

  “Fortunately yes. But she’s still confined to her bed, so I’m trying to do what I can to help her.”

  The doctor shook his head. “I could release a strand of hair to Mrs. Goodwin, because she’s official, but you’re not. You could find yourself accused of hampering an official police investigation, you know.”

  “I don’t mean to hamper anything, just to speed things along,” I said. “The official detectives on the team are not about to listen to a pair of women, even if we are on the right track. And I’m only asking for a couple of snippings of hair.”

  He laughed then. “Well, I suppose we can do that much for you. Wait here. You won’t want to come inside again, I’m sure.”

  I waited and he returned with an envelope, which he handed me solemnly. “There,” he said. “I will be keeping hair samples from the other girls on file, should Mrs. Goodwin need those at a later date.”

  I thanked him and made a grateful retreat, clutching my precious hair sample.

  As soon as I returned home, I paid a visit to Sid and Gus to see if they had Dr. Birnbaum’s address. Surely he would have a microscope and be able to compare hair samples for me. I was suitably vague about why I needed to speak to him. I really didn’t want to reveal the thoughts going through my head until they proved definite one way or the other. But I had a clear picture in my head—two girls at Miss Marchbank’s academy, sitting side by side. One of them pale and delicate looking, but with the most beautiful fair hair cascading over her shoulders.

  THIRTY-THREE

  It turned out that Dr. Birnbaum was lodging at the Hotel Lafayette, on University Place, the very same place where Ryan O’Hare himself had rooms. Well, that explained how they had met! I was glad it was a short walk as I had been up since before dawn and had already put in a full day’s work. My feet flagged on the hot sidewalks, and I looked longingly at the fountain in Washington Square, from which came delighted squeals of small boys splashing merrily. The sound of their voices brought back a whole string of happier memories—Bridie and Shamey had played in that same fountain until they were detected by me and brought home in disgrace. Now I wondered when I would see them again.

  Lost in thought, I almost walked right pa
st the Hotel Lafayette, until I glanced up and saw the striped awning over its dining room window, giving it a gay continental appearance. The clerk inside confirmed that Dr. Birnbaum was indeed staying there, and could probably be found in his room at the moment. I was deemed respectable-looking enough to go up as they didn’t seem to have a room-to-room telephone system. The doctor’s room was on the top floor of three, overlooking University Place. I heard the sound of laughter as I tapped on the door. It was opened by none other than Ryan, dressed, for him, in ordinary city attire—white tailored shirt, light trousers, no frills, no Buddhist robes.

  “Molly, what a delightful surprise,” he said. “We were expecting some German friends of Fritz’s but you’ll do equally well. Come on in.”

  He ushered me into a comfortable suite with plush armchairs, table, and writing desk at one end, a bedroom area at the other. It was meticulously neat, with no clutter other than a pile of books. Dr. Birnbaum was sitting at the desk. He got up in a hurry as I came in and looked rather awkward at finding me there—possibly because he was entertaining Ryan in his rooms.

  “Miss Murphy,” he said, clicking his heels and bowing. “To what do we owe this honor?”

  “I have a favor to ask, Dr. Birnbaum. It’s about the case we’ve been discussing. The murdered girls.”

  He eyed me warily. “I hope you don’t wish to be my assistant again. That was rather embarrassing for me.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll not embarrass you again. You’ve kept abreast of what is happening, have you?”

  “Ah yes. I read that they plan to exhume the other girls who were murdered.”

  “They did so today. I was present.”

  “And how did you manage this feat? I can’t picture those two officers inviting you along for the ride.”

  “They didn’t even know I was there.” I caught Ryan’s eye, and we exchanged a grin.

  “Gott im Himmel, you never fail to astonish me, Miss Murphy.” Dr. Birnbaum mopped his brow with his handkerchief. “Please do be seated. Ryan, will you please pour our guest a glass of wine?”