The Edge of Dreams (Molly Murphy Mysteries Book 14) Page 18

  “So you can’t actually help me?”

  “Would if I could,” he said, shrugging. “Sorry.”

  “Well, that was a waste of time,” I said as we came out and stood breathing in the fresh breeze that came up the East River.

  “Can we go home now?” Bridie asked expectantly.

  “We must make an effort to find them.” I stood thinking. I remembered that they had been thrown out of their old house on Cherry Street. I knew Finbar, Nuala’s no-good husband, had lost his job as a bouncer at a tavern, on account of his drinking. But knowing Finbar, he’d still be drinking somewhere, wouldn’t he? I’d try the local taverns.

  We walked up Water Street, staying away from the crazy commerce on the waterfront and stopping off at every tavern we saw. At the third one, the Irish Harp, we were rewarded. Ladies were not allowed inside but I was able to pass a message via the bouncer at the front door, and eventually someone shouted, “Finbar, get your drunk and lazy carcass out here. There’s a lady wants to speak to you.”

  And Finbar emerged. Bridie shrank back and hid herself behind my skirts. Indeed he was a frightening figure—his face shrunk to a skeleton of skin and bone, eyes hollow, hair matted and unwashed, and clothes half hanging off him.

  “Whatta you want?” he growled.

  “Finbar, it’s Molly,” I said. “And your cousin Bridie.”

  A leering smile crossed his face. “Little Bridie,” he said. “Sweet little Bridie.” And he reached out a hand to touch her. She flinched away.

  A thought flashed across my mind that maybe he had tried to molest her when she lived with them. He had certainly tried it with me. Not that he’d gotten very far.

  “Finbar, where are you living? Bridie’s come to see Nuala and the boys.”

  “She throws me out every day,” he said, now sounding weepy. “Doesn’t want me around the house. Says I’m underfoot and a no-good bag of bones.”

  “The address, Finbar,” I insisted.

  “Fifty-eight James Street. Not far from the Bowery,” he managed to get out with great effort. “Top floor.”

  Naturally, I thought. People like Finbar were always given the top floor, up all those stairs nobody else wanted to climb. I thanked him, and against my better judgment I put fifty cents into his hand. He beamed, wept, and bowed. “God bless you, lady. God bless you,” he called after me as we walked away.

  The tenement on James Street was, if anything, worse than the one where they had first lived on Cherry. The hallway was dark, and dank, and smelled of urine and cabbage and drains. The one sink that was the water supply for the whole building was now full of filthy water. We started to climb the stairs, one flight, then the next. By the third, my ribs were aching and it hurt me to breathe. As I stopped to catch my breath, a door opened and a woman’s face poked out. Her unkempt hair stuck out at all angles, and she looked around with wild eyes. “Brendan?” she demanded. “Is that you?”

  Then she saw me and scowled. “What do you want? We don’t need no do-gooders around here.“

  “I’m looking for Nuala O’Grady,” I said. “I’m told she lives on the top floor.”

  “What’s she done now? Those boys of hers been getting in trouble again?”

  “Just a friendly visit,” I said.

  “‘Friendly’? You call that old cow friendly?” She scooped up a snotty-nosed baby that was attempting to crawl out of the door and shut it behind her.

  Bridie looked at me, wide-eyed, and said nothing. I took her hand and we went up the last flights in silence. As I tapped on the door I was transported back to my first day in New York, almost five years ago, when I had stood outside Nuala’s door on the top floor of a similarly disgusting tenement. The door was flung open, and the doorway filled with Nuala’s enormous bulk. Just as she had done the first time, Nuala now looked at me with loathing. “Well, would you look what the cat’s brought in,” she said.

  “And top of the morning to you too, Nuala,” I replied. “A fine greeting for your young relative whom I’ve brought to see you.”

  Her face softened then. “Well, look at you, Bridie, love. My, aren’t you growing into a fine young woman. And where did you get those clothes? Fancy, aren’t they? Did herself buy them for you, now that she’s a policeman’s wife?” She jerked her head to indicate me, but refused to call me by name.

  “Mrs. Sullivan made them for me,” she said. “I live with her.”

  “Mrs. Sullivan?”

  “My mother-in-law. She’s kindly taken Bridie in and is educating her,” I explained for her.

  “Well, how about that?” she said. She stepped aside. “I suppose you’d better come in.”

  The inside was as sorry as the last place they’d lived. One threadbare armchair, a scrubbed table with benches made of planks over blocks, a couple of saucepans hanging over the sink, and the smell of frying and unwashed bodies.

  “Sit yourselves down then,” she said. “I’ll be making the tea.”

  We sat.

  “Bridie’s anxious to hear if you’ve any news of her father,” I said. “She herself has heard nothing, and naturally she’s very worried.”

  “We did hear, a little while back,” she said. “Himself met a man at the tavern who had come back from the canal. Said he couldn’t stick it out. Said no amount of money was worth enduring that hellhole. He’d caught yellow fever but recovered—one of the lucky ones, I suppose. Anyway…” I held my breath and didn’t dare glance at Bridie. “Anyway, he’d come across Seamus and young Shamey.”

  “And they were both alive and well?”

  “At the time he saw them, yes. He said it was an out-of-the-way, godforsaken place, days by mule from anywhere.”

  I turned to Bridie. “There, you see, my love. They are still all right. But they have no way to send you letters.”

  She nodded, her eyes still full of hope and fear at the same time.

  The kettle boiled, and Nuala squeezed her bulk around the table to pour the water into the teapot.

  “I see you’re not working at the fish market any longer,” I said. “Has Finbar found a better job that you’re able to stay home?”

  “Himself? That lazy, good-for-nothing bag of bones?” she half spat. “He’s no job at all and drinks any money he can lay his hands on. No, it’s my boys. They are making money, doing odd jobs for certain influential people.” She didn’t mention that the influential people was really one person—Monk Eastman, leader of one of the city’s most powerful and brutal gangs. And I wasn’t going to let on that I knew.

  “How very nice,” I said. “Are any of them here? I have a little job myself that needs doing, and I could use a smart boy.”

  “Malachy’s out, doing something,” she said, “and James is in school. He’s the studious one. But I sent young Thomas down to bring us some oysters for our tea. The boat comes in from the marshes about this time, but you have to be quick. He should be back anytime now.”

  She handed us chipped and grubby cups, and we sipped politely.

  “Last time I saw you, you were in the family way,” she said.

  “That’s right. I’ve now a fine boy a year old. Liam.”

  “Boys.” She sniffed. “Boys only bring you grief. Would that God had given me a girl like young Bridie here. She looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Is that right, Bridie? You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Cousin Nuala,” she said. “I try to be.”

  “You see. Doesn’t give you a day’s grief in her life. Boys, on the other hand, are always coming home dirty and bloody and…”

  As if on cue we heard steps running up the stairs, and Thomas burst in. He was about to say something but stopped when he saw us.

  “So you’re back,” Nuala said. “And where are my oysters?”

  “I was too late. Some man pushed in front of me and took the last, and when I said something he threatened to punch me in the nose or push me off the dock.” I could tell now that he had been crying. Tears had
streaked the dirt on his cheeks.

  “You’ve got to learn to stand up for yourself like your brother Malachy,” she said. “You tell him who the man was, and no doubt someone will teach him a lesson he won’t forget in a hurry. Malachy has a real protector now, and that applies to you too.”

  “Yes, Mah,” he said. He smiled shyly at Bridie. He was probably a year older than her but hardly any taller. As fat as his mother was, he looked as if he never got a good meal.

  “This is your cousin Bridie come to visit,” I said. “And you remember me? Molly? I stayed with you once, and then you came and stayed with me.”

  “I know,” he said. “Hello, Bridie. It’s grand to see you looking so fine.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.” She looked down, suddenly shy too.

  “Thomas,” Nuala said. “This lady might have an errand for you.”

  “That’s right, Thomas,” I said. “I need you to find a boy for me. This boy delivered a message to police headquarters on Mulberry Street.”

  “Is he in trouble?” Thomas asked, frowning.

  “Not at all. He did nothing wrong. It’s just that the man who gave him the note to deliver might have done something wrong, and we have to find him before he can hurt more people. It’s no use if grown-ups ask questions, because the boys won’t rat on each other. But you can tell the boy that the police won’t question him. They’ll leave him alone. We just need a description of the man who paid him … and paid him well, I suspect.” I paused, then, taking a risk, I said, “Whatever the man paid him, I’ll pay you.”

  “Is that a fact?” Thomas’s face lit up. “All right. I’ll do it. Tell me all about it.”

  I told him everything I knew, leaving out the fact that this man had murdered a whole list of people. No sense in scaring him. Thomas told me his brother could help him put the fear of God into the boys and get them to fess up. This wasn’t what I’d had in mind, but I saw it could be useful. Nobody willingly crossed someone connected to the Eastmans.

  As Bridie and I made our way down the stairs and took in a breath of good sea air, we both gave a sigh of relief.

  “I don’t think you wanted me to visit my relatives at all,” Bridie commented as we made our way back along Fulton Street to the El station. “I think you wanted the boys to do that job for you, and you needed an excuse to visit them.”

  I looked down at her sweetly innocent face and smiled. “You are becoming too sharp for your years, young lady.”

  We walked on. “I wish I could live with you, Molly,” she said. “I don’t remember my real mother very well. I know she was kind and gentle and had a soft voice, but I don’t really remember her. So you’re the only mother I’ve got.”

  Before I could answer she went on, “I know that I should keep on with Mrs. Sullivan, because she’s been so good to me and she’s lonely up there, all alone.”

  I wanted to tell her the plans in store for her, but as I hadn’t discussed the matter with Daniel yet, I had to stay silent. “You know I’d love to have you here with me, anytime,” I said, “but you’re right. Mrs. Sullivan has been good to you. Your father wanted us to find you a place as a maid, you know. Mrs. Sullivan took you in, started to train you for domestic service, and then became fond of you. Now you’re turning into a young lady.”

  “I know,” she said. “I’ve been very lucky.” There was a long silence, and then she said, “You know sometimes I have bad thoughts.”

  “Bad thoughts? You?”

  She nodded. “Sometimes I hope that my father won’t come back, because I don’t want to go back to living how we did, with Cousin Nuala. Then I’d really have to be a servant, wouldn’t I?”

  I looked down at her worried little face. “I don’t think we’d let you go back to living with Nuala now,” I said. “Even if your father returns soon, he won’t want to be bothered with a young girl. He’ll be happy someone else is taking care of her welfare.”

  I saw her face light up. “You think so?”

  “What would Seamus know about raising a young woman?” I said.

  “I don’t think Cousin Nuala knows much about it either,” she added with a grin.

  Twenty

  We had only just arrived home when Sid and Gus called to say they were starting their search for Dr. Werner and asked if I wanted to go with them, but I refused this time. Frankly, I was exhausted by that simple little jaunt to Nuala’s. And I’d have been no use, having no experience of universities or medical schools.

  So I stayed home, waiting and worrying. Maybe it would all go smoothly, I thought. The commissioner couldn’t expect Daniel to work miracles. But it seemed I was wrong. Daniel came home in a foul mood, just as we were finishing our supper.

  “Another long session with the commissioner,” he said as he strode toward us down the hall, the sound of his heavy tread echoing up from the stairwell and the newly painted walls. “He wants to know why I haven’t caught this guy yet, and how much longer he is expected to sanction having men stationed around the city watching prominent people and landmarks and generally being on high alert. It’s costing too much in overtime hours, and he wants results.” Daniel stomped through to the kitchen, sat, and began to unlace his boots. “He asked me if this man is finished with his killing spree or planning to strike again. As if I know. Does he think I’m a seer or a fortune-teller? How can anyone know the man’s mind, if we don’t know whom we’re dealing with?”

  He kicked off one boot and it fell with a clatter. “I could tell him nothing. I felt like a fool. Then I made the mistake of telling him that the only link we can find between the murders is that the notes were all addressed to me.” The other boot joined its mate on the floor. “He didn’t like that at all. Thought I was making too much of myself. To him I’m one of a hundred policemen. The killer could have picked my name at random—out of a newspaper, maybe.”

  He pushed the boots out of the way and drew his chair up to the table. “And then he said he wished the murderer had chosen someone with a few more detecting skills, and we might have the case solved by now. “

  “The cheek of it!” I said. “You’re one of their top detectives. Youngest man to be made captain. How dare he?”

  “He dares because he’s the commissioner of police and in two years’ time, someone else will be elected to the position.” Daniel rested his elbows on the table and dropped his chin into his hands. “And then comes the kicker. He’s suggesting adding another officer to ‘assist’ me.”

  “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt at this stage, can it?” I said. “Two heads are better than one and you can’t be everywhere at once.”

  I saw immediately that I’d said the wrong thing. “‘It can’t hurt’?” he demanded. “It damned well can hurt!”

  I heard an intake of breath from his mother. “Daniel, such language,” she said. “There are women and children present.”

  “Sorry, Mother,” he muttered. “But you must understand my frustration. I’ve been pushed to snapping point over this.” He slapped one fist against the other. “This second officer who is to ‘assist’ me will be the commissioner’s spy, handpicked by him. Everything I do will be reported back instantly. For all I know, someone at the top is looking for a way to shove me aside. And when I am making no progress, how is that going to look?”

  “Then tell him you think it’s a great idea to assign another detective to the case, but you’d like to choose someone you can work with,” I suggested.

  “One does not tell the commissioner anything. The man enjoys his power. He’s a trumped-up Tammany puppet, and he knows no more about police work than young Bridie here.” He looked from me to his son, who was sitting in his high chair, watching wide-eyed at his father’s outburst. “I tell you, Molly,” Daniel said, “this may be the end of my career if something doesn’t happen soon.”

  I got up and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good detective, Daniel. I’m sure everyone who matters knows that. And you’re dealing with a case that isn�
�t giving you any tangible leads. In a city this size, if someone wants to carry out random murders, how are you supposed to stop them?”

  I heaped a plate with his favorite stew and put it in front of him. “Get that down you. You’ll feel better. I’ll wager you haven’t eaten all day.”

  “Probably haven’t. Can’t remember,” he said, already tucking into the steaming plate. “Thanks.”

  “Your mother made the stew. You can thank her,” I said. There was so much more I wanted to say, but I wasn’t going to risk it with Mrs. Sullivan sitting across the table. Instead I cleared away our dishes and started to wash up.

  It wasn’t until Liam was safely tucked in bed and the dinner was cleaned up that I came into the back parlor to see Daniel sitting at his desk. He looked up and held out a hand to me. “Sorry I was in such a foul mood earlier,” he said.

  “With justification,” I said. “I’d have been hopping mad myself if I’d been insulted like that.” I went over and saw he’d been writing names on a sheet of paper. “What are you doing?”

  “What you suggested. Trying to remember any cases in which I was instrumental in bringing about a death penalty. I really can’t think of any that fit the bill, though.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t even the death penalty. If you had someone shut away for life, that could be considered similar to a living death, couldn’t it? A loved one could blame you for taking away a brother or father.” Then I tapped him excitedly on the arm. “Or, better yet. You’ve been a policeman for fifteen years. What if you had someone convicted for life, or a long sentence, but it was commuted for good behavior, and the man is now finally free? Maybe he’s a quiet and brooding sort, and all these years he’s been plotting revenge against you.”

  Daniel licked his lips. “You might have something there, Molly. It’s worth looking into anyway. I’ll have my sergeant get in touch with Sing Sing and find out who might have been released recently. Then we can see if any of them ring a bell.” He gave me a weak smile. “Well, that’s something to go on, isn’t it?”

  I decided to pluck up my courage and maybe get my head bitten off. “Daniel, I know you haven’t wanted me to get involved in any of your police work in the past,” I said. “But you said yourself that you are stumped. I’m wondering how you would feel if I did a little poking around myself. I thought I could visit the next of kin of the murder victims.”