Murphy’s Law

by Rhys Bowen

  “You could tell me everything you know about this man O’Malley right now. Save us both a lot of trouble. I don’t think you killed him, but I still get the feeling that you’re hiding something from me. If you’re shielding somebody, remember this. The man who killed O’Malley is a violent, dangerous, opportunistic murderer. Do you want that kind of person out on our streets?”

  I took a deep breath. How I wished I could tell him the truth and get this nightmare over with. “Look, Captain Sullivan, I wish I could help you, but I really, truly can’t. I swear by the Blessed Mother that I never saw O’Malley before in my life until I boarded that ship. I had an unpleasant encounter with him during which he made bawdy remarks and I slapped his face. But that’s all. Now please—I’ve got two little ones and a husband I haven’t seen for over two years waiting and worrying about me.”

  Again he looked at me long and hard, then he nodded. “Off you go, then. But don’t think about running away. The Irish network is strong in this country. We’d catch you again before you could blink.”

  “I have no reason to run away,” I said.

  Sullivan beckoned to a young officer standing nearby. “Escort Mrs. O’Connor and her children to the inspectors and let them know that she may be handed over to her husband.”

  We followed the young policeman through the registry room and up to one of the inspection stations. “Mrs. O’Connor is free to leave,” the young policeman said. The inspector glanced at my papers, then at me and the children.

  “You’re traveling alone? Is someone here to meet you?”

  “My husband is waiting for me, unless he got discouraged after two days and went home.”

  He waved my papers at me. “And everything that’s written on this paper is true? Can you read or write?”

  He was a young man with a high stiff collar and a big hooked nose. I sensed him looking down this nose at me. “Read Shakespeare, write Latin,” I answered.

  I saw his eyebrow raised. “In which case what are you doing at the bottom of the heap?” There was sarcasm in his voice.

  “I married the man I loved. I didn’t say I wasn’t foolish.”

  That caused him to smile. “Now I have to ask you the following questions: have you ever been convicted of a crime?”

  “No, sir,” I replied, dropping my eyes. I was glad that he hadn’t asked me if I had ever committed a crime. I was sure my face would have given me away.

  “And I have to ask also—are you an anarchist?”

  “No to that also.”

  He handed the papers back to me. “Here you are, Mrs. O’Connor. You have your twenty-five dollars, do you? I’ll have you escorted down to the baggage room. If your husband is outside, you can go.”

  Then I was passed and a free woman, almost. And he hadn’t even looked at the five-pound note I had in my pocket. I glanced back to see if Michael was anywhere in sight but a young official motioned me to follow him.

  “You’ll change your money here,” he said. “I’ll wait.”

  It wasn’t a query, it was an order, and he stood there, leaning against the wall, watching me. I decided it wouldn’t hurt Michael to have his pounds changed into dollars for him. I went up to the barred counter and handed through my five-pound note. The man behind the bars gave me an encouraging smile. “For you,” he said, “For the lovely lady, nice shiny new coins. Here you go.”

  He handed me a pile of silver and copper coins. I took them, five pennies and some small silver coins. Less than a dollar in all. The man must take me for an idiot!

  “Very nice,” I said, “And now I’d like the rest of it, please. Dollar coins will do very nicely for the other twenty-four that you owe me.”

  “I’m getting it. I’m getting it,” he snapped and slammed the coins down on the counter. I took my time to count them. I was angry enough to explode. It was perfectly obvious the fellow had been trying to cheat me. He hadn’t reckoned on my reading English so well and having a quick brain. How many poor devils were cheated out of their savings here, and out on the street with no money for the train fare or a room? I glanced around. I could go back and find Captain Sullivan. He might be interested to hear that wholesale trickery was going on at Ellis Island. But on the other hand, he might not. And if I made a fuss, these people might change their minds and come up with an excuse to send me straight back to Ireland.

  “Thank you so much, sir,” I said with a smile that let him know that I knew. “Twenty-four silver dollars it is. How lucky my old father taught me to count, wasn’t it? Come children.” I went to take Bridie’s hand, then I exclaimed, “Don’t tell me she’s left her favorite doll back in there. I’ll have to go back for it or she’ll not sleep tonight. Watch the little ones please. I won’t be a tick.”

  Then I ran back past the astonished inspector, past the inspection station before anyone could stop me. I was in luck. Michael was just coming out of a side room. He stood looking around in a rather dazed manner. I rushed up to him and shoved the pile of coins into his hands. “Michael! Am I glad to see you—I’ve been looking everywhere. Here. Twenty-five dollars. I had them changed for you,” I closed his hands around the coins. “There’s rather a lot. Don’t drop them. I have to go. Meet you at that park. Noon tomorrow.”

  “Kathleen, wait,” he called after me. “I can’t . . . you don’t understand . . .”

  “Noon tomorrow,” I mouthed, and ran back to the waiting children.

  We retrieved our bundles and came out onto the dock. A fierce, bitter breeze was blowing, splashing up waves over the side and dotting the harbor with white caps. We stood, blinking in the light of the setting sun. Seagulls were screaming and the American flag was flapping like crazy. Suddenly we were thrust into a world of noise and motion and color. It was hard to adjust.

  “Is your husband here, missus?” our escort asked.

  I bent down to Seamus. “Do you see your daddy?” I whispered.

  A short, stocky man was eyeing us with interest, half taking a step forward from the crowd that stood on the dock.

  “I—I think that’s him,” Seamus whispered.

  “Go and run ahead to him. See if he recognizes you.”

  Seamus took a couple of hesitant steps. “Daddy?” he asked.

  “Seamus? My boy?” The man’s face broke into a delighted grin and he also started to trot forward. “I’d not have recognized you. You’re all grown up. Come and give your old daddy a hug.”

  Seamus flung himself into his father’s arms. Bridie and I followed.

  “And where’s my little girl?” Seamus the elder looked up. I pushed Bridie forward but she clung to my skirts. “And where’s Kathleen?”

  The inspector was still hovering. I took the plunge. I rushed up to him and flung my arms around his neck. “Pretend you know me or they’ll be taking the little ones back to Ireland again,” I whispered. “Pretend that I’m Kathleen. I’ll explain all when we’re alone.”

  His arms came awkwardly around my waist. We stayed like that until the inspector had gone back into the building.

  “I’m sorry to do this to you,” I said, releasing him and re-wrapping my shawl around me, “but Kathleen couldn’t travel with us. She sent me with the children so that they’d get to you safe and sound.”

  “She couldn’t travel?” He looked confused. He looked the typical Irish country boy—round, innocent-looking face, short and stocky, probably not too quick on the uptake. I’d danced with enough clodhopping boys at home who looked just like him. “But I sent her the ticket. She must have got it.”

  “She left it at home in Ireland, by mistake,” Young Seamus said. “She had to go back for it and she’ll be coming on another boat.”

  “She did what?” The father looked at me, completely confused now.

  I took his arm. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s get the children onto the ferry and I’ll explain.”

  “Come on, young Bridie. It’s time you hugged your father,” he said, and swept her up into his arms. She a
llowed herself to be hugged and kissed, then he held her in one arm and took the bundle in the other as we walked toward the waiting ferry boat. We must have looked just like a family.

  Ten

  As soon as the ship was under way, we found ourselves a corner of the cabin, out of the icy blast of wind. I tapped the children on the shoulder. “If you go and look out of that window over there, you’ll get your first real view of New York City where we’re going to live. See if you can count how many floors there are to those skyscrapers.”

  Seamus was looking at me questioningly as the two children pushed their way through the crowd. I took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. How do you break such news to a person?

  “About Kathleen,” I began. “That wasn’t true—she didn’t leave her ticket behind. She just told the children that to explain why she wasn’t traveling with us. She gave her ticket to me so that I could come in her place.”

  “Why would she do that?” He still looked completely bewildered, and now a little suspicious.

  “They wouldn’t let her travel, Seamus. She had to have a medical exam and they found out that she had TB—consumption. They don’t let anyone with consumption into America.”

  Now he looked really shocked. “Consumption? But—but most people die from that, don’t they?”

  I nodded. “She’s gone home to her family in county Derry, Seamus. That’s why she wanted to make sure that the children got to you safely.”

  A tear had squeezed itself out of the side of his eye. He wiped at it with his sleeve. “I’d have gone back to her if she’d told me. I’ll still go back to be with her. I don’t mind taking the risk. She shouldn’t have to suffer and die alone.”

  ‘Don’t be silly. What good would that be? What would happen to the children if their mother dies and their father is hanged?” I touched his arm. Even though he was a stranger I’d just met, I felt that I knew him. “Miracles do happen, Seamus. Maybe the Blessed Mother or one of the saints will cure Kathleen and she’ll be able to come and join you.”

  “I’m thinking you’re one of the saints yourself,” he said. “Coming all this way to bring my children to me.”

  I had to smile at this. My old mother in heaven would be having a good laugh too, no doubt. “Nowhere near a saint, I’m afraid. My journey here suited the both of us. I was on the run from the police, just like you were. I had to leave Ireland in a hurry. Meeting Kathleen was a godsend for me.”

  “So those English bastards were onto you, too?” he snapped. “Pardon my language, miss, but just thinking of them brings out the worst in me.”

  “My name’s Molly,” I said. “Molly Murphy.”

  He held out his hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Molly Murphy. And I’m most grateful for what you’ve done for my family.”

  I started laughing. “Anyone watching us will wonder what’s going on. A married couple with two children and we’re shaking hands like two strangers.”

  He laughed, too, then the smile faded. “My poor Kathleen. If only there was some way . . . if only we could think of some way.”

  “Maybe a way will present itself,” I said, although I couldn’t see how. “Maybe Ireland will get home rule. Maybe we’ll chase out the English once and for all.”

  “Amen to that,” he said. “If I thought there was any chance of that, I’d be on the boat tomorrow, raring to fightl”

  “Your young ones need you now,” I reminded him. “You’ll have to be mother and father to them.”

  A worried look crossed his face. “I’ve no experience of raising children. What will I do? You’ll come back with us for tonight, will you? It’s nothing fancy. I’ve been living with my cousin and his family until Kathleen got here. I’d been saving for a place of our own but I wanted her to help choose it. It’s very important to a woman to choose her own home.”

  I looked at him kindly. Kathleen certainly hadn’t married for looks, but there was no denying that her man had a good heart.

  “Of course I’ll come back with you. I’ve nowhere else to go,” I said.

  “Thank you. That’s grand. I’m feeling it’s not going to be easy for the children. I’ll have to tell them the truth, won’t I?”

  “Eventually,” I said. “Let them go on hoping for now, until they’re settled in at least.”

  He nodded, still righting back tears. “She didn’t say a thing when she wrote to me,” he said and he stared out across the bleak waters. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “She only just found out when she had the medical exam. She didn’t know herself before that.”

  “Oh, so she’s not suffering very much yet, then?”

  “She seems just fine,” I lied, remembering the hollow eyes and the cough. “Who knows, maybe she’ll get better yet.”

  Young Seamus pushed his way through the crowd, followed by a disheveled Bridie. “We saw it—New York City and there was a building with hundreds and hundreds of floors.”

  “It went right up to the clouds,” Bridie added.

  “It did not!” Seamus said scornfully. “But it was taller than the church spire at home. Are we going to live in a building like that, Daddy?”

  “Almost like that,” Seamus the elder said. “We are up on the fourth floor. I hope you’ve got good strong legs because there’s a lot of stairs.”

  “They must have very good legs to walk up to the top of those buildings,” young Seamus commented.

  His father reached out and ruffled his son’s hair. “They have things called elevators in those grand buildings. I saw one for myself the other day. You’ll not believe it. You step in this little box and it takes you up, like by magic. You don’t even feel it, but when you get out, you’re at the top of the building.”

  “By magic?” Bridie looked excited. “Is this a magic city, Daddy?”

  “Absolutely. Any dream can come true here, so they say. You just have to work at it for a while . . . sometimes for quite a while,” he added under his breath.

  The ferry boat was coming in to its dock. We jostled our way up the gangplank and then we were on shore. I was standing in America, a free woman with a whole new life ahead of me.

  Seamus took his son’s hand. “Come on, young’un,” he said with a crack in his voice. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

  The sun had set while we had crossed on the ferry and the city was plunged into twilight. As we left the dock and went among those tall buildings we were in nighttime gloom. Gas lamps cast anemic pools of light, but between them lurked frightening shadows. A clock on a church tower chimed five.

  “Daddy, how soon do we get to your house?” Seamus’s little voice echoed my own uneasiness.

  “We have to cross to the other side of town,” Seamus the father said. “This is the West Side and we live on the East Side. It’s a fair walk but you can do it, I know. And it starts getting brighter, too, as we get toward the middle—electric lights they’ve got now on the Bowery. Tis a sight to behold all right.”

  One dark street led into another. If Seamus hadn’t been guiding us, we’d have been hopelessly lost, and probably at the mercy of criminals, too. I noticed several unsavory types eyeing us from the shadows. Sometimes there were saloons on street corners with men coming in and out of them. Then there began to be more lights—open shop fronts with kerosene lanterns hissing away. And then, mercy of mercies—we came to the broadest street of all, and here all was full of life. The stores were all open, and there were bright electric lamps in the streets that made it look almost like day. Cabs and carriages clattered past, and then, with a clang clanging of its bell, a streetcar came toward us, gliding on silvery tracks. We just stood and stared—those of us who had never seen an electric streetcar before, that is. I’ve no doubt that Seamus was used to it by now.

  “How does it go, Daddy—there are no horses,” little Seamus gasped.

  “Electricity,” Big Seamus said grandly. “See, it runs on those tracks, like a small train. New York City is full of m
arvels, my boy. Full of marvels. Tomorrow, if you’re good, I’ll show you a big hole in the ground and do you know what they’re doing there? They’re building a railway to run under the city. Imagine that. Oh yes, this is the place to be all right.”

  I was still staring like a delighted child at the shops full of merchandise, the streetcars, the electric lights, taverns, eating rooms, and even theaters. There was everything you might need or dream about right there on that one street. I decided I was going to like living in a city.

  We crossed that wide street, staying close to Seamus as we dodged through the traffic. Then we walked by a brightly lit theater. Flannagan’s Irish Delight was the sign in winking lights. On a billboard outside was plastered “ ‘When Irish Eyes Are Smiling!’ An all-new review starring the best and brightest of Ireland’s stars—straight from their phenomenal success in Dublin and Belfast: Taffy and Rosie, the Shannon twins will clog dance their way into your hearts; Ireland’s own darlin’ boy, Billy Brady will tickle your fancy with his wicked recitations, and the pride of old Ireland, Edward Monagan, with the golden voice will bring tears to your eyes.”

  We passed on. I said a silent prayer of thanks they hadn’t also sent Taffy and Rosie to entertain us that afternoon. Now we left the main streets and plunged into another maze of smaller streets, but these weren’t dark and threatening. They were dark because there was no electric light, but they were full of life and noise. Everywhere there were men with barrows and handcarts, and these handcarts were piled with every sort of merchandise you could imagine—fruit, vegetables, fish, pots, pans, fabric—why, it was better than the Westport fair that we went to once a year when I was a child.

  “Is it some kind of market day here?” I asked.

  “No, it’s like this every day,” Seamus answered. “Most new immigrants can’t get a job straightaway, especially if they can’t speak English. So they go and get themselves a pushcart and they sell things. They start off small and get bigger.”

  “What about you? Do you have a job or a cart like this?”