by Rhys Bowen
“I know he does. He caught me snooping in his study. I was lucky to get away.”
“You sure like living dangerously, don’t you?” Daniel demanded.
“I know. I’ve been very stupid. But it was only when Billy Brady did his Roosevelt impersonation that I realized he was the man I saw on the island that night.”
“So that’s why you ran from the room. I wondered what Brady could have to do with it. I thought he must have been in the pay of the alderman.”
“No, the alderman had nothing to do with this,” I said. “He is involved in some pretty shady things, though.”
“Which doesn’t surprise me one jot.” He chuckled. “So I suppose O’Malley must have been coming to blackmail Brady?”
“It was Billy Brady who betrayed the Plumbridge Nine,” I said. “He was with them that night. He was the only one who got caught. They were going to torture him so he gave them names to save his skin.”
“No wonder he had to silence O’Malley right away,” Sullivan said. “If that got out, I don’t think he’d be the darling of the Irish for much longer.”
“You have to go and arrest him right away,” I said. “Why didn’t you arrest him right away? And why did you let me almost drown?”
“Let you? My dear girl, I can’t forgive myself for being so inept. I stationed a constable outside the house to prevent anything from happening to you. I sensed something was wrong when you left the room and Billy followed not too much later, but I didn’t want to cause a scene. I thought the alderman was involved, remember. And I knew my constable was outside the front door. I didn’t realize he’d be stupid enough to help carry the trunk into Billy’s carriage. If I hadn’t come out and questioned him, we’d have been too late. We almost were too late, fishing around for you in the darkness like that. You must be some swimmer to have kept going in that current.”
“I’m not bad,” I said.
“You’re full of surprises, Mrs. O’Connor,” he said.
If you only knew, I thought. I was getting drowsy again. The pain in my limbs was dimming and it seemed comfortable to rest my head against Daniel’s shoulder. Again I was awakened with a jerk.
“Come on, we’re here,” he said. He helped me from the carriage. We stood before an attractive brownstone on a tree-lined street. “Lucky that I live in Chelsea,” he said. “I don’t think you’d have made it to the Lower East Side. Let’s get her inside, Constable.”
I was half carried up a flight of stairs. A door was unlocked and I was taken into an austere and tidy room. It was so obviously a gentleman’s room. Leather armchair by the fire. Ashtray containing a pipe on the side table. Desk on the far wall. Sporting print over the mantel. Daniel lit the gas lamps, then the gas fire in the fireplace. It hissed to life, sending out immediate heat.
“Thank you, Constable,” he said as the policeman helped lower me into the armchair. “You can go back to HQ. I’ll phone the chief and join you as soon as I can.”
The policeman went, leaving us alone. Daniel crossed to the sideboard and poured from a decanter. “Here,” he said. “Get this down you. It will warm you up.”
I took a sip and made a face. “It’s burning,” I said.
“I can tell you’re not a drinker. Go on, swallow it.”
I swallowed, coughed, then swallowed again. He laughed. “From the face you’re making, anyone would think I’m trying to poison you. It’s the best brandy, I’ll have you know.”
“It tastes horrible,” I said, shuddering.
“Now we have to get those wet things off you as quickly as possible,” Daniel said. He disappeared into a back room, then returned with blankets, towels, and dry clothing. “I’ve nothing that will fit, but put those on. At least they’re warm. Go ahead and change by the fire. Don’t worry, I won’t peek”—the same slightly wicked smile. “I have to make a phone call to headquarters and then I’ll be in the kitchen, making you some hot tea while you’re changing.”
I struggled out of my wet clothes—why did they have to put all those buttons down the back? My numbed fingers struggled with them, but I could hardly call Daniel back to undress me, could I? The brandy was starting to work. I could feel the glow spreading out along my frozen limbs. I ripped open the remaining buttons hearing them strike the polished floor with a satisfying ping. I rubbed myself vigorously with the towel he had provided, then attempted to put on the clothes. Daniel had brought me a suit of long gentleman’s undergarments, all in one. I put it on, then turned and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the far wall. I looked so ridiculous that I burst out laughing.
Daniel came running through from the kitchen. “Is something wrong? I thought I heard you cry out.”
“With laughter,” I said. “Look at me!”
I held out my leg and my arm, completely engulfed. He started to laugh, too. “Woman being swallowed by octopus. You could be one of the living picture tableaux that are so popular in the theaters right now.”
“Oh, Daniel,” I said. “This whole thing is so ridiculous.”
“You called me by my first name,” he said. He came closer until I was conscious of the warmth of his presence and of the current running between us. I could almost feel myself drawn toward him.
“You called me Kathleen first,” I said.
“So I did. So we have both made slips of the lip.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “My brain is telling me to be sensible. Do you think I should be sensible at this moment, Mrs. O’Connor?” His eyes were challenging me—sparkling at me dangerously in the firelight glow.
“I think being sensible too often amounts to a boring life, Mr. Sullivan,” I whispered.
“Then I fear I’m about to make another slip of the lip,” he said, and bent to kiss me.
I had never felt like this in my entire life. Oh to be sure, I’d let enough boys kiss me, and some go beyond kissing too. But, to tell you the truth, I had wondered what all the fuss was about. Now I knew. My arms came around his neck and I pulled him closer to me. The blood was singing in my head again, but this time the feeling was very different. I understood now why men were sometimes mad with desire. I felt mad with desire myself, incapable of a rational thought. Then Daniel swept me up into his arms. As he carried me through to his bedroom I was brought back to reality with a jolt. Any moment now and he would discover that I was not the married woman with two children he thought me to be.
I struggled in his arms. “No, not in here. Take me back, please.”
He looked perplexed. “I’m sorry, I misunderstood.”
He placed me down gently on the floor.
“No, you didn’t.” I reached up and stroked his face tenderly. “Believe me, my feelings for you are genuine, but I have some explaining to do first. You should know the truth about me.”
I went to kneel on the rug before the fire and held out my hands to the blaze. Daniel followed me silently and perched on the arm of the chair beside me. I didn’t want to look at him so I stared into the flames.
“Daniel, I have a confession to make,” I blurted out. “My name is not Kathleen O’Connor and I’m not a married woman.”
“You’re not Kathleen O’Connor?”
I looked away. “I’ve been living a lie and hating myself for doing it. I took her place to come here on the ship. The real Kathleen is dying in Ireland and this was the only way to get her children to their father.”
“Holy Mother! You took her place! So that’s why you moved out and deserted your babes in such a hurry. I thought it didn’t ring true for you to walk out on your children so easily. Then who in God’s name are you?”
“My name’s Molly, Molly Murphy.”
He stroked my wet hair from my face. “Molly. It suits you better than Kathleen. And tell me, Molly, are there any husbands or suitors I don’t know about, waiting to beat me to a pulp for having designs on their beloved?”
“None, sir. I’m all alone in the world, and free and available.”
“I’m glad to
hear it,” he said. “Then, being a gentleman, I shall not take advantage of a young lady half out of her mind with shock and restrain my passion until a more suitable occasion.” He kissed me again, but tenderly this time. Then he got to his feet. “I’ll go and make that tea now.”
I watched him go with some regret.
Twenty-four
Now that Daniel Sullivan knew the truth about me, he behaved like a perfect gentleman and wouldn’t let me spend the night in his bachelor apartment. I had a reputation to consider, he told me. Instead he got the Irish family on the ground floor to put me up for the night. They made me very welcome and in the morning their daughter lent me some of her own clothes. I wasn’t going to wear that black maid’s dress ever again. And I wasn’t going to return it to Mrs. Brennan, either. I had learned my lesson. I was going to stay well away from the alderman and his household and leave the justice to police.
As I dressed and performed my toilet the next morning I was horrified to see myself in the mirror. My face was battered and bruised, black and blue like an overripe fruit.
“You can’t go out, looking like that,” Mrs. O’Shea said, shaking her head with concern. “Captain Sullivan says that a madman threw you into the Hudson River and left you to drown. I hope they catch him. The city’s not a safe place for young girls alone, that’s for sure. You need to find yourself a nice, reliable man to take care of you.”
“Yes,” I said. “That wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Actually I had a man in mind.
He showed up around midday and winced when he saw my battered face in the daylight. “Saints preserve us. Look at you!”
“I’d rather not,” I said. “I tell you one thing, I don’t think I’ll be chosen queen of the St. Patrick’s Day parade looking like this.”
“The bastard,” Daniel muttered, taking my chin cautiously in his hand. “I hope we nail him.”
“Have you arrested him?”
“Oh yes, we brought him in last night, and he promptly posted bail and departed again. He’s a cocky so and so and he’s going to bluff it out. He doesn’t think we’ll be able to pin anything on him.”
“But you have to,” I said. “He’s killed two people. He almost killed me. Can’t I testify?”
“Of course, if we have enough evidence to get it to court, but he was a smart devil. He used disguises and gloves on both occasions he killed. No fingerprints, no witnesses.”
“But I’m a witness,” I insisted. “I saw him on Ellis Island.”
Daniel shook his head. “Wearing a disguise. And then wrongly identified Boyle and the alderman. A good defense attorney would make mincemeat of your testimony, I’m afraid.”
“But he can’t be allowed to walk free. What about Ireland—won’t they send you all the information on him and on what he did?”
“He was let off for naming his friends in Ireland. He’s a free man as far as they’re concerned.”
“But he’s killed two people to keep those facts hidden.”
“The problem with that is that he came into this country under the name of Billy Brady. There is no document linking him to his real name. Once he’s over here with a new name, it’s almost impossible to link to his past.”
The implications of what he was saying were just dawning on me. I had come to this country as Kathleen O’Connor. If my identity stayed a secret between Daniel and me, I was safe.
“So what are you going to do?” I demanded. “You can’t let him get away with it.”
“I’ll do everything I can, I promise you,” he said. “But you stay out of police business from now on.”
“But the alderman,” I insisted. “He’s involved in shady dealings, too. Can’t you do something about that?”
“Not if I want to keep my job,” Daniel said. “Listen, Molly, you have to understand how New York works. Tammany Hall calls the shots. They make life easy for the police and we turn a blind eye on each other. It’s not ideal, I agree, but that’s how it is. Any policeman who went after a Tammany man would be digging his own grave. And if the alderman is involved in shady schemes, he’s also much loved here in the city. He gives to all the charities. He arranges the most splendid St. Patrick’s Days. And he’s very, very careful. Anyone who tried to take him to court would find there were no witnesses and no proof.”
“Then this is a corrupt city,” I said.
“No more than any other city, I’d imagine. And it’s a good city, too. My parents came over here, starving in the Great Famine. When Tammany came to power, my dad became a policeman. He rose through the ranks and earned enough to send me to Columbia University. That’s the good thing about life over here. It doesn’t matter what you start out as, you have the chance to rise above it.”
“I’m hoping to make something of my life,” I said. “I have to find a job—as soon as my face heals enough to go out in public again. I put my hand up to my swollen cheek.
“What sort of job are you looking for?”
“Not as a house servant. I don’t have the temperament and I don’t think, somehow, that I’d get a good reference, do you?”
Daniel came to sit on the arm of my chair, where I was wrapped in blankets beside a fire. “So what would you like to do?”
“You know,” I said, “I’ve been thinking. I think I might have a flair for investigations.”
“Holy Mother—what are you saying?”
“That I want to become the first woman detective in the New York City Police?” I asked, and laughed when I saw his face. “No, listen, Daniel. I’ve been thinking. When I left Liverpool there were so many people who were trying to trace their loved ones in the New World. Maybe I could establish myself as a people finder.”
“Haven’t you learned your lesson yet, woman? Private investigations, indeed, I’ve already had to fish you out of the harbor once.”
“Oh, I don’t mean criminal investigations. I’ll leave that side of it to you. But there should be enough people in Europe who want to know whether a loved one is dead or alive, don’t you think? And it certainly beats the only other job offers I’ve had so far.”
“Which were?”
“Fish gutting or prostitution.”
He laughed and slid his hand into mine. “There is another option,” he said. “You could think of settling down.”
I laughed. “Can you really see me settling down to lace curtains and afternoon tea? And do you have a suitable gentleman in mind?”
Daniel got to his feet and laughed, too. “No, I was just talking off the top of my head, as usual. I need to get back to work. I just came by to make sure you were doing okay.”
After he left, I sat staring into the fire. I might be a newcomer at the game of love, but I had definitely sensed he was about to propose to me. Something had made him back off in a hurry. Was there something about Daniel Sullivan that he didn’t want me to know?
By St. Patrick’s Day I was on my feet and the bruises had faded enough for me to go out and face the world. The O’Sheas had been more than kind and allowed me to stay with them until I was back to health. I only discovered later that Daniel had been paying them for my keep. Reluctantly I decided that I couldn’t impose on them any longer and told Daniel that I had to go back to the hostel.
“I think I’ve found something a little better than that,” he said. “Not too far from where I live. One of our sergeants has an attic he’s not using at the moment—lovely view across the river, quiet neighborhood, and no Bible reading.”
“That would be wonderful,” I said, “but I have no job and no money.”
“It’s sitting empty at the moment and I’m sure that Sergeant O’Hallaran won’t be pounding on your door for rent straightaway,” he said. “And as for that, I do have a little something to keep you going. Alderman McCormack was very distressed that you had to leave his employment in such circumstances. He had no idea that he had invited a dangerous criminal to his house, and he’d like to make amends to you and hope that you can find a suitable job that m
akes proper use of your talents.” He handed me a leather purse. It felt heavy. I looked at him suspiciously.
“Daniel, is this a bribe?”
“It’s a gift from a very philanthropic gentleman and if you’re sensible you’ll take it.”
I was about to tell him that I had higher moral standards than that. I couldn’t be bought. Then I realized that I was a fugitive criminal, had traveled under a false identity, and lied to the police. What would one more step down the road to crime matter? I took the purse from him. “You can thank the alderman for his kindness,” I said. “And tell him that I’m turning my talent in another direction.”
“So are you coming to watch the parade tomorrow?” he asked. “ “Tis a fine sight, and a great day for the Irish. I’d escort you myself but we’re all on duty that day. But I’ll guarantee it is a sight worth seeing.”
I went with Daniel to see the attic on Twelfth Street. It was two rooms with a hallway between containing a sink. “I don’t need this much space,” I said. Then a wonderful thought hit me. “Do you think the sergeant would mind if more than one person occupied this attic?”
Daniel gave me a strange look. “What did you have in mind?”
I laughed, realizing what he must be thinking. “No, nothing like that. It’s just that the little children I brought across to America—they’re living in a filthy, overcrowded place right now. Their father is looking for a better situation, but works long hours and he has no time. They could have one room and I could have the other.”
“You’ve a kind heart, Molly Murphy,” Daniel said. “I like that in a woman—not as much as a neat little waist, of course, and a round little mouth, and long red hair and . . .” I had to remove his hands and remind him to behave himself properly or he’d ruin my reputation with the sergeant’s family before I even got established there.
On the morning of the parade I went to the house on Cherry Street first.
“What’s she doing, back here?” Nuala demanded as I stood at their front door. “Don’t think we’re going to take you back, whatever that softhearted cousin of my husband says.”
