Irish Dukes (Fight Card)

by Jack Tunney

  “Do you have more towels, anything?” The blood was seeping through the dish towel, beginning to drip onto the floor again.

  “The linen drawer,” she said. She looked wide eyed and I was afraid she might be going into shock.

  “Mary, get me more towels,” I half shouted.

  “You needn’t shout,” she said, which suggested she was a long way from going into shock. She ran up the stairs and was back with a pile of towels and a sheet a moment later.

  “Can you get a doctor? Is there one nearby?”

  She was out the door and halfway down the lane before I looked up.

  The pressure seemed to be working, the fresh linen was soaking up the blood. There wasn’t as much blood as before. My hands were covered up to the wrists, and the knees of my trousers were soaked with blood, but Gran’s bleeding was slowing.

  There was a jagged looking rock lying over in the far corner. One of the window panes was broken, a few shards of glass hung around the frame where the rock had sailed through. A few moments later I heard footsteps and excited talk from outside moving quickly toward us.

  Mary entered, breathing heavily, flushed. A stout dark haired woman followed behind her then stepped around and knelt on the other side of Gran. She carried a large, worn carpet bag.

  “This is Lizzy. She’s the midwife,” Mary said.

  Lizzy ignored the introduction, gently but firmly she pulled my hand away from the linen I’d been pressing against Gran’s wound.

  “She lost a good bit of blood, but it’s slowing down, well done,” she glanced at me a moment. “Head wounds, they look worse than they are, but I’ll be doing some neat stitching all the same. Mary, fetch me a scissors or a sharp knife.”

  “A scissors?”

  “Go, girl. Best to do this while she’s unconscious. And put the kettle on,” she called, as Mary flew into the kitchen.

  Lizzy cut Gran’s hair, then stitched her up, neatly from what I could tell, and certainly better than the job I would have done. We were still on the floor of the sitting room. Lizzy had wrapped lengths of gauze bandage around Gran’s head. Although a small amount of blood had seeped through the bandage, it had certainly slowed, if not stopped the flow.

  There was a small crowd of concerned neighbors gathered outside the door and, although there was the general murmur of people talking, I couldn’t pick up so much as a word of conversation.

  Mary stood in the corner of the room with her arms crossed, chewing her thumb nail, and looking rather pale.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Lizzy said, stroking the side of Gran’s head. “She’s had a terrific blow, but she’ll come through.”

  “Shouldn’t we get her to the hospital? No offense, Lizzy, but to a doctor?”

  “They can’t do anything for her we haven’t done already. I sent one of my young ones to fetch Doctor Farrell. He’ll be along. Right now, the worst thing we can do would be to move her.” She turned toward me. “You could do with a bit of cleaning up,” she said, nodding at my hands. “Then maybe attend to Mary.”

  As if in response, Gran’s hand fingered her rosary beads.

  “Go on now, Kevin. Get yourself cleaned up. You saved the day, applying that pressure. No telling what would have happened if you hadn’t been here. Go on, wash up. We’ll be fine.”

  “Can I get you anything, Lizzy?”

  “A cup a tea would be grand.”

  I washed up in the kitchen sink. My shirt and trousers were ruined. They looked like I’d worn them on the receiving end of fifteen rounds with Joe Lewis. I placed the kettle on the burner, made cups of tea for Lizzy and Mary. I don’t think Mary had moved more than two feet from Gran in the past hour and a half.

  “You chew that thumb much longer, there won’t be anything left,” I said, handing her the mug of tea.

  She took it then gave me a slight nod and shuddered.

  It was just impulse but I suddenly gave her a hug, held her for a moment or two longer than maybe necessary.

  “I, I’m all right, Kevin. But maybe I should have…”

  “She’ll be fine Mary. Bit of a headache, I’d guess, but nothing beyond that,” Lizzy said. “Doctor Farrell should be here any minute. He’ll be telling you the exact same thing, so don’t you be worrying yourself. Take your tea outside and let everyone know she’s all right.”

  We followed her direction and stepped outside into a light mist and a barrage of questions, most of which I couldn’t understand, they were coming so fast and furious. I stepped off to the side and let Mary handle them.

  Peter found me a minute or two later, white haired, pink, and awfully serious looking.

  “I saw yer man, Dennehy, running down the street earlier. A few minutes later it was young Mary running past to Lizzy’s door. I’d say it was him threw that rock through the window.”

  “But why?”

  “Why? You challenged Ardee, Kevin. He can’t have it. Oh, he may not have told Dennehy to throw a rock through the window. The bloody fool probably came up with that thought on his own, attacking an old woman, the stupid bollix, but it’s his mark on it. Your man Ardee won’t be any the more sorry for the fact. You’ll not get any pity from the likes of him.”

  “And the police?”

  “We’ll report it to the Guards, but there won’t be much they’ll be able to do. They can make a note of it, but Dennehy will have two or three of those knackers swear he was sharing a pint with them in McQullian’s all night long.”

  I nodded.

  “I can see you thinking, lad.”

  “Me? No, I just want Gran to be alright.”

  “She’s in the best of hands with Lizzy, there. Old Doc Farrell will look in, but there’s nothing he can do Lizzy hasn’t seen to already. She’s delivered every child around here for close on thirty years, and she’s seen more than her share of tough situations. Kathleen will be fine. She’s a tough old bird.”

  “When does McQuillian’s close?” I asked.

  “Ten o’clock, and don’t tell me you’re thinking of going in there? If it’s a pint you need, The Stoop is our local, but you’d best not go alone.”

  “No, I don’t need a pint and I won’t go in there, McQuillian’s. Just wondering is all. I’d better check on Gran. Thanks for your advice, Peter,” I said and held out my hand.

  “It was God’s way you were here, Kevin. She may not have made it if it weren’t for you.”

  “None of this would have happened in the first place if it weren’t for me.”

  Someone had dragged a small mattress into a corner of the room. Gran lay on it, eyes open, her voice weak.

  “Kevin,” she said. As I stepped into the room, she motioned me over with her finger. “You saved the day,” she smiled, and patted my hand.

  “Gran, you just lie quietly and get better.”

  ROUND 10

  It was well past ten, maybe closer to eleven, when Dennehy left McQuillian’s pub. I was standing in the dark, leaning against an alley wall across the street, when he stepped outside with four other men. They were laughing and joking out front for a while longer, finally three of them slapped him on the back and waved, then went on their way up the street.

  Dennehy and ‘S’ nose staggered down the street in the opposite direction, neither one looking like they were feeling any pain. I followed them for two blocks, then around a corner and down what looked like a small alley with little houses similar to Gran’s only in a lot worse shape. Trash and litter were all over the place. They seemed to wrestle with a key to a front door for a moment before they stumbled in. They left the door partially open. I took the open door as a sign. I waited a moment and then quietly followed them inside.

  The layout was about the same as Gran’s. A small sitting room with a fireplace, blankets and clothing scattered about on the floor. There was a rear doorway leading outside. If there was a door, it wasn’t closed, but it was hard to tell in the dim room. The place smelled like a few thousand locker rooms I’d been in; sweat
, unwashed bodies, dirty clothes. The only thing that was missing was the sound of a dripping shower.

  Dennehy was standing with his back to me, trying his best to light a candle and failing miserably. ‘S’ nose was nowhere to be seen. The room wasn’t large and there was absolutely nowhere to hide, but as my eyes adjusted I still couldn’t spot him.

  Eventually Dennehy got the candle lit, fumbled it back into place on the broken board that served as a mantel and then called out. “Did you find it yet, Billy? Don’t stay out there drinking it down. Bring it in here so we both can enjoy.” He seemed to stiffen suddenly, placed his hand against the wall for support, and turned toward me, slowly. He grinned like a Cheshire cat when he saw me.

  “Well, what do you know? Even the likes of me gets his prayers answered once in a while,” he said, then weaved back and forth, staggered a step or two, and readjusted his hand against the wall for more support.

  “I find it hard to believe you’re the praying type. I just want a few short words. I understand you like to throw rocks.”

  “I didn’t throw that rock through the window. Someone else must have done that. Who do you think you are to come in here accusing the likes of me, anyway?” He’d raised his voice and I took it to be a signal or a warning to ‘S’ nose that I was in the room.

  “So you know someone threw a rock through our window.”

  “And what if I did?” He stood up straight, or at least attempted to, just as ‘S’ nose came back in holding a whiskey bottle and looking like he’d found buried treasure.

  “I’d just like a few words with your friend, Mister Dennehy, here,” I said softly.

  He stumbled over toward Dennehy, placed the whiskey bottle clumsily on the shelf then turned and faced me. “Oh would you, now,” he half shouted, then suddenly lunged at me. At least, I think it was a lunge. He grabbed for my head with his massive arms, but it all seemed to happen in slow motion.

  I ducked under his arms and sidestepped, gave him a sharp shot to the kidney as he sailed past. He landed at the base of the wall on all fours with a grunt, then quickly crawled up the wall using his arms and spun round with a wild glare in his eye. I gave a quick glance toward Dennehy. He stood there with his hand held against the wall, weaving. ‘S’ nose planted his feet then took a long, loopy swing that seemed to take a full minute to arrive.

  I stepped to the side, gave him a left cross to his cheek that only seemed to alert him to where I was standing. He turned to face me and staggered just as I followed with a right upper cut that caught the side of his nose. My blow wiped the smile off his face and probably added a new curve to his ‘S’. He bounced off the wall and lunged at me again, this time grabbing me just before tripping over his own two feet and crashing us both to the floor. I landed on top of him, delivered a solid left, right, left combination to his mouth, then rolled off just as Dennehy staggered from the wall with the whiskey bottle.

  He charged me and I quickly sidestepped then tripped him. He sailed past, dropping the bottle as he rolled into the corner. ‘S’ nose grabbed the bottle off the floor by the neck, turned and swung it overhead like a maul, catching Dennehy just as he struggled to his feet shattering the bottle against his skull. Whiskey sprayed all over everything, including me.

  Dennehy stumbled forward two or three steps before dropping head first in the fireplace, where he remained. I stopped ‘S’ nose with a solid right and then worked into a series of combinations, backing him up. His knees buckled just as his eyes rolled up into his head and he slid down the wall to the floor. He made a couple of attempts to get to his feet, eventually decided against the wisdom of that, and just sat there bleeding, blinking, and looking up at me.

  I let myself out and closed the door behind me.

  ROUND 11

  My hand left hand was a little swollen and throbbed slightly, but I could open and close it. I didn’t think it was broken.

  “I suppose you stopped in at The Stoop for a few dozen pints last night,” Mary said, nodding at my hand. She was clearing away the breakfast dishes. I had inhaled the rashers from Morris the butcher so just the few odd crumbs of brown bread were all that was left on my plate.

  “No, just out for a little walk to clear my head. A night in the pub wouldn’t have helped much.”

  “Mmm-mmm,” Mary said from the kitchen sink, sounding like she was having trouble believing my story. “Then it must have been my mistake, thinking there was the smell of drink off you when you finally came in last night.”

  “How’s the head, Gran?” I asked, hoping to move the conversation along.

  “Oh, I’ll live.” She smiled.

  “I’m sorry I brought this on you, on the two of you,” I said.

  “Stop. You didn’t, Kevin. Ardee is not your normal sort. The man is the devil himself.”

  “He’s an ijit,” Mary called from the kitchen.

  “We should file a police report,” I said.

  “The Guards?” Mary was working herself into a state. “What do you expect that lot to do? There’s only one thing the likes of Ardee understands.”

  “Mary, stop. I’ll not have that sort of talk in my home,” Gran said.

  “I’m not talking about killing him, Kathleen. Lord knows it couldn’t harm, but I’m talking about getting him where it really hurts his sort. In the wallet.”

  “The wallet?” I said.

  “I’m sure that knacker still has his communion money. He’s tighter than a drum,” Mary said.

  We were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Peter and his wife, Kate, Mary let them in.

  “A little something for you, Kathleen. My soda bread,” Kate said, setting a round loaf of bread down in front of Gran. It was wrapped in a cloth sort of napkin.

  “Oh, now you needn’t have gone to all that trouble.”

  “Oh, no trouble, Kathleen, no trouble at all. How’s the head?”

  “Not a bother. I’ve Mary here to look after me. Oh and Kevin, too,” Gran said.

  “Put the kettle on, Mary. Tea all around,” Gran said.

  “Well, we don’t mean to stay,” Kate said, settling into a chair at the table and looking like she’d be there for the rest of the afternoon.

  I had delivered the tea pot and mugs to the table and went back into the little kitchen area. Peter stepped in and motioned me out the back door with a move of his head.

  “I can’t stand the chatter. It’s like being cooped up with a bunch of magpies and not a worthwhile thing said at the end of it all.”

  I nodded. I had no desire to be in the room either.

  “Seems someone had a go at your man Dennehy last night,” he said, then stared at me over the rim of his tea mug and sipped.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Whoever it was they didn’t waste much pity on Bad Billy Keane, either. Nasty crack to the head, a few teeth knocked out, that nose rearranged, from what I hear. Dennehy closer to dead than alive with a pretty bad head wound. It’ll be a good long while before Billy Keane will be emptying anyone’s pockets.”

  He looked at me slyly. I didn’t say anything, but gave a slight shrug.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you, Kevin?”

  “Me? No. I’m not even sure who or what you’re talking about, Peter.”

  “Looks to be a bit of swelling on that hand, lad. Slam it in a door?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I figured as much. Anyhow, it would be the wise man that was careful around the likes of Ardee. He’s not one to take this sort of thing lightly.”

  “I won’t. I mean, I wouldn’t take him lightly” I said.

  “Good. You mind yourself now, and that hand,” he said, nodding at my swollen left. Then he smiled and gave a wink, like the two of us were in on some sort of secret.

  There were callers off and on for the rest of the day. The little metal bread box quickly filled with loaves of homemade bread. Someone brought a jar of blackberry jam and we even got a pa
ckage of bacon rashers, from Morris the butcher.

  ROUND 12

  It was two days after that when things started to heat up. It all began with a polite knock on the door while we were having our breakfast.

  “Kevin,” Mary called after she opened the door. She gave me a very worried look as I stepped toward the door.

  I looked out on a thin, sharp faced man in a pressed suit and tie and wearing a starched white shirt. He was slightly shorter than me and had his hat pulled down so I couldn’t really see his eyes. His skin appeared to be ruddy and almost transparent at the same time. His lips virtually the same shade as his skin.

  “Mister Kevin Crowley?”

  “Yes, what can I do for you?”

  “Archibald Hooley, solicitor for Mister Basil Ardee, at your service, sir.” He bowed slightly and handed me a small white card with his name engraved on it.

  I took a step outside and pulled the door closed behind me, forcing Mister Hooley to back up a pace or two.

  “What do you want?” I asked, pretending to examine his card, but not really bothering to read it.

  “Mister Ardee would like you to pay him a call at his offices on…”

  “I’ve already spoken to Mister Ardee. Unless something’s changed, I really have nothing new to say to him.”

  “Basil Ardee is not in the habit of hearing no.”

  “And I’m not in the habit of having elderly women assaulted. I’ve already told Ardee we’re moving. He’s been paid until the end of the month. We’ll be out by then. I don’t think there’s much else to talk about.”

  “I can assure you Mister Ardee had nothing to do with the unfortunate, villainous assault on Misses Crowley, and I know for a fact he finds the action entirely reprehensible.”

  “I’m sure he does. That’s why one of his thugs, Dennehy, threw the rock in the first place. That’s why Dennehy and Billy Keane were out celebrating later that night at McQuillian’s with more of Ardee’s bunch. I’ve heard all the reports. We’ve turned it all over to the police. There are witnesses,” I added.