The Family Way

by Rhys Bowen

  “She said she’d give us twenty-four hours. They can find us another safe house in that time.”

  I was finding it hard to breathe with that big hand crushing me. I wriggled and tried to break free.

  “Let go of her,” Liam said. “I don’t want to hurt you, Barney, but I will if I have to.”

  “A little squirt like you? And what could you do about it, that’s what I’d like to know. You’re worth nothing to us, Liam Murphy. That’s why they picked you to push the plunger on the explosives. You’re expendable.”

  With a roar of rage Liam flung himself at the bigger man. There was a sickening thud as fist connected with jaw. Barney staggered and released his grip on me. I fought myself free as he swung at Liam. Liam ducked nimbly and another punch found its mark on the side of Barney’s head.

  “Go on. Run,” Liam shouted to me. “Get out of here now!”

  I didn’t want to leave him, but I could see the sense in getting away when I could. I darted out of the room. As I came up the steps I heard Sid shouting. “Molly, watch out! The police are here…”

  And before she could finish the sentence, men in blue uniforms swarmed down the stairs around me.

  “Where are they then?” one of the police shouted to me.

  “Liam, run!” I screamed.

  Liam came bursting out of the room and made for the back door. As he ran out into the yard a single pistol shot sounded. Liam pitched forward and went sprawling onto the cobbles.

  Thirty-three

  “No!” I heard myself yell as I forced my way back down to him. Several policemen were standing around him as he lay there. There was a bright red stain spreading across the back of his white shirt. I ignored the police as I dropped to my knees beside him.

  “Liam,” I said gently and stroked his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  His eyes opened and he looked at me, puzzled. Then the ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Molly,” he said and he fell back, dead.

  “Molly, dearest, come away.” Sid’s voice brought me back to the present. She lifted me to my feet. “There’s nothing more you can do. Let us take you home.”

  From inside the building came sounds of curses and a scuffle Then Barney was dragged out past us.

  “Yer traitorous devil woman,” he shouted as they went past. “Curses on you. Curses on you and your family. May you rot in hell.” And he spat at me.

  “Come on, Molly. Let’s go home,” Gus said, coming to take my other arm. Together they led me out of an alleyway and back into the busy street. As we emerged I saw John Wilkie standing outside the house. He came over to me.

  “Mrs. Sullivan, please allow my men to take you home,” he said.

  I glared at him. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “We were awaiting your return to New York and naturally we took the liberty of having you followed.”

  “You made me betray my own brother,” I said angrily.

  “Believe me, it’s better this way. I wouldn’t recommend either the noose or the electric chair as a pleasant way to die.”

  “He didn’t have to die at all,” I said. “He’d done nothing wrong.”

  “Nothing wrong? Is that what you think?”

  “He might have been plotting and planning a crime, but it might have been all talk. He hadn’t actually committed any crime in America that I know of. You’d no right to shoot him in the back like that.”

  “As to that, we always try to cooperate with our English allies and they were the ones who alerted us to his presence. He is a wanted man in his own country, you know.”

  “In the eyes of his own people he’s a hero.”

  He looked at me quizzically. “Do you happen to know exactly what he was planning, Mrs. Sullivan?”

  “Some kind of bomb explosion.”

  “Precisely. He was part of a cell of anarchists planning to plant a bomb in the English Houses of Parliament. Hundreds of innocent people blown to pieces. A fine historic building reduced to rubble. Do you call that heroic?”

  “I didn’t say I agreed with him. But the Americans also behaved in similar fashion during their own war of independence, I expect.”

  “They fought army to army like gentlemen,” he said. “We won our independence fair and square, Mrs. Sullivan.”

  “Molly, we have a cab waiting.” Sid tugged at my skirt. “You’re only upsetting yourself by lingering here. Let’s go home.”

  “I just want to reiterate that I’m sorry you had to witness this, Mrs. Sullivan,” Mr. Wilkie said. “I’m sure you were fond of your brother.”

  I gave him a curt nod as I was led over to the waiting cab.

  Sid and Gus came with me into my house. I looked around hopelessly. “I meant to make Daniel a nice dinner,” I said. “And now…” and to my shame I burst into tears. My friends were kindness itself. They sat me down and made me a cup of tea with plenty of sugar.

  “Don’t worry about cooking anything,” Gus said. “We will provide the dinner tonight.”

  “You’re too kind and I’m a horrible friend to you,” I said. “I make trouble for you. I inconvenience you.”

  “Nonsense,” Sid said. “Our little lives would be quite dull without you. Where would we find drama and excitement? How else could we live vicariously as sleuths? And you know that we adore you.”

  I looked up and gave them a watery smile. They went off, presumably to prepare a meal. I went upstairs to change my clothes. When I took off my dress I saw that there was blood on the skirt. I crumpled it up and threw it into a corner. I knew I could never wear it again without remembering. I had just changed into a clean skirt and shirtwaist when I heard the sound of approaching feet. The front door was thrown open and Daniel came striding in.

  He looked up and saw me coming down the stairs. “Then, it’s true,” he said and a look of almost despair flooded his face.

  “What’s true?”

  “So you have returned and it appears I’m the last to know.” His voice was icily cold. “For the second time now I had to hear from John Wilkie that my wife had slunk back into the city and gone to see her brother behind my back. What sort of marriage is this, Molly? Are you constantly going to be sneaking around doing things you know I wouldn’t approve of?”

  He was yelling now, his face red with anger. In truth he was rather frightening, but I wasn’t about to let him know I was scared.

  “Do you want to hear my side of this story or have you already made up your mind to condemn me without a trial?” I shouted back.

  “Your side of it? You came back home without telling me and the first thing you did was to go to your brother. I’d say that pretty much condemns you in any court of law.”

  I pushed past him, making for the front door.

  “Where are you going?” he demanded.

  “Over to my friends. I’ll stay with them until you can behave like a civilized human being.”

  He grabbed my arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “You can’t stop me!” I yelled at him. “I’m a free human being. Just because I’m your wife you do not own me. Now let go of me. If you don’t let go I’ll…”

  “You’ll do what? Call the police?” He was glaring down at me until suddenly his face twitched in a smile. That was a final straw for me. I swung at him and my hand connected with his cheek in a resounding slap. I stepped back in utter horror at what I had done. He had released my hand and stood stock still.

  “Daniel. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … you were laughing at me. Laughing at my helplessness. And I’ve just been through a most harrowing time. I have just watched my brother die.”

  “I heard about your brother. I wish it hadn’t had to happen that way.”

  “John Wilkie was tailing me,” I said. “I’d never have gone near the place if I’d known Liam was there. I’m responsible for my brother’s death, don’t you see?”

  “No, Molly. He brought about his own death by becoming an enemy of the state. It was either now or late
r. The moment he embarked upon this venture he was a doomed man.”

  “I tried to warn him,” I said. “But he wouldn’t listen.”

  “So you are trying to say that you didn’t go to that place to see your brother?”

  “Of course that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! But apparently you don’t trust me enough to listen to my side of the story.”

  “All right. I’m sorry. I’m ready to listen.”

  I turned away from him, staring out of the window at the deserted street. “I did not go to see my brother today. I had no idea he was hiding at that convent. I went there to tell one of the nuns that her sister had died at a convent in Tarrytown. And in the darkness she mistook me for my brother, thus betraying that he was hiding there.”

  Daniel came up behind me. “You were delivering a message from one convent to another and just happened to bump into your brother who has been eluding the police?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And exactly why did this convent in Tarrytown happen to ask a complete stranger to deliver such a poignant message?”

  “Because I was visiting there,” I said. “Remember I told you that I’d been given a commission to track down a missing Irish girl? You yourself gave me permission to pursue this and ask among our friends, didn’t you? Well, by chance I ran into her employers in Westchester County and learned that she had been taken in by this particular convent to have an illegitimate child.”

  “I see. And it was just an amazing coincidence that out of the whole of the New York City area a nun who died in this convent just happened to have a sister who was hiding your brother?”

  I turned back to face him. “You still don’t believe me, do you?” I took a deep breath. “I was a little shocked myself, but looking back on it, I can give you the connections. Both sisters were passionate about the Irish freedom movement. They were supplying the Republican Brotherhood with money. So, yes, I knew that the sister in New York might have some ties to the Brotherhood and thus might be a future useful contact for you in your investigation. So when I was asked to take the message to her sister in the city as this nun lay dying, I agreed, thinking that I might learn some information for you and your investigation.”

  He was looking at me long and hard, still trying to assess if this could possibly be true and if there was more I wasn’t telling him, I suspect.

  “You say these sisters were supplying the Irish freedom fighters with money? Where exactly do nuns come up with surplus money? What about poverty, chastity, and obedience?”

  “This particular nun in Tarrytown was rather good at making money. She sold the babies that were born to unwed girls. And when she couldn’t deliver a particular type of baby, she had her sister kidnap one from the Lower East Side. I think you’ll find the baby from that last kidnapping is with a couple who thought they were getting it from an unmarried girl.”

  “You’re telling me that this nun was responsible for the kidnappings on the Lower East Side as well?” Daniel was staring at me.

  “I don’t know if she was responsible for any of the other kidnappings. Maybe they just gave her the idea of an easy way to find the baby her sister particularly wanted. Her sister was a forceful woman, Daniel. Perhaps this Sister Mary Vincent was under her sister’s thumb and afraid not to carry out her orders. She seemed like a nice, gentle woman. Not the sort to go around kidnapping for money.”

  “We’ll soon find out,” he said. “I’ll be around there in the morning.”

  I nodded. “I suppose so.” I wondered what would happen to her—whether she’d go to prison. Whether the whole convent would be shut down. And the thought passed through my head that if only I’d minded my own business they’d have been free to carry on their good work, and Liam would still be alive. But then I reminded myself that a baby would now be safely returned to its rightful parents and that hundreds of people would not die in an explosion. So at least some good would come of it.

  Daniel stood there, awfully quiet, staring past me at the window where the last rays of the setting sun streamed in, bathing our narrow hallway with a rosy glow. At last he said, “I’ve been fourteen years on the police force. I’ve learned from seasoned veterans. I’ve handled all types of criminal cases. But my wife, newly arrived from the backwoods of Ireland, manages to tie up all my unsolved cases for me with apparently no effort at all. I should just quit my job and stay home looking after the babies while you go out to work for us.”

  I tried not to smile at his exasperated face. “You might like to consult me when you get a particularly tricky case in the future,” I said.

  “I’d just love to know how you managed it.”

  I took a deep breath thinking of the strange coincidences and underlying links that had brought me to that convent on Broome Street. Maureen O’Byrne. She had been the link. But I agreed that the whole story was a little hard to believe.

  “You can just call it the luck of the Irish, Daniel. It certainly wasn’t through my brilliance in deduction. I heard a name mentioned at a tea party. I followed up on it. One thing led to another. And unfortunately they led to my brother. I led the police to my brother. I’ll never forget that or get over it.”

  “Molly, did John Wilkie tell you what your brother was planning to do?”

  I nodded. “He was part of a plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament. Don’t think that I condone such acts for a second. But I wanted to save him. I wanted him to get away and he refused.”

  He put his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t blame yourself. Tell yourself that your act actually will save lives. Then try to put it behind you. Oh, and Molly, if another letter arrives for P. Riley Associates…”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll hand it straight to you and you can find another detective agency.” I looked at his cheek, still red, and put my hand up to it tenderly. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

  “So am I. You pack quite a punch, woman.”

  “I don’t know what got into me.”

  “I do. I pushed you too far. But you’re lucky I didn’t put you over my knee and give you a damned good hiding—with a good-sized stick. I’m allowed to by law, you know. Rule of thumb.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve seen enough of violence to know that it achieves nothing. There will be no hitting in this house, neither parents or children. Is that clear, Molly?”

  “Yes, my lord,” I said meekly.

  He laughed and wrapped me into his arms. “I knew marriage to you wouldn’t be boring.”

  “I’ll try to make it a little less exciting in the future,” I said. “I really am sorry I’ve been neglecting my wifely duties too. One of the main reasons I came home was to make you a slap-up meal. I didn’t quite manage that.”

  “Then I suppose we’ll have to make do with what’s in the house. There isn’t much. I’ve been too busy.” Then his face lit up as an idea came to him. “We could always go out. How long has it been since we had a meal at a restaurant together?”

  “Not since our honeymoon,” I said.

  “Well, then, come on. Get your hat.”

  “But Sid and Gus promised to take care of dinner.”

  “Oh, Molly, I don’t feel like being polite to your friends tonight. I’d like a dinner for just the two of us. Can’t we sneak out and leave them a note?”

  “It does sound tempting.”

  “Well then, what are we waiting for?” He took down my hat from the peg in the front hall and opened the door. Then he said, “What in heaven’s name?”

  I came to see what he was staring at. A procession was approaching us down Patchin Place—waiters with black suits and white dickeys, each baring a covered dish. At the back of the procession came Sid and Gus, one carrying flowers, one wine.

  “We decided that we were not feeling inspired enough to cook you a good meal tonight. Besides, Giovanni’s Italian Restaurant prepares a better meal than we do,” Gus said. “Go and lay the table before it gets cold. I hope
you like gnocchi.”

  Even Daniel had to laugh. “Molly said she’d try to make things a little less exciting around here,” he said as the waiters passed us, one by one, into the house. “I don’t think somehow that’s ever going to happen.”

  * * *

  The next day I sat down to the sad task of writing to the family in Ireland, bringing them the news about Maureen. I spared them the most heart-wrenching details, telling them that she died after giving birth to a baby at the convent. That would be distressing enough for them, I realized. Still, I suppose it’s always better to know the truth than to spend one’s life worrying, isn’t it? And I waived my fee. Then I suggested that if they wanted to repay me, they might like to light a candle and say some prayers for my brother’s soul. Then I decided that I’d go to church and do the same. I had abandoned my religion for so long, but suddenly I felt a strong need for it.

  When Daniel came home that night he reported that Sister Mary Vincent had denied having anything to do with the other kidnappings and bitterly regretted the one she had carried out. Daniel didn’t know what would happen to her. She had knowingly harbored fugitives, after all. And only a few days later Daniel’s men were lucky enough to catch a low-level gangster in the act of stealing a baby. So that case was closed, Lower East Side parents could breathe easily again, and Daniel got the credit. Oh, and Martha Wagner’s baby was returned to her, so all ended well. Just not for my brother.

  POSTSCRIPT

  William Joseph Sullivan was born on September 14, 1904. He came into the world bawling, his little fists clenched and ready for a fight. He had his father’s shock of dark hair and dark blue eyes. So Sister Jerome would have been disappointed in her anticipation of my red-haired child.

  Liam is a good baby, eating and sleeping well, and the household runs smoothly, thanks to Aggie, whom I acquired from the convent maternity home. I could have had the efficient Gerda, I suppose, but I thought she might turn out to be a trifle too bossy for my liking. And a little too efficient as well. It would be like having my mother-in-law in the house. I took Aggie initially out of pity—she seemed such a scrawny, undernourished little scrap with nowhere in the world to go, but she has turned out remarkably well. It seems she grew up looking after any number of young siblings and knows exactly what to do to quiet a fussy baby. A lucky find indeed. Which gives me time on my hands, of course. Not always a good thing for me as I start looking for things to occupy me outside of the home.