by Rhys Bowen
“So you should have been attending a ball at this moment,” I said in a small voice.
“Yes. That's correct.”
“I’m sorry I took you away from such a pleasurable occasion,” I said, as a picture of Daniel with Arabella, looking exquisite in a ball gown and jewels, flashed across my mind.
“Don't apologize. I am the world's most hopeless dancer, so you have saved me from considerable embarrassment,” he said. “But I wish you'd explain to me what on earth you've been doing and what made you come here. Your scribbled note and the photos have left me completely bewildered. I take it this has something to do with Paddy Riley's death?”
“I was obviously too upset to make myself clear,” I said. “And at that time all I had were suspicions. Now, of course, I know. Leon Czolgosz killed Paddy.”
“Leon—you mean the man they say shot the President? He killed Paddy? Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Paddy overheard him telling Ryan about his plans to disrupt the exhibition. Leon and Paddy lived in the same boardinghouse and Leon found out that Paddy had been snooping in his room.” I paused. “He tried to kill me, too.”
“He did?”
“He broke into my house and came at me with a knife.”
“And you managed to escape?” “With the timely arrival of my friends.” “My dear, you never cease to amaze me.” He shook his head.
“You never went to the police with this?”
“I wanted to make sure of my facts, and by the time I did make sure, Leon had.already left for Buffalo. I put all the information in a letter to you and followed him.”
“Well, I'll be—” He broke off before he uttered a profanity.
“Daniel, those photos—did you get a chance to look at them? Did they mean anything to you? I know Paddy took the pictures of Leon with Ryan O'Hare when he overheard Leon telling Ryan his plans. But there was also that picture of Sergeant Wolski, talking to a man I didn't recognize. Is it possible he was involved in the plot too?”
Daniel sighed. “Paddy had been working for me for quite a while. But nothing to do with this. We've known for some time that someone in the police force was in the pay of one of the biggest gangs. Information was being leaked to them too often so that they could keep one step ahead of us. I asked Paddy to look into it. I had my suspicions about Wolski all along. And to be frank with you, I suspected that Wolski had a hand in Paddy's killing. That's why I was so adamant about keeping you out of it.
If it had been a gang killing, as I thought, and they caught you snooping around, then your life wouldn't have been worth a brass nickel.”
“So that's why Wolski seemed so disinterested in solving the case,” I said. “He must have suspected that Paddy was on to him.”
“Hopefully your photo will give us proof to nail him,” Daniel said. “How did you manage to get hold of the pictures, instead of the police?”
“I found Paddy's camera in a room which the police had already searched,” I said, giving him a triumphant grin. It was amazing how quickly I had perked up. I felt positively alive and glowing again, but maybe that was just because I was sitting beside Daniel in a darkened carriage while the world slipped by us.
As if to answer this thought, the carriage came to a stop. “We're at the station, boss,” the cabbie called down.
Daniel reached up and handed the driver a dollar bill. “Drive around a little longer, will you? We haven't finished our conversation yet.”
The driver tipped his hat and we were off again.
“So you did it.” Daniel was gazing at me with interest. “You completely disobeyed me when I told you to stay out of this case?”
I nodded. “Someone had to find Paddy's killer and Sergeant Wolski was going to make sure that the police didn't.”
Daniel shook his head, smiling. “You said you were going to become an investigator, and you have. Of course, it was unfortunate that Wolski was put in charge of the police investigation, but you got here ahead of us.”
“But not in time, regrettably,” I said. “I feel so terrible that we couldn't have stopped the President from being shot.”
Daniel nodded. “A great tragedy. He's a good man.
But he's also a strong man. There's a good chance that he'll pull through.”
“I do hope so. If only someone had listened to us at the door and let us speak to the head of security, but they brushed us off every time we tried.”
“You did everything you could,” Daniel said. “In the police force we know that you can't win‘em all. Sometimes we let the biggest crooks get away or they stand trial and are acquitted. It's all part of the game. You'll learn that if you stay in the business.”
“Don't worry,” I said. “After this, I'm going to keep well away from criminal cases. Paddy made good money from divorces or embezzlement. I'll stick to those.”
Daniel took my hands in his. “You are a remarkable woman, Molly.” Then his expression changed. “I can't tell you how much I've missed you. Life has been hell without you. I can't live without you, you know.”
“Are you still engaged to Miss Norton?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you have your own answer, don't you.” I pulled my hands away from his. “You can't have us both, Daniel. You'll have to make your choice.”
“But you don't understand what is at stake, Molly.”
“Oh, I do. She is rich and beautiful. I'm poor and ordinary. When you put it that way, there is an obvious choice, isn't there?”
“You judge me very badly if you think I would be swayed by wealth,” Daniel said. “It's more than that. If you'll let me explain.”
“Please do. I have all the time in the world,” I said.
He sighed. “My parents came to this country starving from the Great Famine in Ireland. They grew up poor. My father moved up the ladder in the police force by hard work and by making the right connections at Tammany Hall. One of the New York politicians who was most helpful to him was Arabella's uncle. He's a very influential man. How else do you think I made captain before I turned thirty?”
Street lamps illuminated Daniel's face as we drove along a boulevard still brightly illuminated for the fair.
“So I have known Arabella for most of my life,” Daniel went on. “My parents always hinted that she would be a great match for me and I had to agree with them. After all, she is beautiful as well as coming from a powerful family. What more could a man want in a wife?”
“What more indeed?” I said.
“I was amazed that she said yes to me. After all, I am her social inferior and she cares about these things. I was happy with what I had achieved and all would have been well if something hadn't happened.”
I looked up into his eyes. I could just see them sparkling in the light of the street lamps. “I fell in love. I didn't expect to, but I did. The moment you walked into that room on Ellis Island, I knew that I wanted you. I thought you were married to someone else. I thought you were possibly a murderess, but I wanted you more than anything in the world.”
“And yet you are still engaged to her.”
He put his hands on my shoulders. “I beg you to be patient, Molly. So much is at stake. If I break off the engagement, she'll have me ruined. I'll never get another promotion again. They could even find reasons to get me thrown out of the force altogether. Arabella likes getting her own way and she has a nasty temper when crossed.”
“So you will go ahead and marry her knowing that you love me?” My voice trembled a little.
“Of course not. I am paying her as little attention as possible. I want her to become bored and tired of waiting and to be the one who breaks it off. What I pray for is that she finds someone else and learns the meaning of love, as I have done.”
His hands on my shoulders tightened as he drew me closer. “I swear I love only you, but I can't throw away everything my parents have worked for. Will you be prepared to wait for me, Molly?”
“Not forever, Daniel,” I said.
“I won't wait forever. And I'm not prepared to play second fiddle either. I won't go behind her back. It's not fair to her. Come to me on the day that your engagement is broken and I'll throw myself into your arms. But until then …”
“I understand,” he said. “You're a woman of principle. That's just one of the things I admire about you. As well as that lovely hair and those white shoulders and—” He broke off with a sigh. “Oh, dear God, Molly. I can't be so close to you and not touch you.”
Suddenly I was in his arms and he was kissing me. And to my surprise, I was kissing him back. Reason and caution always seemed to fly to the winds when I was in Daniel's arms. I wasn't sure how long we stayed in that cab. I know Daniel handed the driver another dollar at one stage, but time had no meaning. All that mattered was that Daniel loved me and we were here together, and, at that moment, there was no tomorrow.
Twenty–Eight
Of course the grim reality of the present overtook us soon enough. The cab deposited me at the station, which was seething with people trying to get out of the city. In spite of the great crush fighting to get onto the next train, Daniel found me a seat and handed me inside.
“You'll be all right now,” he said.
“Won't you be traveling with me?” I asked hopefully.
“Unfortunately I'm to stay on in Buffalo on the governor's orders,” he said. “He's arriving here himself in the morning to give a briefing. The whole country will be up in arms as the news reaches them. We have to make sure that innocent people aren't killed. Go straight home and stay there, please, Molly.”
So I took the night train back to New York. What a difference from the train I had traveled on only a day earlier. Stunned and grief-stricken people sat around me, staring out of darkened windows in silence or whispering occasionally. A woman was sobbing farther down the carriage. I stayed awake all night in fear that someone might recognize me and incite these people to do me harm. But by dawn the high banks of the Hudson came into view and we pulled into New York. I arrived home to find two very angry women.
“How dare you run away to Buffalo without telling us, Molly,” Gus chided as they fussed over me and handed me a cup of tea.
“I didn't want to get you involved in such a risky business,” I said.
“But we wanted to be involved,” Sid exclaimed. “Now we've missed all the excitement. It must have been very exciting …”
“It was horrible.” I shivered. “I thought I was going to be kept in jail, and then I was almost torn to pieces by a mob.”
“But why? I thought you went there to stop this person from killing the President. Why would they attack you?”
“Because we had to sneak into the theater and climb up onto a balcony to spot Leon. They thought we were his accomplices.”
Sid turned to Gus with a grin. “Ryan will never stop talking about this. He must have been thrilled.”
“Ryan was as upset as I was. And his play wasn't allowed to open last night.”
“Oh, yes, the play,” Gus said. “I'd forgotten about that. They've closed all the theaters in New York too. He'll have to wait until things are back to normal and that could be some time, if the poor President takes a while to recover.”
“At least Leon is in custody,” I said. “He won't be able to hurt anyone else ever again.”
“But you're also hurt, Molly.” Gus examined my face.
“I'm black and blue all over,” I said. “That was when they dragged us down the steps and flung us into a van.”
“Is your life always going to be like this?” Sid demanded. “Because if it is, I don't see you making thirty.”
I took a welcome sip of tea. Sid had placed a dish of fresh rolls in front of me and there was apricot jam. It was like waking up from a nightmare. “I'm going to try and be sensible from now on. I'll only take uncomplicated, non-criminal cases.”
“But you're still going to be a detective?”
“A sensible one. I'll start looking for lost relatives, as I'd planned.”
“That sounds much safer,” Gus agreed.
“Even so, I'd better start looking for a place of my own.” I looked from one friendly face to the other. “I feel so bad that I've put you through all this when you were so kind to me.”
Sid put her hands on my shoulders. “My dear stupid girl,” she said, “how many time do we have to tell you that we loved the excitement? It has woken us out of our rut. Now I'm back to writing scathing articles on unjust treatment of women and Gus is painting a major canvas on the theme of violence. We insist that you stick around.”
I smiled at them. “If you really insist—then I'd love to.”
The next day Ryan arrived back in New York and showed up on our doorstep demanding Turkish coffee and sympathy. “I have returned from the black hole of Buffalo and need tender loving care,” he said, sinking dramatically into a wicker chair.
“Poor dear Ryan. It must have been awful,” Gus said, putting a cup of coffee in front of him. “Were they horrid to you?”
“My dear, I was tortured,” he said, raising his arms in a martyrlike pose.
“What did they do to you, the swine?” Sid demanded. “For one thing, they made me drink out of a tin mug,”
Ryan said, “and they refused my request for China tea instead of coffee. You have no idea how uncivilized the country becomes the moment one steps out of New York City. I hereby swear that I'll never leave it again.”
“When did they let you go?” I asked. “Were you kept in that cell all night?”
“All night and most of the next day too. My dears, I felt like the Prisoner of Chillon. I could actually feel my hair turning gray, though not with years. Then finally a bright young lawyer turned up and managed to persuade them that I would be the last person who wanted the President dead on the very night my play was to have its triumphal opening. So, with great reluctance and many veiled threats, they let me go.”
“And the play?” Sid asked. “What will happen to your play?”
Another gesture of great drama. “Let us just pray that McKinley recovers and we can open at the Daley as planned. But in the meantime, think of all the delicious publicity, my dears. I have already agreed to give interviews to the daily paper—’My Brush with the President's Would-Be Assassin,’ by Ryan O'Hare, brilliant and witty writer of the new play Friends and Neighbors. I'll be able to dine on this for a month of Sundays.”
They were all laughing. I smiled uneasily. They seemed to have forgotten that at the center of Ryan's amusing tale lay a gravely wounded President. I realized at that moment that Greenwich Village was a small world apart. Life was a huge joke. Cynicism was their creed. And yet Sid and Gus could not have been kinder to me. I didn't quite know what to make of it.
Ryan was true to his word and his story of “My brush with the President's would-be assassin, and my role in apprehending him, by brilliant young playwright, etc.” made the front pages of all the New York dailies. These articles garnered him more publicity than the out-of-town opening of his play would have done.
And later in the week, Shamey showed up at my door with a letter for me. “A real coachman and a carriage and all came looking for you, Molly.”
I glanced at the envelope. It was from Miss Van Woekem. “I understand you were party to the infamous event. I am dying to hear all about it. Please come to lunch.”
Now that several days had passed and the President still clung to life, the mood was changing. The assassination attempt had moved from a thing of horror to a major source of fascination and discussion for most New Yorkers.
“I'll write a reply and you can take it to the lady,” I said, ruffling his hair, which was definitely in need of a wash and trim. I felt a sudden pang of guilt. “How are you, boy? How are your father and sister?”
“Not doing too good,” he said.
“Your father is worse?”
He shook his head. “He's okay. He's walking around, almost as good as before, and he said I wasn't to bother you
with our problems.”
“Of course you're to bother me. Just tell me what's wrong.”
Shameyboy made a face. “The old dragon is throwing us out.”
“Mrs. O'Hallaran?”
“Yeah. She told us we were wrecking the joint and she wants us out by the end of the week.”
“But that's terrible. Where will you go? Has Nuala found a new place for you?”
He shook his head. “She ain't got no money, do she?”
“Seamus! Where did you learn to speak like that? You know better than to say‘ain't.’”
“It's how New Yorkers talk. I'm a New Yorker now.” He looked defiant.
My conscience was undergoing a silent battle. Much as I loved living with Sid and Gus, I couldn't let these children go back to the slums with Nuala and her brood. After all, I owed my own life to their mother, Kathleen. And I was fond of them.
“I'll stop off and see your father when I come to lunch with Miss Van Woekem,” I said. “Don't worry. We'll sort everything out for you.”
“Are you coming back to us, Molly?” His face lit up. “It was better when you were there, even though you made me wash.”
“We'll talk about it,” I said. “Off you go now.”
The next day I presented myself at Miss Van Woekem's house.
“My dear child, how very exciting for you,” she said as sherry was served. “Do tell me all about it; leave no detail out.”
I was in the midst of my tale when Miss Van Woekem looked up and stared out of the window. “Something's wrong,” she said.
“What is it?”
“I'm not sure. Go and open the window.”
There was the sound of wailing on the breeze. From a window farther down the square, now black bunting fluttered. A newsboy walked down the street shouting, “McKinley dead. McKinley dead.”
Miss Van Woekem sighed. “And now that cowboy will take over as President,” she said. “I fear the world will never be the same again.”
I found I was shivering. How would my world be changed?
