by Rhys Bowen
“I understand,” I said. “But don’t worry. You’re safe now. You won’t need to go to that area again.”
“Here you are,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “Two bowls of oatmeal. You both look as if you need fattening up.”
The children started eating. I poured myself some tea and helped myself to some oatmeal, joining them at the table. “Tig, I think we now know that someone was paying your Aunt Hettie to keep you. We just have to find out who and why. My husband is a policeman and he could question her, but he’s in hospital at the moment, so we’ll just have to be patient. Do you think Aunt Hettie knows where we live?”
He looked up worriedly. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“You’d better stay indoors, just to make sure. But the first thing to find out is why your mother brought you here. Do you ever remember a visit from her family when you were in England? Did she ever mention any of them?”
Tig frowned. “I don’t think so. We had a visit once, long ago, from an American lady. I don’t think Mummy was very pleased to see her. In fact she was quite upset.”
“Was she a family member, do you think?”
He was still frowning. “I don’t think so. The lady said she was on a tour of Europe, I remember that. Mummy was in bed sick. She was sick for a long time after she had Emmy. That’s when we had to move and Daddy went to work on the docks.”
“And your father’s family? Did you never meet any of them?”
“I think he had some cousins in Wales, but I don’t know where. His parents were dead. I don’t think they ever came to visit us … and then Daddy died,” he added with great sadness.
I remembered what Sid had told me. “Your middle name is Montague,” I said. “Do you know why you’re called that?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps Mummy liked that name.”
I felt frustration rising and had to remind myself that this was an eight-year-old child. Grown-ups tell them little, and most adult conversation goes over their heads. So it was possible that Montague had been their mother’s maiden name. How could I possibly look into a Montague family in England? And what on earth had made her bring her children here—unless she had somehow been brought here against her will. I went over to the sink and let out my feelings of annoyance on the dirty oatmeal saucepan. It was awful to feel so powerless. But then it struck me that I did have something meaningful I could do here, if I could only find the time for it. When Daniel was safely out of hospital and at home again I could find out who was paying Aunt Hettie and whether Uncle Jack had anything to do with their mother’s disappearance. Had he thrown her off a dock, the way he threatened to dispose of the children? And if so, why?
After the children had finished their breakfast I took them over to Sid and Gus, giving them a verbatim repeat of what Tig had told me. Gus, usually the sweet and more placid member of the pair, almost exploded with anger. “That dreadful woman. Calmly discussing killing two adorable children. We should go and tell her what we think of her. We should report her to the police.”
Sid put a hand on her arm. “Calm down, dearest. We have to do what’s best for the children, and right now we need to find out what happened to their mother. If we make an enemy of this witch we’ll get nothing out of her. We have to pay her a visit and let her think we are doing her a favor by taking the children off her hands.”
She looked at me for affirmation. I nodded. Gus sighed and wrapped a comforting arm around Emmy, who had been standing, wide-eyed, with her thumb in her mouth.
“Never mind,” Gus said. “You are safe now and that’s all that matters. I’m going to go up and light a fire in the back bedroom so that it’s warm and cozy when you want to take a nap.” She looked over the children’s heads at me. “We had the beds already made up, thinking they were going to stay with us. I just wish I had some of my childhood toys with me. I had a lovely collection of dolls and horses and books.”
Off she went up the stairs with an armful of newspapers and firewood. Sid took Tig and Emmy through to the kitchen and set them at the table, ready to help her make gingerbread men. “We must get you some new clothes,” she said as she helped Tig out of his jacket. “These are about to fall to pieces. I’ll take your measurements and see what we can find at Macy’s.”
“We can’t accept clothes from you, Miss Goldfarb,” Tig said. “Mummy wouldn’t like that. It’s very kind of you to take us into your house and give us food.”
“Don’t be silly,” Sid said. “We have plenty of money, Tig, and it will be fun for us to choose new outfits for you both. You can think of them as Christmas presents.” She moved me away from the children into the hallway. “I think that you and I should pay a visit to this Aunt Hettie, don’t you?” she whispered.
“Do we want her to know where the children are?” I whispered back. “What if they were being kept with her for some kind of criminal purpose? What if someone comes to harm them?”
“We’ll make sure she doesn’t see it as a threat, Molly. I’ll tell her I saw the little girl on the street and took pity on her. I’ll tell her it was very generous of her to keep them for so long when they could no longer pay for room and board, and I’m sure she’s most grateful that I’m relieving her of that burden. I’ll give her my card in case their mother turns up and mention that there will be a reward for helping to locate their mother.”
I nodded. “Very smart, only I don’t think I should come with you. I was already there, posing as a newly arrived Irish immigrant. She’ll smell a rat if she sees me with you.”
Sid nodded. “Very well. I’ll go alone. It’s better that way, and I’m absolutely sure that—”
She broke off as we heard the sound of Gus’s boots coming down the stairs at a great pace.
“Molly, look at this!” Gus’s voice echoed through the stairwell as she came rushing down the hallway toward us. She was waving a sheet of newspaper. “I was about to crumple this up to light the fire when the name caught my eye,” she said. “It’s yesterday’s Times. The social column. Listen. It’s your friend Miss Van Woekem.”
She held up the newspaper and read, “‘Miss Olivia Van Woekem, of Gramercy Park, for many decades a doyenne of New York society, is celebrating her eightieth birthday—’”
“How nice,” I interrupted. “I should send her a card and go and visit her.”
“Listen, there’s more.” Gus held up a hand to interrupt me. “‘Is celebrating her eightieth birthday by announcing the engagement of her goddaughter Julia Hammond (only child of Harlan and Eliza Hammond, deceased) to Mr. Eustace Everett of Philadelphia.’”
“Everett,” I exclaimed. “That’s certainly a remarkable coincidence. How common would you say that name was?”
“Not very,” Sid said.
“Then I should go and visit Miss Van Woekem today, to congratulate her on her birthday and the engagement of her goddaughter.”
Sixteen
I knew enough of Miss Van Woekem to know that things had to be done properly at the correct time. I had been her companion when I first arrived in the city. We had started out as adversaries, but that had changed to mutual respect and even friendship. However, she was a lady of the old school. One could pay a call on her between eleven and twelve in the morning, or after three in the afternoon. Since I wanted to visit Daniel on the stroke of twelve, I would have to be patient and wait for the afternoon to visit her.
I went home, finished my morning chores, and then set off for St. Vincent’s Hospital. Daniel’s mother decided not to accompany me this time. “I’ll stay here with the children,” she said. “It’s only right that Daniel has some time alone with his wife.”
“If you’re really sure,” I said hesitantly.
“I know he’s safe and on the mend, and I don’t want you to feel that I’m here interfering in your lives.”
“You know you are most welcome here. Liam loves his grandma and Bridie is thrilled to see you. And who else would bake us so many good things?”
She w
ent slightly pink and I realized that perhaps the apprehension I always felt at her visits was mutual. Maybe she had sensed my hostility and had felt equally uncomfortable in my presence.
I put an arm around her shoulder. “I want you to enjoy your time here. We had planned to go and choose a Christmas tree, and I wanted to show you all the lovely decorated store windows. But I hadn’t expected Daniel to get shot—” My voice cracked unexpectedly and she turned to give me an awkward hug.
“He’ll be home with us before you know it,” she said. “And we’ll have a grand Christmas together.”
I nodded and tried to smile, but frankly I felt quite overwhelmed at the moment. Christmas was turning out so differently from what I had hoped. I had said I didn’t want to jinx things by saying that Daniel would be able to join us for dinner. Now he’d probably be lying in bed, an invalid, maybe unable to take part in any of the festivities. And now I also had a quest to find Tig and Emmy’s mother. Maybe I would be able to put a piece into the puzzle this afternoon when I found out about Eustace Everett.
* * *
As the clocks around the city chimed noon I was going up the stairs to Daniel’s ward. To my delight he was sitting up and already had some color back in his cheeks. His face lit up when he saw me. “Hello, my darling,” he said. “Good of you to come.”
“I’d have been here first thing this morning if the hospital didn’t have such strict visiting hours,” I said. “You’re looking much better.”
“My shoulder aches like billy-o,” he said. “But I’m ready to go home as soon as they’ll let me. The food here leaves a lot to be desired.”
“Maybe if you tell the doctor that you have people to take care of you, and that you live close enough to check in with the hospital if anything goes wrong, they might let you come home,” I said.
He nodded.
“Has anyone from the police department been to visit you?” I asked, and watched the shadow fall over his face.
“A sergeant pal of mine came in yesterday,” he said. “It seems a rumor has been going around that the raid on the Italians was my idea—that I dragged the new kid along with me, and it was my fault he got shot.”
“Daniel, that’s terrible,” I said. “Who could be spreading a rumor like that?”
“It probably comes straight down from the commissioner, or from Tammany,” he said. “There are plenty who’d like to get rid of me. I’m a little too straight for some of them. I won’t take bribes for one thing. And on the other hand, some of them think I’m too pally with the gangs. Which is rubbish. I’m not pally. I just know where to draw the line for my battles, and which battles I can never win.”
“I hope your sergeant friend has found enough people on your side to set things straight. There must have been men at headquarters who saw you rushing after the new officer. Knowing you, I bet you yelled something like ‘Where’s that young idiot think he’s going?’”
He smiled. “Probably. And it will all get straightened out in the end, I expect. But I’m tired of fighting—not just the crooks but my fellow officers. My father once said that he foresaw trouble when they made me a captain so young. He said there were toes I was treading on. And he was right. I was young and ambitious in those days, and I thought ‘To hell with them.’ But now I realize that grudges can be carried for years.”
I took his hand, holding it in both of mine. “Oh, Daniel. I’m so sorry,” I said. “And you are so good at what you do too. Such an asset to the police department.”
“Hmmph.” He didn’t answer that one.
“I can share one piece of information that may be interesting to you,” I said. “Those beggar children we’ve taken under our wing—the boy told me he’s been intimidated by an older lad and forced to run errands for him. It seems that the errands involve delivering a package to the Walhalla.”
“The Walla Walla?” Daniel perked up and looked interested. “So the Eastmans are involved, huh? Did he say what was in the packages?”
“He didn’t know. He was instructed not to open them. But he suspects it was purses and wallets stolen on the street.”
“So I was right. The big gangs are taking over what used to be petty crime. That indicates to me that we’re doing a good job at keeping major crime at bay, and the gangs are having to become opportunistic. Or it could be that Monk has had other things on his mind. He’s being indicted for armed robbery and it looks as if they might finally be able to pin this one on him.”
“He’ll go to jail?”
“For a token amount of time, I expect, but the gang might take the opportunity to find a new leader. And it may be a case of ‘While the cat’s away the mice will play.’” He patted my hand. “Anyway, these matters don’t concern you, Molly. I want my family to look forward to a grand Christmas together. Go ahead and buy the Christmas tree. Decorate the house. Make the cookies.”
“I wanted you to be there to choose the Christmas tree,” I said.
“We’ll see what the doctor says.” He closed his eyes as if talking had made him tired. “And, Molly.” His eyes opened again, suddenly alert. “Don’t get yourself involved in any way with these boys and the gang, understand. They may be young but some of them are vicious little thugs.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “This afternoon you’ll be pleased to know that I’m doing something you’d quite approve of. I’m visiting Miss Van Woekem. It’s her eightieth birthday.”
“Well done,” he said. “That’s the spirit. Please give her my heartiest congratulations too.”
* * *
As I left the hospital I went over what had been said—the lies spread about Daniel; the gang involvement in pickpocketing; and his clear delight that I was moving in the right social circles. There was something of his mother in him after all. I also realized that I had deliberately failed to mention my underlying reason for my social call. I didn’t like deceiving my husband, but on this occasion it was better that he had nothing to upset him. And maybe today I could find out a little more about a family called Everett.
I came home and changed into one of my fancy gowns—rose-colored silk with pleating and tucking in the bodice and a spray of silk roses over the shoulder. It was never a dress I would have chosen for myself, but it had been pressed upon me by a wealthy woman, after my home was blown up, and I had accepted her offerings gratefully. And today it was proving a godsend, as I’d otherwise have had no dresses suitable for an afternoon social call in Gramercy Park. I pinned up my hair carefully, easing wayward curls into place, then put on my cape with the hood carefully adjusted over my hairstyle.
“My, don’t you look elegant,” my mother-in-law said as I came down the stairs.
“I have to pay a brief social call,” I said. “An elderly friend is celebrating her eightieth birthday.”
“An elderly friend? Clearly of the right social class, if you’re dressed up like that.”
“Miss Van Woekem,” I said. Then my cheeks went pink. “Of course. You know her.”
“We have met,” she said. “You are starting to move in exalted circles, Molly.”
I laughed nervously. “Not really. But I felt I should pay my respects on her eightieth birthday.”
“Of course,” she agreed.
“I hope you don’t mind staying with the children a little longer.”
“Not at all,” she said. “I’ve no wish to go out when the sidewalks are so treacherous. Take care yourself that you don’t slip over.”
“I will.” I kissed her cheek.
I left Liam sleeping, Bridie knitting with some yarn that Daniel’s mother had brought with her, and Sid and Gus busy making paper chains with Tig and Emmy. Then I set off. Snow flurries had picked up again and the sky was heavy with the promise of more snow. I toyed with the idea of taking a cab, but with Christmas coming and my husband sick in hospital, I couldn’t sanction the additional expense. I had presumed the police department would take care of Daniel’s hospital bills, but after what he had told m
e, I realized that I couldn’t take that for granted.
So I walked down Waverly Place to Broadway and decided to brave the trolley instead. It wasn’t that far up to Twentieth Street, but too far to walk on frozen sidewalks with snow blowing in my face. As I walked up Broadway to the nearest trolley stop I saw two boys, standing together in a doorway, watching shoppers pass them, rather like wolves examining a herd of deer. What’s more, I recognized both of them. One was the boy who had recruited Tig to run his errands. The other was Malachy, Bridie’s cousin. We had stayed with his family when we first arrived in New York and they had returned the favor by foisting themselves on me when they were thrown out of their apartment. The boys had always been trouble and I wasn’t at all surprised that the older two had become Junior Eastmans.
Should I confront Malachy now, I wondered, but then I decided against it. I didn’t want the other boy to find out where I lived and thus put my neighbors and Tig and Emmy in danger. Instead I decided to pay a call on Malachy’s mother. She might be the most objectionable woman ever born, but she did have a sense of right and wrong, and still wielded some influence over her wayward sons. I didn’t think she’d approve of picking pockets. Whether she could stop it was another matter, but at least I’d give it a try.
The trolley came along, its bell clanging. It was packed full, as usual, and I didn’t think my silk dress would fare well from being jammed against so many bodies. It was only a short ride, but I was grateful to get off again at Twentieth Street. The windows of the stores on Broadway—Lord & Taylor and the other dry goods stores on this block—glittered with brightly lit snow scenes and enticing gift ideas. I realized I should bring a gift to Miss Van Woekem myself, so I went into Lord & Taylor and, having seen the prices, settled on a pair of embroidered handkerchiefs. Old ladies can never have enough handkerchiefs, I decided. I had them wrapped and then set off along Twentieth for Gramercy Park.
