Away in a Manger

by Rhys Bowen

  I persuaded him to go at least halfway, then asked him to help Daniel descend. I gave him a generous tip then made Daniel take my arm as I led him to the house. Bridie and Liam had made it home first. They had been waiting with anticipation, watching out of the parlor window, and rushed to greet him. I had to fend them off. “Carefully now, Liam,” I said as he hurled himself at his father. “Dada hasn’t been well. We have to treat him gently.”

  “It’s good to see you, my boy.” Daniel ruffled Liam’s dark curls. “And your dada will be right as rain and ready to play with you again very soon.” He stood there with a contented smile on his face. “It smells wonderful in here,” he said.

  “Well, we’ve been baking,” I said. “Would you like to go straight up to bed or should I make you comfortable in the parlor?”

  “I’d like to sit in the kitchen and have something to eat with my family,” he said. “I’ve been doing too much resting recently.”

  “Your mother has made an Irish stew,” I said. “We were going to have it tonight, but I expect you’d like some now.”

  Daniel’s eyes lit up. Irish stew was one of his favorites. He made it down the hallway under his own steam. I helped him to sit at the table and I served the stew. Daniel ate with relish. “Ma, you’ve outdone yourself this time,” he said. “Nothing ever tasted so good, especially after that hospital food. If you don’t die from your wounds there, the food will kill you pretty soon.”

  “Is it poisoned?” Bridie asked, looking worried.

  “Captain Sullivan is just making a joke, my darling,” I said. “He just means that the food isn’t as tasty as his mother makes.”

  “Don’t worry, son, I’ll soon get your strength back for you,” Daniel’s mother said. “Plenty of good soups and pies and puddings. That’s what you need.”

  “And we made gingerbread men and all sorts of good things,” Bridie said. “And we made lots of paper snowflakes.” She got up to show Daniel. “We’re going to hang them in the windows.”

  “My, you were busy,” Daniel said.

  “Tig and Emmy made them too,” Bridie said.

  “Tig and Emmy?”

  “The children we found on the street,” I said.

  “You’ve been bringing them here?” He frowned.

  “No, they live with the ladies across the street now,” Bridie said.

  “What?” Daniel looked up angrily. “Another impetuous act they may well come to regret, I fear. Didn’t I warn you about street children?”

  “Hold your horses, Daniel. Sid and Gus have taken them in after the children heard their landlady and her man friend debating whether to get rid of them by throwing them off one of the Hudson piers,” I said.

  “Good God.” Daniel looked stunned.

  I was about to ask him whether he knew anything about a Jack Hobbs but swallowed back the words, reminding myself that he had just come out of hospital. “But we shouldn’t worry you with any of this right now, Daniel,” I said. “The children are safe at the moment and we may have located their family. So all will be well.”

  “Well done. How did you trace their family?” he asked.

  “It’s a long story.” I didn’t want to raise Bridie’s hopes before all was settled.

  “I think I had better go and sit somewhere more comfortable,” Daniel said, pushing his plate away from him. “This shoulder is beginning to ache again.”

  “Would you like to take a nap?” I asked. “I’ll help you get undressed upstairs.”

  “No, I’d rather stay up. It’s easier on the shoulder to sit,” he said. “And I should start moving around to get my strength back.” He started walking, somewhat unsteadily, down the hall. I followed, ready to catch him if he stumbled. He stood in the parlor doorway, looking at the sofa and the armchair by the fire, then settled on the sofa. I grabbed all the pillows and propped him up. Then I found the afghan and tucked that over him.

  “How’s that?” I asked.

  He smiled up at me. “You’re gentler than the nurses at that hospital. They tossed me around as if I was a sack of potatoes.”

  “I’ll be back after I put Liam down for his nap,” I said.

  I scooped up the protesting Liam and carried him upstairs. Bridie came too and I left her singing him his favorite nursery rhymes. I returned to Daniel. “That girl is a godsend,” I said. “She can quieten Liam better than I can.” I added coal to the fire before I sat beside him.

  “So what is the long story about these street children?” he asked.

  I told him about my locating Eustace Everett and my visit to him, then added, “But we are still trying to find out what happened to their mother. She brought the children from England after their father died, obviously hoping to reunite with her father. She left the children saying she would return shortly and never came back. If you were well and at work, I’d ask you to look through police records and see if any young woman matching her description was found dead at the end of March.”

  “You have a description, do you?” he asked.

  “I’m told her daughter looks just like her, so I could describe her quite well.”

  “It should be easy enough to check the records,” Daniel said. “I’ll send a message to one of my constables and have him do it. If you bring me pen and paper, you can hand it in at the Jefferson Market station, and someone there will see it’s delivered.”

  “Thank you, Daniel.” I beamed at him and went to his desk to bring him paper, pen, and ink.

  “What makes you think she’s dead?” he asked.

  “Something must have happened to her. She would never have abandoned her children.”

  “Some women do, out of desperation.”

  I shook my head. “The children clearly adored her. She would only do such a thing if she was of unsound mind—” I broke off in the middle of what I had been going to say. Of unsound mind. Of course, I had never considered that before. Tig had told me that his mother had been ill since the birth of Emmy. Was it possible she had had a mental collapse? That the strain of losing her husband and bringing the children to America had brought it on again? Was she at this moment locked away in an insane asylum or even wandering the streets, not remembering who she was?

  “It’s just possible that she might have had some sort of brainstorm and lost her reason,” I said. “The boy told me his mother had been sick for a long time after she gave birth to the little girl. It’s possible that was some kind of mental illness. It does happen after the birth of a child, so I’ve heard.”

  Daniel nodded. “Then she could be anywhere.”

  “You could ask your man to check the records at the insane asylum on Ward’s Island. I could go and check it myself, but—”

  “Oh, no,” Daniel said firmly. “I’m not letting you anywhere near that place again. I remember what almost happened to you the last time.”

  “That was because I was posing as an inmate,” I said.

  Daniel sighed and shook his head. “It’s a wonder you ever survived to marry me and have Liam,” he said. His hand reached out to cover mine. “But now that I have you, I’m not about to lose you again. Nothing dangerous, Molly. Promise me.”

  “I promise. This is a simple case of a missing person, Daniel. We have her name. We have a description. If something has happened to her in New York, then surely your men can find out for me.”

  Daniel wrote for a while then put the letter into an envelope. “I’m sending this to Constable Byrne. He’s always been a good sort and looks up to me.”

  “He was the one who came to tell me you’d been shot,” I said. “He took it upon himself to leave what he was supposed to be doing and run to find me.”

  “Yes, that’s the sort of thing he would do. I’ve asked him to come round here first thing tomorrow morning, and you can give him the description and details yourself. That way there is no risk of anything being intercepted at headquarters.”

  I had been looking into the fire, watching the flames dance upward. N
ow I looked up in surprise. “Are you implying that your mail might be opened and read at your headquarters?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Who knows? If there really is a conspiracy to get rid of me, then someone might well want to take a peek at a letter sent from me.”

  “That’s disgusting, Daniel. And you think this all comes straight from the commissioner?”

  “Either him or his cronies at Tammany. Either way, I’m not taking any chances.”

  I picked up the letter. “I’ll go now and drop this off at the Jefferson police station.” I went to the hallstand to put on my cape and scarf. “I’ll only be a minute,” I called, and off I went.

  It was bitterly cold with the promise of even more snow, and my cheeks stung in the wind. I handed in my letter, and as I slithered my way home snowflakes were already floating downward. Daniel’s mother was already sitting beside him, her knitting in her lap, when I returned. I went to make myself busy in the kitchen, still concerned about what Daniel had told me. Daniel had loved his job. He had devoted his life to the New York police department as had his father before him. It was horrible to think that there was now a faction working to oust him, and that presumably he didn’t know who was on his side and whom to trust.

  I had just put in some scones to bake for tea when there was a thunderous knock on our front door. I wiped my hands on my apron as I went to open it. I was expecting to see Gus, Sid, or one of the children, but instead it was Constable Byrne himself, his cheeks bright red from the cold.

  “Constable Byrne, how good of you to come so quickly,” I said. “Do come in, and let me pour you a cup of coffee or tea. It’s freezing out there.”

  “It surely is, Mrs. Sullivan,” he replied. “I take it the captain is home, then, if he wrote a letter with this address.”

  “He is. We brought him home this afternoon. Come on through. He’s in the parlor.”

  The constable wiped his feet carefully and brushed the snowflakes from his jacket before he followed me into the room.

  “Constable Byrne,” I heard Daniel say warmly. “How good of you to come.”

  “Anything for you, Captain. So good to see you up and around again. When I saw you lying there on Mulberry Street I felt for sure you were a goner.”

  “I was damned lucky,” Daniel said. “The bullet went right through and out the other side without touching any vital organ. But I understand that Sparks was not so lucky.”

  “Killed outright, poor beggar. And you know what they are saying at headquarters? They are saying that you sent him to arrest Antonio Spagnelli.”

  “So Sergeant Halloran told me,” Daniel said. “I hope you helped put them straight.”

  “I and several others told them there was no way the captain would do that. In fact the constable at the front desk said he’d heard you shouting angrily when someone told you where Sparks had gone, and that you’d rushed after him. But once a rumor gets started there are always going to be some who believe it. So there’s bad feeling, especially because they’re saying you let Sparks take the bullet.”

  “Damn their eyes,” Daniel muttered. “I can’t wait to get back there and set them straight. And I bet I know who started the rumor too.”

  “O’Shea, sir? He’s thick as thieves with the Tammany lot, and I’d like to bet it came from him.”

  Daniel nodded. “Anyway, there’s nothing more we can do about that now, Constable.” He stared out into the street. “Do they really think I’d want to stir up the Cosa Nostra again, after my own house was bombed? My family almost killed? It’s ludicrous when you come to think about it.”

  “It sure is, sir. Anyway, it’s good to see you sitting up and on the mend. So what did you want to see me about today?”

  “It’s my wife who needs your help,” Daniel said. “Tell him what you need, Molly.”

  So I explained the story of the children and gave him a description of their missing mother, based on what I thought Emmy would look like when she grew up.

  He took down details in a little notebook. “So you want me to check morgue records and possibly the insane asylum for this Margaret Everett Jones, formerly Margaret Montague?”

  “That’s correct,” I said.

  “I’ll get right onto it,” he said. “I’m not on desk duty until tomorrow morning and it all seems pretty quiet at HQ.”

  Daniel held up a hand. “Listen, Byrne, don’t go skipping any normal duty to do this. I don’t want you in any trouble because of me.”

  “Sir, it’s an honor to work for you,” Byrne said. He saluted, nodded to me, and then turned to go.

  Twenty

  Thursday, December 21

  The next day was one of waiting and hoping. I tried to get into the spirit of Christmas as Bridie helped me set up the tree on the table in the parlor window. We put on the ornaments, starting with the star on top, the candleholders, the fragile glass ones last, then carefully draped the popcorn chain around it. “We must make sure Liam doesn’t try to get at this,” I said. “It must not look too tempting.”

  “It looks beautiful.” Bridie sighed. “Can’t we light the candles now, just to see how they look?”

  “Not until Christmas Eve,” Daniel’s mother said severely.

  “But it’s three more whole days until Christmas Eve,” Bridie said, bending to intercept Liam, who was walking toward the tree with an excited smile on his face.

  “I’m glad it is three more whole days,” I said. “Because I haven’t had time to tell Santa what presents he should bring us.”

  Bridie grinned. “You don’t have to worry. I know all about Santa,” she said. “My cousins told me the truth.”

  They would, I thought. Spoiling a fantasy certainly fit their personality. If I had my way I’d make sure young Malachy got a lump of coal this Christmas. Which reminded me that I’d planned to call on his mother. But that could wait for more pressing things.

  “I don’t think you should brave the crowds to come shopping with me,” I said to Daniel when we were alone in the parlor.

  He nodded. “Much as I’d enjoy choosing gifts for my family, I have to admit that I’m not up to it.”

  “All right. Then maybe I’ll go out today and buy Liam and Bridie’s gifts,” I said. “If you think we can still afford them, that is?” I turned to him with a worried frown. “The police department will pay your hospital bills, won’t they? And not cut your pay when you are off work?”

  “I hope so,” he said. “They certainly have done so in the past. But who knows now? If rumors are circulating that the whole sorry business was my fault, then who knows if I’ll even have a job.”

  “Daniel, this is ridiculous,” I exploded. “I’ve a good mind to go down there and give those men a talking-to they won’t forget.”

  He had to laugh at that. “I’d love to see that, Molly, but it wouldn’t do any good.” He took my hand. “But in answer to your former question, yes, by all means buy the children their gifts. I’ve that legacy put by from my father, and I want to make sure their Christmas is a happy one.”

  So I set off, heading straight for the big FAO Schwarz toy store. This close to the holidays it was a madhouse, with harried-looking attendants scurrying around, being grabbed by impatient customers. Luckily I knew what I wanted. I found the dog on wheels and then selected a small china doll for Bridie. It was really beautiful, with realistic glass eyes and a lacy party dress. Daniel’s mother can teach her to make more clothes, I thought as I paid and carried my purchases out triumphantly. But that left the more difficult assignment of the day: What to get for Daniel’s mother, for Sid and Gus, and for Daniel himself?

  I realized I had no hands free to carry anything else and didn’t want the doll to get broken, so I took the El back home and managed to sneak the large brown paper parcels up to my bedroom and hide them on top of my wardrobe. Then I went out again, closer to home this time. I decided I couldn’t go wrong with books for Sid and Gus, so I went into one of the bookshops around the university and f
ound the perfect thing: a book of recipes from the British Raj. Delights of India, Ceylon, and Burma. That should provide them with many happy hours of cooking.

  Then I found an illustrated guide to Ireland. I knew that Daniel’s mother had been born here right after her parents came from Ireland in the potato famine, but she had never visited the old country. This book had lovely illustrations as well as quaint anecdotes, so I left the store well pleased. Now all that remained was something for Daniel himself. Men are so hard and at the moment I knew it had to be something that would lift his spirits. Spirits—that was a good idea. Daniel did appreciate a good whiskey but rarely treated himself. And I thought of something else. Daniel enjoyed an occasional pipe when he was at repose in his armchair. He had owned a handsome carved wooden tobacco jar before our house burned down. I’d see if I could find a replacement for it. I bought a bottle of whiskey at the liquor store and put off the quest for a tobacco jar for another day.

  After lunch Daniel and Liam both went down for their naps, and Daniel’s mother helped Bridie finish off the scarf she was knitting for Daniel. I went across the street and found Sid and Gus busy decorating with Tig and Emmy. They too had put up a tree, with exotic ornaments—carved wood tigers from India, glass mirrors, baubles of all sorts. And the table in the center of the parlor had been draped with a white cloth and had a many-branched candlestick on it.

  “First night of Hanukkah tonight,” Sid said. “Our little guests shall experience a mixture of cultures. This is the menorah I’ve had since I was a child. I’ve been over to Hester Street and found a dreidel, and I have my gelt and nuts ready.”

  “I’ve never heard of that,” I said.

  Sid smiled. “Well, I haven’t exactly celebrated my Jewish heritage until now, have I? But I used to love it as a child. You spin the top and whichever side it lands on, that is what you win. Gelt is chocolate-covered money. That’s the best.”

  “Bring Bridie and Liam over. They should play it too,” Gus said. “And watch Emmy light the first candle. Liam is actually the youngest child, but I wouldn’t trust him with a taper yet.”