Jamie looked around the room. Surely Ian didn’t have to sleep in this narrow bed with three other boys? There was no way they would all fit. And how did he do his schoolwork? Then he noticed in the corner a rolled-up mattress next to a crate that held books and neatly folded clothes, and he knew this was Ian’s corner.
How he must despise me for complaining all the time about having to sleep in the alcove of my mother’s room. No wonder he’s never invited me to come home with him. How can Kathleen let him stay here?
He went back to the next room, where Kathleen was in heated discussion with her aunt. He said, “The boys said they haven’t seen him since Friday morning. His schoolbooks and stuff are here. I didn’t try to wake the man.”
Kathleen turned to her aunt and said, “What man?”
“Frank.”
“Why’s he in the boys’ room? No, don’t bother, let me see,” Kathleen said. She pushed past Jamie, stopping with an oath when she banged up against the end of the boys’ bed. Then Jamie saw her go over and give her uncle a rough shake, which did nothing but make him snore even louder.
She came back into the kitchen and said, “He’s drunk, which doesn’t surprise me, but why isn’t he in your room? And where’s Ian been sleeping?”
“I had to rent out the other room. Ian’s fine. He sleeps on the floor, when he’s here.”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all. Between what I give you, Frank’s wages, and what you bring in doing laundry, you shouldn’t need to take in boarders, much less expect Ian to hand over his newspaper earnings. What’s going on?”
Kathleen’s aunt turned away angrily and poked again at the tub. Then Jamie saw her shoulders hunch, and she muttered, “Frank lost his job. Been dead drunk for the past month. Without your brother’s newspaper money, we’ll all be on the street.”
“Ian won’t, because he’s not going to live with you another day. And if you don’t have any idea where he is, I’ve got to be going. I’ll send for his stuff later.”
“No, you can’t mean that! You can’t put your little cousins out on the street.”
“Aunt Fiona, if Uncle Frank wants to drink himself to death, like my father, then take your children and leave him. Ask your older sons for help, or Uncle George or Uncle Sean. If none of them will help, go to the Sisters.”
“You’re heartless, you are. I raised your brother like he was my own son, now you take him away when he’s finally of use. Frank will have something to say about that, you better believe it.”
Jamie was shocked at the anger in the woman’s voice.
Kathleen turned away from her aunt and put her hand on Jamie’s back, urging him out into the hallway. He could feel her trembling but wasn’t sure if it was from fear or fury, until she said, over her shoulder, “Aunt, you better hope nothing bad’s happened to Ian, or eviction will be the least of your worries. Now Jamie, let’s go find my brother; there’s nothing more for us here.”
Chapter 5
Jamie sat at the boardinghouse kitchen table, eating his way through the stack of pancakes Mrs. O’Rourke had cooked for him. It was only seven-thirty, the sun was barely up, but the hours since he’d had the leftover beef and potatoes seemed a lifetime ago.
“So Kathleen is looking to see if Ian is with her other two uncles, the ones her brothers Colin and Aiden live with?” Mrs. Dawson asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down across from him.
Washing down his last syrupy bite with a large swallow of milk, he said, “Yes, ma’am. I wanted to go with her, but she said to come back here and tell you what was going on.”
“Well, dearie, God willing, she’ll soon be back with Ian in tow,” Mrs. O’Rourke said.
Mrs. O’Rourke was handing chafing dishes of eggs, bacon, and hot oatmeal to the little Irish maid, Tilly, who was then trotting upstairs to put them on the sideboard so the boarders could eat breakfast at their convenience. Emmaline was up with the elderly dressmakers, Miss Minnie and Miss Millie, in the attic, and Dandy was sound asleep in the corner next to the rocker. The kitchen cat, Queenie, was nowhere to be found, which probably meant she was out mousing. Jamie couldn’t help but think about how warm and inviting this kitchen was compared to the one he’d just been in.
“Jamie, you look troubled,” Mrs. Dawson said. “What are you not telling us?”
“It was that place, ma’am. Kathleen’s aunt and uncle and their five children, all crammed into two tiny rooms. And there was this terribly thin mattress on the floor for Ian. Dandy has it better.”
He looked over at the nest of soft wool blankets where Dandy snored peacefully and said, “I can’t help thinking that Ian wouldn’t go to his other uncles for help. First of all, his oldest brother, Colin, always gives him such a hard time, saying how he has it easy compared to what his life’s been like living with his Uncle Sean. And while Aiden gets along better with Ian, the stories he tells about the sharp tongue on his Aunt Peg…well, I think if Ian showed up on that doorstep, he’d be sent right back to his Uncle Frank’s and Aunt Fiona’s.”
Mrs. O’Rourke wiped her hands on her apron and said, “Ah, I don’t like to gossip, but those Hennessey brothers are a hard-hearted bunch, especially when they’ve been drinking. From what I’ve heard, their wives don’t have an easy time of it, which can sour even the kindest soul. What I don’t understand is why didn’t the lad come here?”
“That’s what’s worrying you, isn’t it, Jamie?” Mrs. Dawson said.
“Yes, ma’am. He might have been trying to handle things on his own at first, not wanting to upset his sister or disappoint his brothers, but if he were in real trouble…or hurt…I know he’d come here.”
Jamie looked at the clock. Saturday was the one day his mother tried to sleep late, but she would be up soon, and it occurred to him that it might simplify matters if he were to take off before then. Because now that he’d eaten, he knew he couldn’t sit around waiting to see if Ian was all right.
He stood up and said, “Thanks so much, Mrs. O’Rourke. That’s exactly what I needed. But I’m thinking it would be a good idea for me to go up towards Sutter, find Officer McGee, and tell him what is going on. He can ask the newsboys he meets on his patrol if they’ve heard anything.”
Patrick McGee was Beatrice O’Rourke’s nephew and Kathleen’s beau, and he was an up-and-coming member of the San Francisco police force. He hoped to join the detective branch one day, but right now his beat was between Sutter and Sacramento Streets, from Stockton to Van Ness in the west.
“That’s an excellent idea, Jamie. I’m surprised Kathleen didn’t suggest it,” replied Mrs. Dawson.
“Truth be told, ma’am, I think Miss Kathleen was pinning her hopes on Ian being safely at her other uncles, but…”
“But it won’t hurt to start looking elsewhere, just in case,” she finished his sentence, smiling at him with approval.
“Then I thought I would head back towards the Chronicle and Bulletin offices, ask around. Maybe see if any of the coppers in that area know anything.”
Glancing out the kitchen window, Mrs. O’Rourke said, “It looks like it’s fixing to rain today. Don’t you stay out too long, my boy. No reason for you to catch your death of cold if Ian’s here all safe and sound.”
An hour later, as Jamie ducked into the doorway of Hermann’s Fine Cigars, he let out a sigh of relief to be out of the cold. Even though he’d been walking south on Mason, so the fierce wind coming up from the Bay was at his back, his neck and his legs still felt like ice. This was why he thought his mother should let him graduate to a proper man’s vest and long trousers now that he’d grown so much this winter. Otherwise, a fellow could freeze to death in January in San Francisco. Dandy woofed softly in agreement. At least the pup had stopped shaking once Jamie thought to wind his scarf around him. But that only worked as long as he carried the dog, and for such a small animal, Dandy was beginning to weigh a ton.
“No dogs allowed,” a sharp voice interrupted this thought. “Not sanitary. Besid
es, I sincerely doubt you’re in the market for a fine cigar.”
A short, sandy-haired man with a military bearing and a very formidable mustache and muttonchops below a bald pate pointed to the door. “Out you go. Best be getting home before the storm hits.”
Jamie touched his cap politely and said hurriedly, “I wondered if you could tell me whether or not Ian, your regular Evening Bulletin newsboy, dropped off the Chronicle to you yesterday morning.”
“The young black-haired Irish lad? No, he didn’t. And he didn’t show up with the Bulletin in the afternoon, either. Young scamp. I had to close the shop for ten minutes to go out and get my papers from one of the boys selling over on Powell. A real nuisance. If you see him, you can tell him I’m extremely disappointed in him and not to bother coming back.”
“Oh, please, sir, I don’t think he meant to disappoint you. He’s real reliable, but something must have come up. I hope you’ll give him another chance.”
“Do you think my customers would give me another chance if I forgot to order their favorite cigars? That’s the problem with all you young fellows. Always wanting a break. Now take yourself off. I can see Mr. Thompson crossing the street, and I can assure you he doesn’t take kindly to dogs or impertinent young boys.”
Jamie knew when an argument was futile, so he pulled the door open and left the shop. But he’d learned something valuable, nevertheless.
“Dandy, I’m really worried now. Seems for certain something must have happened to Ian yesterday morning. Right around here.” The pup stuck his cold nose out of the scarf to give his cheek a lick.
“Criminy, the man’s right, it’s already spitting rain, and looks like it’s moving in fast.”
Large drops blackened the dusty sidewalk, and he could see dark clouds boiling over Russian Hill to the west. He was going to feel stupid getting soaked if Ian was warm and safe in the boardinghouse kitchen. However, what he’d learned the last half hour made this less and less likely.
“Let’s turn the corner onto Vallejo for a minute. See if there’s a place where I can let you down and think what to do next.”
As he turned left off Mason Street, he saw there was a small indentation in the next building that held trash barrels. He pushed by the barrels, out of the wind, and let Dandy down to run his nose over all the lovely smells, lifting his leg to add his bit to the mixture.
Jamie thought anxiously about how quickly the time was passing. He had been fortunate to run into Officer Patrick McGee not more than ten minutes after he left the boardinghouse. Jamie liked the red-headed copper, but this morning he didn’t seem to take Jamie’s concerns all that seriously.
McGee was more worried about Kathleen getting into a row with her relatives. But he did say that he’d ask around. Said he knew just the newsboy on his beat who would know all the gossip. But he also cautioned Jamie against investigating further. Said that if Ian had gotten in trouble with some of the tougher newsboys, they wouldn’t take kindly to Jamie sniffing around. Basically, he’d patted Jamie on the head and told him to go on home.
That was when Jamie had the bright idea of seeing if he could find any evidence that his friend had delivered any papers Friday at all. First, he and Dandy ran down to Kearny and caught the North Beach and Mission cars straight up to Clay and walked the block east to the Evening Bulletin offices. It took him a little while to get a clerk to pay attention to him, as everyone was rushing around getting the edition ready for its afternoon distribution.
Finally, he got a nice clerk to look up in the ledger and learned that Ian hadn’t picked up any Bulletins yesterday afternoon. So he’d not sold any papers Friday afternoon, didn’t come home as he should have that evening, nor had he showed up to pick up any newspapers this morning. But the Chronicle clerk had assured him that his friend picked up a hundred papers early Friday morning to sell. What Jamie didn’t know was if Ian had delivered any of those papers.
He decided to try to replicate the route he knew Ian took when he sold the Chronicle on Saturdays, hoping he would do the same thing on a weekday morning. So he ran back to Kearny, using another one of the nickels Mrs. Dawson had given him to get a car that would take him all the way to North Beach line’s terminus at Mason and Francisco streets.
As Jamie suspected, in almost every store and tobacconist he checked as he walked back south on Mason, he found that Ian had been there yesterday morning, delivering Chronicles.
Until Jamie got to the block on Mason between Green and Vallejo.
The grumpy tobacconist who’d thrown him out was the second shopkeeper in that block who’d reported, with irritation, that Ian had failed to show yesterday morning.
“So, Dandy, if it weren’t for the fact that Ian didn’t show up to get any Bulletins yesterday afternoon or come home last night, I might think he ran out of morning papers to sell by the time he got to this block.”
A gust of wind brought a spattering of large raindrops down on his head, and Dandy looked up at him and whined.
“You’re right, boy. We’re not going to stay dry standing here. But what if we head home and he’s not there? Ian’s small, and an orphan, but he’d never let anyone send him to an orphanage, and surely Patrick would have heard if he was swept up in some raid and found himself in jail. Or the morgue. That’s what scares me the most. Even if he got hurt, ended up at St. Mary’s or something, he’d figure out a way to get word to someone, unless…”
Jamie picked Dandy up, winding the scarf back around him as he stepped onto the sidewalk, and said, “Maybe we should try to find that friend of Mr. Dawson’s, Mitchell, the medical student who lives in a boardinghouse near the end of this street. Or Seth Timmons, Miss Laura’s friend, cause he lives there now too. I even know which house since I’ve been there, took Mr. Timmons a message once for Miss Laura. Do ya think that’s a good idea, boy? See if that Mitchell or Seth is in. They might have some good ideas and give us a place to wait out the rain.”
As he turned to go east down Vallejo, he noticed the very tips of the two bell towers of St. Francis, the Catholic church, which was two blocks away. This gave him a good idea, and he said, “I hadn’t thought about the church, Dandy. Could be that if Ian got to Vallejo yesterday morning, right around the time the seven o’clock mass got out, he might’ve tried to sell a few papers there. We could even see if there is anyone one around to ask if they’d seen him yesterday morning. That’s an even better plan than going to find Mitchell or Mr. Timmons.”
He pulled his cap down further and began to walk briskly east on Vallejo as the sky got darker and darker. The few people he passed had already pulled out umbrellas and were hurrying on their way, and the couple of hansom cabs that passed had their leather curtains pulled down tight. He had just crossed Stockton, a block away from the church, when Dandy began to struggle in his arms.
“No, Dandy, wait until we get across Montgomery Avenue. I’ll let you down then. Whoa, stop it, you’ll hurt yourself,” he cried out as the pup started to wiggle free from his arms and Jamie quickly leaned over so that the little dog wouldn’t tumble down.
Dandy put his nose to the ground and began to sniff along the sidewalk, Jamie’s blue and white scarf trailing along behind him. Jamie realized he didn’t have the leash, which was tangled up in the scarf, so he shouted at Dandy to stop, taking a few long strides to catch up. As he reached down to grab the leash, Dandy began to run, his tiny button nose still to the ground like some absurd bloodhound, and Jamie found all he’d gotten was the scarf, not the leash.
His mother had drilled into his head to never to let go of Dandy’s leash. The city had strict laws against stray dogs, and if the pup ever tried to cross a street on his own, he would most likely end up crushed to death under the wheels of a vehicle.
His heart pounding with fear, he shrieked at Dandy to stop, only taking a breath when Dandy halted to look back at him and he was able to snatch the leash from the ground.
“Dandy, don’t do that. When I say stop…stop! What’s
got into you?” Jamie asked as Dandy again began to pull forward, his nose to the ground. The dog abruptly jerked to the side, where he gave a long sniff along the wall of one of the buildings. Next, he jumped to brace his front legs against the wall so he could sniff higher, his little crooked tail twirling in excitement.
Jamie laughed and said, “Was some big dog here that you’ve come across before? We don’t have time for that now. See, it’s really starting to rain.”
He tried to pull Dandy away, so he could pick him up again and make a dash for the church, where he knew there was at least an overhang at the front doors that might shelter them. But Dandy would have none of it. He was now back on all fours, nose again to the sidewalk, vigorously pulling on the leash. Jamie knew him in this mood. He’d choke himself straining against the collar rather than give up the hunt. So Jamie followed after him, hoping once Dandy found whatever he was tracking and anointed it with his own scent, he’d be willing to be picked up. It was just strange for him to track something in the rain. Dandy did so hate to get wet.
When Dandy got to a narrow break between two buildings, he turned and tried to go down the path. Jamie laughed again and said, “Stop it, Dandy. I’m not going down there. It smells to high heaven. Who knows what sort of refuse has been tossed out the windows and left to rot over the years? And I’m sure not going to let you eat whatever you smell…no matter how tasty you think it will be. Besides, I’m not even sure I could squeeze through.”
Dandy ignored him, pulling even harder and making little whimpering noises. Then he started to howl, and Jamie’s blood froze. He’d only heard Dandy make that sound once before, and it hadn’t been good. Dandy then charged ahead, ripping the leash out of Jamie’s hand.
Jamie followed as quickly as he could, finding he was able to fit if he turned slightly sideways. He shuffled through the unknown waste that covered the ground, trying not to trip. As he peered ahead, barely able to see anything through the gray light that filtered down from the slice of sky above, he could make out Dandy by the flash of white of his front legs. Dandy then stopped in front of what looked like newspapers piled up against some obstacle…a box or something…that blocked the rest of the path.
Dandy Delivers Page 4
