“I kinda don’t remember. It wasn’t much fun, if y’know what I mean?”
“You don’t remember anything about him.”
“He was big and scary and, oh yeah, his ears stuck out.”
“What?”
“He had real big ears and they stuck out. Like this.” Henry put his hands behind his ears and pushed them forward.
“Are you sure, Henry?”
“About his ears stickin’ out? It was kinda hard to miss. At first I thought he was funny lookin’, but then, ‘cause the guy was so nasty, they became all evil, like they was devil ears.”
Archie leaned back in his chair. “That’s good, Henry. Very good. One more thing, and I need you to be truthful about this.”
“I will,” Henry said solemnly.
“You told me that you dropped Mick off at Cooper Union Square the day he was killed and then you drove to Brooklyn. Is that right?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“And you saw Mick meet a man in the square, then he ran away and disappeared.”
“Yes, Captain, that was the last time I ever saw Mick.”
Archie smacked his hands on the table, startling Henry. “You’re lying again!”
“No. I told you, Captain, I’ve never lied to you.”
“You just did!”
“No, Captain,” Henry insisted. “It’s all true. Everythin’ I’ve been tellin’ you is true…”
Archie cut him off. “Henry, I was the man Mick met at Cooper Union Square. And I know what happened there. You dropped him off, like you said, but you didn’t watch him disappear. You followed him.”
Henry didn’t answer; his eyes angled nervously about the room.
“I know that because I saw someone run after Mick,” Archie continued. “And it could have only been you.” A low moan squeaked from Henry. “And it could have been only you who left the gas on at the room in Hell’s Kitchen.”
“No, Captain, no!” Henry yelled. “I had nothin’ to do with the explosion!”
“Then why have you lied to me?”
Henry put his head in his hands and started shaking.
“If you can’t be square with me then I have to believe that this confession is the truth and there is evidence that you were responsible for Mick’s murder.”
“No, Captain!” Henry sobbed.
“Then speak, for God sakes! Convince me that I’m wrong. Why don’t you just tell me the truth?!”
“Because…because…Mick made me promise I wouldn’t ever tell anyone.”
“Tell anyone what?”
“Where he went.”
“Mick’s dead, Henry. You have to tell me.”
Henry pushed himself against the back of his chair. He looked small, like a child who was reluctant to reveal his deepest secret.
“You have to tell me, or I will turn you in this evening.”
Henry mopped his face then softly mumbled, “He went to see a lady.”
“That’s all? That’s the big secret?”
“He made me promise to God that I would never tell a soul.”
“Why? What happened there?”
“I dunno. I watched from outside. Mick went in, stayed for just a few minutes, and when he came out he was cryin’ and she was cryin’ and she didn’t want to let go of him and he jus’ said, ‘Be strong,’ and then whispered somethin’ in her ear and she starts bawlin’ again and he pulls himself away and that’s when he sees me.”
“He didn’t know you were there?”
“No. But he got real upset when he did see me. So he motioned for me to follow him around the corner then made me promise to God that I would never tell another soul what I saw. And that’s the truth, Captain, that’s the whole truth. I was jus’ keepin’ my promise to Mick.”
“Where did you go after that?”
“To Brooklyn, like I told you. I had nothin’ to do with his killin’. You gotta believe me.”
Archie sat for a moment, trying to make sense of everything Henry had divulged. “Could you find where that woman lived?” Archie asked.
“Yeah, I think so. New York’s my town. I could find almost any place”
“Then you’re going to take me there, Henry.”
CHAPTER 47
In 1912, a train from Washington D.C. to New York City took just over five hours. The drive took more than nine. Still, Archie felt more comfortable driving than taking the public rails, especially with a wanted fugitive sitting next to him. The pair started out in Archie’s Pope-Hartford long before dawn. They had hardly reached Washington’s city limits when Henry began lobbying to get behind the wheel. “Mick let me drive all the time. He’d say I was the best driver he’d ever seen. He said that when I got older I should think of becomin’ a professional, like a chauffeur or somethin’, drivin’ important people around. Maybe you can get me a job with ol’ Taft as his chauffeur, wouldn’t that be somethin’?”
But Archie needed to talk about something else. “So…what are your plans for the future, Henry?”
“What d’ya mean?”
“Well…” Archie shifted in the drivers seat. “Now that I’m well I don’t need you to care for me. You understand, don’t you, Henry?”
Henry turned away and looked out at the scenery. “No, Captain, I’m not sure I do understand. I thought you liked havin’ me around.”
“I do. It’s just that having you live with me any longer is impractical. Besides, I’ll be leaving for Italy in a few weeks and there is no way you could stay there by yourself. Especially with federal agents still looking for you.”
“How do you know federal agents are lookin’ for me?”
“I work in the government. I hear things.”
“Yeah? From who? Finch?”
It was the first time Archie heard Henry mention Finch’s name. “How do you know Finch?”
“I know lots o’ things I ain’t told ya, Captain,” Henry said, poker faced.
“I’m sure you do. But it’s important you should share everything.”
“Why? So you could send me back to Sing Sing?”
“No, that’s the last thing I was going to do. I was going to give you money so you could move back into that boarding house you told me about. And then I was going to look after your education.”
“You don’t think I’m smart enough?”
“No, it’s not that, but…”
“I’m plenty smart,” Henry snapped. “If you’re gonna make a livin’ as a pickpocket y’gotta be smart ‘bout lots of things. People mostly. Which ones you can trust and which one’s will slit your throat in a second. And y’know somethin’, I jus’ realized I can’t trust you, Captain.”
“But you can trust me, Henry. You misunderstood.”
“No, I didn’t misunderstood. The only person I could ever trust was Mick. He was straight shooter. You’re a little squirrelly, Captain. But that’s okay. It don’t mean I don’t like you. I just can’t trust you. No offense.”
“No offense taken,” Archie said. “But you must tell me how you know Finch?”
Henry closed his eyes as if summoning a deep memory. “Remember when I told you Mick was havin’ an argument downtown the day he died?
“Remind me.”
“After we visited Astor we drove to this big old building downtown. I stayed in the car and Mick goes in and when he finally comes out he’s gettin’ into a really nasty shoutin’ match with a little guy. Finch.”
“I don’t remember you telling me it was Finch.”
“I didn’t. It wouldn’t have been smart to tell you then.”
“And it’s smart telling me now?”
“Yep,” Henry said.
“How do you know it was Finch?”
“Mick told me. Mick told me lots o’ things.”
“Like what, Henry?”
The car hit a rut in the road and swerved. Archie struggled to straighten the wheels out.
“You should really let me drive, Captain. I’m better than you.”
“Ma
ybe if you’re truthful with me and tell me everything you know, I will.”
“And you’re gonna tell me everything you know? Nah, I don’t think so,” Henry smirked, but only for a moment before suddenly brightening. “Hey, I got an idea.”
“An idea for what?” Archie responded, a little suspicious of Henry’s eureka moment.
“You’re gonna take me to Italy with you.”
“What?!” Archie shouted, causing the car to swerve again.
“It’s perfect. I won’t be at your house and we could watch each other’s backs like Mick and me did. And when we start really trustin’ each other, maybe then we can share a little more information.” The boy was savvy, Archie had to give him that. Behind Henry’s innocent enthusiasm, he was driving a bargain for the information he dangled. “Y’seen how helpful I am and believe me, I’d be even more helpful on a trip. I can be like a real…what do they call ‘em? …valets…I’d be a real valet to you. Shine your shoes, press your clothes, carry your luggage…”
“No, Henry,” Archie interrupted, attempting to nip the boy’s enthusiasm before it got out of hand. “First of all I’ve already made arrangements to travel with my friend, Frank Millet.”
“So I can be a valet to both of yous. Y’know what they say ‘bout that, killin’ two birds with one stone,” Henry pushed on with eager persistence. “Y’have to take me with you, Captain, y’jus’ have to.”
“I’m sorry, Henry, but it’s impossible. I’m going to be quite busy and to have you tag along…” Archie shook his head.
“I can take care o’ myself. Always have.”
“This is a foreign country. They don’t speak English there.”
“I-talian, right? I done okay on Mulberry Street and all they speak there is wop. Com’on, Captain, y’know it’s the best solution for all of this. Gimme one good reason why you shouldn’t take me,” Henry challenged. “One good reason.”
“Well... you’re an escapee from a federal penitentiary and a fugitive from the law.”
“But I’m innocent and someone’s tryin’ to frame me. Listen, I been ‘round trouble long enough to smell when somethin’ ain’t right. You gotta take me with you. I’m the one person you can trust to be on your side. And believe me, that’s somethin’ you’re gonna need.”
“No, Henry. I’m sorry. But it is impossible. You can’t come with me to Italy and that’s final.”
Henry turned away and looked outside again. He said nothing. For the next three hours he sulked silently. Archie felt bad for the boy, but couldn’t reverse his decision – there was no way he would take Henry to Rome. But he could let him drive. “Henry,” Archie said just outside of Philadelphia. “I’m getting a little tired. Would you like to take the wheel?”
“Sure,” Henry said softly. “Now you’ll see what Henry can do.”
It turned out Henry could do a lot with a car. He gracefully maneuvered it along treacherous roads and around blind curves, moving at a fast clip yet managing to avoid the potholes and ruts that pocked the way. By the time they reached New York, Archie had surrendered any need to be in the driver’s seat. Henry was a master of the city streets, weaving through traffic, speeding around horse-carts and cursing pedestrians who dared venture in front of him. He guided the car down increasingly narrow streets that funneled into even tighter alleyways, emerging into a section of New York Archie had never seen. There were no tall brick tenements or cobblestone streets teeming with people. Here, the dusty lanes were lined with creaky wood buildings. There was a dry goods store, a saloon, a laundry and a livery stable. The Pope-Hartford was the only car on the road, sharing it with a few carriages and an occasional man on horseback. Henry turned the car down a short block of tidy, single story houses that dead-ended abruptly, as if to demarcate that this little pocket of New York that was lost in time stopped right there.
“There, Captain,” Henry said, pointing to a house at the end of the block. The small, white-washed cottage was surrounded by a garden of rose bushes.
“Where are we, Henry?”
“New York City.”
“But where in New York? I had no idea a neighborhood like this still existed.”
Henry was about to answer when the door to the house opened and a beautiful red-haired woman poked her head out to see who had intruded into her corner sanctuary. When she saw Henry and Archie sitting in the car she retreated into her house, but seemed to change her mind and stepped back into the yard. Archie opened his door, slid out and started across the dirt road.
“Captain Butt,” the woman said with a light Irish lilt as Archie approached. “I suspected you would find your way here eventually.”
“Mrs. Shaughnessy.” Archie gave a polite bow. “I believe we have much to talk about.”
“I’m not sure we do, but you’re welcome to come in.” She turned and led the way in. The home was quaint and orderly, with lace curtains on the windows and a living room that had the informality of an Irish country parlor.
“This is a lovely house, Mrs. Shaughnessy,” Archie said politely.
“It’s a good neighborhood to raise my daughter.”
“When did you move in?”
It was an odd question and it caught Mrs. Shaughnessy off-guard. “Mick and I settled here shortly after he came back to America. Why do you ask?”
“Young newlyweds can barely afford tenements, much less houses like this.”
“Mick found it. He had a way with such things. He always found a way. But I think you know that.”
“I’m not sure I know the full extent of Mick’s ways.”
“Would you like some tea?” Mrs. Shaughnessy said, changing the subject. “I have a pot on the stove.”
“That would be lovely.”
“Do take a chair, then. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Archie glanced around the room. It was cozy, with large, overstuffed chairs and a well worn sofa that was situated in front of a stone fireplace. A framed picture above the fireplace caught his eye. It was a family portrait: Mick, his wife and daughter. While the pose was formal – husband and wife sitting at a slight angle next to each other with their young daughter standing between them – their manner was anything but. Mick had struck his familiar impertinent pose, but rather than searing a look into the camera, his eyes glimmered with a happy light. Mrs. Shaughnessy appeared as if she was about to burst into laughter any moment and their young daughter’s grin beamed out of the photograph.
“Sugar?” Mrs. Shaughnessy said. Archie was so caught up in the picture he didn’t notice that she had returned and was already pouring the tea.
“Yes, thank you,” Archie said, taking a seat.
Mrs. Shaughnessy handed him the cup and sat across from him. She was cool and aloof, the exact opposite of the passionate, desperate woman who came to his hotel room. “So, Captain Butt, what would you like to know?”
“You came to me over a year ago, Mrs. Shaughnessy, and implored me to find the truth of your husband’s death.”
“That I did, Captain.”
“Oh, by the way, I have been promoted to Major. I am now ‘Major Butt’.”
“Congratulations,” she said without enthusiasm. “So…Major…you were saying…?”
“I still believe your husband was murdered, Mrs. Shaughnessy. I wanted to find the reason for it. I believed you wanted the same thing. But then you disappeared.”
Mrs. Shaughnessy ran her fingers through her long hair and looked away from Archie as she spoke. “Mick was a very complex man. I came to the realization that perhaps it was not the healthiest thing in the world for me to dig into my husband’s affairs and discover all that he was involved with. He lives in my memory as the man I loved. I prefer he stays as that.”
“That’s all well and good, but if Mick was murdered for something he knew, then it is our obligation to uncover what that was and who had him killed.”
“Maybe it’s your obligation, Captain, but it is no longer mine.”
“But
don’t you understand…”
“Don’t you understand,” Mrs. Shaughnessy cut Archie off. “Mick got himself killed because he stuck his nose in places he shouldn’t have. He had one too many affairs with one too many married women. He double-crossed one too many powerful men. He discovered one too many secrets. He let one too many people down. Mick couldn’t help himself in that respect. And that’s what led to his death. Someone else may have murdered him, but Mick Shaughnessy was responsible for it all.”
“No one is responsible for their own murder, Mrs. Shaughnessy.”
“You’re wrong. Mick was. He charmed all of us – men, women, politicians, revolutionaries, businessmen, me, you – but he ultimately let us down because when it was time for him to stand up and be there for us, he raced off to wage his next battle. He was never satisfied. First he had you, his best friend, to save. Then he had a revolution to wage, then a wife and daughter to look after, then he wanted to save the poor, then serve his country, then build bridges to the rich, then…oh, God knows what he wanted, because Mick Shaughnessy had no idea. He was a soldier always looking for the next righteous war to fight because he was never at peace with himself. And he knew that he would one day meet his death as a soldier. I think he not only knew, he desired it.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You know, Mick had a grand romantic streak in him. He once told me that when he was growing up, his big lout of a father would be beating his poor mother to a pulp in the kitchen and Mick would be in his bed reading adventure stories and plotting how he could save her. One month he was D’Artagnan, the next, Robin Hood, and then Sydney Carton. And that’s how he lived his life, that’s what he believed: that it was his fate to save not only his mother, but all of us. And we gladly played the roles so he could fulfill his destiny. I was the wife who was supposed to stand by him despite his affairs because he had a true and noble heart. You were his commanding officer who was supposed to admire him because he was brave, even though he was insufferably insubordinate. And then there were the teeming masses who were to love him because he fought their battles, even though he would ultimately abandon them just as he abandoned all of us.”
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