Pat O'Malley Historical Steampunk Mystery Trilogy

by Jim Musgrave

  “It’s my last opportunity to catch this killer and find out his connection to Poe. I won’t be hurt. McKenzie also has given me protection,” I said, nodding over at Ryan, who looked very uncomfortable sitting on the plush red French divan. He nodded back, smiling crookedly, as if he were an alley cat forced to sit on a silk cushion.

  “It’s your last opportunity to be committed to Bellevue Hospital, you mean! I refuse to help you in this insane endeavor. Do you believe I could live with myself if you were killed?” she said.

  “I need your help to set-up a lure for this killer. We can be there when he comes and find out who employed him. Can you get a woman for me that can attract this beast out of his lair? His name is Reynolds. Have you heard of him?” I asked, afraid of what she would tell me.

  “Reynolds! Wasn’t he the one who was killing all the hookers? My ladies are terrified of that man! You expect me to get one of them to become bait for this monster? Now I indeed know you are insane,” said Becky, taking off her bonnet and throwing it on the floor.

  “Rebecca, I need you to help me in this. Isn’t there a way you can find out how to bring him out of hiding just for this one rendezvous?” I was pleading. This was the best chance at my capturing this rogue, and I knew Becky could do it.

  “What have you done for me, Patrick James? Exactly nothing. I tried to get you interested in me by wearing those ridiculous outfits. Now you want me to lure a devil from hell so that you can solve your little mystery? I doubt it,” she said.

  I decided to risk it all. I walked over to her and took Becky into my arms. I kissed her with a great passion, until Ryan began coughing from his seat on the divan. It must have done something to her, however, because she looked at me with her eyes glittering and her breast was heaving greatly.

  “All right. I’ll do it. I know how to get him here,” she said.

  “You do? How is that?” I was now keenly interested.

  “The risk of getting him to come to meet a call girl is too great. The only way I have of making certain this man will come is to offer him money to do a job for me. I will have to meet him, and I will have to get the word out that I want somebody killed,” she said.

  I was dumbstruck. “You? I cannot let you put your life in danger! I will not have it!”

  “Do you want this Reynolds, or do you not?” she was adamant.

  “Yes, but not if I could lose you, Becky,” I said.

  “Listen, you great oaf. I will tell this Reynolds that I want to contract him to kill Walter McKenzie because I want to take over the Plug Uglies’ territory in New Jersey. I will also offer him a share in the dividends. This will ensure that Reynolds shows up at my office,” she said.

  Actually, it was a brilliant plan. I could hide out and then entrap him when he was visiting Becky. I would then interrogate him about who hired him to do me in. This was the final piece to my puzzle of who killed Edgar Allan Poe!

  “Yes, I agree. I allow you to do this, but I must be in hiding when he enters. You must make certain you get a definite time he will be here, or this will not work. Do you understand me?” I took both of her hands. “Do you?”

  “I do,” she said.

  “I now pronounces yer man ‘n wife. Can we go get some eats, O’Malley? I ain’t et since mornin’,” said Ryan, standing up and heading for the door.

  I turned toward him. “I have to do this alone, Ryan, so you must tell McKenzie. This is the only way the plan will work. We cannot risk two of us here,” I said.

  “Right-o. Now let’s get out of here!” he said.

  “It was quite astute of you to use McKenzie as the one to be killed, Becky. They have hated each other for years, and McKenzie’s been attempting to kill Reynolds for years but has never succeeded. It will do him well to see his adversary behind bars at last,” I said.

  “Behind bars?” Becky’s voice was shrill. “You can’t turn Reynolds over to the police. They are incompetent. You must turn him over to McKenzie for real justice,” said Becky.

  “Oh, I see what you mean,” I said, not really understanding the law of the underground world in New York. Most of my work to this point had been private affairs. Finding lost wives or children or tracking down stolen property for the wealthy. I had yet to work with the New York Police Department, such as it was.

  “Yes, and O’Malley?” said Becky, moving up close so that I could smell her rose perfume. “You must continue what you began tonight, understand? Intimacy must grow as favors are bestowed,” she smiled, and I saw a blaze of passion spark in those green eyes.

  “Just keep me apprised of this development. I must come over before he gets here, understand?” I said, and I walked to the door. Ryan was already there waiting impatiently.

  “Gargle a bit more carefully with antiseptic. Especially when you go to meet a lady,” said Becky.

  We adjourned.

  * * *

  When McKenzie discovered he was being offered up as the killer’s target, he laughed mightily, Ryan told me, and he agreed to allow Ryan to serve as my steady bodyguard. I supposed the cargo hooker was taking a liking to me, and I to him.

  Ryan and I played poker all week waiting for Becky to inform us about the Reynolds plan. I won a lot of money off the rowdy, as he was always giving away his hand by raising his thick eyebrows when he had a winner. It was rather like stealing, so I would then allow him to win back much of it, and we continued in this manner for quite some time. The ghost of Edgar must have enjoyed our shenanigans.

  On the following Tuesday, a young boy knocked on the door to Poe’s cottage. He was delivering a message from Rebecca Charming. It read: “Come on this Thursday, three PM.” It need not say anything else, as I was aware of the subject. I gave the boy three cents, and I prepared for battle. This was going to be a confrontation to turn the tide of my case, and I was not going unprepared.

  I cleaned and oiled my two guns, and I oiled the interior of my leather holsters for rapid extraction when the time came. The loss of a fraction of a second could mean my life, so I wanted to be certain all preparations were in order. I took a deep breath and stood up. I wore all black so as to stay invisible in the darkness of Becky’s closet. Ryan said I looked nice in black. “Like the undertaker!” he laughed, and so did I. We shook hands before I left, and the short man vowed to hunt down Reynolds if I, perchance, lost the confrontation. “I’m outside watching fer that bastard, O’Malley. If he comes down those stairs, he’s a dead man!”

  “Thank you,” I told him. “By the way, you must have a first name. What is it? I believe friends should be on a first name basis, don’t you?”

  Ryan looked down at his feet and then back up. “Aloysius. But you kin call me Roy,” he said.

  * * *

  It was two in the afternoon when I arrived at Becky’s office off of Union Square on Broadway. Roy Ryan was stationed downstairs before the main entrance to the building.

  I greeted her with a peck on the cheek and no more. I soon was stationed inside her closet, with the curtain in front of me. It smelled like all her perfumes rolled into one, and I was afraid I would sneeze. That would be most disastrous, so I told her to give me one of her hankies. I would thrust it upon my nose if I should come close to such a sternutation. I listened inside the dark recesses of the closet for the sounds of any approaching person into the room. Becky agreed to meet him inside her boudoir, which was my location.

  Almost an hour had passed when I thought I would give up and leave my closet when I heard her answer the door in the other room. “Hello. Yes, come in,” said Becky, and I heard their footsteps approaching. I could barely hear them as they talked in the outer parlor. I began to sweat. I reached down to extract my LeMat, and I could feel the perspiration drip down my arm and into the leather holster. The long gun slid out of the holster easily. They were in the room, and they continued their discussion of the contract.

  “You want him dead by what date?” the man was asking her.

  “I don’t want yo
u to be rushed, Mister Reynolds. Let us say in a month. Would that be sufficient for your planning?” Becky said.

  “Quite sufficient. For your additional bonus, I could have him dead tomorrow. We have no love lost between us, Mister McKenzie and I,” Reynolds said. “It has always been business with me. However, with McKenzie, I must say, the Irish are always an emotional breed, and he is indeed a most disproportionate rapscallion. I shall enjoy putting him asunder.”

  I chose that moment to draw back my curtain and face my nemesis. “Reynolds, you may raise your arms into the air, if you will,” I said, pointing the pistol at him. He was a tall man with red hair and a gray suit. He had a large white straw plantation hat on his head with a black band. He also had a long scar along the ridge of his nose. It would seem this man had been in a few scrapes during his time, and perhaps even a battle. He could have been called handsome, if there was not the taint of blood on his soul. He slowly raised his hands, staring at me all the while, his gaze not wavering one bit. It was almost as if he were expecting me.

  I took five paces toward him. “I assume you are curious as to my identity. I will not disappoint you. I am Patrick James O’Malley. I believe you have me down on your dance card. I am sorry to say I have to sit this square dance out. As a matter of fact, I am calling the steps to this dance. I need some information from you.”

  “Is that so? I suppose you must know that I am rather short on information, but I do provide action,” he said, and he smiled. The man had the whitest teeth on a man I have ever seen. They almost shined.

  Chapter 9: The Switch

  “It seems you have me at a decided disadvantage,” said Reynolds.

  “It not only seems. It is indeed so,” I said. “I am not going to kill you, but I need the answer to a very important question. If you choose not to answer, then I will be forced to shoot you. You were accosting this young woman, and I caught you. There should be no problem with legal authorities.” I was not going to tell him my real plan, which was to turn him over to Walter McKenzie and his bunch to carry out their brand of justice upon him.

  “I shall do my best,” he said, smiling.

  “Were you employed to murder the writer, Edgar Allan Poe, in Baltimore? The year was 1849. If you were, then I need to know who this person was who employed you.” I was holding my breath while my captive was thinking this over. The time interval seemed a lot longer than it actually was before he finally responded.

  “Who is it you think I am?” he asked, still with that ever-present smile.

  “Your name is Reynolds! You were asked here by Miss Charming to do a job for her.” I was confused.

  “No, I was paid by someone I do not know to come here and negotiate a contract. I was also paid to write down the result of this negotiation on a piece of paper, seal it in an envelope, and put it in a designated location. I was not paid to do anything else, sir,” he said.

  “This can’t be true!” Becky shouted. “You must be Reynolds. I was told you were going to meet me in person,” she added.

  “I’m sorry, Miss, but I don’t know anybody who might have asked me to come here and negotiate this contract. I only know that I was to agree with whatever you said, and I was to find out your terms, and then I was to agree with them if they fell within the predetermined range. That is all. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  I should have known that Reynolds would have something up his sleeve. This made complete sense. Why would he come in person to a meeting that smelled to high heaven of entrapment?

  “I see. This makes things a bit more complicated,” I said. “However, we will both have to make a small journey over to New Jersey to see if we can get an identification of you.”

  This man did not change expression. He was smiling, and he seemed not to be the least bit frightened nor wary.

  “Whatever you believe needs to be done, I am, obviously, at your immediate disposal,” he said.

  “Let’s go, then,” I told him, shoving my gun under my Army coat and then into the small of his back. He dropped his arms and headed toward the door. “Becky, please search this man for weapons and then open the door for us. We will return if this gentleman’s credentials prove to be true.”

  “All right, Patrick,” she said, walking over and pulling out a pistol from his holster and then opening up her front door.

  We walked out into the hallway and down the stairs. I kept my gun trained on my prisoner. “You failed to give me your real name. How may I address you?” I asked.

  “Garland. John Garland,” he said. I wished that smile of his could be wiped off.

  At the bottom of the stairs we met up with Roy Ryan. “What’cha got there, O’Malley? Reynolds?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I told him. “Come with us. We’re going to pay a visit to your boss. I need another guard. I don’t trust this gentleman.”

  “I’d be pleased to!” said Ryan, and we all walked with a bold purpose toward the Hoboken Ferry.

  We reached the ferry terminal without incident. I kept at his side the entire way, with my gun pointed at him under my coat.

  It would take an hour to reach Hoboken, so I sat next to my captive on the outside seats near the bow of the boat. He kept his gaze fixed upon the water as we bounced over the waves. I kept thinking about what I was going to do if he were, indeed, merely an ignorant middle man. My pursuit of the murderer of Poe would be curtailed, perhaps permanently.

  * * *

  “This ain’t Reynolds!” McKenzie was shouting, marching in front of my captive like a crazed elephant. “Reynolds were white-haired, and he had a southern accent. This man’s red-haired, and he’s from New York.”

  The gentleman smiled up at McKenzie from his seated position. Three guns were trained on him--Ryan’s, mine and one of McKenzie’s associates. “I told this other gentleman I was not this Reynolds person,” he stated. “I was paid discreetly to negotiate business with Miss Charming, and that’s what I was doing. I never found out the identity of my employer,” he added.

  “Perhaps we can create a ruse whereby he deposits the result of his negotiations at the appointed place, and we can see who picks it up,” I said, thinking out loud.

  “C’mon, me boy-o! Do ya think Reynolds would come in person to pick-up that paper? He’s too smart fer that!” said McKenzie.

  “Yes, but it’s worth the chance, is it not? We can follow whoever picks up the paper. He might lead us to Reynolds,” I said.

  “You have a point, O’Malley. Take this cur outside. We need to discuss how we’re doing this,” said McKenzie, pointing to Ryan.

  My partner stuck his gun under his coat and put it to this gentleman’s back. “Let’s go, Garland. Walk,” Ryan ordered, and they walked out of the wharf building and into the light of day.

  McKenzie put his big hand on my shoulder. “I don’t like it, O’Malley. This smells real bad, if you ask me. How’d this bugger get to be trusted by Reynolds? He don’t trust nobody. I told ya, he always works alone.”

  It was at that moment that a panic filled my senses. I remembered this man’s smile, and those teeth! Those weren’t the teeth of a normal man. They were like the teeth of some type of manikin. I rushed toward the front door and opened it.

  There, about five feet away was Ryan, lying in the dirt of the alley, his head bleeding profusely, his hand still grasping his gun. I knelt down next to him and felt for a heartbeat in his jugular vein. None existed. There was a long slice along his throat, and the blood was pooling beneath him like a scarlet eddy. I became choked with emotion, and I stood up.

  However, it was what was lying next to his body that gave me the most fright. It was a full mask of some kind, made of rubber material--most life-like--and the hair on it was red and the skin was like human skin. Next to the mask were porcelain caps that could fit upon the outsides of a man’s teeth! My captive was, indeed, Reynolds! The killer had changed his identity to fool us all. Why didn’t he pick-up Ryan’s gun and come back inside to finish us all off
? Perhaps he was waiting to kill only me because he had another purpose in mind. What could that purpose be?

  Walter McKenzie came outside, looked down at Ryan, and exclaimed, “No wonder that bastard Reynolds lasted so long! He’s a blasted magician. A bloomin’ Jean Robert-Houdin!”

  * * *

  I had a steak dinner at Fraunces with Becky. As I cut my meat, I suddenly saw Ryan’s blood, and I could not bring the forkful to my mouth. I tossed the fork down on the table. “Why didn’t we see that coming, Becky?” I asked. “A killer like Reynolds does not stay in business for fifteen years unless he is able to fool the people who come after him. I told McKenzie I didn’t want any more bodyguards. I didn’t want another man murdered on my account.”

  “Oh, and I suppose you can handle this Reynolds all on your own. What makes you so certain now that he’s tricked you once? I would wager the odds have increased quite a bit in his favor, don’t you believe?” Becky dabbed at her lips daintily with her napkin. She looked radiant, despite the topic at hand.

  “I want to thank you for helping me. We almost had him. If I had just recognized those teeth earlier in the game,” I said, waving my arm to the waiter.

  The skinny man in a red suit came over. “Sir, may I help you?” he asked.

  “Yes, get the lady another café. And I’ll have one as well,” I told him.

  “Certainly, sir!” he said, and he turned and walked toward the back of the restaurant section of the tavern.

  “At least I know where I stand now. This Reynolds will be after me, and if I can plan the proper entrapment, then I can still discover who he was working for. Without that knowledge, I will never solve this case,” I said.

  The waiter returned with two mugs of coffee. Becky poured cream into hers, and I put two spoonsful of brown sugar into mine. We both took sips.