For the Love of Mike

by Rhys Bowen

  I struggled with wanting to tell him the truth about his factory and ensuring that I received my payment. “If you’re going to reopen your factory, Mr. Mostel,” I said at last, “may I suggest that you make the conditions bearable for your employees. And relax your rule about not hiring members of the same family. Then they won’t be tempted to betray you.” Then, as his hand was still poised above that check, “It was one hundred dollars, Mr. Mostel.”

  I watched as he filled in the check with bold, black strokes. He blotted it then handed it to me. “Don’t let it be said that Max Mostel doesn’t keep his word.”

  “Thank you.” I put the check into my purse and rose from my seat.

  “Good-bye, Mr. Mostel.” I held out my hand to him. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

  “Good-bye, Miss Murphy.”

  He escorted me personally to the door.

  Twenty-eight

  With a light heart and one hundred dollars in my purse I jumped on the trolley back to the Lower East Side and presented myself at Jacob’s apartment on Rivington Street.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked in a worried voice.

  “Couldn’t be better. Look at this—a check for one hundred dollars. You can come to the bank with me and watch me deposit it and then I’m going to take you out to lunch. But I also have an ulterior motive—” I laughed at Jacob’s expression. “I’ve come for help.” I breezed past him into the apartment. “I think I should tell my story to the newspapers—how we escaped from the fire, as told by a garment worker. It might help raise public awareness of the abuses in the garment industry. It was a pity you didn’t bring your camera with you that day.”

  He gave an embarrassed smile. “I did have my little Kodak in my pocket but I was too concerned about you to remember to use it.”

  “Oh, Jacob. You are so sweet.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  “So when shall we get married?” His hands tightened around my waist.

  “Why rush into something so important? Let’s enjoy each other’s company for a while and get to know each other better.”

  “Very well, although I made up my mind the moment I saw you.”

  “You were desperate to beat the matchmaker who would have saddled you with a boring, respectable, religious girl,” I teased.

  He shook his head. “I’ve never felt this way about a girl before you. I never believed this happiness was possible, Molly. Would it be highly improper to try to kiss you?”

  “It would completely wreck my reputation, as you very well know,” I said. “But since my reputation is already wrecked by coming here alone, I’ll allow you a quick peck on the cheek.”

  His lips brushed my cheek and I was disturbed by the still strange sensation of his beard scratching me. I moved away, laughing. “Your beard. It tickles.”

  “Then I’ll shave it off for you.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. I think it looks grand. I’ll learn to like it.” I moved away from him. “Now enough frivolity. I want you to help me write this newspaper article and then you’ll know the right people to take it to.”

  We spent a pleasant hour composing the piece and then walked together to Herald Square and presented it to one of Jacob’s contacts at the Herald. He seemed excited to get the scoop and asked me more questions and asked Jacob to take my picture.

  “I prefer to remain anonymous, if you don’t mind,” I said. “It’s the conditions I wanted to feature, not me.”

  After that we visited the bank to deposit the check, then had the promised lunch at a nice restaurant. I suggested Delmonico’s, but steady and sensible Jacob steered me in the direction of a French café just below Union Square. I insisted on paying, much to Jacob’s embarrassment. On the way home we walked around Wanamaker’s department store, looking in wonder at the items on the food counter—cans and bottles from all over the world, foodstuffs I had never even heard of—as well as the silk stockings from France and varieties of face makeup. I finally arrived home, tired but content, about five o’clock, having left Jacob to hurry off to a union meeting somewhere.

  “Hello, all.” I hung my cape on the peg in the hall. No answer. Shamey was often out playing with his friends or earning dimes by running errands, but Bridie and Seamus were always around. I lit the gas in the kitchen then checked around the house. Nobody.

  Then I noticed a piece of paper had been pushed through the letter slot. I picked it up and carried it close to the gas mantle to read. It was scrawled in poor penmanship:

  If you want to see the little girl again Katherine must meet me at the end of Delancey Street at eight o’clock tonight. Tell her to come alone or no trade.

  I stared at the paper, willing the words to say something different. Think, Molly, I commanded myself, trying to slow down my racing brain. The simplest thing to do would be to let Katherine go and trade herself for Bridie. Michael wouldn’t harm his wife, would he? But then she wouldn’t want to go with him either. If I told the police I would be risking Bridie’s life. Michael might kill her as soon as he spotted a police helmet. Or, I could say nothing to Katherine and go in her place. In the dark, with a shawl over my head, I could get close enough to snatch Bridie away, close enough to appeal to his better nature. I’d give him a chance to escape, promise to say nothing until he was safely far away, even give him money for a train ticket.

  I wandered around the kitchen in a panic, straightening out the tablecloth, putting a jug back on the shelf, trying to come up with something better. But I couldn’t. Nothing really mattered at this point apart from saving Bridie. This man had killed at least twice before. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill a child, or to drag her with him as a hostage. And I didn’t want Katherine to be a hostage either. But then I didn’t want to be a hostage myself—or a dead body, for that matter.

  Would I really be in danger, I asked myself. Delancey Street, from what I remembered, was full of life. If I cried out, someone would come to my aid. Shops would still be open at eight o’clock. Workers would be returning from work, saloons would be full. In fact it was a strange place to choose for such a meeting—unless Michael had decided that he could melt into the crowds of the Lower East Side and make it hard for anyone to follow him.

  I took my shawl off the peg and wrapped it over my head, hiding that telltale red hair. Apart from that we were about the same stature. If I couldn’t get close enough, I’d yell for help. Passersby would grab the child for me. Thus reassured that I was doing the right thing I wrote a hurried note to Seamus and the boy. “Out with Bridie. Don’t worry. Back soon. Love, Molly.” No sense in worrying them too.

  Then I let myself out and closed the front door behind me. It was a damp, cold, wintery night. Fog would be swirling in from the East River which might aid my cause. As I set off down Patchin Place I heard footsteps behind me. I spun around. Katherine was running down Patchin Place after me, wrapping a shawl around her as she ran.

  “Wait, Molly. Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere. Just out for a stroll.”

  She caught up to me, her face anguished. “He came here. I saw him. He put something through your letter box. I’ve been waiting for you to come home. What did he say? Please tell me the truth.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you,” I said, and handed her the note, “but for once I can’t come up with a good lie.”

  She held it up under the gas lamp to read it and gasped. “He’s taken a little girl?”

  “Yes, Young Bridie who lives with me.”

  “He had a big sack with him. I never thought—never imagined—what were you going to do? Not the police. He’d kill her.”

  “If you really must know, I was going in your place. I was going to try and snatch the child and then find safety in the crowds on Delancey Street. It’s sure to be busy at this time of night.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Katherine said, with that commanding look I remembered so well from the photograph. “I’ll go and make the trade. If Michael wa
nts to take me with him, so be it. It’s my fault. I chose to run away with him. I made my own bed. Now I must lie in it.”

  “But you didn’t know his true nature then, Katherine.”

  She gave a rueful smile. “He could be very charming when he wanted to. I’d never met anyone like him.”

  “But you don’t want to go with him now, do you?”

  “Of course not. Knowing that he killed a woman in cold blood, and that he felt nothing at all for our lost child, I could never love him again.”

  “Then let me go in your place.”

  “Absolutely not. He won’t hurt me. I’ll be all right, I’m sure.”

  “I’ll come with you then,” I said. “I’ll be in the crowd behind you and if I get a chance I’ll dart out and snatch Bridie. If Michael tries to grab you, scream and make a fuss.”

  She nodded solemnly. “Yes. All right. In fact I’d be very glad if you’d come with me. I have been living in fear for weeks with no one to turn to. Those awful men Michael latched onto—those Eastman brutes—it was like being plunged into hell.”

  “I’m sure it was,” I said. I slipped my arm through hers. “We escaped from the fire together, didn’t we? We can come through this. He’ll find out we’re not soft and frightened little women—”

  “We are Amazons, not to be trifled with.” Katherine threw back her head defiantly.

  We strode out, matching steps, in the direction of Delancey Street. As I had expected, Delancey was bustling with life as we entered it from the Bowery.

  “This is the end of Delancey Street,” I said.

  “Or the beginning,” Katherine pointed out.

  We stood on the street corner, scanning the crowds who hurried past, eager to be home and out of the damp chill. The fog was indeed rolling in, clinging to lampposts and awnings. It muffled the sound of a clock chiming the three quarters. Maybe he hadn’t arrived yet.

  “We should walk to the other end of the street,” Katherine suggested. “That would be more logical. He could make an easier escape down on the docks and there would be fewer people around to witness too.”

  In my confusion I hadn’t paused to consider that Delancey did indeed end in the dockland. It would be easy to hide a small child on the wharf among piles of cargo. It would also be easy to throw a small child into the river without being seen.

  “Then let us hurry,” I said. “Maybe we can intercept him before he reaches the docks.”

  We pushed our way along the crowded street, dodging carts, horses, children, and piles of rubbish. The street seemed twice as long as I remembered it. I wished that Jacob had not gone to an unknown meeting tonight. I wished that I had asked for Daniel’s help. I wished we weren’t so very alone. As we approached the far end, the traffic thinned. There were fewer open stores, fewer lights, fewer people. And thicker fog. A mournful foghorn sounded from out on the river. Then the fog swirled, parted, and closed again and I caught a glimpse of a giant structure rising up in front of me—a giant monster from childhood nightmares, reaching out cruel arms. I stared at the fog as if the thing might be a figment of my imagination. Then I remembered, with a cold sinking feeling that clutched at my gut. That was why he had chosen Delancey over any other street. I was looking at the tower being built for the new East River Bridge.

  Katherine must have echoed my thoughts. “It’s not built all the way across the river yet, is it?” she asked.

  “Just the towers and the cables. No roadway yet.”

  “No way to get across then. That’s good. Perhaps Michael thinks it’s finished and he can get out of New York that way.”

  “Only if he’s a tightrope walker.”

  As we came closer the giant tower loomed above us, the steel girders, ringed with scaffolding, rising into the fog.

  “Let’s wait here,” Katherine said. “I’ll stand out in the middle of the street, where I can be seen and where I can see him coming. You wait in a doorway where he can’t see you.”

  I nodded and moved across the street to a darkened doorway. Katherine walked boldly out into the street. I drew my cape around me to stop myself from shivering. The fog had muffled the sounds of Delancey Street so that they came as a distant murmur. It was amazing how remote and deserted it felt here, only a block away from all that life and gaiety.

  Katherine walked up and down, stamping her feet against the chill. Then she stopped, her head cocked to one side, listening.

  I stepped out from my doorway and heard it too.

  “Help me. Somebody help me, please.” The little voice floated out of the fog above our heads.

  I came out of my hiding place and stood beside Katherine, who was staring upward.

  “It’s Bridie,” I whispered. “Where can she be?”

  “Up there, somewhere.” Katherine pointed. “It sounds like it’s coming from the tower.”

  “But how—?” I ran around it, peering up at the scaffolding. How could he have taken a small child up there? Then I saw it—a crude staircase made of wood going up between the scaffolding and the tower. It had a gate across it to keep people out but the lock had been forced and the gate flapped open.

  “I’ll go up,” Katherine said. “If Michael’s up there, he’s expecting me.”

  “If he’s left the child up there, she won’t come to you,” I said. “We’ll go together. Come on.”

  We held hands and shrank together, taking those makeshift steps side by side. After one flight there was no more light coming up from the street, only an eerie orange glow coming from the city streets beyond. We felt our way up. Eight steps in one direction then eight in the other, back and forth zigzagging up the side of the tower. My legs started to tremble at the exertion. Would these steps never end?

  I sensed rather than saw that we had come to an opening. Cold air rushed into my face and I felt nothingness on one side of me. My hand gripped at the cold metal of the scaffolding as wind swirled around me.

  Then the voice came again—a small whimper of a terrified child. “Somebody get me down, please.”

  “She’s out there,” I whispered to Katherine. But how could she be? I had seen for myself in daylight that there were only cables strung across the river. Then the fog swirled and through the mist I saw that a narrow walkway of planks, about a foot wide, was strung out from the tower, running beside the bottom cable—a fine path for the workmen, I’ve no doubt, but then they were used to the height. I could only see a few feet in front of me but I could make out the shape of a small person, out there on that path in the fog.

  I didn’t stop to think. “It’s all right, darling. Molly’s here. I’m coming for you,” I called. I turned back to Katherine. “You stay here and keep watch. Let me know if you hear him coming.”

  Then I took a deep breath and stepped out onto the catwalk. It bucked and swayed under my feet like a live thing and I clung onto the thin cables that ran beside it, waist high—the only means of support. The wire seemed as frail and ethereal as gossamer. Cold damp air rushed up from the invisible river. I peered into the gloom, trying to make out the bigger shape of a man, but Bridie appeared to be quite alone. Had he lost his nerve and abandoned her then?

  “Molly,” she whimpered. “I’m frightened. I can’t move. The man said he’d be back, but he hasn’t come.”

  “It’s going to be just fine, my darling,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and even. “I’ll get you down and we’ll go home.”

  Inch by inch I moved closer to her. She was standing sideways, clinging onto that support cable with both hands. I reached her and let go with one hand to put my arm around her and give her a kiss. “See, it’s really me and you’re safe now,” I said. “Now all we have to do is move back slowly toward the tower then we can go home.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t move.”

  For a horrible moment I thought he might have tied her in some way, but then she added, “I’m scared I’ll fall.”

  “You won’t fall. Look, we’ll take tiny s
teps, holding on, just like this. One foot. Two foot. Do it just like me.”

  I started to move. I felt the walkway vibrate and sway again under my feet. I was so intent on watching her progress that I didn’t look up until Bridie screamed.

  Michael Kelly was standing a few feet away between us and the tower. His arm was around Katherine’s neck and one big hand was over her mouth.

  “There you are, Katherine,” he said pleasantly. “What did I tell you? They were as easy to trap as the rats on your father’s estate, weren’t they now?”

  Katherine struggled as he shoved her forward. “I couldn’t believe that my own wife would turn traitor on me. What sort of wife is that? You promised to love, honor, and obey.”

  He had released her mouth or she had broken free. “It was a sham, Michael. You were a sham. You used me.”

  “You should have come alone like I told you, Kathy, then the child would have been safe. We’d have been off, across the bridge to Brooklyn before anyone came looking for us. Now we have to take care of them first.”

  It didn’t take much intelligence to know what he had in mind. Would it be possible to survive a fall into water from this height? I wasn’t sure how high we were, but surely too high to survive a fall. I wasn’t even sure if we were over water yet.

  “Why do you want me with you?” she demanded “You don’t really love me. I’ll slow you down.”

  “Insurance, me darlin’. You’re my insurance.”

  He pushed her closer to Bridie and me. The catwalk swayed and shuddered. Bridie whimpered again. Then, for the first time in my life I found myself face-to-face with Michael Kelly in the flesh. He was watching me with an arrogant smile at that handsome mouth. Cocky. Sure of himself. Delighted that I had been so stupidly naïve. I tried to make my brain work in an orderly fashion. Maybe I could protect myself, but how could I possibly defend myself and a small child on this gossamer thread so high above the world?