Oh Danny Boy

by Rhys Bowen

  “Miss Delaney?” The man behind the desk stubbed out a cigar, then rose and extended a bony hand. He was a big man with heavy jowls and an impressive brush of a moustache. His eyes were hooded, like those of an owl. He was obviously a stickler for convention, as he was dressed in a well-cut suit with a high, starched-collared shirt beneath it, even though most men would be in shirtsleeves or at the very most in a linen blazer in this kind of summer heat. I shook his hand and accepted the chair he offered.

  “And what exactly brings you to my office?” he asked pleasantly. “You come from Mrs. Astor, as I understand.”

  This was going a little too far into the realms of fantasy, even for me. “Not directly from Mrs. Astor,” I said. “But our organization, the Ladies Decency League, has dispatched me to congratulate you on the fine job you are doing in restoring decency to our city.”

  He smiled, a cold, thin-lipped sort of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. All in all a very cold fish, I decided, and one whose face didn’t betray at all what he was thinking.

  “I am doing my best, Miss Delaney,” he said. “I am faced with a formidable challenge, as you know only too well. Vice is rampant in our streets. Prostitution, gambling, drunkenness, corruption at all levels—these are blights that threaten to destroy our fine and noble city.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more, Commissioner,” I said. “As for corruption—we know that it is rampant in your very own department, and we are delighted that you are taking such firm measures against it. Are we right in thinking that you had one of your senior officers arrested for receiving a bribe only this week?”

  His face registered a flicker of surprise before those eyes became hooded again. “My, my. News does travel fast in this city, doesn’t it? How did your organization hear about this?”

  “We keep our ears to the ground, Commissioner. One of the reasons I was sent to you today was to congratulate you on this firm and bold action. It sends a message throughout the ranks of the police, as I am sure you mean it to.”

  “It does indeed.” Now he looked pleased with himself. “Corruption must be weeded out from the top down, Miss Delaney. Young officers look up to their captains. We must let them know the high cost of straying from the straight and narrow path.”

  “Of course we haven’t been privy to any details,” I said, leaning confidentially forward. “Do we understand that this officer, this captain, was actually in cahoots with the gangs?”

  “Of course the case has not come to trial yet, so I’m afraid I’m really not at liberty to discuss it.”

  “Of course not,” I agreed. “But how did you catch him out? Have you already managed to set up a network of spies within the force?”

  “Not really,” he said. “It was pure luck, actually. I have been conducting walking tours of the most unsavory parts of the city because I believe that displaying my presence sends a powerful sign to the criminals there, also because I wanted to see for myself just what I was up against. I came around a corner, and there was one of my officers actually being passed a bribe by a known gang member. I had him arrested at once, of course. The envelope was opened and dollar bills cascaded to the sidewalk. The gang member took to his heels and left my officer to face the music—which he is now doing.”

  “Amazing,” I said. “So this was all complete happen-stance? You just chanced to be in that part of the city at that very moment?”

  “Pure coincidence, Miss Delaney.” There was something in the way he was looking at me. I couldn’t quite read it—was it triumph? Was he gloating? He set the trap to catch Daniel himself, I thought. I tried to make my brain work. What else could I possibly ask him?

  “And he was being passed a bribe in broad daylight,” I asked, “or was it under cover of darkness?”

  “In broad daylight, can you believe?” The commissioner smiled again at Daniel’s supposed stupidity.

  “In some back alley, I’ve no doubt.”

  “Not at all actually. It wasn’t a street where ladies like you would feel safe walking alone, but a broad-enough thoroughfare for the event to be witnessed. Water Street, down by the docks, as a matter of fact.”

  Firmly in Eastman territory, I thought. Now there was no longer any doubt that Monk Eastman’s gang was definitely involved in Daniel’s downfall. Not a happy thought because the double cross could have come from them. They may have wanted to set up the prizefight with Gentleman Jack and cut Daniel out at the same time.

  The commissioner had risen to his feet again. “So glad to meet you, Miss Delaney. Please give my very best to Mrs. Astor and the ladies of your fine league. Now if you’ll excuse me, I can’t keep the mayor waiting.”

  Desperately I tried to come up with more questions. “Just one moment,” I said, and he looked back at me in surprise. “We are—thinking of coming up with a league citation to reward noble actions by our public servants,” I said, blurting out the first thing that came into my head. “You yourself will be first on the list, in fact. I gather a swank party is being planned.”

  “I am most honored.” He gave a little mock bow.

  “I’m sure the ladies will be most impressed to hear about these walks you conduct around the most dangerous parts of the city,” I babbled on. “You surely don’t walk through those parts alone, do you?”

  He smiled again. “I am not foolhardy enough to risk gang members taking a potshot at me. I had an escort of officers who normally patrol that beat and who, I might add, were instrumental in helping me to arrest the errant captain.”

  “You wouldn’t remember any of their names?”

  The smile vanished. I had pushed too far. “I administer a force of several thousand men, Miss Delaney. Much as I’d like to be on first-name terms with every constable, that is just not possible. And I’m wondering what interest you could have in knowing their names?”

  “Just in case the ladies of the league wish to issue any more citations,” I said.

  “My officers do their duty no matter what it is,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my secretary will show you out.” And he was gone. I descended the stairs feeling somewhat pleased with myself. I knew the street where the passing of the envelope took place. I could presumably find out which officers walked that beat, and I knew which gang had to be involved. This latter was not a comforting thought because it meant I would have to pay a visit to Walhalla Hall, whether I liked it or not.

  When I was out of sight of City Hall, I took off my hat and shook my hair loose, just in case the commissioner had sent anyone to tail me. Then I hopped on the next passing trolley, anxious to put ground between myself and Mr. Partridge. He wasn’t an easy man to read—well, no man would be who had risen through New York City politics to one of the plum jobs—but I had sensed that he was glad about Daniel’s downfall. So the next thing to find out would be whether he had crossed swords with Daniel before. I had no idea how I was going to do that. I looked back longingly at the square solid outline of The Tombs. There was no point in asking to see Daniel again, unless I had enough money to bribe my way in. I’d just have to wait and see what his next reply told me.

  I jumped off the trolley again at Houston Street, resolved to do some shopping, just in case Gentleman Jack showed up and needed feeding. Houston was in turmoil with pushcarts trying to get through the crush of people, a delivery dray blocking most of the street, and shoppers jostling each other as they tried to squeeze past.

  “Move over. Make way. Go on, get out of here.” The cries rose up in several languages, presumably all saying the same thing. Then one of the pushcarts gave up the attempt and backed around the dray, and I saw what was holding us all up. A horse had dropped to the ground between its shafts and was in the process of being cut loose by its driver. The load on the cart indicated why the poor beast might have succumbed to heatstroke.

  “Get it out of the way and let us through!” a man’s voice shouted.

  “You come and help drag it yourself!” the driver shouted back. “He’
s dead as a doornail. He’s not going to get up again.”

  Suddenly the smells became overpowering—the frying chickpeas on one cart, the pickles on another, a string of geese hung up by their necks, and the horse manure scattered liberally over the cobbles. I felt my head whirling around. I backed out of the crowd and sank to the nearest stoop, fighting back nausea. I had to get away from here fast, but I couldn’t trust my legs to support me.

  When a hand touched my shoulder, I leaped a mile.

  “Molly, it is you!” Jacob Singer towered over me, his shadow creating welcome shade. He was wearing his customary worker’s cap and Russian-style twill shirt. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I came over a little faint,” I said.

  “I’m not surprised, with this heat and the crowd.” He lifted me gently to my feet. “Come on. I’ll take you to the tearoom around the corner.”

  I allowed myself to be led, feeling the support of his strong arm around me. He took me into the cool darkness of the tearoom and ordered us glasses of hot tea.

  “When you’re suffering from heat there is nothing better than hot tea,” he said. “It cools the body like no cold drink can.”

  It came, in tall glasses held within silver frames and with a slice of lemon floating in it. I sipped and felt the nausea subsiding.

  “It is good to see you.” Jacob was smiling at me. “Have you been keeping well?”

  “More or less,” I said. “I don’t seem to be tolerating the heat this summer.”

  “Who is?” he replied. “More cases of typhoid last week, you know.”

  “Little Bridie O’Connor caught it,” I said.

  “Bridie? I’m so sorry.”

  “Miraculously she recovered, and she’s now out at a camp in the countryside getting her strength back.”

  “That’s good news.” He smiled at me again. “You’ve been constantly on my mind, Molly. You haven’t answered my letters.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m sorry. I was out of town for a while and then when I came back, I needed time to think.”

  “I understand,” he said. “And have you had that time?”

  I sat there staring at his kind, earnest face, with his round, wire spectacles making him look like an appealing bird, and felt tears welling up in my eyes. Holy Mother, but I certainly couldn’t cry in front of him!

  “I have and I’m afraid my answer has to be no.”

  I watched his face fall. “It wouldn’t work, Jacob. I couldn’t marry you,” I said. “I admire you tremendously. I think you’re a very fine person, and you’ve no idea that this is the hardest thing I’ve ever said.”

  “Is it still that policeman?”

  “In a way.” I stared at the steam rising from my glass of tea and couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.

  Two elderly Jewish men with long beards and black homburg hats came in and sat at a table in the corner. I didn’t understand the Yiddish, but the looks we were getting were quite plain to read. No young Jewish man should be alone in public with an unmarried girl, especially with a shiksa.

  “Now do you see why?” I whispered to Jacob, indicating the men in the corner. “We’d have that for the rest of our lives.” It was a good excuse, but I knew very well that, had things been different, I’d say to hell with what other people thought. Jacob nodded with appreciation though. “It is a lot to expect a woman to handle,” he said. “Tolerance will never be something my fellow Jews shine at. So I’ll accept your decision with regret. But you know where I live, Molly. If I can ever be of help, just let me know.” He got to his feet and put a couple of coins down on the table. “I’m late for a meeting. I wish you well. I suggest you stay here until you are completely recovered before venturing out into the sun again.”

  I watched him walk away. Come back! I longed to shout. You could make this work, a voice whispered in my head. A rapid wedding and he’d never know the truth. But I’d know, and Jacob deserved better. I drained my tea glass, got up, and left the old men staring after me.

  ELEVEN

  The noon mail delivery brought no note from Daniel. I began to worry that perhaps they wouldn’t even let him write messages any longer, or that perhaps his enemies had intercepted any message that could help his cause. I felt as if I were climbing an impossible mountain, staggering forward one step, only to slip back several yards again.

  “I can’t do this, Daniel!” I shouted into the emptiness of the house. “I don’t know how. It’s too much to ask of me.”

  I felt stupid tears of self-pity stinging in my eyes again and wiped them away. I couldn’t give up now. It wouldn’t only mean Daniel’s doom, but my own.

  I tried fixing myself some bread, cheese, and radishes, which were normally my favorite foods, but I couldn’t seem to swallow and had to push the plate away from me. I knew I’d have to pay a call on Monk Eastman, and I wasn’t looking forward to the prospect. But it was the Eastman gang that now provided my only concrete clue. Somebody had either managed to slip that money into the envelope destined for Daniel or had bribed or intimidated the gang member to exchange envelopes. Either that or Monk was also in the conspiracy, which made my going to see him doubly worrying. Added to that, I had sent Gentleman Jack in search of the Eastmans and he hadn’t returned.

  What I needed was someone to accompany me, someone who could run for help or let the police know if something bad was about to happen. I couldn’t think who that person might be. Sid and Gus would not even allow me to go into Eastman territory. Jacob would accompany me if I asked him, but I wasn’t going to put his life in danger or mark him as an enemy of the Eastmans when his work was so firmly within their territory.

  Then suddenly I had a flash of inspiration. I did know a member of the Eastman gang—or at least, a junior member. Seamus’s unpleasant cousin Nuala, with whom I had stayed briefly on my arrival in New York, had three sons. Last time I met them the two oldest had become Junior Eastmans, running messages for the gang and helping with little assignments like knocking over the stalls of those vendors who weren’t paying their protection money. Malachy, the oldest boy, had never been the most likeable child and had probably become rotten through and through by now, but I had let him live with me when his family was thrown out of their house. And maybe he felt some kind of gratitude for the way I had taken care of his cousins. On the other hand, maybe he couldn’t care a brass fig and would be only too delighted to hand me over to his gang bosses. It was a risk I had to take.

  I took care not to make myself too attractive or desirable, thus removing all suggestion of future white slavery. This wasn’t hard to do, as it happened. I certainly didn’t look like my normal red-cheeked and freckled self. In fact I looked quite pasty faced and hollow eyed. I stuffed my hair under my straw hat and buttoned my costume jacket up to my neck. Then I let myself out of my front door, ready to meet my fate.

  Instead I met a strange figure in flowing saffron robes wafting down Patchin Place. It took me a moment to recognize him.

  “Holy Mother of God, Ryan. What are you doing?” I blurted out as Ryan O’Hare swept magnificently toward me.

  He spread out his arms in blessing. “Our dear friends have convinced me to try out the Buddhist lifestyle,” he said. “I saw a picture of a Buddhist monk in a journal, and I thought those robes looked divine. I just had to try them.”

  “Buddhist monks have to shave their heads,” I said, starting to laugh.

  “Yes, well there are lengths to which one will not go.” He ran his hands through his luxuriant dark curls.

  “And I believe monks have to be celibate,” I went on.

  “You are taking all the fun out of this,” he said, wagging a scolding finger at me. “I am merely trying out the lifestyle, not making a lifelong commitment, you know. Eating fruits and nuts and chanting. That’s about it, really. Oh, and not stepping on ants. That’s about all I can handle. And I must say it is divinely funny to watch people’s reactions to my lovely robes. They couldn’t take their ey
es off me on the trolley.”

  “I’m sure they couldn’t,” I said. “They certainly make you look even more gorgeous than usual.”

  “You are too kind.” He blew me a kiss. “But you, on the other hand, dear Molly. Not looking your best, I fear. You have such lovely hair. Why hide it in that manner?”

  “Because I’m about to do undercover work, and I have to look prim and severe,” I said.

  “Ah. The big case.” He nodded. “Is this all part of the Save Daniel attempt?”

  “It is,” I said. “And Ryan—can I ask you to do something for me? Something very secret?”

  “You know I adore secrets. What is it?”

  “If I don’t come home tonight, would you tell Sid and Gus that I went to meet Monk Eastman today? It would probably be too late to do anything, but at least I’d like someone to know.”

  “My dear child, how utterly foolish of you. I must forbid it.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not too excited by the prospect myself, Ryan, but I have no choice. There are things I can only find out by talking to the Eastmans. I couldn’t tell Sid and Gus because I know they’d do everything they could to stop me.”

  “And I should, too,” Ryan said, stepping in front of me.

  “I’ll be careful,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm. “I’m going to have Nuala’s son Malachy escort me. He’s a Junior Eastman, so I should be all right.”

  Ryan shook his head. “That police captain certainly doesn’t deserve everything you are doing for him. I hope he’s duly appreciative.”

  “I hope so too.” I looked away. “And what about your own court case?” I asked, steering the conversation away from too dangerous waters.

  “Which case was that?”

  “The person who stole the script of your play.”

  “Oh, that.” He waved it aside. “The Buddhist lifestyle tells us to forgive our enemies.”