by Rhys Bowen
“You’re right,” I said. “I stayed in one near the Battery myself when I first arrived in New York. They were extremely strict—and devout.”
Hermione smiled. “That’s why we make a point of being completely open and impartial. No hint of religion here, only humanitarianism.”
Annie touched my hand. “This girl—she come from same nuns like me?”
Nuns! Why hadn’t I considered that the missionaries might be nuns?
“Yes,” I said. “I believe she came from the nuns.”
Annie gave the ghost of a tired smile. “We call them white ghost ladies. They dress all white, like ghost.”
I stood up. “Is there a convent of any kind around here?”
Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know of a convent. I’ve seen nuns in the streets occasionally, so they may be attached to local churches.”
I took a business card out of my purse. “I’m going on the hunt again, but if the girl should turn up here, please keep her and send someone to find me.” I gave Annie a reassuring smile. “Nice meeting you, Annie. You’re in good hands now. You’ll get well soon.”
“Okay, miss,” she said flatly.
We started the long descent, our footsteps echoing on the bare boards of the stairs.
“She won’t get well, you know,” Hermione said when we were safely out of earshot. “Frankly we’re in a pickle here. We don’t know what to do with her. We shouldn’t really keep her or she might infect the other women who come here, but there’s nowhere to send her.” She paused, sighing. “Poor little thing. So she came over here as a bride, did she?”
“It appears so. And she didn’t give him a son, so he got rid of her.”
“Sent her to work in a brothel. That’s disgusting.”
“From what I’ve learned of this Chinese gentleman, his people look upon women as objects to be traded and disposed of.”
“Horrible.” Hermione shuddered. “I wish you luck. I hope you find this girl before her lord and master does.”
“So do I,” I said. “Please give my best to Sarah when you see her.”
And so I left the settlement house with my head in turmoil. From what I had now learned from Annie, did I really want to find Bo Kei? And if I found her, how could I possibly deliver her back into the hands of Lee Sing Tai?
Eleven
I visited the other settlement houses but, as I suspected, they hadn’t seen my Chinese bride. So I began to look for Catholic churches and more specifically, for nuns. It was midafternoon and I was growing rather hot and weary. But I was now filled with a sense of urgency that I must find the girl before anyone else did.
I began to wish I had been a better Catholic. If I’d made a point of going to mass in New York, I’d have known where to find the churches here in the Lower East Side. But I’d too many sins to confess now to make me want to go back to church—and my few encounters with judgmental priests hadn’t convinced me otherwise. So I wandered aimlessly around, trying first the Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Mulberry. Here I moved warily again, as we were close to police headquarters. But nobody at St. Patrick’s had seen a Chinese girl.
“They don’t ever leave Chinatown,” a young priest told me. “Not if they know what’s good for them. And as for girls—well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Chinese woman out in public.”
I wasn’t sure where to go next until an idea came to me. I had help on the spot, so to speak. So I made my way to Cherry Street, where Seamus and his children were now living with his sister Nuala and her brood. I can tell you that climbing the five flights to that tenement brought back painful memories of my arrival in New York. How far I’d come since then. Now I was safe and secure and about to be married to a wonderful man. I found renewed energy to bound up the last few of those stairs.
It was Nuala herself who opened the door. She looked me up and down, hands on hips. “Well, would you look what’s turned up on our doorstep again,” she said.
“That’s a nice welcome, if ever I heard one, Nuala,” I said. “I’m glad to see you looking well.”
“So has your fancy man thrown you out?”
I laughed. “On the contrary. I’m about to be married. To a police captain.”
Nuala looked back into the dark room beyond. “You hear that, boys!” she yelled. “You’d better mind yourselves when Miss High-and-Mighty is around these days, ’cos anything you say will be reported back to the police.”
Several suspicious faces peered out of the darkness. I couldn’t see much of them, but I didn’t like what I saw. Nuala’s boys were now looking like the typical Irish louts.
“I won’t trouble you long, but I’ve a job for young Shamey, and your boys too, if they’d like to help.”
Shamey was called to the door. I wasn’t invited inside. When Bridie heard it was me, she rushed to me and flung her arms around me again. Shamey came with more of a swagger, to impress the cousins, I suspected.
I told him what I wanted. “All the churches in the area, where there might be nuns living. Your aunt Nuala probably knows where they are. Ask if any of them has taken in a Chinese girl. If they have, come and find me immediately.”
“Are you paying him for doing this?” one of Nuala’s boys demanded, pushing past Shamey to face me. He was now almost as tall as me, with a voice that hovered between boy and man.
“You too, if you’d like to help.”
“How much?”
“Are you out of your mind?” His older brother grabbed him by his shirtfront and thrust him aside. “She’s obviously helping the police. Didn’t you hear what she said? Monk’d kill you.”
“So you’ve joined Monk Eastman’s gang now, have you?” I asked.
“Junior Eastman.” The boy stuck his chest out proudly. “Monk says I’m real useful to him.”
“Then I think I’ll leave the nuns to Shamey,” I said. “You’ll do your best for me, won’t you, boy?”
Shamey nodded, but with a half glance back at his cousins to see their reaction. “Come and report to me as soon as you hear anything. You remember where I live, don’t you? And at the moment I’m across the street with the two ladies. You can leave a message with them if I’m not there.” I ruffled Bridie’s hair. “I’ll see you soon then. And you’ll come to my wedding. I need a flower girl. We’ll make you a pretty dress.”
As I bent to hug her she whispered in my ear, “Let me come with you now. I don’t like it here. Those boys, they’re bad. They drink and they fight.”
“Darling, I can’t take you right now,” I said softly, “because I’m sleeping in someone else’s house. But I promise you I’ll take care of you and we’ll find a grand place for you. You just need to stick it out for a few more days—be brave for me—all right?”
She nodded. But after I left, I had terrible second thoughts. Was she actually safe there? I thought about asking Sid and Gus if I could bring her to share my room, but then I resolved to take her with me when I returned to Daniel’s mother’s house.
I started back in the direction of Chinatown. Churches. Where would a Chinese newcomer go, looking for nuns? Then, of course, I remembered the blank brick wall that was the face of the Church of the Transfiguration on Mott itself. It had never crossed my mind that she might be there, still in the neighborhood. Surely she wouldn’t have stayed so close, within easy reach of Mr. Lee, would she? But she might have gone there for help. Perhaps she had found nuns there who had spirited her away to their convent. It was worth a try, anyway. I went back to Mott, which had become quite lively at this time of day. There were men going into restaurants, returning home with bags of provisions, standing together talking, sitting drinking tea. A few half-Irish children kicked a ball around, but there was not a woman in sight. I tried the heavy oak door of the church and it opened to my touch, leading me into a different world. The quiet peace and muted light through the stained glass windows was in contrast to the gaudy colors and loud, staccato speech outside. I stood, breathing in the tranquility, tryi
ng to collect my thoughts, and as usual wondering what on earth I was doing getting involved again in something so complicated. A piece of stolen jewelry was one thing, but now I had no idea how I should proceed if I found the girl. I was being paid to carry out a commission. Was it up to me to make a judgment on the moral validity of my assignment? Maybe that’s why I wasn’t a good detective like Daniel, who had learned to prevent himself from becoming personally involved in his cases.
The church was silent and empty apart from an old Italian woman, dressed all in black, praying at a statue of St. Anthony. I went up to her and asked where I might find the priest. She pointed at the confessional where a red light was on. I went and sat beside it, waiting patiently, and eventually he came out.
“Were you still waiting for confession?” he asked, in a voice that still betrayed a hint of the Irish.
“No, thank you, Father. I was wondering if a young Chinese woman had come here, seeking sanctuary.”
“She did indeed.” His lip curled with distaste. “Wanted my help in getting her away from some man. Probably her pimp, since the only women here are prostitutes. I told her there was nothing I could do for her.” He folded his arms expressively over his cassock. “This used to be a good Italian and Irish neighborhood, you know, before those Chinese came and took over. And the last thing we want is Chinese women here—then the men won’t ever want to go home again if their womenfolk are allowed to come here, and there will be no getting rid of them.”
“So a young Chinese woman did come to you—about five or six days ago?”
“My housekeeper found her hiding in the church after the last mass of the day, when she went in to tidy up the hymnbooks. Brought her to me. I told her I was sorry but I wasn’t going to get involved in Chinese business. They’re a violent people, you know. You should see the killings that went on when the tongs were at war. Men shot and stabbed in broad daylight as they walked down the street or sat in the restaurants. I have to make sure I stay out of it.”
“So you sent her away—where did you send her?”
“I’ve no idea. I told my housekeeper to feed her and then get rid of her.”
“May I speak to your housekeeper then?” I asked
“I suppose so. What is your reason for seeking out this girl?”
I was about to say that I had been hired by her husband to find her, but instead I heard myself saying, “I want to help her.”
“Come along then,” he said. “Herself should have some tea on the table about this time. No doubt she can tell you in great detail what she told the girl—she loves the sound of her own voice.” As he talked he made his way through the church, through a back room, and opened a door that led into the rectory.
“Mrs. McNamara,” he called. “We’ve got company for tea.”
A woman came scurrying down the hall toward us, wiping her hands on her apron as she came. For a moment I thought I was seeing a ghost, as she looked just like the woman who ran the shop at home in Ballykillin.
“Tea’s all ready, Father,” she said and gave me a broad smile. “And there’s plenty for visitors too.”
We went together into a rather shabby dining room where a table was laid with teacups, scones, and fruitcake.
“Sit yourself down, my dear,” the priest said. “What was your name?”
“Molly Murphy, Father.”
“That’s as good an Irish name as you can get, isn’t it?” He nodded to Mrs. McNamara. “We don’t get too many Irish at the church anymore. It’s all Italians these days. And Polish. Not like the old days, is it, Mrs. McNamara?”
“Indeed it’s not, Father. Most of them don’t even speak English and I hardly ever get a good chat, except with the father here.”
“Never stops,” he muttered to me.
Tea was poured and I ate heartily of the scones and cake.
“Miss Murphy’s here asking about that Chinese girl you found. Any idea where she went?”
“No, Father,” Mrs. McNamara said. “You told me to get rid of her, didn’t you? So I had to send her on her way.”
Then she did a strange thing. I looked up and caught her eye, and she winked at me.
“I’d best be going then,” I said. “I really don’t know where to look now. Maybe she’s hiding out in one of the local parks, but that would be dangerous for a young woman alone.”
“I’ll see her out, Father,” Mrs. McNamara said. “You put your feet up for a while.”
She led me through the rectory to a door at the other end. As soon as we were out of earshot she whispered to me, “She’s upstairs now, the poor thing. And I’m that glad you’ve come for her because I hadn’t a clue what I was going to do with her.”
“She’s here? In the rectory?” I asked, my voice echoing louder than I intended through that high hallway.
She put her fingers to her lips. “Shh. We don’t want himself to hear. Well, I couldn’t just turn her out with nowhere to go, could I? So I put her in one of the rooms on the top floor. His reverence never goes up there—can’t climb all those stairs any longer. So I’ve been feeding her and trying to find what to do with her next. I’ve always been too impulsive, you know. Let my heart rule my head. I’d never have married that drunken lout McNamara if I’d stopped to think about it. But, my, he was handsome when he was a lad. How I suffered for it afterward. Knocked me around something terrible, he did.”
“Is he still alive?”
“He is not, God rest his poor soul. Killed in a street brawl, five years after we came to America. I came to the good Father here as housekeeper twenty years ago.”
I was trying not to show my impatience.
“So do you think you could take me up to see the girl now? I’ve come to take her off your hands.”
“Thank the Blessed Virgin for that,” she said. “I mean, what could I do with the poor thing? She couldn’t stay up in our attic forever.” She glanced back down the hall. “Come on then. Tread quietly or you’ll have himself snooping after us. He’ll have nodded off in a minute and then we’ll be all right.”
She started up the stairs. I followed. My heart had been beating fast ever since I had found out that Bo Kei was hidden here, but as we climbed flight after flight of stairs, it was positively pounding in my chest. Mrs. McNamara was breathing heavily in front of me and paused on the landing to say, “My old legs are not cut out for this sort of thing any longer. Five flights. It’s too much for a body.”
As she put her hand on the door handle there was the sound of scurrying beyond. The door opened to reveal a white figure, trying to duck down behind the bed.
“It’s all right, my dear,” Mrs. McNamara said. “You can come out. This young lady has come to help you.”
The white figure stood up and I saw that she was wearing a white nightgown. Her black hair hung in a heavy braid over one shoulder and she was looking at me with terrified eyes. I recognized her from her portrait.
“Bo Kei?” I asked gently.
She nodded.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” I said.
“Who are you?” She said the words carefully. “Why you want me?”
“My name is Molly.” I paused. What did I say next? I’ve come to deliver you back to your husband? I wished I knew how the law stood in New York. Could she legally be forced back to her husband? Was she officially his possession? Was I going against the law by hiding her? I didn’t think Daniel would take kindly to finding his own bride fined or in jail for aiding and abetting a fugitive. But neither did I want to send her back to a man like Lee Sing Tai. I needed time to think. If I could get her to Sarah’s settlement house, then she’d be safe for the moment and I could buy myself some time. “I’ve come to help you get away from here,” I said.
“Where go?” she asked.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“You can’t take her out onto the street around here. She’d be seen,” Mrs. McNamara said. “That man’s spies are everywhere and you can’t let her go back
to him, the monster.”
“Did he treat you badly?” I asked.
She nodded. “He make me do bad things. He say I belong to him now. He pay my father plenty money. He want I give him son pretty damned quick.”
“So you definitely don’t want to go back to him?”
“I no go back. I kill myself first.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “We must think how to get you away from here, and then we can plan your future.”
“She’ll need some clothes first,” Mrs. McNamara said. “She came here in her nightgown.”
“How did you escape?” I asked.
She gave me a shy smile. “I hear church bell and look down on street. I see there is church, so close. So I wait see which day is Sunday. When it’s hot night, master sleep on roof. He have boy bring me to him, and when he don’t want me no more, he send me away again. So this night he think boy take me downstairs. But I come back up again. I hide on roof. When master sleeps I go on roof as far as I can, and when I can’t go no more, I jump to next roof.”
“Goodness,” I said. “How far was it?”
“Far,” she said.
“Weren’t you scared?”
“I think if I die, is better than to stay with him.”
“How did you get down from the next roof?”
“Down iron stair outside,” she said.
“Fire escape,” Mrs. McNamara corrected. “She came down the fire escape—can you believe the nerve of it?”
“Fire escape,” she agreed. “And then down pipe to ground.”
“Wearing your nightdress? Didn’t people see you?”
“Middle of night. Nobody in street. I wait in alleyway and hide in garbage. When people go church, I go too.”
“In your nightdress? Or did you have clothes with you?”
A sly smile crossed her face. “I steal sheet from laundry hanging on next roof. Throw down to street. I put it over head like this.” She demonstrated. “Make me look like nun. People not look at nun. I go in church and I wait. I think where there is church, there will be nuns. They will help me. They will not want me to live in sin.”