In Dublin’s City

by Rhys Bowen

  “No children?” I asked.

  “No children,” he said sadly. “I was married once, but she couldn’t take my sort of life. You’re either married to a woman or to the theater. You can’t have both. I chose the theater, and she found someone who could devote the time and attention to her that she deserved. I decided not to make the same mistake twice.” He gave me a brief, wicked glance and patted my hand, “Oh, don’t get me wrong. There have been women since, but nobody I cared about enough to make it permanent. And now it's only me. My sister and brother are both gone. My parents too. I’ve one nephew and I’ve done enough for him already—put him through Harvard, paid off his debts, not to mention paying off the young woman he got into trouble. No, I’m averse to leaving my fortune to him, Miss Murphy. This is where you come in.”

  Now, for one wild moment I wondered if he was hinting that he’d like to adopt me and make me his heir. I always did have wild, improbable fantasies, as my mother would tell you. I looked up at him. “I want you to try and find my sister,” he said.

  “Your sister? But I thought you said she was already dead?”

  He nodded. “That was my older sister, Bridget, I was talking about. My nephew Harvey's mother.”

  “You had more than one sister, then?”

  “That's the strange thing, Miss Murphy.” He stared out into the darkness. Someone on stage was crying. I couldn’t tell if it was part of the play or if they were genuinely upset. It sounded real enough. “My ma died a few months ago,” he said. “God, I worshipped that woman. What a tower of strength she was. I was with her a lot during her final weeks. She wasted away to a skeleton, you know. Like a stick figure, she was. Pitiful to see. And in the last weeks, when they started giving her morphine for the pain, she started rambling. One day she said she hoped God would forgive her for what she had done, leaving her baby behind in Ireland. I was shocked, I can tell you, but I didn’t know if it was fantasy or reality. They say morphine gives you dreams and delusions. So I prodded her about it. She wasn’t quite lucid anymore,- but from what I could gather, I had a baby sister called Mary Ann. When we were about to sail for America she fell sick with a bad fever and was not expected to live. My parents didn’t want to give up the chance for the rest of us to sail to a new life. Who knows if they’d have secured passage on another ship? And God knows enough babies die in Ireland all the time. So they left her behind.”

  “Holy Mother of God. Abandoned her, you mean?” I asked, horrified. “Just left her to die?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. I gather they left her with a local parish priest, who promised to find someone to take care of her. But apparently it had been preying on my mother's mind all these years, although she never said a word about it to me.”

  “And you think your sister might be still alive?” I asked. “Do you have any reason to believe this?”

  “None at all. It's just that I won’t rest until I know, one way or the other. I’m a busy man, Miss Murphy. As you can see, I’ve a new play opening at the Casino here in two months. I’m also planning a grand production of Babes in Toyland for the new year—lots of good songs and a cast of thousands. It's going to make me a fortune. So I’m tied to New York myself. That's why I’m hiring you. I want you to go over to Ireland and see if you can trace my little sister.”

  “To Ireland?” I can’t tell you what mixed emotions coursed through me at that word. The chance to go home again! There had been times during this tumultuous summer when I had been consumed with homesickness. But no sooner had I thought of going home, than I remembered the reason I had fled in the first place. The man I thought I had killed was still alive, it was true, but he was vindictive and would delight in finding me delivered to his doorstep, like a lamb to the slaughter.

  “That's right,” Tommy Burke said. “To Ireland.”

  “Wouldn’t it be simpler just to place an advertisement in the Irish Times and see what comes of it?”

  “What, and have every confidence trickster in Ireland coming out of the woodwork for a handout? I’m known on both sides of the Atlantic to be a rich man, Miss Murphy. That's why I’m hiring you. An Irishwoman like yourself can be discreet. Portray yourself as a cousin, coming home from America and wanting to look up family members, if you like. You don’t even need to say you were sent from me.”

  “You’d pay my expenses?” I asked, weakening.

  “All your expenses and a hundred-dollar retainer—and a healthy bonus if you actually find her alive. What do you say, Miss Murphy? Will you take the case?”

  I had no other assignments on the books. Funds were dwindling fast, and New York was not the happiest of places for me at the moment. I nodded and held out my hand. “Very well, Mr. Burke. I’ll take the case.”

  Four

  The minute I came out of the theater into the bright sunlight of a crisp September morning I realized what I had done. Going back to Ireland? Was I quite mad? For all I knew there was still a warrant out for my arrest in that country. I should go right back into that theater and tell Mr. Burke to find someone else. Then I thought of the nice fat fee, of the chance to travel home to Ireland in a cabin on a luxury liner, to stay at good hotels, to see Dublin at last. And I reasoned that Justin Hartley, the man who would love to see me arrested, was not even in Ireland at the moment, but touring the western states of America. Besides, Molly Murphy is a common enough name. I should be quite safe.

  I left the Sixth Avenue el at Greenwich Avenue Station and hurried toward Patchin Place to tell Sid and Gus my news. It was a lovely fall day, the first hint that the heat and humidity of summer was finally breaking. It had been a long, hot summer this year, a terrible season for all the diseases that heat and overcrowding bring with them. But today was just splendid. The leaves on the trees were showing just a hint of yellow in them. The breeze from the Hudson was fresh. Jefferson Market was in the process of shutting down for the day, but I went inside and, on impulse, bought a big bunch of crysanthamums and some bright red apples.

  Thus armed, I knocked on the door of Number Nine and waited with a smile on my face, but nobody appeared. Absurdly disappointed,I turned away only to find myself staring straight into the face of Daniel Sullivan.

  “What a charming picture you make,” he said. “Those flowers almost match the copper color of your hair. If I were a painter I’d whip out a brush and canvas and paint you as you stand there. Venus with the bounty of the harvest.”

  “Anyone can tell you are Irish. You’re full of blarney,” I said, eyeing him stonily. “What do you want? Come back to check if I’ve made more undesirable friends since yesterday?”

  “No, I came back to apologize,” he said. “You are right. I have no claim on you and no right to judge the company you keep. I am also mindful of the debt that I owe you—you put your own safety at risk to find the truth behind my betrayal and arrest.”

  He paused.

  “Apology accepted,” I said coldly. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have to put these flowers in water.”

  He stepped between me and my front door. “I realize that the very qualities I admire in you make you different from other women, Molly. Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”

  “You insulted my dearest friends,” I said. “You have apologized for judging me but not for insulting them.”

  His face flushed. “Oh, come now, Molly. You do have to admit that—”

  “That what?”

  “That O’Hare man is quite outside the pale.”

  “On the contrary, he is welcome at the most fashionable salons in the city. That party last night had as many Astors and Vanderbilts in attendance as it did theater folk. And they all seemed to know Ryan. Oh, I agree he is outlandish in his dress and his behavior, but I find him enchanting and never boring.”

  “So you went to the party last night,” Daniel said.

  “I did. And I had a marvelous time.”

  “I see. And this Mr. Burke who wanted to meet you?”

  “A powerfu
l theatrical impresario. You go to the theater. You must have heard of him.”

  “I might have.”

  “He wanted me to star in his next play—Salome and the Seven Veils.”

  I watched Daniel's face, then burst out laughing. “I’m just pulling your leg,” I said. “He wanted to hire my detective services, if you must know.”

  “He did? What, a divorce case?”

  “You know I’m not allowed to discuss confidential business, Daniel,” I said. “Oh well, I suppose you had better come in, before I drop these apples.”

  I let him open the front door for me and preceded him inside. “You can put the kettle on while I find a jar to put these flowers in,” I called over my shoulder.

  “So you’ll be out working on a case,” he said. “I won’t be seeing much of you.”

  “You’ll be seeing nothing of me for a while. The assignment is in Ireland.”

  “Ireland?” He stared at me in horror. “Are you mad? I thought you said you could never go back home again because of what you had done. I thought there was a price on your head.”

  “I’m willing to risk it,” I said.

  “Molly, this is absurd. How many risks do you think you can take in your life before the odds are against you?” He was yelling now.

  “There's really not much of a risk, Daniel, so calm down.” I had found a glass jar on the scullery shelf and now filled it with water, my back to him. “It turns out things weren’t as bad as I had feared; and besides, I’ll be going nowhere near my home, and how many people are called Molly Murphy, for heaven's sake? It must be one of the most common names in Ireland. You really don’t have to worry about me.”

  This speech was braver than I was actually feeling, but I wasn’t having Daniel forbidding me to go to Ireland now.

  “What is this Mr. Burke wanting you to do in Ireland, I’d like to know?” he went on.

  “I told you I can’t discuss a client's business. Let's just say it's a family matter.”

  Daniel scowled. “I smell a rat here. A rich impresario can cable Ireland and hire someone on the spot to do the investigating. He doesn’t need to send an unproven girl from New York.”

  “In the first case, he wants a complete stranger to do the poking around; and in the second, I’m no longer a girl but a woman.”

  “So you are,” he said, looking at me frankly. “So you are.”

  There was a long pause and then he said, “How long will you be gone?”

  “I couldn’t say. Until I’ve finished the job.”

  “So you won’t be here for my trial?” He tried to sound disinterested, but his face gave him away. He looked like a lost schoolboy. I weakened. “Daniel, I have to take the job. The fee is good and I need the money. It's a wonderful chance for me. If I do well, Mr. Burke is a powerful man. He may well refer me to his friends. Besides,” I added, noting his desolate face, “There's not going to be a trial. Now your fellow officers know who was really to blame, they’ll be speaking up for you. They’ll want you reinstated, won’t they? The commissioner will have to let you go free.”

  “I wish I could believe that,” Daniel said. “That certainly wasn’t the impression I got when I spoke with him yesterday.”

  “All he can actually pin on you is the prize fight,” I said. “And that would merit a slap on the wrist and a fine, nothing more.”

  “I admire your optimism,” Daniel said. “I have none myself. Those weeks in jail have crushed my fighting spirit, Molly.”

  “Not enough to stop you trying to lay down the law with me,” I said, and couldn’t resist a smile. He looked at me and smiled back. Those alarming blue eyes flashed for the first time since I’d seen him in that jail cell. He reached out his hands and took mine. “Don’t go, Molly. I need you here.”

  I could feel myself about to weaken. It was a fault I had when I was around Daniel Sullivan. That electricity sparking between us whenever he touched me hadn’t dimmed with time. “I have to go, Daniel,” I said, trying to pull away from him. “But I shouldn’t be away for long. And you have others you can turn to now. It's time you told your family the truth. They’d want to know, I’m sure. Don’t they have powerful friends and connections who’d put in a good word for you? I seem to rememberthat they were pals with the governor. Have him step in on your behalf.”

  “You know my reason for not contacting my family is that I’m concerned for my father's health problems,” he said. “I’d still rather he wasn’t involved in this.”

  “Then your other alternative is to stall,” I said. “Find excuses to have the trial delayed until the end of the year. Then we’ll have a new police commissioner and ten to one he’ll be a friend of Tammany Hall.”

  He squeezed my hands tightly. “I’m sure everything you say makes sense,” he said, “but this has all been like a nightmare to me. I never believed I could be arrested in the first place. And when I was arrested I never believed I’d be put in jail. Nothing seems secure anymore, Molly. Only you. Stick with me, won’t you? One day maybe we’ll be able to look back on this and laugh.”

  “One day,” I said.

  Five

  Afew days later a packet of instructions arrived for me, along with a second-class ticket on the White Star Liner Majestic, sailing out of New York on September Twenty-fourth bound for Queenstown and Liverpool. The irony of this was not lost on me. It was on this very ship that I had fled from Liverpool less than two years ago. Only that time I had been down in the hold, battened down and crammed in with all those poor wretches in steerage. This time I was to have a second-class cabin to myself. I was moving up in the world.

  Now that the trip was actually becoming a reality, I couldn’t help feeling excited as well as apprehensive. Going home, the words whispered in my head. And not going home a failure, but as a successful businesswoman on an assignment. I’d have dearly liked to travel out to county Mayo to visit my family and let them see that I hadn’t come to a bad end after all, but that would have been tempting providence too much.

  Sid and Gus came over to help me pack, offering to lend me everything from clothes to reading matter for the journey.

  “You two have already given me more than enough,” I said. “I’ll do just fine with the clothes I already have. Besides—” I added, trying to think of a tactful way of putting things, “I don’t want to stand out over there. It's important that I look like one of the locals. And your lovely clothes—”

  Sid threw back her head and laughed. “I wasn’t suggesting lendingyou my emerald green smoking jacket, my sweet. Yes, I suppose our clothes would stand out at a provincial Irish market, wouldn’t they, Gus dear?”

  “What I really meant was that cupboard full of stuff from my former life in Boston society,” Gus said. “I’m sure there is a smart, fur-trimmed traveling costume there that would suit you, Molly. And you know I’ll never wear it again, I’m sure.”

  I smiled at them. “Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll be mingling with the smart set in Ireland. The Burkes were the poorest of peasants when they left. Their child would either have been farmed out to another peasant family or sent to an orphanage. Frankly I think it would be a miracle if she was still alive after all these years,- but I’m being paid to search for her, and search for her I will.”

  “Then at least take my crocodile-skin train case,” Gus insisted. “I found it so handy when I did my European tour with my mother. Now it's just languishing on the top shelf on my wardrobe, and we want you to have something of ours with you to remind you of us.”

  “And to make sure you come back quickly,” Sid added.

  “We’re worried that you’ll decide to stay in Ireland,” Gus said.

  “And why would I want to do that?” I laughed. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll repeat it now—there is nothing for me in Ireland. My life is here now.”

  “Gus was worried that you’d realize what you’d missed if you go back there,” Sid said.

  “You were worried too!” Gus t
apped her hand.

  “All right. I was worried too. And what about Captain Sullivan? I’m surprised he's allowing you to go.”

  “He's not at all happy about it,” I said, “but there's nothing he can do to stop me, is there? And I think it will be good for me to get away from him—give me time to think about what I really want for my future. So don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine, and I’ll have a grand time and be back before you know it with tales to tell.”

  “Of course you will.” Sid shot a look at Gus and suddenly I felt a shiver run up and down my spine. They were afraid for me. Was I foolish not to be afraid for myself?

  The morning of the twenty-fourth came, bright and breezy, with puffy white clouds racing across the sky. A good day to be sailing, I said to Daniel, Sid, and Gus, who walked beside me to the waiting cab. I had forbidden Daniel to come to the ship to see me off. I didn’t think I could handle emotional scenes at the gangplank. And having forbidden Daniel, I could hardly allow Gus and Sid what I had denied him.

  “Anyone would think I was journeying to the North Pole or across the Sahara Desert the way you three are looking at me,” I exclaimed, looking from Daniel's face to Gus's and Sid's. “Fashionable people go to Europe all the time. They pop back and forth across the Atlantic as if it were a pond. It should take me no more than a week or two at most, and then I’ll be back.”

  I hugged my friends, then I went to hug Daniel.

  “Good-bye, Daniel. Take care of yourself, won’t you?” I put my hands on his shoulders and brushed his cheek with my lips. His arms came fiercely around me, almost crushing the breath out of me.

  “You take care of yourself,” he whispered. “No more stupid risks. Remember that I love you.”

  I climbed into the cab, my heart beating very fast. I think it was the first time he had actually told me that. I looked out and waved jauntily as the cab set off up Sixth Avenue at a lively pace. The White Star Line pier was at the bottom of West Tenth Street, close enough to walk, really, and I could have saved the expense of a cab if we’d all walked together, with Daniel carrying my valise. But I had money for expenses, a letter of credit, and my stupid pride. I didn’t want to risk shedding a tear at the dockside.