“It’s the Eastmans.” He looked proud and defiant. “They rule this part of town. They’re going to rule the whole of the city when they’ve shut down the Dusters and the Five Pointers. They’re going to take me on when I’m bigger. I’m going to be a junior Eastman. They say I’m a fast runner.”
“You are not joining any gang, Seamus, so put that out of your mind right this minute. People who join gangs wind up dead. If you really want to help your family, you go to school and study hard and better yourself. And in the meantime you can make yourself some money by being my messenger and right-hand man.”
This perked him up a little. “I delivered your letter, just like you told me,” he said. “I told them I had to hand it straight to the boss because it was important so they took me up and I gave it to him.”
“Did he say anything when he saw who it was from?”
“No, but he nodded and put the letter in his jacket pocket right away.”
“You did well, Shamey. I can use you again, if you’re going to be trustworthy. But if you think of running off with those no-good cousins, then forget it.”
“You can use me again,” he said. “Are you really a detective?”
“How did you know that?”
“Nuala said. She said you told her but she didn’t believe you. She said you had a fancy man who beat you up.”
“Like I said, Nuala talks a lot of rubbish.”
We had reached Broadway and joined the line waiting for a trolley car.
“If you’re really a detective, I could help you,” Seamus whispered. “I could go and find out things for you.”
A thought had struck me. I tried to dismiss it. I wrestled with it. Seamus knew the Eastmans. They had employed him. Would I be putting him in harm’s way if I sent him to ask a simple question of them? I pulled him back from the trolley queue into the shadow of an awning.
“Could you do a real job for me? I don’t like to ask you, but I don’t have a way of finding out myself. It’s about the Eastmans.”
His eyes lit up. “I know plenty of Eastmans.”
“Listen, I don’t want you to get yourself into any danger, but I need to know if a man called Michael Kelly is part of the Eastmans gang. Could you find out for me? Tell them it’s his cousin from Ireland who wants to know. A girl cousin. I’m trying to find him.”
“I can do that. Easy as pie. Do you want me to run down there now?”
“Is anyone around during the day? The hall was closed up.”
“I know where to find them.” Shamey looked grown up and proud. “They’re only around the hall when there’s a dance or something going on. Otherwise they’re at their headquarters.”
“Which is where?”
“On Chrystie Street, around the corner.”
“I don’t want you going to any gang headquarters,” I said. “Forget that I even asked you.”
“Some of the Eastman guys might be at the saloon,” Shamey suggested. “I’ve been there before with my cousins, delivering messages.”
“I’ll come with you then. I’m not having you going to any saloon by yourself.”
He looked horrified. “They wouldn’t tell me nothing if you came along. It’s a saloon. Full of people. I’ll be safe as houses.”
“Very well,” I said hesitantly. “Ask the question and come straight home then. Here.” I reached into my purse. “Here’s a quarter. That will take care of your trolley fare and in case you get hungry.”
“Gee. Thanks.” His eyes lit up.
“Be home before it’s dark, and no running off with your cousins again.”
“I will. Bye, Molly.” He waved and set off back in the direction we had come. I watched him go with considerable misgivings. I had just used an innocent child to do work I was afraid of doing myself. That couldn’t be right—what had I been thinking of? I started to run after him, but he had completely vanished.
I went home on the trolley and prepared a big plate of sausage and mash, which I knew was Shamey’s favorite. The dinner was ready, it got dark, and still he didn’t come.
I told myself it was early yet. He may have had to wait around until some of the gang members showed up. I told myself that he was accepted by them. He ran their errands. But none of this took away the worry that gnawed at the pit of my stomach.
“That smells good,” Seamus Senior said, looking more sprightly than I had seen him recently. “I think I’m getting my appetite back. Where’s the boy? Out running around again?”
“He’ll be back soon,” I said. “I’ll put this in the oven until he gets here.”