“You know how Bugsy said some redheaded dame was asking questions at O’Leary’s today and then she was poking around the hall? And you said we should bring her in. Well, I tink she’s the one what you want. I caught her snooping around again now—says she’s looking for a kid dis time.”
I had recovered from my shock just enough to realize that I was face-to-face with Monk Eastman himself. Not a pleasant thought. I just hoped he had a finer nature I could appeal to. “Yes, sir. I’m only trying to find my lost nephew, sir. Seamus O’Connor. I sent him down to this part of the city with an errand and he should have returned hours ago—but he’s very smitten with your gang and I know he’s hung around you in the past, with his cousins, that is.” I knew I was babbling, but I was watching his face for a sign that he might be softening toward me.
“And today you wanted to know about Mike Kelly, right? Doing too much snooping altogether, if you ask me.” He stepped toward me, eye to eye with me, but intimidating in his bulk. “Okay, so who sent ya? Because whoever it was is going to find out dat Monk don’t like no snoops.”
“Nobody sent me,” I said.
“Then youse don’t got nothing to worry about, have ya?” He opened the window behind him, brushed the pigeon from his shoulder, and it took off into the night with a loud flapping of wings. I saw the flash of something bright on his fingers. A lot of rings, maybe?
“Whatta youse want me to do wid her, Monk?” Kid asked.
“Take her to my place. I’ll be along as soon as Lefty gets back from dat little errand.” He grinned. It was in no way a charming grin.
“Okay, girlie. Get going and no fuss.” Kid went to grab one of my arms. I am not used to doing anything without making a fuss. I twisted sharply and stuck at him with the hat pin.
“Will you let go of me! This is no way to treat a perfectly respectable lady.” Kid yowled and sucked at his hand. For a moment I had broken free. I grabbed the door handle.
“Watch her, she’s got a knife,” I heard Kid shouting.
Before I could wrench the door open, Monk had grabbed me and held me with one giant paw. “Youse is lucky I don’t use me nucks on women, or you’d be lying dere with a smashed face,” he said, pleasantly enough.
“It wasn’t a knife, it was just a hat pin, like any lady would use in her own defense,” I said. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you people, but if this is the way you treat ladies then I’m glad I’m not married to one of you.” The words came out as an angry torrent, masking the fear that was rushing though me. All of Daniel’s warnings about white slavery had come back to me. I was determined not to let them see I was afraid. “And if you can’t answer one simple question about a little lost boy, then in heaven’s name just let me go.”
“Youse ain’t going nowhere,” Monk said. “Not until you tell us who sent ya. Coppers or Five Pointers or Dusters? Which one youse working for, huh? Take her upstairs instead, Kid. I’ll get to her in a minute.”
I was vacillating between playing the weak and helpless female and doing my Queen Victoria impersonation, haughty and aggrieved. I thought the second might have more chance.
“Will you get it into your heads that nobody sent me? You are making a horrible mistake,” I shouted as Kid twisted my arm behind my back and shoved me out of the door. “I’m an ordinary Irish girl—the name is Molly Murphy. I was asking about Michael Kelly because he’s married to a sort of cousin of mine and I understood they had arrived in New York recently, and the young boy who lives with me, Seamus O’Connor, offered to come down to this part of town and try to find Michael for me. That’s all. Nothing complicated about it.”
We were halfway along that hallway when doors burst open. Whistles were blown and suddenly the hall was full of blue uniforms. “Cops!” I heard someone shout. I could hear the crash of chairs turning over and hasty footsteps up above our heads.
The hand released my twisted arm.
“What the hell do youse tink you’re doing busting in like this?” I heard Monk behind me shouting. “Dis is a respectable social club.”
“And I’m the president of the United States,” the policeman said. “The chief would like a word, Monk, if you can spare the time. All nice and friendly like.”
“Your chief is asking for trouble.” Monk almost spat out the words. “Youse guys know youse can’t touch me. Bring me in and Tammany’s going to hear about it, I promise you. Then you’ll see what heads are going to roll.”
“I told you, it’s a friendly chat, Monk. Nothing more. Nobody’s talking about arrest.”
“Then get the damned cuffs off me.”
“Just making sure you don’t do a bunk on us. Now into the wagon nice and easy and you’ll be back home in no time at all.”
Monk was manhandled out the front door, followed by a squirming Kid. I heard feet on the stairs and saw officers bringing down more men. It was only then that they appeared to notice me.
“What about the dame?” one of them asked.
“Bring her too.”