“I’ll try the cousins myself,” I said. “I can do that without getting myself into any kind of trouble.”
Daniel’s lips twitched in a smile. “Yes, I imagine so. I’ll put men out onto the streets straight away, and I’ll have a little talk with Monk and his friends too, just in case they know something they are not telling you.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“And Molly, please—” Daniel began.
“I know, take care of myself,” I finished for him. “I’ll have to, won’t I, since I’ve no one else to care for me.”
At that moment a great voice boomed up from the basement beneath us.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, you big bullies? Frightening tender young children to death like that!”
I recognized the voice and broke away from Daniel, hurrying down the stone stairs into the darkness. I heard a policeman shout, “Hey, you, where are you going?” but I didn’t stop.
At the end of a dark, dank hallway Nuala was standing, arms folded in defiance over a considerably smaller police constable.
“Let them out of there this minute, or I won’t be responsible for me actions, so help me God,” she said, unfolding her arms and giving every indication of winding up to take a swing.
“Nuala!” I called, relieved for the only time in my life to see her. “Have they got the boys down there? Is Shamey with them?”
“Locked them away like hardened criminals and all for a bit of boyish fun,” she said.
I ran toward her. Shamey’s scared face peered out at me from behind the bars.
“What’s all this about?” I asked the constable, who now looked doubly scared at having to confront two angry women.
“They were identified as the gang that broke up a fruit vendor’s stall this morning,” he muttered.
“A gang you call them?” Nuala’s beefy arm tensed again. “Nothing more than boyish high spirits. Have you got nothing better to do with your time or are you afraid to go after the real criminals?”
Daniel had come to my side. “What’s going on?” he asked.
I pointed to the cell. “Shamey is in there,” I said. “Apparently he helped his cousins to smash up a fruit stall.”
“We didn’t mean no harm,” Malachy, the oldest cousin said.
“Honest, Officer, we was just foolin’ around,” James, the second cousin added.
“Of course you meant harm,” Daniel said coldly. “You were being paid for it, weren’t you? You don’t have to tell me. I know. The Eastmans like to pay kids to do their dirty work, then you get caught, not them. They had you smash up the stall because the owner wouldn’t pay his protection money, didn’t they?” He walked up to the bars. “Take a good look around you, boys. Do you like the look of this place, because it’s not half as bad as some of the cells in the Tombs down the street, and that’s where you’ll be spending most of your lives, if you are foolish enough to mix with gangs. If you live long enough, that is. Would you like to see how many bodies I’ve got lying on a marble slab in the morgue right now? Gang members, every one of them.”
He nodded to the constable who produced a key. “I’m going to let you out this time, but if I find you in here again, then you’ll be very sorry.”
The door was opened. Nuala’s two boys ran into her arms. “He said he’d throw away the key, Ma,” Malachy sniveled.
Nuala hugged them fiercely. “Let’s go home, boys, before these no-good bullies change their minds. But if I ever hear about you working with a gang again, I’ll knock your blocks off, so help me God.” She drove them like sheep ahead of her up the stone steps. Shamey stood there outside the cell, looking up at me with big, frightened eyes.
“And as for you, Seamus,” Daniel said, glaring at him. “You remember me, don’t you?”
Shamey sniffed and nodded. “You’re Captain Sullivan. You used to come visiting when we lived with Molly before.”
“I’m a very important policeman, Seamus, and I’ve got my spies all over the city. If I ever hear that you’ve had anything to do with gangs again, then you’re going to be very sorry indeed. We’ve even worse prisons than this, you know. This one’s like Coney Island compared to the Tombs. So do I have your word that you’ll not make Molly worry about you again?”
“She asked me to go and talk to the Eastmans,” Shamey said, a hint of defiance returning.
“She didn’t realize how stupidly dangerous that was. Now she does. She’ll not be asking you to do a foolish thing like that again, I can promise you. Now go home, the both of you, and let me get on with my work.”
“Let’s go, Shamey,” I said gently. “There’s sausage and mash keeping hot in the oven.”