Murphy's Law (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #1)

Finbar smoothed down his rumpled clothes. "Excuse the way I look, miss. Just taking a little nap before work, you know."

"Little nap before work!" Nuala sniffed. "You drink more than you earn at that godforsaken saloon. And those children of yours are growing up idle and useless just like their father."

"Where are the children, Nuala?" Seamus asked. "God only knows. Out to all hours they are. Running around like heathen savages. Now young Malachy is talking nonsense about joining a gang. A gang, I ask you."

Almost on cue there was a clatter of feet on the stairs and the door burst open.

"And what sort of a time do you call this?" Nuala demanded, facing three scruffy boys with her hands on her hips. "Did I or did I not tell you that I want you home before it's dark?"

"Yes, but--"

"I'm not hearing any excuses. Malachy, go and get the wooden spoon."

"But Ma, there was a fight."

"Holy Mother--you weren't in another fight after what I told you?"

"Not us, Ma. Guys. Grown-up guys bashing away at each other!" the smallest boy exclaimed, his face alight with excitement. "Down on the dock--that icehouse near the bridge."

Nuala turned to her husband. "See, I told you he was asking for it, didn't I? Trying to get the ice contract with the fish market from under the noses of Tammany."

"You reckon it was the Tammany thugs teaching him a little lesson?" Seamus asked.

"Sure as hell it was." Finbar nodded. "Everyone knows Tammany has the monopoly on ice. You don't go against Tammany, not if you want to live long."

"Who is Tammany?" I asked. There was that name again.

"Not who, what," Nuala said. "Tammany Hall. They run the city. When there are elections, the Tammany ward bosses come around and tell you who to vote for."

"But that's terrible," I exclaimed. "Not if you're Irish, it's not," Nuala said confidently. "Tammany is Irish to the core and if they put someone in power, then he better be good to the Irish, or Tammany will choose another candidate next time."

"Anyway, Ma, that guy won't be going against Tammany for a while," the oldest boy said. "You should have seen his head--all bloody and his eye hanging out and--"

"Were the police not called?" Seamus asked.

The boys grinned. "The police were there, all right. They were watching and cheering. I think one of them even used his nightstick!"

"The police wouldn't go against Tammany," Finbar muttered. "They know which side their bread is buttered on."

"That's enough of that," Nuala said. "Where are your manners? Say hello to your cousins, just arrived from the old country."

Seamus put his hands on his children's shoulders. "Boys--this is young Seamus and this is Bridie. These are your cousins, children. Malachy, Thomas, and James. Go on. Shake hands."

Seamus held out his hand but Bridie hung back, not eager to say hello to three tough, scruffy boys.

"And who's that?" the oldest was staring at me. "I came over on the boat with them. Your auntie Kathleen wasn't able to travel at the last minute," I said. "My name's Molly. You're Malachy, are you? I've a little brother called Malachy myself."

He gave me a half grin.

"Right. Let's get down to eating now we're all here. James, set the table."

"What are we having?" James asked as he cleaned off a table surface of various objects.

"Fish stew."

"Not fish again!" Malachy complained. "If you're lucky enough to have a mother that works at the fish market, you take what the good God provides," Nuala said. "And if he provides fish heads, you get fish stew."

I'd been wondering about the pervading smell in the apartment. Now I realized--it was fish.

But as it turned out, the stew wasn't too bad, and the long walk had certainly given me an appetite.

"So you'll be trying to find yourself a job in New York will you?" Nuala asked me, her gaze hinting that I'd be an added expense to feed. "Or will you be heading out of town to your relatives?"

"I've no relatives over here," I said. "I'll be looking for a job right away."

"Because food isn't cheap, you know. Neither is gas. Which reminds me ...," she looked up at Seamus. "You've not got a dime on you for the meter, have you, Seamus? The gas ran out before I'd finished cooking and there's no sense in asking this good-for-nothing--"

"Don't worry, Nuala. I've got a dime." Seamus reached into his pocket.

I squeezed myself onto a bench made of a wooden board across two packing cases, feeling

distinctly uncomfortable. Bridie sat close beside me, her little hand clutching at my skirt.

"I'll help you wash up," I said as soon as dinner was over.

"Right you are." Nuala jerked her head. "The sink's down one flight. Mind you don't trip in the darkness and fall and break your neck."

Surely that overflowing cesspit wasn't the only sink in the place? I gritted my teeth and went down to wash the dishes in the cold, dirty water. Afterward Nuala dried them on a towel so caked with grime that they ended up dirtier than they started.