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

"I don't think you're right this time. That's Alderman McCormack. He's one of the big wheels at Tammany Hall."

"So who would have more to lose?" I demanded. "If he's a big wheel at Tammany, then the Irish people in the city must love him and respect him. If he was the one who betrayed those boys in Plumbridge, he'd lose everything he'd gained here, wouldn't he?"

Daniel was shaking his head. "But you don't understand. When I call him a big wheel, I mean a really big wheel. Men like him don't do their own killing. Tammany owns half the gangs in the city. He'd have found it easy enough to have a band of thugs waiting for O'Malley the second he stepped ashore."

"But what if O'Malley had blurted out the truth about the alderman before he was killed? His bully boys wouldn't be so anxious to work for him then, would they?" I hesitated, my brain racing at the word bully. "Wait a minute, though. Maybe I have got it wrong about Alderman McCormack. Maybe my first hunch was right, after all. I forgot to tell you what happened to me last night. I saw Boyle, the guard, down on the Bowery. I think he was following me. He's definitely a crooked one, you know. He steals from immigrants and then pawns the stuff."

"He wouldn't be the first to do that," Daniel said, then stopped short. "You said you were followed last night? But I sent you home with a constable."

"I know." I felt myself flushing at his stare. "I thought I could do the last bit on my own. I didn't want the ladies at the hostel to see me being escorted home by the police."

"And would they have thought better of you if you'd arrived in a hearse?" he demanded.

"It's all right. I shook him off easily enough. I ran through the crowd and ducked into a butcher's shop. That's when I saw Boyle going

past." My brain was racing again. "And that might make sense, too. One of those big wheels, as you call them, could have paid Boyle to stay on the island overnight and do the actual killing."

Daniel sighed. "I've told you before--we have sworn statements by other guards that he went back to the city with them on the last boat. The pilfering I'd believe. It's very common, so I understand. But he wasn't on the island that night."

"Then it had to be the alderman," I said. "There's a distinct resemblance between them and I saw a guard with big, bushy whiskers, a big paunch, and a big, booming voice."

"But he can't be the one," Daniel said. "It doesn't make sense. He's been in the city for as long as I can remember and I'm sure he comes from southern Ireland. Nowhere near Plumbridge."

Daniel picked up his half-full coffee cup, took a sip, made a face, and put it down. "Stone cold," he said. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Thank you, that would be wonderful. The constable dragged me out before I had a chance to eat my breakfast. And I'd already spent an hour listening to the Bible, too."

"That's what happens to you when you mix with Protestants." He gave me a grin. He really had the most enchanting smile.

A young policeman was dispatched to bring us coffee and rolls.

As soon as he had gone, Daniel's face became serious again. He leaned closer to me, as if he didn't want anyone to overhear. "If by any chance it were the alderman," he said, "we'd never be able to prove it. This is a man who has every branch of the city in his pocket, including the law. I would be a fool to even try and pursue it. I'd find myself out on the streets with no job, if I managed to keep my skin. And the same goes for you. If you were the one person who could identify the alderman in court, I'd start ordering your coffin."

"But if you got proof of who he really was," I insisted, "If you sent off to Ireland and had them check into his background?"

The young policeman returned with our breakfast. Daniel took a swig of coffee and waited a moment before continuing.

"And if he found out I was doing it?" He lowered his voice. "Don't you realize this place is full of his spies? The police love him. He gets them their pay raises and gives them carte blanche to extort bribes and kickbacks from every shady operation in the city." He paused. "Oh sorry, carte blanche means--"

"I know what carte blanche means. Je parle Fran@caise tr`es bien."

Again he looked at me with surprise. "You're an interesting woman, Mrs. O'Connor. How did someone from a small village in the back of beyond get an education like yours? Most of the Irish who come here are lucky if they can write their own names."

"I was educated with the young ladies at the manor house," I said. "Their mother thought me worth educating."

"And why was that?"

"I--told her land agent what I thought of him when he tried to raise my parents' rent. She found it amusing."

"How old were you?"

"About ten."

"I see. Making trouble even then?" "From the moment I was born, according to my mother."

"No wonder your husband found you too hard to handle," he chuckled, then checked himself. "I'm sorry, that was a tactless thing to say."