"So are you coming to watch the parade tomorrow?" he asked. "'Tis a fine sight, and a great day for the Irish. I'd escort you myself but we're all on duty that day. But I'll guarantee it is a sight worth seeing."
I went with Daniel to see the attic on Twelfth Street. It was two rooms with a hallway between containing a sink. "I don't need this much space," I said. Then a wonderful thought hit me. "Do you think the sergeant would mind if more than one person occupied this attic?"
Daniel gave me a strange look. "What did you have in mind?"
I laughed, realizing what he must be thinking. "No, nothing like that. It's just that the little children I brought across to America--they're living in a filthy, overcrowded place right now. Their father is looking for a better situation, but works long hours and he has no time. They could have one room and I could have the other."
"You've a kind heart, Molly Murphy," Daniel said. "I like that in a woman--not as much as a neat little waist, of course, and a round little mouth, and long red hair and ..." I had to remove his hands and remind him to behave himself properly or he'd ruin my reputation with the
sergeant's family before I even got established there.
On the morning of the parade I went to the house on Cherry Street first.
"What's she doing, back here?" Nuala demanded as I stood at their front door. "Don't think we're going to take you back, whatever that softhearted cousin of my husband says."
"Oh, no thank you," I said. "I wouldn't dream of coming back here. I've a much better place. Hot water, nice view, good neighborhood. I came to talk to Seamus and to see if I could take young Seamus and Bridie to the parade today."
Seamus decided to come along, too. I took the two children by the hand and I told Seamus about the apartment as we walked to Broadway. He seemed to like the idea and was anxious to see the place for himself. I bought the children donuts and we sat on the curb, waiting for the parade to start. Fire trucks came first, their bells ringing loudly, their horses decorated with plums for the occasion. Then marching bands and green draped automobiles, one with the mayor in it, the next with Alderman McCormack.
"Lord love you, sir! God bless you, your worship!" The crowd shouted as he drove past. I think he noticed me among the crowd and smiled.
Battalions of men marched by, carrying banners. The NYPD, the firemen, and then rows of men with shamrocks in their caps--the Irish Builders Union. And there in the middle of them was Michael Larkin, head held high and striding out with the best of them.
"Michael!" Seamus, Bridie, and I yelled and waved. He looked around, saw us, and ran across to us.
"I've got a job like I said I would," he shouted. "On that new skyscraper on Union Square. Going to be the tallest in the world!"
He started to run to catch up with his mates then turned back again. "I get off for lunch between twelve and one!"
The floats were passing now--Irish dancers and giant shamrocks and harps. The children were entranced. So was I. Then I stiffened. Another float was approaching. It depicted an Irish cottage with mountains behind it and a big male voice was reciting "The wearing of the green"! The sign on it read Billy Brady, Ireland's Darlin' Boy.
I felt so angry and powerless. Why was he not in jail? Why was he free to stand there with that self-satisfied smile on his face?
Suddenly a man ran out of the crowd. "Traitor!" he yelled. "You betrayed those boys!" A shot rang out. Billy Brady crumpled and fell. Commotion followed. I saw policemen swarm toward the stricken man. Daniel arrived a few minutes later. An ambulance came galloping up and carried the body away. The parade started to move on again.
Daniel caught sight of me and came over. "How could that man have found out?" I asked. "Do you think O'Malley managed to get word before ..." I broke off, seeing something in his expression. "Wait," I said, "that wasn't one of your men with a gun, was it?"
"Of course it wasn't. We're here to uphold the law, not break it." He sounded genuinely shocked.
"Then how did they find out who Billy Brady really was?"
He stood watching the parade and said casually, "Of course, someone on the force might have slipped the information to local extremists--Irish freedom fighters, you know. They don't take kindly to traitors."
"So you're not going to go after the gunman?" "Of course we are, although when the truth gets out, I don't think we'll find anyone in the crowd willing to testify."
"I don't understand the way New York works," I said.
"Then may I suggest that you stick around here until you do." He tipped his cap. "And that could take a long, long while." Then he strode off up Broadway, following the parade.
Murphy's Law (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #1)
Rhys Bowen's books
- Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
- Bless the Bride (Molly Murphy, #10)
- City of Darkness and Light (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #13)
- Death of Riley (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #2)
- For the Love of Mike (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #3)
- Hush Now, Don't You Cry (Molly Murphy, #11)
- In a Gilded Cage (Molly Murphy, #8)
- In Dublin's Fair City (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #6)
- In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)