Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“About time you settled down yourself,” she said. “You’re not getting any younger, and I can’t say this life is doing much for your looks. Positively peeky you’re lookin’.”


“I’m on an undercover assignment, Nuala. I have to make myself look as drab as possible.”

“Ah,” she said. Then she paused and added thoughtfully, “About how much money would there be in this job you’ve got for Malachy?”

“Depends how helpful he can be to me,” I said.

I could see her considering how worth her while it might be to do some active searching for her son. Evidently not worthwhile enough. “You can try O’Leary’s Tavern,” she said. “I’ve caught him hanging around there before now. Or ask his brothers. You’ll probably find them swimming in the river.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And if he does come home and I haven’t managed to contact him, he knows where I live.”

“I’ll tell him,” she said, and closed the door in my face, friendly as ever.

I saw no sign of the boys on the docks, so I made for O’Leary’s Tavern. I had been there before once, when I first stumbled blindly into contact with the Eastman gang. It was on the corner of Division and Market, not far from Monk’s headquarters on Orchard Street. I was glad to get the smell of fish out of my nostrils and stopped at a candy store to buy some peppermints to ease my queasiness. Then I continued up James Street and onto Madison, keeping to the shade of the tall buildings until I reached the tavern.

It was now midafternoon. The lunchtime rush was over. The men who had been served a plate of Irish stew for the price of a beer had now gone back to work. As I peered into the deep gloom from the bright sunlight outside, I noticed only one or two motionless figures slumped at the bar. No sign of a lively young’un. At least the scene appeared to be drowsy and not threatening. I plucked up my courage and stepped into the deep shadow of the bar.

One of the figures was instantly awake. “No women,” he growled. “She shouldn’t be in here.”

“Unless she’s one of Monk’s girls come to offer you her favors for free,” the other man at the counter quipped with a silly, half-drunk laugh.

“Even I can focus well enough to know that she ain’t one of Monk’s ladies,” the first man said. “Go on, girlie. Get yourself out of here. Yer old man’s not here; and if he had his wage packet, he’s already drunk it.”

“I only want to ask a question,” I said. “I’m looking for a boy. Young Malachy O’Connor. His family says he hangs around here a lot. Do you have an idea where I might find him?”

“He’s out on a job.” The bartender’s head rose from behind the counter. He stared at me long and hard. “I’ve seen you before somewhere,” he said.

“I imagine that most Irish faces look alike,” I said, giving him my sweet, girlish smile and not admitting that I had been asking questions in this very saloon a few months ago. “So you don’t know when Malachy O’Connor might show his face again?”

“When he’s done with the job, I’d say,” the bartender said, and the two men at the bar grinned.

“Could you give him a message from me when you see him?” I asked.

“What kind of message?”

“Tell him Molly could use his help. He knows where I live. Tell him I’ll make it worth his while if he helps me.”

One of the men roused himself from the bar and moved in my direction. “I’d even help you myself if you make it worth my while, darlin’.” That stupid grin was still on his face, and he was blowing beery breath at me.

“Thanks all the same, but I’ll wait for young Malachy,” I said, backing hastily out of reach. “You will tell him?”

“I might,” the bartender said. “Of course I might very well forget unless you give me a little something to remind me.”

It seemed the whole world was in on bribery and corruption except for Daniel.

“And what is it she’s wanting Malachy for in the first place, I’d like to know?” The less drunk of the two men at the bar had turned around on his stool to examine me. “She looks like one of those settlement ladies to me. Likely as not she’s going to have him carted off to a reform school.”

“Nothing like that,” I said. “I need his help to meet—certain people who operate around here. People I might not want to meet without…”

I stopped talking as the sunlight was blotted from the doorway. Two large bruisers were coming into the saloon.

“What’s a dame doin’ in here?” one of them asked.