Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

“She’s looking for young Malachy.”


“What does she want with one of my boys?” another, higher, squeakier voice asked. The two thugs stepped aside and a third figure was silhouetted against the sunlight. I couldn’t see his face—but I recognized the shape of the shadow—round head, little derby perched on top of it a couple of sizes too small for him. As he came into the saloon I recognized the rolled-up shirtsleeves on pudgy arms, the bright red suspenders, and the open-necked shirt. A comical figure at first glance until you noticed that the bright metal on his fingers were not rings. I had wanted Malachy to escort me to Monk Eastman. Now I was meeting with Monk himself, here and now, whether I wanted to or not.





TWELVE




Okay, lady. What does youse want with my boy?” Monk sauntered up to me. I noticed there was no live pigeon on his shoulder today, but instead he carried a kitten cradled in the crook of his pudgy arm. The kitten was blissfully asleep. It presented a charming picture, and I had to remind myself that this was a man who routinely ended lives with a snap of his fingers.

At least I was in a public saloon with the street a few feet away. I took a deep breath to make myself at least sound confident. “I wanted to have the chance to speak with you, Mr. Eastman. I thought that Malachy would know where to find you.”

“Hey, I’m flattered,” he said, his beady little eyes not leaving my face for a second. “It ain’t often a young lady comes chasing after me, is it, boys?”

All the men in the bar chuckled dutifully.

“So what does a nice young lady like youse want with Monk?” he asked.

I wondered if he remembered meeting me before. On that occasion his tone hadn’t been anything like as friendly; in fact I had been lucky to escape with my life, my honor, or both. No sooner had this thought passed through my head than I saw him frown momentarily.

“I know youse,” he said. “Sullivan’s bit o’ skirt. Right?”

“I’m Captain Sullivan’s friend, yes,” I said. “It’s because of him that I’ve come to you. He’s in bad trouble, Monk.”

“Yeah, I heard about dat. Geeze, dat’s too bad.” He was grinning. “Don’t you just hate it when bad things happen to coppers?”

More chuckling from the ranks.

“I thought you and he were supposed to be working on something together,” I said. “You were supposed to be setting up a prizefight for his friend Gentleman Jack Brady.”

“Maybe I was.”

“And you sent a man to meet Captain Sullivan with a list of names. Well, somebody put money in that envelope of names to make it seem he was accepting a bribe. Somebody arranged it so that the commissioner of police just happened to witness this transaction.” I paused before I dared to say the next words. Even so I had trouble keeping my voice even. “So I need to know, Monk—was that on your orders? Did you arrange for Daniel to be caught? I need to know because if you didn’t, then someone else is out to get him.”

“Me?” He put a pudgy hand to his breast. “Why it’s generally known that I love Daniel Sullivan like a brother.”

“Cut the blarney,” I said, smiling in spite of myself. “I know you and Daniel hate each other’s guts, but you were working together. I thought it would be in everyone’s interest to set up this fight and make money out of it. I sent Jack Brady to find you and now he’s disappeared.”

“Gee, dat’s too bad,” Monk said, his face still in a relaxed grin. “But you don’t have to worry yourself about him, girlie. He’s been taken care of.”

“Then where is he?”

“Didn’t no one ever tell you dat curiosity killed the cat?”

“Look, Mr. Eastman—Monk. Daniel Sullivan is in big trouble. It’s not just accepting a bribe. They think he’s working for you. They’re saying he tipped off your people to a police raid where one of the officers was killed. If I don’t help him, he’s not going to get out of prison alive. So I’m asking you—I’m begging you to be straight with me. All I need to know from you is one thing—did you order the money put in that envelope? Did you tip off the commissioner as to where he’d catch Daniel? If you tell me yes, I’ll just get out of here and leave you alone because there’s nothing I can do. But at least I’ll know.”

Monk stepped closer to me until his paunch was a few inches from my own stomach. “Listen, girlie,” he said. “Sullivan and I—we shook hands over dis prizefight deal. Monk don’t never double-cross no one once he’s shook hands.”

“So one of your men wouldn’t have put the money in that envelope?”

“Let’s put it this way.” He looked around the room for confirmation of what he was about to say. “If any of my guys went against my wishes, he’d be feeding fishes in the East River by now.” He flexed the hand with the brass knuckles on it.