Grace's Pictures (41 page)

Endangering kids was not in the plan. Owen would have to think of a way to either get the criminals out or force the civilians to leave. The foolish man should have given him warning so they could have more police at the ready.

“Stay here,” Owen ordered. “I’m going to check out the exits.”

Just beyond a wall of embedded water tanks, he noted a locked door. One had to weave around the tanks to get to the front exit. He was trying to imagine all the scenarios that could go wrong when he heard a familiar voice.

“We can’t stay too much longer, children,” Grace called out.

“Have to see the penguins,” Linden said as he bobbed along the whale tank railings.

“All right. Then that’s the last thing,” Edith said.

They’d been in the aquarium almost an hour, the happiest hour Grace had spent since coming to America.

“Let’s get another picture outside the door.” Grace gathered up the hands of her charges. “This one with everyone.”

“Auntie Edith too?” Linden asked.

“Oh yes.”

The woman huffed. “Don’t need a photograph of me.”

Linden broke from Grace and embraced his aunt. Then he reached for Ma’s hand and stood between the two women. “Everyone! Everyone!”

Grace laughed. “All right, so. Let’s find the right spot.”

She steered the children toward the harbor. While the water would make a nice backdrop, she needed the sun at her back for the light to be right. She had them stand under the budding trees but then changed her mind. “Let’s try to get one of the boats in the edge of the photograph. Stand right here.” She stood in the spot where she wanted them to assemble.

Edith pulled Linden up against her and placed one hand over each of the lad’s shoulders. The girls stood next to him, and Ma took her place behind them.
Perfect.

Grace peered into the viewfinder. Just a smidgen to the left would get a bit of the boat into the picture, just to show where they were. She nearly gasped when she noticed the lettering on the side of the boat. Just in case it might help Owen later, she moved her camera just a hair more to make sure she got it in the picture.

She held her breath.

Ready.

Click.

“One more,” she called out to the group. This time she’d actually get them all in the shot. She wound the film, aimed, and clicked.

What was that?

She had the impression someone else had gotten into the background. “One more. I don’t think I got it—” Someone gripped her shoulder from behind. Her body jerked and she turned around. His large, warm brown eyes bored into her. “Officer McNulty, what a pleasant surprise.”

He wasn’t smiling. “Take the children home now, Grace.”

“Oh, I’d like you to meet my—”

“Can’t talk now. Take them home.”

He’d never spoken to her like that before. “What’s wrong?”

“Grace, move along, please.”

“We were just going.”

He snatched the Brownie out of her hands. “But I’ll need this. I’ll return it.”

“But—” She wanted to mention the boat, but he hurried off toward the aquarium.

“What’s wrong, Miss Gracie?” Hazel asked. “Why did the policeman—?”

“Everything’s fine. He’s just . . . borrowing my camera.”

“Did you get his name or his badge number?” Edith asked.

“No. ’Tis all right. I know him. You met him when he stopped by the house right after Mrs. Parker . . .”

“Oh, I remember that young man. He was so polite.” She worried her lip. “I think we should follow his instructions.”

Ma held on to Grace’s arm. “Well, so. We should do as he says now and get along home.”

“Uh . . . aye, let’s go.” There could be people about they should avoid for sure. “Hurry. Let’s go now.” Trying not to look behind them, Grace heard a scuffle as they headed toward the Bowling Green.

Then some cursing.

“Faster! Come along!”

She glanced back at her mother and Edith, who wobbled along, trying to keep up. Grace had to make sure the children were safe. She rushed them into a trot. Too many people wandered about, crossing their path this way and that.

“Hold Holly’s hand tight, Hazel.”

“I don’t wanna . . . ,” the younger girl wailed.

Grace hoisted Linden on her hip and reached out for Holly. “Don’t argue, lassie.” Her hands grasped air as the child wiggled away.

“She won’t let me hold her, Miss Gracie.”

Grace turned. The older women were too far away. They would have to wait for them.
Please, hurry!

A group of men approached from the side and then stood in the path in front of them.

“This way,” she called, weaving a path to the right.

The black-coated men mirrored her detour.

Her stomach knotted.

The park is crowded. No need to worry.
No one would bother their small party. No one was after her.

But Owen’s warning rang in her ears.
“Take the children home now.”

A face appeared among the gaggle of folks just as all the others faded. Smokey!

He stepped toward her. “When I saw that copper talking to you, Rosie, I knew you had to be in deep. Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business? Didn’t I give you fair warning? Goo Goo don’t want his photograph taken, and you did it anyway, Rosie. Just like you did with Middleton.” He nearly growled his words.

“Is he talking to us, Miss Gracie?”

“Hush, Hazel.” Grace pulled the rebellious Holly closer. “I only photographed the children. Leave me alone. I’m not involved.”

“Oh, but you are. See, my boss don’t like the cops knowing what he looks like. Don’t even have his photograph up on that wall at police headquarters.” He scratched his head. “What’d they call it? Oh yeah, Rogues’ Gallery.” His voice took on a mocking tone. “He’s not on there. It’s my job to make sure no one knows what he looks like. Middleton, he only wanted me to rough you up, teach you to mind yourself. But Goo Goo, that’s another story entirely.”

“What’s he talking about, Miss Gracie?”

“Hush, Hazel.”

Smokey turned his beady eyes toward the girls as he spoke, sending shivers down Grace’s spine. “And you with your box camera. Think you can take us on? Well, we can’t have that.”

He raised a shoulder to his face and rubbed his nose while he gripped a metal pipe in both hands. “I warned you plenty, Rosie, like I said.”

She yanked the children behind her. “I was taking photographs of the children, I tell ya. That’s all.”

“Gimme that camera.” He thrust his chin out.

“I . . . I don’t have it anymore. Officer McNulty took it from me.” She drew up her strength. “He’s going to run you out of here. If he finds out you were threatening us—”

Smokey turned abruptly toward his punks and began bobbing his head up and down. “That’s a swell idea you just gave me, Rosie. McNulty’s as soft as any cop we ever knowed. He’ll give the contraption back to us with a . . . trade.”

The children began to sob.
Please, God, don’t let me show my fear.

She glanced behind her as the women finally caught up. No cops anywhere. When she truly needed Owen’s help, he had vanished.

Edith gasped. “What is going—?”

“Now!” Smokey shouted, and the men ran toward them, scooping the girls off their feet. Another man had Linden before she could blink.

“No!”

Edith screamed.

Ma yelled for help.

Grace managed to grab hold of one thug’s shirttails, but she
was no match for him. He gave her a sharp rap on her thigh with his weapon. She wailed and tried without success to limp after them.

Grace fell to the pavement, screaming for help, shards of pain coming not only from her leg but from deep inside her heart.

Her vision blurred as masses of color streaked and throbbed before her eyes.

Shrill police whistles stung her ears and then the pop of a pistol.

She gasped and crawled to her feet. She didn’t know where he came from, but Owen appeared and embraced her, squeezing tight. He was too late.

Grace squirmed. “Let me go! Someone took the children.”

“Ten policemen are on their heels, Grace. The captain must have guessed we’d have trouble and he sent help. If only I’d known your plans today, I would have warned you away.” He turned to the women. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes,” Edith answered. “But the babies! Do something!”

“Yes, ma’am. Can you give a description?”

Edith started to describe Smokey’s pallid looks and rumpled hair. Ma added a few things as well. Grace reached for words from her dry throat. “’Twas that fellow Smokey. The very same one you arrested a while ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure. Had some others with him.” Grace clenched her fists into tight balls. “What did they want? Why did they do that?”

“I don’t think they wanted their picture taken.”

“That’s what he said, but I didn’t take a photograph of his boss. Not now and not before. I told you that.”

Owen turned her away from the women and whispered. “When you saw him in the park weeks ago, he thought you took his picture. Didn’t you tell me that?”

“Yes. I had my camera then too, but on the grave of Saint Patrick I did not take any stranger’s photograph just now. I did take—”

“He thinks you did, Grace. And you might have, without knowing. That’s why I took the camera.”

She glanced behind him. “Where is it?”

“At the station, in case it’s evidence. Sent my partner over with it right after I took it from you. I saw you aiming and I thought it could be possible you’d inadvertently snapped the scum’s mug.”

“You saw him? The sketch I made . . . You saw
him
here?” Her mouth went dry.

“I thought so. Then all the commotion started . . . Well, come along, ladies, and I’ll take all of you over to the station.”

The police station. Peelers. Not again! Why, God, won’t
you
help me?

Owen spoke in a quiet voice, meant, she supposed, to calm her. “When they realized you didn’t have possession of the camera, they turned desperate.”

Ma, regaining her composure, tapped Owen’s arm. He turned and she reached for Grace. “We’ll go get S. P.,” she sniffed. “He’ll know what to do.”

“No.” Grace’s voice rang out like broken glass. “We don’t need his help. A telephone.” She glanced around her. “We have to . . . Oh, Edith. We have to call Mr. Parker.”

Edith embraced Grace. “Are you sure your men will catch up with those thugs, Officer?”

“We’re doing our best.” Owen pointed toward Broadway. “The police precinct. I’ll take you over.”

Grace cringed. “Oh no. We don’t want your help.” She meant to say they didn’t
need
his help but it came out all wrong.

“Grace McCaffery,” her mother scolded. She turned to Owen. “My name is Ellen Feeny. My husband is with the Royal Irish Constabulary, and we are visiting my daughter. I’m sure he can help. We accept your offer and need to make several calls. To Mr. Parker and to Miss Hall’s boardinghouse on Rector Street. And if my husband is not at Miss Hall’s, then to Tammany Hall.”

“It will be my pleasure to assist you, Mrs. Feeny. Try not to despair. We are on the case. There is a police wagon over here. We’ll take you straight to headquarters.”

41

THIS TIME IT WAS OWEN
pacing in the captain’s office. They’d been forced to endure the presence of a Tammany Hall sympathizer, an Irishman here for the parade. He was probably gathering American funds for some Irish cause. But because he was Grace McCaffery’s stepfather and a police inspector in his own country, they could not put him off easily. Problem was, he was related to Walter Feeny. Grace had warned him earlier, but he hadn’t given it a second thought until now.

The captain twiddled his thumbs. “You say you’re with the R.I.C.?”

“That’s correct, Captain Nicholson. Done years of criminal investigation in Ireland, and I’m here to lend my support.”

“When you left Tammany, did anyone ask you where you were going? Your nephew, perhaps?”

“I didn’t mention it. Walter was in another planning meeting. Should I have?”

“Uh, no. We have all the resources down here we need.”

“I just thought I might help.”

“Appreciate that.” Nicholson tapped a cold cigar on the edge of his desk. He didn’t offer any details about this case or the Hudson Dusters. Wise man.

“Look,” the elder Feeny said, tapping his tented fingers
together. “I don’t want to get into your business. Wouldn’t want anyone in mine, you understand.”

“Yes, I understand,” Nicholson said.

Owen cracked open the door and peered into the hallway. “How long does it take to develop snapshots?”

“Couple hours, I’d say,” the Irishman answered.

Owen was dying to know the strategy. If only they could get this fella out of the office. “Hey, maybe you could tell the fellas at the board how you track kidnappers in Ireland,” Owen suggested.

“The men in the hall in front of the blackboard?” Feeny twisted in his chair.