Oh Danny Boy (9 page)

“So tell them the truth,” I muttered to myself, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t force myself to say those words out loud to another living soul because by saying them out loud, I’d make them real.

And now Sid had made me feel guilty about not visiting Bridie. Of course I should have done so. I was the closest to a mother that those children had, and I had become remarkably fond of them. Even as those thoughts passed through my head, another idea sneaked in to join them. I could always marry Seamus. I could never love him but he was a good man, and I already loved his children. They’d like nothing better than to have me as their mother.

“Rubbish,” I said out loud, and dismissed the idea as quickly as it had come. I might be desperate, but I still had my pride. I wasn’t marrying anyone for convenience.

Next morning I woke after a good night’s sleep. The temperature outside had fallen during the night and sweet, cool breezes wafted in through my open bedroom window. I got up and stood at the window, savoring the cool air on my body through the thin cotton of my nightgown, listening to the sweet chittering of early morning birdsong. I felt refreshed and full of energy. Maybe I had panicked for nothing yesterday, I told myself. Maybe I wasn’t in the family way after all. I hadn’t always been regular in my monthly cycles, and they did say that shock could delay things. Fighting for my life in the Hudson River would certainly count as shock, wouldn’t it?

I even felt hungry. That may have been due to the vegetarian dinner I had been served last night. To tell the truth, I had found it hard to swallow the strange concoction of nuts and greens that Gus had prepared, and I had ended up hiding most of it under a lettuce leaf on my plate. I went downstairs and ate a hearty breakfast, after which I found that my brain was less muddled than yesterday and I was able to think clearly. So I got out my pad and started jotting down notes. What did Paddy always say when attacking a new case? Start with the obvious, that’s what he said. Go right to the source, don’t skirt around it. That meant I should start with the person who’d put Daniel in jail—with the commissioner of police himself, Mr. John Partridge.

And just how was I going to get an appointment to see
him? On what pretext? I couldn’t imagine that he’d welcome me as myself. If I appeared to plead on Daniel’s behalf, I might even harm his case. God forbid, he might even suspect I was some kind of gangster’s moll. No, this would take some thought and some subterfuge. I got up and paced around the room. A lady reporter come to interview him about his new appointment? Not at all a guaranteed entry. He might well despise them as a breed. A cause—I needed a cause. The commissioner had apparently arrested Daniel because he wanted to wipe out corruption in the Police Department. Very well, I’d be a member of the Ladies Decency League, come to congratulate him on his efforts. It was a risky undertaking. I had no idea if there really was a Ladies Decency League and whether Mr. John Patridge was already well acquainted with them. If he’d thrown the book at Daniel for accepting a bribe, he might well have me arrested for approaching him under false pretences.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” I said, more bravely than I felt.

I put on my one respectable business suit. It was too warm for the current weather but it looked efficient. Then I pulled my hair back severely from my face and hid it under a straw boater. The result was not flattering but had the desired effect.

“Better get it over with,” I said to the severe young woman in the looking glass and headed out of the door without looking back. I wasn’t sure where the commissioner of police was to be found, but I was certain most of the bigwigs had offices in City Hall. He’d either be there or at police headquarters on Mulberry Street. Either way, the folks there would be able to tell me where I could find him.

When I reached the post office on Broadway, I paid the ten cents at the public phone booth and had the operator put in a call to Daniel’s number. It rang and rang.

“There is no answer, caller,” the operator said, and the line went dead. I hadn’t really expected one. I couldn’t picture Jack picking up Daniel’s telephone, even if he had returned during the night. He’d probably think it too risky to
reveal his presence. I was tempted to check in person, but I couldn’t spend my entire life going up and down Sixth Avenue on the off chance that he’d come back. He did have my address. He could come looking for me. And I was conscious that time was of the essence. Every day that Daniel remained in jail might put his life in jeopardy.

As I went up the marble steps to that imposing building with its gleaming marble façade and Greek columns, my nerve almost failed me. Molly Murphy, until recently an Irish peasant, was about to worm information out of one of the most powerful men in the city. Men didn’t rise to the top in New York City without a certain degree of ruthlessness. If he was as straight and honorable as he claimed to be, then he wouldn’t take kindly to my extracting information under false pretences. And if he was the usual sort of New York politician, he wouldn’t want me poking into his crooked schemes.

“You have no choice,” I told myself firmly and forced one foot in front of the other. There was a young man sitting at a reception desk. He eyed me flirtatiously. I gave him my Queen Victoria stare and told him I was on a most important errand from the Ladies Decency League. His manner changed right away and soon I was heading up a flight of steps to the second floor.

Mr. Partridge had a female secretary who looked even more dowdy and severe than I did. I couldn’t possibly speak to the commissioner without an appointment, she said.

“Oh, but I know he’d want to meet with a representative of his staunchest supporters,” I said. “The Ladies Decency League is backed by the most influential women in the city. Why only last week Mrs. Astor held a meeting at her mansion on Fifth Avenue.” I shut up at that point before I let this ridiculous blarney go too far. But it seemed to have worked because the woman rose to her feet. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “He may just have a minute before his meeting with the mayor.”

She returned with a gracious smile on her lips. “The commissioner would be delighted to see you, Miss—?”

“Delaney,” I said, uttering the first name that came into my head.

“Miss Delaney to see you, sir,” the secretary said, and I was ushered into a most impressive office, complete with a polished mahogany desk big enough to skate on, and walls decorated with citations and photographs of the commissioner shaking hands with President Teddy Roosevelt and President McKinley before him.

“Miss Delaney?” The man behind the desk stubbed out a cigar, then rose and extended a bony hand. He was a big man with heavy jowls and an impressive brush of a moustache. His eyes were hooded, like those of an owl. He was obviously a stickler for convention, as he was dressed in a well-cut suit with a high, starched-collared shirt beneath it, even though most men would be in shirtsleeves or at the very most in a linen blazer in this kind of summer heat. I shook his hand and accepted the chair he offered.

“And what exactly brings you to my office?” he asked pleasantly. “You come from Mrs. Astor, as I understand.”

This was going a little too far into the realms of fantasy, even for me. “Not directly from Mrs. Astor,” I said. “But our organization, the Ladies Decency League, has dispatched me to congratulate you on the fine job you are doing in restoring decency to our city.”

He smiled, a cold, thin-lipped sort of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. All in all a very cold fish, I decided, and one whose face didn’t betray at all what he was thinking.

“I am doing my best, Miss Delaney,” he said. “I am faced with a formidable challenge, as you know only too well. Vice is rampant in our streets. Prostitution, gambling, drunkenness, corruption at all levels—these are blights that threaten to destroy our fine and noble city.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Commissioner,” I said. “As for corruption—we know that it is rampant in your very own department, and we are delighted that you are taking such firm measures against it. Are we right in thinking that you had one of your senior officers arrested for receiving a bribe only this week?”

His face registered a flicker of surprise before those eyes became hooded again. “My, my. News does travel fast in this city, doesn’t it? How did your organization hear about this?”

“We keep our ears to the ground, Commissioner. One of the reasons I was sent to you today was to congratulate you on this firm and bold action. It sends a message throughout the ranks of the police, as I am sure you mean it to.”

“It does indeed.” Now he looked pleased with himself. “Corruption must be weeded out from the top down, Miss Delaney. Young officers look up to their captains. We must let them know the high cost of straying from the straight and narrow path.”

“Of course we haven’t been privy to any details,” I said, leaning confidentially forward. “Do we understand that this officer, this captain, was actually in cahoots with the gangs?”

“Of course the case has not come to trial yet, so I’m afraid I’m really not at liberty to discuss it.”

“Of course not,” I agreed. “But how did you catch him out? Have you already managed to set up a network of spies within the force?”

“Not really,” he said. “It was pure luck, actually. I have been conducting walking tours of the most unsavory parts of the city because I believe that displaying my presence sends a powerful sign to the criminals there, also because I wanted to see for myself just what I was up against. I came around a corner, and there was one of my officers actually being passed a bribe by a known gang member. I had him arrested at once, of course. The envelope was opened and dollar bills cascaded to the sidewalk. The gang member took to his heels and left my officer to face the music—which he is now doing.”

“Amazing,” I said. “So this was all complete happen-stance? You just chanced to be in that part of the city at that very moment?”

“Pure coincidence, Miss Delaney.” There was something in the way he was looking at me. I couldn’t quite read it—was it triumph? Was he gloating? He set the trap to catch
Daniel himself, I thought. I tried to make my brain work. What else could I possibly ask him?

“And he was being passed a bribe in broad daylight,” I asked, “or was it under cover of darkness?”

“In broad daylight, can you believe?” The commissioner smiled again at Daniel’s supposed stupidity.

“In some back alley, I’ve no doubt.”

“Not at all actually. It wasn’t a street where ladies like you would feel safe walking alone, but a broad-enough thoroughfare for the event to be witnessed. Water Street, down by the docks, as a matter of fact.”

Firmly in Eastman territory, I thought. Now there was no longer any doubt that Monk Eastman’s gang was definitely involved in Daniel’s downfall. Not a happy thought because the double cross could have come from them. They may have wanted to set up the prizefight with Gentleman Jack and cut Daniel out at the same time.

The commissioner had risen to his feet again. “So glad to meet you, Miss Delaney. Please give my very best to Mrs. Astor and the ladies of your fine league. Now if you’ll excuse me, I can’t keep the mayor waiting.”

Desperately I tried to come up with more questions. “Just one moment,” I said, and he looked back at me in surprise. “We are—thinking of coming up with a league citation to reward noble actions by our public servants,” I said, blurting out the first thing that came into my head. “You yourself will be first on the list, in fact. I gather a swank party is being planned.”

“I am most honored.” He gave a little mock bow.

“I’m sure the ladies will be most impressed to hear about these walks you conduct around the most dangerous parts of the city,” I babbled on. “You surely don’t walk through those parts alone, do you?”

He smiled again. “I am not foolhardy enough to risk gang members taking a potshot at me. I had an escort of officers who normally patrol that beat and who, I might add, were instrumental in helping me to arrest the errant captain.”

“You wouldn’t remember any of their names?”

The smile vanished. I had pushed too far. “I administer a force of several thousand men, Miss Delaney. Much as I’d like to be on first-name terms with every constable, that is just not possible. And I’m wondering what interest you could have in knowing their names?”

“Just in case the ladies of the league wish to issue any more citations,” I said.

“My officers do their duty no matter what it is,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my secretary will show you out.” And he was gone. I descended the stairs feeling somewhat pleased with myself. I knew the street where the passing of the envelope took place. I could presumably find out which officers walked that beat, and I knew which gang had to be involved. This latter was not a comforting thought because it meant I would have to pay a visit to Walhalla Hall, whether I liked it or not.

When I was out of sight of City Hall, I took off my hat and shook my hair loose, just in case the commissioner had sent anyone to tail me. Then I hopped on the next passing trolley, anxious to put ground between myself and Mr. Partridge. He wasn’t an easy man to read—well, no man would be who had risen through New York City politics to one of the plum jobs—but I had sensed that he was glad about Daniel’s downfall. So the next thing to find out would be whether he had crossed swords with Daniel before. I had no idea how I was going to do that. I looked back longingly at the square solid outline of The Tombs. There was no point in asking to see Daniel again, unless I had enough money to bribe my way in. I’d just have to wait and see what his next reply told me.

I jumped off the trolley again at Houston Street, resolved to do some shopping, just in case Gentleman Jack showed up and needed feeding. Houston was in turmoil with pushcarts trying to get through the crush of people, a delivery dray blocking most of the street, and shoppers jostling each other as they tried to squeeze past.

“Move over. Make way. Go on, get out of here.” The cries rose up in several languages, presumably all saying the same
thing. Then one of the pushcarts gave up the attempt and backed around the dray, and I saw what was holding us all up. A horse had dropped to the ground between its shafts and was in the process of being cut loose by its driver. The load on the cart indicated why the poor beast might have succumbed to heatstroke.

“Get it out of the way and let us through!” a man’s voice shouted.

“You come and help drag it yourself!” the driver shouted back. “He’s dead as a doornail. He’s not going to get up again.”

Suddenly the smells became overpowering—the frying chickpeas on one cart, the pickles on another, a string of geese hung up by their necks, and the horse manure scattered liberally over the cobbles. I felt my head whirling around. I backed out of the crowd and sank to the nearest stoop, fighting back nausea. I had to get away from here fast, but I couldn’t trust my legs to support me.