Grace's Pictures (28 page)

Grace lit the gas lamp on the desk and sat in front of it. She needed to do something. Take action. Not allow Walter Feeny to bully her out of her job. Hazel, Holly, Linden, the wee babe Douglas. They needed her now. Springing from her chair, she retrieved her camera and checked to see how much film it held. If Mr. Parker saw for himself evidence of how happy his children were with her, he would have no reason to let her go.

She couldn’t sleep, so she wandered down to the kitchen for a snack. Noting that the garbage had not been taken out, she picked it up and stepped outside.

There were always people out and about in New York. She thought nothing of the figures milling about in the alley until she caught the outline of a police helmet. Walter Feeny in uniform stood leaning against the adjacent house.

“Got McNulty’s shift for tonight. Captain called me in right after the dance.”

“How nice for you.” She emptied the can she had in a trash barrel and turned toward the door to the kitchen.

“Ye left the dance in an awful hurry.”

“I . . . wasn’t feeling well.”

“Well, I’ll be seeing ye about, Rosie.”

She spun around. “Why did you call me that?” Rosie was the insulting moniker that man in the park had given her.

He crossed his arms. “Ain’t that what old Smokey calls ye, or is that a name—” he came toward her—“just between the two of ye?”

“You’re making that up just to scare me.”

“What’s the matter, lass? Don’t like cops? Just McNulty?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He laughed. “We’re not all the same, ye know. McNulty’s just a soft ole college boy.”

She set the can down and crossed her arms to match his authoritative stance. “What does that matter to me?”

“Smokey is a lookout, protection for his gang boss. Sometimes he takes jobs from folks to . . . intimidate their enemies. I suppose ye didn’t know as dull as ye are, but some of us on patrol observed ye speaking to him.”

“You mentioned that before. I told you, I don’t know him.”

“He quite certain knows ye.” He winked. “Do ye recall spying on a card game, lass? With that box camera of yers?”

How does he know about that?

“I can see from yer face ye do. Smokey recognized ye from that night, lass. There’s folks don’t like their picture made. Makes ’em real mad, it does. Ye probably don’t even know ye took a photograph that night of a reformer, a fella that preaches against gambling.”

“I . . . uh . . . I don’t know anything about that.”

He held up his palms while his nightstick dangled from a leather cord around his wrist. “I understand. Blameless folks can get caught in the webs they don’t see, don’t ye know? But nothing for ye to worry about. Just give me the photograph, and no one gets hurt, see? No need to worry about Smokey being after ye.”

“He’s after me?”

“Now didn’t I just say so, lass?”

Photograph? She was not at all sure which roll of film that shot might be on. “I don’t have it.”

“Now, don’t be putting up a fuss about it. I’m trying to help ye.”

Fat chance. “I sent the rolls off to Kodak. I haven’t yet received the prints.”

“I see.” He lifted his round shoulders as he turned away. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ye.”

She glared at his despicable wee round head and noted the smell of the garbage still clinging to her hands. “And why aren’t you out there right now looking for that Smokey fellow, Officer?” she shouted at his back.

He laughed. “So little ye know, lass. It’s all about favors.”

“And Officer McNulty—”

“Aw.” He waved a hand behind his head. “He’s not part of the game, ye see. Davis knows that. Only some of us know what’s going on, lass.”

So Owen McNulty truly was different. Mrs. Hawkins had tried to tell her. She thought back to that day in the park. She’d interrupted some discussion and startled some men by that statue and again in the aquarium. She hadn’t meant to and certainly hadn’t heard anything about a gang boss. She should not have been there, as she well knew now. Best to stay out of it.

“Wait.” He trotted up the back steps and stood next to her. “Ye got troubles with Smokey Davis. Be sure of that. I can keep him away, not to mention shield all this from your employer’s attention.” He whispered in her ear, “For an exchange of favors, if ye know what I mean.”

She gave him a shove and ran to the door.

“Ye don’t know what you’re dealing with, Grace McCaffery. Remember what I said.”

Mrs. Hawkins surprised her in the kitchen. “It’s late. Were you speaking to someone outside?”

“I, uh . . . I . . . I noticed the kitchen trash had not been taken out.”

“Oh, that’s right. I told Annie I would do it and it slipped my mind. Thank you, love.” She turned the lock on the back door. “Was there someone out there?”

“No one, really.”

The Hawk reached out for her arm before Grace could escape upstairs. “Something upset you. Wouldn’t you like a nice cup of tea, love? Coming home from the dance early and all.” She clicked her tongue. “I’m here to listen, love.”

Grace gasped for air, but too late. A horrific sob burst from her lungs.

“Oh, love. Come sit down.” The Hawk guided her to a chair.

“I’m always messing up, Mrs. Hawkins. I’m going to disappoint my mother, and if I do, she won’t come to America, and if she doesn’t come to America, I don’t know what I’ll do.” Once she started, Grace could not hold back.

The teakettle whistled, sending a shrill blast to Grace’s aching head. “He can’t dismiss me. Those children need me. And Mrs. Parker. She sees no value in living, not even for the children.”

Mrs. Hawkins removed the teakettle, and soon the smell of mint rose to Grace’s senses. “Why would Mr. Parker fire you, love? I’m sure nothing so horrid has occurred.”

“Not yet. But I don’t know how to keep bad things from happening. Without my mother, even without that awful workhouse, I’m like a ship at sea without a rudder. Don’t you see?”

The woman patted Grace’s hand. “I do see, love. That’s what the Benevolents are for. To guide you girls until you feel strong enough to set out on your own. And you will, love. You most certainly are able with the help of the One who will guide you through troubled seas.”

“Thank you.” Grace wasn’t sure she believed the Hawk, but the woman believed it herself, and that alone was something to cling to.

In the warmth of Hawkins House’s kitchen, Grace began to recover from the cloud of despair she’d tried to leave behind in
Ireland. She would stop taking random photographs because, as Feeny had said, some folks didn’t like that. Instead she would photograph the faces of those she truly cared about. There was something they all had in common, and she needed to find out what that was.

26

THE NEXT NIGHT
when Owen got to the station, he secured his father’s account books in his locker along with his civilian clothes, figuring that was the safest place he had for them. Then he sought out his partner. Instead of blurting out the information the pawnbroker had given him, Owen decided to wait until he could be sure it had been a good tip. No sense looking foolish.

Owen and Jake headed out to Battery Park. When they got to the corner of Morris Street, they noticed a police wagon. Jake elbowed Owen. “Feeny’s on wagon patrol, ain’t he?”

“That’s what the captain said. Him and Murphy and Green. Let’s go say hello. Tell him we were just on our way over to the Fourth. Wouldn’t hurt to know what he’s up to.”

They strode over, and seeing no driver, Owen tapped on the closed carriage door with his nightstick.

No answer.

He opened the door. “It’s empty, Jakey. Now that’s not right. They should not leave the wagon unattended.”

Owen gazed down Morris. He and Jake had gotten a late start, having had to walk a lost child home and speak to the owner of a bookstore who was worried about break-ins over in their assigned ward, the Fourth. He grabbed the lantern from
the side of the police wagon. “Something’s wrong. Go around the back side of the block, Jake, and work your way around Greenwich. I’ll start knocking on doors, beginning right under the el. We’ll wind our way to the docks.” Owen handed him the lantern.

Jake put a finger to the brim of his hat and disappeared.

“Evening.” Owen greeted some hoboes. “Seen some cops around here?”

“Nope.”

There was no reason for them to help, but it was worth a try.

Owen got only shrugs from the first two doors he knocked on, but at the third a hunchbacked woman answered. She held out her hand.

“Know something, then?”

“I do.”

It was a moment to use his best instincts. He reached out and held her hand. “I have to have more than your word, ma’am. A detailed description.”

The moment he touched her wrinkled hand, the corners of her mouth trembled. She gazed at him, eyes sparkling as though no one had touched her in a long time. “Three cops?”

“That’s right. Can you describe one?”

She scowled. “Round-faced Irishman tugging a girl along. Filthy cop.”

Feeny. Owen pulled out a quarter and placed it in the fingers that still held loosely to his own.

“They’re at number 505.”

“Thank you.” He placed one more coin in her hand and gave her cheek a kiss.

Counting off the doorways, he paused outside 505. If there was trouble, he’d need Jake. But Feeny would just tell him to
go mind his own business, maybe even tell him to take charge of the wagon. These were policemen, after all, not gangsters.

Owen charged up the steps. “Feeny, Green, Murphy? You in there?”

The sounds of boots scurrying on wooden floorboards came from inside. Then the door flung open.

“Feeny. What is going on? You left the wagon.”

Walter Feeny closed the door, grabbed Owen by the sleeve, and urged him off the stoop and into the street. “You should not be here. Davis don’t like no college boy cops.”

“Davis?”

“Never mind. Do the rounds with the wagon, will ya?”

“Yes, but—”

“No questions.”

Owen glanced up at a window where Smokey Davis glared out at him.

Feeny turned him away. “The fella’s a wee bit concerned about yer connection to Grace McCaffery. He thinks she tried to identify his boss, but I’ll get him off course. Ye just get out of here.”

“Grace? What are you talking about, Feeny? You and the boys have to get out of that house.”

“Mind yer own business, fancy-pants. I’m trying to save yer hide. Best listen to me.” He grinned. “Look, we’ll discuss it over a pint after our shift. I’ll buy.”

“Grace has no connection here, Feeny. You better leave her alone.”

“See there? I told him you didn’t know nothing.” He gave Owen a shove. “Go along, boyo.”

Owen found Jake at the docks. They made their way back toward number 505 and stood across the street in the shadows while Owen told him about finding the missing cops.

“Feeny? That scum. I’d tell the captain, but it won’t make any difference. And if the Dusters are in that house, they’ll be moving along to another before we can get back there, like they always do. I say we keep watch. What if Goo Goo is in there too?”

“Jake,” he said, “Davis knows who I am.”

“That’s no surprise, seeing as even Big Bill knew you were after the gang.”

Owen scratched the back of his neck. “Worse, I once saw Grace McCaffery, innocently enough, talking to Davis. Now he thinks she is a spy for me or something.”

“What a mess that is.”

Owen rubbed his temples. “How are we gonna hide here, then? There’s no way we can bring them in, even if we do spot Goo Goo.”

“We could wait until the cops leave and then raid the place.”

Just then a man in a long coat left the house. He paused to gaze at them and gestured with a nod of his head. Then he kept walking.

“I don’t know, Jake.” Owen held back his partner with a hand on his shoulder.

“We won’t follow him into no dark alley or nothing.”

Owen had to rush to keep up with Jake. They headed up Greenwich, catching some temporary light from the el as it passed. “What happened to the lantern?”

“Dropped it.”

“And why didn’t you pick it up?”

“One of those sewer holes. So black I couldn’t see a thing.”

Suddenly the man halted, turned, and waited for them. “Officers, I’m with the Committee of Fifteen.”

“What?” Jake reached for his gun.

Owen shook his head. “Uh, I was going to tell you about that, Jake.”

Jake held up both hands. “Would someone tell me what in thunder is going on here?”

The man pulled out a stack of papers, forms with the title
Disorderly House Report
. “I work for a group of private citizens concerned about the debauchery in Manhattan and the failure of the police department to do anything about it. I was just in that house, playing the role of cocaine buyer.”

Jake took one of the forms to examine it and then looked to Owen. “What do you know about this?”

“The pawnbroker told me. It’s a way folks are trying to take back their neighborhoods from gangs and vices.” Owen urged the man and Jake to keep walking as they talked. “If Goo Goo was in that house, and illegal activity was going on, this fellow’s about to write a report.” Owen asked the man for a pencil and wrote down his name and police precinct. “Make sure you talk to no one but me or Officer Stockton here, understand? We’ll get our assignments at four o’clock tomorrow. We can’t loiter around here much longer without tipping off the Dusters.”

“I’ll be around to see you tomorrow afternoon as soon as you go on duty, then.” He darted off toward a hired carriage on Broadway.

Shouting erupted from somewhere in front of them. “Cops! We need cops!”

They tore off as fast as they could until an invisible force bounced them backward. Ropes! Owen landed hard on the street. “Jake! It’s a trap. Where are you?”

In the cave-like dark he heard his partner gasping for breath.

“Jake!” Owen scrambled on hands and knees as shadowed voices mocked them.

Someone kicked him in the side. He sprang to his feet, fists ready. A rock whizzed past his head. “Lay off or I’ll come find you with my gun, you street rats!”