The Parting Glass (54 page)

“I’ll take back my badge, you know. In a week or a month. After the funeral, and after I’ve had some time to myself.”

Again Liam waited.

Glen rippled the bills once more. “But for now, I’m just a normal citizen, no longer sworn to uphold any laws, either good or bad. Prohibition’s a foolish law, because it breeds men like McNulty and Cassidy and puts honest distillers and distributors and too many honest saloon keepers like my own parents out of business. But we’ve created a new breed of criminal now, and someone has to catch the bootleggers. It might as well be me. And now that Clare is dead, I have a greater stake than most.”

“I’m sorry you do.”

Glen looked at the money in his hand; then he looked at Liam. He stepped forward and held the bills out to him. “There’s been enough death and destruction in Ireland, don’t you think…Liam Patrick Tierney? There’s more than enough money in my hand for you to start a new life for yourself and build lives for others.”

“You’re giving it back to me?”

“Use it well, so that McNulty can make no use of it at all.” Glen shoved his hands in his pockets, turned his back on Liam and walked away. In a few moments he had vanished into the woods.

chapter 35

B
y the time Liam left Whiskey Island, the city was coming to life. He had hoped to get to Brenna and Irene while it was still dark. He didn’t know exactly what Tim McNulty knew about his part in Clare’s escape and death, but surely, at the least, McNulty believed Liam hadn’t watched her carefully, and that was sin enough. It seemed unlikely that McNulty would spare any of his dwindling supporters to search for Liam instead of the money, but Liam couldn’t be too careful.

He wondered where to spend the hours until evening. He hadn’t been home since the night Clare died. He needed a bath and a change of clothing, and he wanted a few things Brenna had left behind. In their one brief phone call she’d lamented forgetting several small keepsakes. He wanted to retrieve them, gratitude for all she was giving up. It was too dangerous now, but he wondered if it would be safe that evening? Clare’s wake would begin about sunset, most likely at McNulty’s house. Everyone who had ever known her, everyone who had ever done business with her father, would be there.

If McNulty’s cohorts were at the wake, Liam’s chances of creeping back into his own house unnoticed would be better. Then, under cover of darkness, he would make his way to Brenna and Irene, and by morning the Tierney family could be safely on their way west. Liam wasn’t certain where they would go, Colorado or Wyoming, perhaps, away from city life and temptation. But once the Tierneys were out of Cleveland, they would have time to decide where and how to spend the rest of their lives.

He decided that the best place to spend the day was in one of the empty houses at the end of his block. From that vantage point his own house would be plainly visible, and he could watch to be sure no one came calling. On foot, he made his way to his neighborhood through the back streets, making certain not to call attention to himself. He arrived without incident and let himself in through a back window. Except for cabinets and trim, the house was nearly finished. On one of his neighborhood strolls he’d learned that the carpenters would begin the final stages of construction next week.

He made himself as comfortable as he could. He was still hungry, although he had bought rolls and milk on the walk and devoured them. Hunger was an old friend and would help him stay awake. He sat far enough back from the front bedroom windows that he could not be seen, and close enough that he had a good view of his neighborhood. Then he began his wait.

The day was blessedly uneventful. He dozed twice as afternoon lengthened, waking up with a start to look out on an unchanged street. Activity was reduced to a mother pushing a pram and the occasional promenade of neighborhood dogs. By the time the skies had darkened again and the men were home from work, he was famished and out of patience. He left the house the way he had come and carefully made his way to his own.

He had locked all the doors and windows on the day he left the house and most of what he owned behind. Now the back door was ajar. He drew the Colt .45 McNulty had so thoughtfully supplied and listened carefully before he entered. The house was silent. Once inside, he saw that it had been turned upside down. Someone had demolished most of the contents. Brenna had lavished such care on the house and its furnishings, his Brenna who had begun life with nothing and seemed to have nothing of worth all these years later.

This had not been an act of vandalism. Someone had systematically gone through the house looking for something. And what did Liam have of real worth?

Nothing that wasn’t burning a hole in his pants pocket.

There was only one explanation. McNulty suspected that Liam had found the rumrunners’ money. If McNulty’s men had come here simply to find him, they would not have searched the house so thoroughly. No, in his quest to find the money and pay back the North Side gang, McNulty was leaving no stone unturned.

Liam wondered if he was a pebble or a boulder in McNulty’s suspicions. Had this search been routine or narrowly targeted? And if the latter was true, what were the chances that Liam could leave the house again without being seen? If McNulty truly suspected him and could summon the manpower, he would have left someone behind to watch the house. Someone could be watching now.

He debated looking for Brenna’s missing keepsakes. A curl from Irene’s first haircut, a bow from the dress Brenna had worn on their wedding day, a photograph of a childhood friend who had died of influenza. She had so little, yet she wanted only these simple things. He knew where they had been kept and decided to take the chance. He was armed, and it would take only moments.

He took the steps two at a time. In his bedroom he found Brenna’s heirlooms on the floor under the overturned cigar box where she had kept them. He scooped them up, wrapped them in a clean handkerchief he found on the floor and placed them in the pockets of his trousers. There was no time for a bath, but he recovered a fresh shirt and changed into it, combed his hair, wiped his shoes on the shredded bed linen and carefully rolled clean socks into a ball and stuffed them on top of the keepsakes. It was time to go.

Unfortunately, an old friend thought otherwise.

“Thought you’d come back,” said a familiar voice.

Liam whirled to find Jerry blocking the doorway. He was only surprised that a man so large could climb the stairs without noise. All Liam’s senses had been finely tuned.

Jerry shrugged, as if he knew he had to clear up that question. “Don’t worry. You couldn’t have heard me. I been waiting in your little girl’s room. I guess I fell asleep.”

“For how long?”

“Not so long. I got here just before dark.”

Liam cursed his own naps. “Is this
your
handiwork?”

“You can put the gun away. I didn’t come here to shoot you.” Jerry held out empty hands. “See? I wanted you, I’d have shot you before you knew I was here.”

“What are you doing here then?”

“This wasn’t me.” Jerry gestured to the mess. Even the mattress had been ripped to shreds, along with the fan quilt made from scraps of Brenna and Irene’s dresses.

“I can guess what they were looking for,” Liam said.

“Didn’t find nothing, neither. I told ’em you didn’t steal the money. You were running that night like all of us, only you were lucky not to get caught.”

Liam knew this was no ordinary social call. “Why aren’t you at the wake?”

“Why aren’t
you?
”

“A man who sends thugs to destroy my house isn’t a man who wants me to pay respects to his daughter.”

“You’re right about that. No matter what I say, Mr. McNulty thinks you got the money.”

“And what makes him think so?”

“Because you weren’t there to stop Miss Clare from running away the day she was killed. You were supposed to be at the house watching her. Why else would you take off and leave her alone unless you didn’t need your job no more?”

For just a moment Liam was taken aback. McNulty believed he had abandoned Clare and that was the reason she had escaped to the Whiskey Island Saloon? “How does he know I wasn’t there?”

“Because both you and Miss Clare were gone when Cassidy got to the house.”

“He’s spoken to Cassidy? The very man who murdered his daughter?”

“Cassidy sent him word, after, well, you know. Says when he got to the house that day he found a note from Clare to her father saying she was running away. Cassidy just tried to find her and stop her, that’s all. She got in the way of a bullet meant for the new boyfriend.”

The way that Jerry put it, Cassidy had been a man trying to right a wrong and stop a woman’s impulsive act, a hero of sorts. Suddenly the murder was an accident, and the two men who were really at fault were Liam and Glen Donaghue—now known as the new boyfriend.

Obviously Cassidy hadn’t wanted anyone to know that Clare had broken a vase over his head, nor that Liam himself had been there to thwart Cassidy’s advances and help her escape. Liam wondered why the housekeeper hadn’t reported the truth, as she’d undoubtedly heard it from the kitchen. He guessed that after he and Clare left the house, she had taken one peek at the prostrate Cassidy, gathered her things and fled the McNulty house for good.

Liam felt his way through an explanation. “So McNulty believes I found the money? He has a reason?”

“That captain, the Canadian guy, got word to him that he hid the money on Whiskey Island before they caught him.”

“Even if that’s true, why would he tell McNulty?”

“’Cause they’re sending him home, and he’ll never be able to come back here to get it.”

That didn’t surprise Liam. The captain thought it was better for McNulty to find the money than to have it disintegrate under a dead limb. Maybe McNulty had offered him a deal, or maybe the captain thought it was a small price to pay for his own safety. If McNulty got his money, revenge was one less thing the captain had to worry about.

“That still doesn’t explain why he thinks
I
have it,” Liam said.

“Couple of people saw you and the captain disappearing in the same direction. They think maybe you saw where he hid it.”

“Maybe we left the same way, but I never saw the man again. You know how dark it was and how many paths lead out of there. I was worried about getting caught and nothing else.”

“You know, this would be a good time to turn your pockets inside out, just to show me, okay?”

“Show you what?”

“That you’re not carrying the money. We know it’s not in the house.”

“Jerry, if I had it, do you think I’d be carrying it around with me?”

“It’s not here. You do this, then I can tell McNulty one more time that I don’t think you took it.”

“If I did find the money, it could be hidden anywhere.”

“Just show me, okay?”

Liam was the one who had the drawn gun, but he suspected that Jerry was armed, even if he wasn’t brandishing a weapon. He wanted to avoid a confrontation. The other man was as big as a bull and unlikely to be stopped by a single bullet. At least, not quickly enough.

Liam placed his own gun on the windowsill, then took out the socks, waved them for Jerry to see and placed them on the sill, too. He took out the handkerchief with its carefully wrapped treasure and unwrapped it. That, too, was placed on the windowsill.

Then, slowly, he turned his pockets inside out. A key fell to the floor, some coins, and nothing else. “Satisfied?”

“Take off your shoes, too, okay?”

Liam laughed. “You won’t like the smell.”

“Just do it for me.”

Liam did, holding them out so that Jerry could see they were empty; then he pulled his shirt free of his trousers and shook them to show that nothing was hidden under his pants legs.

“Why did you stay around town after Clare was killed?” Jerry asked.

“A good question. First, if I found the money
before
Clare died, do you think I would have stayed around Cleveland? No, I stayed because I had a job here, and I thought McNulty would recover from his losses.”

“And after?”

Liam told the story he’d fabricated in case McNulty caught up with him. “After Clare was killed, I knew McNulty would hold me responsible, but it takes time to make arrangements to leave town. I didn’t have a lot of money sitting around. I had to sell a few things, figure out where to go, make sure my family was safe….”

“Maybe that makes sense, but you left Miss Clare alone. Where were you when you were supposed to be watching her?”

“Cassidy’s a liar. When he arrived I
was
there, and so was she. He got rough with her, and I tried to stop him. He was out cold on the floor when we left the house.”

“And you let her go running off to some other man?”

Liam prayed that Jerry had some trace of romance in his soul. “Yeah, I did, and I knew McNulty would never forgive me for it. I knew I had to get out of here.”

“So you came back and moved your family.”

“And I’m about to move myself. If you’ll let me.”

“You could go to McNulty, tell him the truth.”

“What, that I helped his daughter escape the man McNulty had chosen for her? He’s not going to believe Cassidy attacked Clare, because it doesn’t suit him to believe it. You know how little regard he had for her. Maybe he’s playing the grieving father tonight, but we both know the truth.”

Jerry frowned. “Yeah, okay. You’re dead here. I guess you’re right.”

“Would it serve any purpose to make sure I’m really dead?”

Jerry lifted one massive shoulder. “I remember that day at Squeaky Frank’s place. You got me out of there when you could’ve left me for the booze agents.”

“I just want to start over someplace else, Jerry. That’s all.”

“I guess you don’t have the money. I guess you can leave.”

Liam felt the beginnings of relief.

“That Donaghue fellow won’t be so lucky, though,” Jerry said. “Mr. McNulty’s gonna make sure he don’t live too long.”

“And what would be the point of that?”