The Parting Glass (55 page)

“Weren’t for him, Miss Clare would be engaged to Cassidy by now.”

“Lucky Clare, huh?”

“You ever thought about who turned us in the night of the raid?”

“I assume the boats were spotted off shore, that’s all.”

“Those Canadians were good. The best until now. They’d never been caught. No, Mr. McNulty thinks Miss Clare got wind of the shipment somehow. She lived in his house, after all, and she had ears. She hears about it, tells the new boyfriend, Donaghue sets up the raid.” Another heave of Jerry’s shoulders. “Donaghue’s gotta die. Weren’t for him, Mr. McNulty wouldn’t be in this trouble, would he? Miss Clare wouldn’t be dead.”

“I imagine Donaghue will take his chances. McNulty’s not a man with much muscle these days.”

“Maybe not, but he’s got an ace in the hole. Miss Clare’s grave. Donaghue really loved her, he’ll go and visit her there. Mr. McNulty will have him picked off like a crow on a farmer’s fence post.”

“I doubt this Donaghue fellow’s that stupid. He won’t go to the funeral.”

“Who said anything about the funeral?” Jerry smiled a little. “I’m going now. You be careful. Do what you gotta do tonight and get out of here. I won’t say I seen you. But that’s all I can do for you.” He turned and squeezed back through the doorway.

“Jerry?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

One more lumberjack heave and Jerry was gone.

Liam waited until he was sure he was alone before he returned Brenna’s keepsakes to his pocket and topped them with the socks that held a bootlegger’s treasure rolled up inside.

Had Glen been anyone else, Liam would silently have wished him well and forgotten about him. He would have gone for his family, told the old ladies where to find his car, traded car keys and driven to Toledo to catch a train west. As it was, he was fairly certain that Glen was too smart to visit Clare’s grave. But grief did strange things to a man. Defenses were lowered. Impulses took control. When Glen turned his back on the rumrunners’ money, he turned his back on his own stern ideals. Understandable, yes, but risky, too. And what else would he risk while the memory of Clare’s death was so fresh?

Liam couldn’t take a chance of someday learning that a simple message to stay away from the grave and watch his back might have saved his cousin’s life.

Liam knew more about Glen than he rightfully should have. He knew where Glen lived, the Chinese restaurant where he sometimes ate dinner, his barber shop and favorite newsstand. He had kept an eye on his cousin, partly because of Glen’s relationship with Clare, partly because Liam had wanted to be closer to his own flesh and blood. Now the details he’d learned served him well. He made the rounds of Glen’s neighborhood, keeping to shadows, checking over his shoulder. Despite Jerry’s assurances, Liam didn’t trust his colleague completely. Jerry’s first loyalty was always to McNulty.

He visited Glen’s apartment, but Glen wasn’t home. A note might have sufficed, but he had no paper, and even a clean shirt hadn’t improved his appearance or aroma enough to borrow anything from Glen’s neighbors. When an old woman across the hall opened her door and peered warily at him, he decided he’d better search elsewhere before she called the police.

He had checked St. Brigid’s, but he checked again. Two women in opposing pews were busy with rosaries, and at the front, near the altar, a man in overalls polished brass. The rectory and Father McSweeney were close at hand. He could leave a message with the old priest and know it would be delivered, but when he passed by the house, every light was off. If he knocked and made a fuss, he would draw too much attention to himself.

There was one more place to try. He headed for the Whiskey Island Saloon.

He was known there now. Not as family, but as the man who had tried to help Glen save Clare’s life. Out of respect for her, the establishment had been closed since the night of her death, but tonight there were lights inside. As he had from the beginning of his search, he checked his surroundings carefully before he tried the door. It was locked, but from somewhere behind it a man called out that they were closed until the following week.

Liam went around the back to the kitchen, knocked again, and kept knocking until that door opened. Glen’s father stood on the other side.

“You,” Terry Donaghue said.

“May I come in?”

Donaghue stepped aside. “You’re looking the worse for wear.”

“I’m looking for your son. Have you seen him tonight?”

“He’s not at the wake, that’s for certain.”

Liam had a feeling that Terry knew where Glen was but wasn’t ready to tell him. “I have to see him.” He considered how much to say. “I need to warn him.”

“About what?”

Liam gnawed his bottom lip. Terry was his first cousin-although the older man would never know it. He wished the circumstances were different, that he could tell Terry everything and enlist his help. The need for family, good solid family, was an ache he had only just admitted to. Now family was an arm’s length away, and what could he tell this man that would bring Terry anything except shame? Liam was a rebel, a murderer, a bootlegger. And Terry, so far removed from Ireland’s troubles, wouldn’t understand any of it.

“I’m not going to tell you where he is unless I know why,” Terry prompted.

Liam knew his credibility was seeping away with every silent second. “I was waylaid by one of McNulty’s men tonight,” he said before credibility disappeared forever.

“You used to work for McNulty.”

Liam figured Glen had told his father that much. “Used to. Now he’s after me for helping Clare.” He turned his palms up in supplication. “I need to find your son. He’s in danger, too.”

“From McNulty?”

“McNulty blames Glen for Clare’s death. He’s going to stake out the cemetery, keep a man there in hopes that Glen visits the grave.”

“And you came here to tell him at your own risk?”

“He’s not thinking so clearly, is he now?”

Terry’s expression was answer enough. “I’ll tell him what you said.”

That should have been enough. Liam was free now to make his escape. Except that there was something in Terry’s expression that concerned him. Terry believed him, but he believed even more in his son’s good sense. He would get the message to Glen, but perhaps not until tomorrow. Terry was sure that Glen would not risk a visit to Clare’s grave until days after the funeral, if at all.

“I’m not sure I made this clear enough,” Liam said. “It’s not just a matter of the cemetery. He’s in danger anywhere he goes, at least for a while. For all I know, they’re hunting for him right now.”

“Glen’s careful and smart.”

“McNulty has no men to spare, but he’s going to post someone at the cemetery. That’s a clear indication he’s serious.”

“Glen was going to his grandmother’s house.”

“Then I’ll—”

Terry held up his hand. “Then he was going to a friend’s. That’s probably where he is now.”

Liam knew where Glen’s grandmother lived. He had walked by the house once just to see it, a hopelessly maudlin gesture. “Tell me where to go, and I’ll find him.”

Terry frowned, clearly torn. “The two houses are on opposite sides of town.”

Liam could feel the night slipping away. “Do they have telephones, then?”

“My mother does, yes, but she won’t answer it after dark. She claims there’s no news that can’t wait until the morning, good or bad. And his friend doesn’t have one at all.”

“Then don’t waste another minute. Tell me where to go. I’ve no car, but if I’m lucky, the streetcars will be running.”

“No, I’ll do it. I can drive. I’ll try his friend first, since that’s more likely, then my mother’s.”

“And if you don’t find him?”

“Then I’ll go by his apartment and leave a note to call me.”

Liam had done what he could. “I’ll be leaving, then. There’s one thing, though, that you could do for me.”

Terry cocked his head in question.

“Let me out through the tunnel where Clare died.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because if I was followed here, they’ll most likely be watching the front door.”

“Followed?”

“I’ve been careful. You be careful, too.”

Terry crossed the kitchen and opened the door that led downstairs. “You can find your way?”

“I can.”

“Don’t turn on the lights, or you might be seen going out. There are candles by the door going down. Take one and blow it out as you leave.”

“That’s exactly what I’ll do.” Liam held out his hand once the door was open. “Don’t take this lightly, Mr. Donaghue. McNulty’s a desperate man, and sometimes all that’s left to desperate men is revenge.”

“Glen will be careful. It’s in his nature.”

Liam stared at him for a moment and saw what he most feared. Terry trusted his son to the point of blindness. Worse, he believed that goodness would prevail. He had already forgotten the lesson taught by Clare McNulty’s death.

They shook hands, and Liam descended the stairs. The door closed as soon as his candle was lit.

Liam almost left for the East Side. There was still time to get Brenna and Irene and leave for Toledo. He had done what he could to protect Glen, and now it was time to protect himself.

Instead, he stood outside Lena Donaghue’s house and wondered why he had put Glen’s safety first once again. Was it fear that Terry’s faith in his son would dilute the warning? Or was it one last opportunity to see his cousin face-to-face? He’d been sure he had escaped the Irish curse of sentimentality, but he was afraid now that he’d fallen prey at last. Glen was probably across town, yet here Liam stood, gazing up at Lena Donaghue’s house, the house of the aunt he had never known.

The house was larger than he’d expected, but still small for a growing family. He could picture the Donaghue children spilling out to the wide front porch on summer mornings, wrestling on the grass, rolling hoops down the tree-lined street. He wondered what it might have been like to grow up here. He had seen the outcome of this life in the expression on Terry Donaghue’s face when he talked of his son. Love, respect, faith. Elements missing in his own childhood and Brenna’s, but present in Irene’s, he hoped.

A lamp shone on a hallway table, and somewhere in the back of the house another was lit. He debated how best to make his presence known. He didn’t want to frighten Lena Donaghue, but neither did he want to wait and watch the house in hopes Glen might appear. He had seen a dog behind the neighbor’s fence, and he knew that if he tried to reach the back door to peer inside, the canine alarm would sound throughout the neighborhood.

He climbed the porch steps and rapped softly on the door. After a moment he heard footsteps and the door opened. Glen stood on the threshold. “What are you doing here?” He kept his voice low.

“Looking for you.”

Glen’s gaze flicked past Liam to the street beyond. “What for?”

“May I come in?”

“My grandmother’s not feeling well. She’s still upset about Clare. She just got to sleep, and I don’t want to disturb her.”

Liam wished they could go indoors, where it was safer. There were a hundred things Liam wanted to say to him. How sorry he was about Clare, who had deserved all the good things life could offer. How glad he was to know that he’d come from good people after all, even if the ones who had raised him had been less than perfect.

He said none of them. He had no words, no opportunity, and no desire to see Glen’s expression when he learned that Liam was his cousin. He shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders. He spoke quickly.

“McNulty’s after you. He thinks the raid was your fault, that you found out about the delivery from Clare herself. Between that and you trying to run away with her, he’s gunning for you. Don’t go to the cemetery. He’ll have someone watching Clare’s grave from now on. Stay alert and watch your back, at least until Moran and his boys take care of him once and for all. Then you’ll be safe.”

“I thought after this morning you’d be leaving town.”

“I couldn’t leave without warning you.”

“Why? You don’t owe me anything.”

“There’s been enough violence, hasn’t there? I didn’t like thinking there might be more once I was gone.”

“Okay.” Glen paused; then he held out his hand. “Thanks.”

Liam took it, and they shook. “You’ll be careful?”

“I don’t want to bring my grandmother more heartache.”

Liam dropped Glen’s hand; then he turned and hurried down the steps.

“Liam?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“You need a ride?”

Liam hesitated. A ride would make escape tonight possible. If he went by car, he could be with Brenna and Irene in less than an hour, then on the road to Toledo.

Glen must have seen how tempted he was. “I’ll get my keys.” He closed the door behind him before Liam could object.

Liam looked up and down the street, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He had been careful since leaving his house, and so far his luck had held. Glen knew how to be careful, too. Surely a drive wouldn’t put either of them in more danger.

Nevertheless, he melted into the shadow of the house, disappearing against the trunk of an ancient oak. Above his head, a treehouse nestled between branches. He pictured Irene playing there with her cousins.

He forced himself to concentrate on other things, on the car that drove past before unloading several girls in front of a neighbor’s house. On the dog at the street’s end who began a mournful howl until a porch light came on and an angry masculine voice commanded it to be silent.

He listened for footsteps, for car engines, for lowered voices. He heard nothing else except his own heartbeat and finally the creak of Lena Donaghue’s front door. As he watched, Glen paused in the doorway, examining the street, listening, stepping forward and starting all over again. Clearly he had taken Liam’s warning seriously.

Glen glanced at Liam, who was still flattened against the tree and nodded toward the street. He started for a blue Ford that was parked in front of a neighbor’s house, and Liam trailed behind. Halfway there, he heard the screeching of tires and the gunning of an engine as a car pulled out of a parking space down the street and roared toward them. He knew that despite great care, he had led McNulty’s men straight to Glen, the thing he had most feared.