Read Murphy's Law Online

Authors: Rhys Bowen

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General

Murphy's Law (9 page)

BOOK: Murphy's Law
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"About his boots, sir. O'Malley's boots." Sullivan looked up with interest. "Well, sir, we took them off, and they're very good quality, sir. They've the name of a bootmaker in London inside them and they're very well made--lined with kid and all."

"Are they, now?" Sullivan glanced at me. I had been the one who had just suggested that O'Malley might have had something worth stealing.

"So I thought, sir," Lynch went on excitedly, "that either this man O'Malley isn't what he seemed, or he stole the boots. In which case maybe Scotland Yard has a file on him."

"I've already telegraphed Scotland Yard with a description of the man," Sullivan said. "And I'm waiting to hear back from Dublin, too, with anything they can give us on his background. Have you located any luggage he might have stored down in the baggage room?"

"Two of the lads are down there right now, sir. We'll bring it up to you when we find it."

"Thanks, Lynch. Good work," Sullivan said.

"I was thinking, sir, about the boots," Lynch went on hesitantly. "if he was wearing fine boots like that, then maybe the motive was robbery."

Sullivan noticed me standing in the door. "You can go now, Mrs. O'Connor," he said, curtly. I tried not to smile.

More sitting and waiting in the big, drafty room. Then a line of uniformed guards filed in, looking surly and escorted by a couple of policemen. Daniel Sullivan beckoned me. "Take a good look and tell us which man you saw," he said. "Don't be nervous." I

walked down the line of navy blue uniforms. Then I shook my head. "I don't see him here," I whispered to the captain.

"Is this all the guards?" Sullivan asked. "Everyone who was on duty last night?"

"Some of the night shift would have gone home on the first boat this morning," one of the guards answered.

"I thought nobody left the island!" Daniel Sullivan's face flushed red with anger.

"No immigrants." The administrator stepped out of the shadows. "But some of the night shift boys went home on the boat that brought the day shift, as usual. They'd gone before we realized ... We only discovered the crime when the shifts were changing."

"So you're saying that any number of people could have sneaked away from the island?"

McSweeney laughed uncomfortably. "Oh no, that's not possible. Only men working on the night shift. It's a government launch. They wouldn't let anybody who wasn't an employee aboard."

"Damn," Sullivan muttered, then glanced up at me apologetically. "Sorry, ma'am."

"I've heard worse," I said.

He took a deep breath. "Okay. I want all the off-duty guards brought here as soon as possible. Everybody on the roster. I want them back here this afternoon. Got it?"

"They won't take kindly to being woken in the middle of. ..." McSweeney began.

"I don't care a do---, a fig about their feelings. A man has been murdered. One of them might well have vital information. Get the list to my men and we'll bring them in right away."

"You've no authority to do this!" McSweeney called after him. "This is federal property. We've called in the U.s. Marshals and they're on their way."

"This island falls within the boundaries of New York City, Mr. McSweeney," Daniel Sullivan said. "And any crime committed in New York City is handled by the NYPD. Besides, we're not dealing with cattle rustling here. This is murder, McSweeney. I doubt your federal marshals have handled a murder inquiry in their lives."

He strode away from the line of guards with me following him. Then seemed to remember me and

turned back. "Sorry to detain you even longer, Mrs. O'Connor. Are your children all right? Go and get them something to eat. Say that Captain Sullivan says you should be fed."

We went through to the dining room. Other detainees were sitting around with cups of coffee. Still no sign of Michael Larkin. I asked several people. Some thought he had been released and gone. Nobody had seen him recently. Only

I knew that he wouldn't have gotten past the authorities without that five pounds.

The day seemed to go on forever. It was dark and gloomy, with fog swirling past the windows and mournful tooting from ships going up the river. The two children were unusually quiet and good.

"Will they keep us in prison here forever?" Seamus whispered to me.

I ruffled his hair. "It's not prison and we'll be out by the end of the day. Not long now, I promise."

"You said that when the ship was going up and down, but it was two more days," he said accusingly.

I smiled. "This time I really promise." The afternoon went on. I kept glancing at the clock on the wall. If they didn't get here soon, I'd be detained for another night. I wondered about Seamus O'Connor. Had he come to the island hoping to meet us yesterday? Was he pacing the shore today, waiting for word that he could come and take us home? And after all that waiting and hoping, to find that his wife hadn't joined him, after all. It hadn't really struck me until now that I was the bringer of the very worst news possible. It was possible that Seamus would be so distressed or angry that he'd give me away. When I was a child we used to lay old planks across the fast-flowing brook and dare each other to walk across. We would do it, never knowing when the rotten old wood would give way and tumble us into the icy water and rocks. That was how my life felt at this moment--never knowing at which moment the rickety boards would give way.

Nine

The radiators made the small waiting room uncomfortably warm and stuffy. I was dozing when Bridie climbed onto my lap. "The men have come back for you," she said. I had been dreaming of home.

It took me a couple of seconds to regain my senses and to see that two policemen were waiting for me.

"Captain Sullivan is ready for you now, Mrs. O'Connor. They've brought all the guards in. If you'd come this way."

"I'll be back in a minute. Watch your sister," I said to Seamus as I followed the men from the room.

This time there was a long line of uniformed men. Some of the uniforms had obviously been put on hastily and some of the men clearly hadn't shaved. They all looked disgruntled at being dragged here during their time off.

"You know what to do, don't you?" Daniel Sullivan asked me. "Let me know if you recognize the man you saw last night."

I fell into step beside him and we walked slowly down the line. So many faces, but none of them I recognized until ... there he was! It had been dark last night and he was standing in the shadows, but surely that had to be him. Big, brawny, lots of whiskers ... I leaned close to Daniel Sullivan. "That's the one," I said. "That man there with all the whiskers."

We continued to the end of the line. Daniel went to speak to the administrator. "Boyle!" he called. "Would you step this way please?"

The big man followed him and was escorted by Captain Sullivan into a side room. I found that I was shaking. If that man had been a murderer and I'd just identified him, wasn't it possible that I was now in danger? What if he escaped or was released and came looking for me? Why had I opened my big mouth again and gotten myself involved when I could so easily have said nothing?

Nobody told me what to do, so I went back to the children in the dining hall. There was coffee and bread available, but I wasn't hungry. It wasn't long before Daniel Sullivan himself came looking for me.

"Can I have a word with you, Mrs. O'Connor?" He led me outside of the room into the deserted hallway.

"You're sure that was the man?"

"Not completely sure. He was in the shadows and the lights were very dim, but he's the only big one, with a paunch and lots of whiskers. That's what I saw."

"Only he wasn't here last night, Mrs. O'Connor. He was on the day shift yesterday and he left on the six o'clock boat."

"He can prove that, can he?"

"We'll check it out, of course, but why would he have any reason to lie?"

"If he had something to hide?"

He glared at me. "You're back to this something to hide rubbish again. If he wanted to rob immigrants, he could get himself stationed in the baggage room and help himself when no one was looking. He wouldn't be the first. But you don't carry a big, sharp knife around with you unless you're intending to kill. And why would he pick out one sleeping man over another?"

"He recognized O'Malley as someone he had a feud with long ago?"

"Rather far fetched, wouldn't you say? Boyle was born in upstate New York and he's never been out of the country."

"How do we know O'Malley was never here before?"

A brief frown crossed his face. "We don't," he said. "We've requested information about his past. Then we'll know more. But there was a guard on duty last night who covered the men's dormitories. He's a thin little Russian immigrant with a black beard. And he said no other guard was assigned to that area."

"They could be in on it together."

He stepped forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. "You know what I'm thinking, Mrs. O'Connor. I think you might be spinning me a good yarn to get yourself off the hook." Suddenly he seemed to realize that he was holding me. Myself, I was all too aware of those big strong hands on my shoulders. We stood there, just for a moment, like that, then he dropped his arms awkwardly and cleared his throat. "Now I have two courses open to me, Mrs. O'Connor. I can't hold you here any longer--this is federal property, but the idiots here aren't equipped to handle crimes of this magnitude. So I could take you straight to the city jail and hold you there for questioning. I don't recommend the city jail. The inmates call the cells there the Tombs--" he waited for the alarm to register on my face--"or I can release you to your husband, for now, on the understanding that you don't go anywhere and you are available to come to police headquarters whenever you are summoned."

"But you are going to check out that guard's alibi, and try to find the knife?" I suggested.

"You seem determined to teach me my job, Mrs. O'Connor. The knife, I'd imagine, is already lying at the bottom of New York Harbor. And it will be easy enough to check out Mr. Boyle's movements." He paused. "There is, of course, a third option."

Dramatic pause. I swear I could hear my heartbeat echoing in that tiled hallway.

"You could tell me everything you know about this man O'Malley right now. Save us both a lot of trouble. I don't think you killed him, but I still get the feeling that you're hiding something from me. If you're shielding somebody, remember this. The man who killed O'Malley is a violent, dangerous, opportunistic murderer. Do you want that kind of person out on our streets?"

I took a deep breath. How I wished I could tell him the truth and get this nightmare over with. "Look, Captain Sullivan, I wish

I could help you, but I really, truly can't. I swear by the Blessed Mother that I never saw O'Malley before in my life until I boarded that ship. I had an unpleasant encounter with him during which he made bawdy remarks and I slapped his face. But that's all. Now please-- I've got two little ones and a husband I haven't seen for over two years waiting and worrying about me."

Again he looked at me long and hard, then he nodded. "Off you go, then. But don't think about running away. The Irish network is strong in this country. We'd catch you again before you could blink."

"I have no reason to run away," I said. Sullivan beckoned to a young officer standing nearby. "Escort Mrs. O'Connor and her children to the inspectors and let them know that she may be handed over to her husband."

We followed the young policeman through the registry room and up to one of the inspection stations. "Mrs. O'Connor is free to leave," the young policeman said. The inspector glanced at my papers, then at me and the children.

"You're traveling alone? Is someone here to meet you?"

"My husband is waiting for me, unless he got discouraged after two days and went home."

He waved my papers at me. "And everything that's written on this paper is true? Can you read

or write?"

He was a young man with a high stiff collar and a big hooked nose. I sensed him looking down this nose at me. "Read Shakespeare, write Latin," I answered.

I saw his eyebrow raised. "In which case what are you doing at the bottom of the heap?" There was sarcasm in his voice.

"I married the man I loved. I didn't say I wasn't foolish."

That caused him to smile. "Now I have to ask you the following questions: have you ever been convicted of a crime?"

"No, sir," I replied, dropping my eyes. I was glad that he hadn't asked me if I had ever committed a crime. I was sure my face would have given me away.

"And I have to ask also--are you an anarchist?" "No to that also."

He handed the papers back to me. "Here you are, Mrs. O'Connor. You have your twenty-five dollars, do you? I'll have you escorted down to the baggage room. If your husband is outside, you can go."

Then I was passed and a free woman, almost. And he hadn't even looked at the five-pound note I had in my pocket. I glanced back to see if Michael was anywhere in sight but a young official motioned me to follow him.

"You'll change your money here," he said. "I'll wait."

It wasn't a query, it was an order, and he stood there, leaning against the wall, watching me. I decided it wouldn't hurt Michael to have his pounds changed into dollars for him. I went up to the barred counter and handed through my five-pound note. The man behind the bars gave me an encouraging smile. "For you," he said, "For the lovely lady, nice shiny new coins. Here you go."

He handed me a pile of silver and copper coins. I took them, five pennies and some small silver coins. Less than a dollar in all. The man must take me for an idiot!

"Very nice," I said, "And now I'd like the rest of it, please. Dollar coins will do very nicely for the other twenty-four that you owe me."

"I'm getting it. I'm getting it," he snapped and slammed the coins down on the counter. I took my time to count them. I was angry enough to explode. It was perfectly obvious the fellow

had been trying to cheat me. He hadn't reckoned on my reading English so well and having a quick brain. How many poor devils were cheated out of their savings here, and out on the street with no money for the train fare or a room? I glanced around. I could go back and find Captain Sullivan. He might be interested to hear that wholesale trickery was going on at Ellis Island. But on the other hand, he might not. And if I made a fuss, these people might change their minds and come up with an excuse to send me straight back to Ireland.

BOOK: Murphy's Law
3.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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