The Legend of Long Jones
The Legend of Long Jones
Lord Muc in America, Volume 1
European P. Douglas
Published by European P. Douglas, 2019.
While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
THE LEGEND OF LONG JONES
First edition. August 22, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 European P. Douglas.
Written by European P. Douglas.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 1
New York, USA,
January 1800
Icicles hung down from the top of the window frame as the thin wasted net floated on the cold breeze that penetrated the room. The new century was days old now and the cold snap held the city in its merciless grasp.
“If you could find a way for that icicle to keep its shape and strength it would make a fine implement to kill a man,” Muc said looking at the window from his bed.
“Do you ever stop thinking about killing?” Susan scolded and took a breath in exasperation as she tried to nuzzle into his huge body for warmth. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and looked away from the window- the very sight of it was making her feel colder.
“Death is the only thing that makes us feel alive at all,” Muc said. Susan didn’t answer; he didn’t think she would. Snow had begun to fall again and he wondered how many souls the night would take before sunlight. The death toll here, on a daily basis, was something Muc had not become accustomed to in his new home of New York City. He’d come over in 1798, not long before the failed Rebellion in his native Ireland.
Dublin City had its own hardships for the poor, and death was no stranger there, but the sheer scale of it here, in New York, was incalculable. The streets teemed with people at all times of the day, and in some quarters the night too, and death stalked endlessly through the wretched conditions endured by the immigrant populace.
“Go to sleep, Muc,” Susan said, “You’ve a lot on tomorrow.” Muc looked once more at the thin ice formation hanging down and how pristine they were, like something made from the finest glass. A perfect weapon indeed. How many people had died out on the streets already this evening?
THE MORNING SNAP OF wood for the fire greeted Lord Muc as he left the tall narrow building where Susan lived with five other girls. He liked to stay there from time to time, enjoying the feeling of being so high up, sleeping well into the sky as he sometimes thought of it. His own home, a wooden house with some sheds and a dirt yard was much closer to earth and suited him better most of the time. He dealt in pigs and anything you could get from the beasts- the word ‘Muc’ in his name being the Gaelic for Pig.
Through the billow of his own steamed breath he came onto Mulberry Street, the side of the road piled high with sloshy snow from the carts coming and going. The slaughterhouses and tanneries located here meant Muc was a frequent visitor to this street, and today he was in need of new rope and there was only one man for the job.
Arnold Veeker, trim and with limbs similar to the ropes he fashioned, smiled as Muc walked inside, stamping his feet on a rough rope mat to loosen the accumulation of snow on his boots.
“I hope you haven’t come to ‘crack heads’ today, Mr Muc?” Veeker smiled.
“Not today,” Muc said in a false sad tone. It had been many weeks since his gang had fought anyone, a spectacle that always drew a crowd no matter how many times innocent civilians had ended up getting dragged into the fight when it got too close to them. Veeker’s smile dropped suddenly and his voice dropped like he’d made some kind of faux pas.
“The police are not looking for you are they?” he asked.
“Not that I know of,” Muc said, “Why?”
“There was one here this morning, asking questions.”
“About what?”
“A big man who’s killed two young boys.”
“Where was this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know when?”
“No.” Veeker looked at him like this was strange information to ask for.
“Why did you think he might be looking for me?”
“You are a big man,” Veeker said, and he spread his shoulders and put his arms out as if to demonstrate what he meant.
“There’s no shortage of big men in this city,” Muc said, “I’ve seen more than one man that must have been over seven feet tall.” This was true, though he hadn’t yet had the pleasure of fighting a man of this size. “Anyway, I’m here on business,” he said changing the subject to why he was here.
“Of course, what do you need?”
“Two ropes. Your strongest materials, one inch by thirty feet each.” Veeker wrote this down in his ledger and glanced up at Muc,
“When?”
“As soon as you can,” Muc said.
“We start today,” Veeker smiled, Muc nodded and turned to leave. When he got to the door, however a thought came to him and turning back to Veeker he asked,
“Which policeman was around asking questions so early in the morning?”
“I didn’t know him,” Veeker shrugged, “He must be new.”
AFTER THE ROPE MAKER, Muc went to the Old Brewery for a wake up drink. The place was quiet and the cleaning girls were making a good run at the place, shovelling up the old vomit and drink strewn sawdust and washing down tables and chairs with soapy rags. It was a flurry of industry that could make a man tired even to watch.
The barman, Anderson, watched Muc’s progress across the room, glancing from side to side to see if any of the feared Irishman’s rivals might be here, to try to avert trouble before it got started. Thankfully there wasn’t.
“A quick whiskey, Anderson,” Muc said planting a coin on the countertop. Anderson got the bottle and poured,
“You’re up early this morning, Muc, you must have some business on?”
“Just a few small things to take care of,” Muc said lifting his drink. He downed the fiery liquid in one and savoured the sense of warmth it gave on this winter morning. Muc put the glass back on the counter.
“Another?” Anderson said, but Muc held up his hand,
“No thanks,” he said, “I’ve things to do.” Anderson smiled and made to take up the glass when Muc suddenly leaned in and grabbed him by his shirt front and to the barman’s immense shock pulled him over the counter to his feet on the customer side.
“What are you doing?” Anderson stammered, fear filling his eyes. He was a big enough fellow himself, and well used to throwing people out of the place but he’d seen Muc in action and knew better than to try to tangle with him.
“If Susan comes in here again for any reason, you let her do what she wants!” Muc shouted at him and then lifting Anderson up tossed him into the freshly gathered soiled sawdust on the floor. Anderson scurried away from the reeking pile, some of the girls unable to stifle a titter as he did.
“Alright,” Anderson said to Muc and then he stormed off out back to get himself cleaned up. Muc looked at the pile of sodden sawdust and chuckled to himself before leaving the place.
Susan had come in to the Old Brewery a few days before to heat herself by the fire for a minute before continuing with her journey home and Anderson had insulted her and pushed her out into the street causing her to s
lip and fall down on the ice. There had been a nasty bruise on her hip as a result of it and this was how Muc had found out about it.
ON THE WAY BACK TO his own home on Orange Street, at the farther end away from the Five Points, Muc gave some more thought to the news of a new policeman on the beat. This was always a worry as you never knew what kind of monster or maniac they might hire to walk this beat. There would be bribes to be paid no doubt but what else? This one was out very early in the morning and this didn’t auger well in Muc's mind. It was possible this one was the worst kind of cop of all- a clean one! There was nothing you could do with their kind. Thankfully they were as rare as anything on this earth!
Muc lifted the handle to the gate and went into the courtyard of his home. He owned the yard, and two buildings- one a single story, the other two story- on either side of it, the spoils of vicious street wars since arriving here in New York. To the back of the yard were three sheds running side by side which were filled with pigs and chickens.
At the sound of the gate latch falling Tobias turned to see his boss coming. He measured the face and felt it safe to approach him.
“Morning,” Tobias said cheerily.
“Tobias,” Muc said, “Did you see a new cop around this morning?”
“Yes, he passed by here very early, before six.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“No, he didn’t see me.”
“What did he look like?”
“Big fella, a lot of hair out the side of his cap. He was very white skinned.”
“You never saw him before?”
“No, never.”
“Did he come into the yard?”
“No, he looked over the gate but didn’t try lifting the latch.” Muc nodded at this. He would have to keep an eye on this new one. He must have been poking around getting a feel for the place while everyone was still asleep. That showed cunning and intent as far as Muc was concerned. This could be a shrewd one.
“Keep your eyes open for him, Tobias. If you find out anything about him let me know at once.”
Inside the two story house Muc called home, Aunty Kay was serving up breakfast for the workers of the piggery. There were two others besides Tobias, and they were Irish immigrants like Muc himself.
“Morning boss,” they said in unison when Muc came into the room.
“Sit down and get fed,” Aunty Kay said- though who’s Aunt she was no one could say. Muc sat at the head of the table and looked at the two men.
“Did you see the cop this morning?” he asked. James and John looked at one another and then back to Muc shaking their heads.
“No,” James said.
“Who was it?” John asked.
“Someone new,” Muc said, “I need you all to keep an eye out and listen for anything you can find out about him.” The men nodded, “that goes for you too, Kay,” Muc called to the kitchen.
“He’ll be looking into the murder down by Collect Pond,” Kay said emerging with a tray of steaming meat for the men.
“What murder?” Muc asked.
“There was a young woman found dead yesterday afternoon. They say she was in a terrible state, her throat torn from her neck.” Kay blessed herself as she said this and Muc smiled, he knew how much she loved to hear the gossip from the other housekeepers in the market.
“Who was the woman?” he asked.
“I don’t know, some poor girl from the streets most likely.” Muc thought a moment as Kay went back to the kitchen. It was very possible a policeman might be going about early in the morning after a murder like this. He’d probably been making a list of places to search later today. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise to see the police here searching the sheds later. Well, that didn’t matter, there was nothing to hide in there, but it was best to be sure.
“Before you start eating, go down and have a quick search of the sheds and make sure there's nothing there that shouldn't be.” The men looked at the food despairingly but got up. “You’ll only be a moment and the food will still be hot when you get back!” Muc said.
LATER AS MORNING WAS heading for noon, the police did come as Muc had expected. There was a general search of the area and Muc’s sheds were part of it. The gang leader stood in the courtyard taking in the sun while a uniformed man went about the pigs and chickens. Sergeant Malwey appeared at the gate and looked in,
“Keeping well, Muc?” he called. Muc turned and walked over to the gate.
“Yes, and you?” he said.
“Grand,” Malwey said.
“What is it your lad there is looking for?” Muc nodded to the sheds.
“Fugitive wanted for murder.”
“The girl at the pond?”
“Yes, I see news has come down this far away.”
“Always does.”
“The woman’s boyfriend hasn’t been seen since before the murder. Someone matching his description was in a fight down this way last night and we think he might be trying to hide out for a while.”
“Is it true her throat was torn out?” Muc asked. Malwey nodded, but didn’t speak. “Seems like a very vicious thing for a boyfriend to do,” Muc commented.
“You can leave the detective work to us, Lord Muc,” the Sergeant said.
“You don’t know my background before I came here Sergeant,” Muc smiled, “I’ve a good history at this detectivin’ stuff.”
“I don’t give a shit about your history,” Malwey said smiling. The policeman had come out of the shed and was walking over to them now, covered in grime.
“Nothing in there, Sir,” he said.
“Well on you go to the next place,” Malwey said, “mind, try cleaning off those boots before you go indoors anywhere.”
“What’s this boyfriend’s name if I should come across him?” Muc asked when the office left.
“David Stirling,” Malwey said, “He’s five foot ten, blond hair and has a scar on his right arm from a farming accident.”
“Do you know him personally?”
“No, never heard of him before yesterday evening.”
“Well, I won’t keep you. Best of luck catching him,” Muc said starting back for the house.
Only a minute after getting inside, Kay came to Muc to tell him there was a young woman who wanted to see him.
“Who is she?” he asked.
“She won’t give her name,” Kay said, “or why she wants to talk to you.” she pre-empted his next question.
“Jaysus!” Muc said in exasperation and he went back outside while Kay blessed herself at his blaspheming.
At the gate stood a small blond woman Muc had never seen before. She didn’t look destitute but she was a long way from affluent. Her brown eyes held the water of tears not yet fallen, waiting for their chance. Muc wondered had he badly wounded or hurt her brother or her father in a recent brawl. Was she here looking for him to make some contribution to her family's needs? It wouldn’t be the first time this had happened. Look at Aunty Kay; she’d come to him more than a year ago and she was still here.
“You’re looking for me?” Muc asked. He towered over the woman by close to two feet. She looked around to make sure no one else was listening before she answered him,
“I heard you talking to the Sergeant,” she said, “Is it true that you used to be a detective?” Her eyes were wide with hope and Muc could only laugh. Her expression changed to one of puzzlement.
“No, I’m not a detective,” he said, “nor have I ever been.” The tears that had been gathering started to fall now and the girl cut a fine picture of misery standing there in the cold. Muc looked on her and felt sorry for her.
“What is it that’s wrong with you anyway?” he asked.
“I need someone to help me prove my brother is innocent,” she wailed.
“Innocent of what?”
“Of the murder of Stephanie O’ Malley!” Muc hadn’t heard this name before, but he just knew at once this was the woman who had been murdered by the Collect Pond.
“No, he’s in hiding and he must be terrified!” she said.
“If he’s innocent, he would be better to turn himself in,” Muc said.
“The police won’t care if he did it or not!” she said as though Muc was completely naive, “They just want a head to fill a noose, any one will do. If David’s turned himself into them he’d be as good as dead already!”
Muc mused on this a moment and he couldn’t argue with her logic. He’d seen plenty of railroading by the police here and he didn’t doubt it could happen just as she’d described.
“You may be right,” he said shrugging, “But either way, I’m not a detective so I can’t help you.” He started to walk away.
“My name is Alice Stirling,” she called after him. He turned to look at her. “I can pay you- not a lot but something.”
“I can’t help you Miss Stirling, I’m sorry.” Turning again, Lord Muc went back inside.
Chapter 2
After lunch, Lord Muc went to the stock yards to look for a large boar for siring duties on his piggery. Once, back in Dublin, he’d seen a huge wild boar laid out on a cart and ever since that time he’d wished for a pig that size to own. Of course, so far he’d never seen one come close but that was down to the immense size of the boar- much larger than the usual breed. It was so large in fact, that at the time it was found it was blamed for a series of gruesome deaths in Dublin. This turned out later not to be the case, a much more human culprit was responsible.
Muc subsequently got the serrated tusks of the animal and had them cast in iron to use in his fighting and still used them to this day. They were one of the few things he brought with him across the ocean.
Walking the yards he took in the braying sounds of both man and beast. Money changed hands arguments broke out and dealers called out for custom. Muc looked in on some cattle, not intending to buy, but something that always caught his interest a moment each time. A fanciful thought of owning rural land flitted by his mind from time to time and cattle were always part of it.