The Legend of Long Jones Page 3

  A man moving through the snow caught Sam’s eye. He had a cloak pulled up over his head and he was wearing clothes that were not his own. His movements were nervous. This raised alarm bells for Sam and to add to it, the man was heading in the direction of Orange Street. Sam left his doorway to follow him. None of the gang knew exactly what they were on the lookout for, but the general assumption was that Muc thought someone was going to try to kill him very soon.

  Following at a small distance, Sam felt inside his own coat for his knife, it was best to have it in hand and ready for use. The man was looking about the buildings, but always only for a moment at a time, like he wanted to keep his face directed at the ground as much of the time as he could. This was so people would not get a good look at his face through the dome of his cloaks hood. This was also very suspicious behaviour, and Sam began to feel sure this was it, this was what Muc had been waiting for.

  As expected the man turned on to Anthony Street. Once he reached the junction of the Five Points Sam was sure he’d turn onto Orange Street. That was where Sam would make his move. Gearing himself up for his own attack, he closed the distance on the man, moving as fleet footed as he could on the snowy surface. His own footsteps were covered by those of the carriages in the street and the boots of everyone else moving around at this busy time of the morning. It was an odd time to mount an attack, but perhaps that had been the whole point- send one man at a time and no one would expect him.

  The man was on Orange Street now, moving down towards Muc’s land. There could be no doubt anymore what he was up to. Just as the man drew level with Muc’s gate, peering into the yard, Sam took the hand that held the blade from his pocket and darted across the gulf between their bodies.

  “What are you doing skulking around here?” Sam said through gritted teeth as he seized the man's arm while shoving the point of his knife hard into the man’s spine.

  MINUTES LATER, MUC entered the shed closest to the two story house. Inside Starving Sam and Tobias stood guard over a thin scared looking man tied with his hands behind his back to a strut that helped support the roof of the building. Muc looked at him and didn’t know him. The man looked sick, but that was most likely down to how much trouble he knew he was in. Lord Muc looked on him meanly and then planted a heavy blow across the man’s face, hard enough that blood went spraying from his mouth at the impact.

  “That’s a warning not to try lying to me!” Muc said pulling the man’s sobbing head up to face him.

  “I’m...” the man said, finding it hard to form the words though the pain. Muc looked to Sam who handed him a short knife.

  “This was all he had,” Sam said. Muc looked at the blade. It didn’t look like it would do much damage but he supposed in the right hands a throat could be slit with it.

  “Well.” Muc said looking back to the young man, “Who are you?” He was not the man Muc had followed and this troubled him.

  “I’m David Stirling,” he spluttered.

  “The murderer?” Tobias said in surprise.

  “I’m no murderer!” Stirling shot back and Muc’s heart sank a little. This shit again, he thought, will it not leave me alone!

  “What were you doing skulking around my yard?” Muc asked him.

  “I wasn’t...”

  “Don’t lie to me! Muc shouted at him and David Stirling ducked his head in anticipation of another hard blow. It didn’t come but Muc looked extremely menacing just then, a man nearing the end of a very short fuse.

  “I’m looking for somewhere to hide out for tonight,” Stirling said. Muc could feel giddy excitement coming from the two men in his employ and he sighed,

  “Why haven’t you gone to the police if you’re innocent?” he asked the prisoner.

  “They won’t believe me,” Stirling said, “No one would.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t really believe it myself.” Tears started to run down the captive’s cheeks and Muc could tell he was reliving some horrible thing just then. Muc thought a moment, looking down into the dirt floor and then without looking up said,

  “Cut him down.” Sam looked at Muc in surprise but Tobias knew his boss and went to do his will at once without question. Stirling’s arms dropped to his sides a moment before his lifted them to rub his wrists from the binding.

  “Thank you,” he said softly. Muc looked at him, still unsure as to what he was going to do about his guest. Hearing his story would be the decider, he thought.

  “Get him cleaned up a bit and then bring him up to the house for something to eat,” he said to Tobias and then to Sam, “Well done this morning, Sam, grab yourself something hot to eat and drink and then go back to your station.” Sam nodded, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the food and drink.

  A HALF HOUR LATER, David Stirling sat at the kitchen table in Muc’s house. He was clean and wore fresh clothes that ill fitted him but still he was glad of them. Aunty Kay had filled his cup with hot coffee twice before Muc came in. Stirling stood up but the big gang leader waved him back down, and nodded briefly his thanks.

  “Tell me your story,” Muc said sitting down, “I’ll decide then if I’m bringing you to the police or setting you back on the street.” Stirling’s eyes widened in alarm,

  “I didn’t kill her!” he pleaded.

  “Tell me what you did do,” Muc said unmoved. Stirling sat up straight in the chair and composed himself.

  “It’s not easy to speak of,” he said in a meek voice. Muc didn’t respond but simply sat waiting for the tale. Stirling sighed and went on,

  “Ms O’Malley, and I were only courtin’ a short while. Her parents didn’t approve of it so we met in secret when we could.”

  “Which is why you were by the pond?” Muc asked.

  “Yes,” Stirling answered and then a look of apprehension came over him; the pleasant part of the story was already over and the meat was coming. “We were talking and skimming stones on the water when a man set on me from behind. He hit me hard on the back of the head with something I never felt the like of. I went down straight away but I wasn’t knocked out. My vision was blurry and I couldn't hear well- it was like I was underwater- but I couldn’t get up.”

  “What was stopping you?” Muc leaned in with interest.

  “I don’t know, my legs and arms didn’t work and as I rolled over to get up my balance was all gone and I ended up on my back just as I’d started.” Muc nodded, this was a normal bodily reaction to a serious blow to the back of the head. “I’m still getting headaches from it,” Stirling added.

  “What happened next?” Muc said.

  “This is where it gets unbelievable,” he said nervously, “Even to me.” New tears were falling now and Muc didn’t say anything for a time as the young man fought to regain control of himself.

  “Stephanie- I mean Ms O’Malley, was screaming and in her panic she climbed into a tree near the water. She was good at climbing trees, something else her parents didn’t approve of,” here a wan smile came over his face as he thought of her. “It was then that I saw the man and how tall he was. He must have been eight feet tall and narrow as a pole. He was draped in a black cloak so I didn’t see his face or any part of him. I felt another blow to my face, not as hard as the first but it dazed me again, but I couldn’t understand how he could have hit me when he was standing away from me.”

  “Did he throw something at you?”

  “I don’t think so, I got the sense of something leaving me after the strike landed, like a hand retracted only it was more like iron than a hand.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “He was facing Stephanie and I couldn’t get up. He shot his hand up to her throat- he shouldn’t have been able to reach her from where he was and I heard a horrible sound as her scream was cut short. I was aware then of her body hitting the ground with a thud and then he was gone.” Stirling was wailing now as he spoke, his lips wet with runoff from his nose and eyes, “I must have passed out for a minute and
when I woke I could get up and I saw what had happened to her.”

  “Her throat was gone?” Muc asked.

  “Yes,” Stirling nodded, “I leaned over her and I knew at once she was dead. Then someone was shouting something and they were calling out murderer. I panicked and ran and I’ve been running since. Now they are looking for me to hang me for her murder, something I could never do to Stephanie!” Now Stirling’s head fell to the table and he wept hard. Muc sat back in his chair leaving the man to his grief.

  He tried to figure in his head what Stirling might have actually seen. No doubt the blows to the head and face had caused him to see a warped version of events but what had he seen. Perhaps his girl wasn’t in the tree at all but the man was holding her up by the throat and it looked higher up from his position on the ground? If she was up there, something of her should still be there, blood or viscera or torn clothing. It would be easy to prove this one way or the other.

  ‘Look at how you’re thinking, Muc’ he admonished himself, ‘You’re getting involved.’

  “Are you known to the police?” Muc asked him.

  “Not before now,” Stirling answered.

  “Do you know your sister is looking for you?”

  “Alice?” Stirling’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Yes, she came to me asking for help in finding you. Turns out I’m pretty good at that and I wasn't even trying!” Muc smiled.

  “She shouldn’t be getting herself involved in this,” Stirling said looking worried now.

  “That’s what families do, I hear.”

  “Did she give you money?”

  “I didn’t take her up on her offer. I didn’t expect you’d be popping in on me like this.”

  “She can’t know where I am,” he said a look of beseeching in his face.

  “You won’t be here,” Muc said, “I have my own troubles with the law and the last thing I need is a fugitive under my roof.”

  “So you’re turning me over to them?” Stirling looked as tired and glum as Muc had seen him at this idea.

  “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you yet, but it won’t be staying here.”

  AT FIRST LIGHT THE next morning, Muc found himself standing by the shore of the Collect Pond looking out over the mist above the water. No more snow had fallen in the night but still it was piled high everywhere. The sounds of workers along the shore carried out loudly even at this early hour. Muc had awoke with the idea to come here but he still could scarcely believe it himself.

  The police had used a marker in the ground to show where Stephanie O’Malley’s body had been. Muc looked around to be sure he wasn’t being observed and then he looked up to the lower branches of the tress just above the marker. Stirling’s tale may not have been so far-fetched, he thought, as the likely branch she could have fallen from was a good twelve feet up. Even with Muc’s height he wouldn’t have been able to reach up and take someone up there by the throat, and neither would someone a foot taller- which would be a very rare beast indeed.

  There were some lower branches on the other side of the tree which would have made it easy to climb for someone who enjoyed such things. Muc made his way up so he could see the top of the branch in question. This would be the proving of Stirling’s story as far as he was concerned.

  Sure enough, on the top side of the branch, dried blood and some sticky mess was splattered there, mixing now with the snow, and no doubt some birds or small animals had been eating and licking at the mess as well. Muc shook his head and looked down to the ground. How could a man have reached up to her? Surely this is not what Stirling really saw, the man must have climbed up after her, his cloak flowing out behind him maybe making it look like he was still on the ground to the dazed lover.

  Muc dropped back to the ground and nudged the snow around the marker gently with his foot. Underneath the fresh white there was the dirty slush and some of it was blood. He looked around to take note of which buildings or places would have afforded a view of where the murder had been committed. As far as the gossip went, there had been no witnesses, but Muc knew better. Nothing goes unnoticed in this city. Someone saw something, you just have to figure who that someone was.

  ARNOLD VEEKER LOOKED up and was surprised to see it was Lord Muc who came into his business.

  “Lord Muc!” he said in surprise, “The ropes are not finished yet!”

  “Don’t worry about that, I need a favour.” Veeker was aware then of the man coming in under Muc’s shadow. He knew at once he wasn’t going to like the request but what could he do- say no to Lord Muc? That wouldn’t be a very wise choice.

  “What is it?” he asked looking at the new man who was covered in a heavy black cloak.

  “I want you to take this man on for a few weeks. He doesn’t know anything about rope making but he’ll work and do what you want so long as you keep him inside or else out the back.”

  “Who is he?” Veeker asked trying to get a look at the man’s face.

  “His name is Vince,” Muc said, “It’s best for you that you don’t know anymore. If anyone asks he’s been with you for six months now.”

  “Who would be asking?”

  “Who knows,” Muc said like this was of no regard. “I’ll be funding his wages of course, so you needn’t worry about that.”

  “I don’t know Muc,” Veeker said, “I don’t want any trouble here.”

  “He has nothing to do with the gang so there won’t be any violence or damage done here.” Muc could see the rope maker was still not convinced. “I’ll throw in a few more orders this week as well,” he offered to sweeten the deal. Veeker thought for a time and then said,

  “Well, Vince, I’m going to need to see your face at some point.” David Stirling stepped forward and pulled down his hood. Muc watched Veeker’s face and when he saw no recognition on seeing Stirling’s face he knew it was a done deal.

  “Two weeks, and that’s it?” Veeker said to Muc, holding out his hand. Muc shook it,

  “I hope it will be much less, but yes, two weeks, tops.”

  “Come on out back, ‘Vince’. I’ll see what you can do.” Stirling looked once at Muc and nodded his thanks- Muc had told him not to say this anymore- and went behind the counter.

  AFTER DEPOSITING STIRLING in the rope makers yard while he looked into the murder of Stephanie O’Malley, Muc went home to Orange Street and gathered up his Boar Tusk weapons and put them in a leather pouch he used to transport them when not planning to use them. This morning he was going to visit an old friend and it was always good to have some pretence.

  As he passed members of the gang on his way, Muc asked for reports from each of them. There was no news so far. Muc also kept a keen eye out for the man he had followed too, especially when he left his gangs territory and moved on enemy ground. It took him almost half an hour to walk to the blacksmith’s.

  “Would you not think of moving closer to the Five Points?” Muc said stepping inside. A huge muscled man with a beard and scraggly hair turned from his fire to look at him.

  “If you moved out of the area I might give it some thought,” Mullins smiled at his friend. Muc nodded at the joke and looked around the smithy.

  “Business is good?” he asked.

  “Good enough,” Mullins said, “I see you have the blades with you.” He nodded to Muc’s pouch.

  “I’m looking for you to strengthen up a bit.”

  “They’ve been weakened?”

  “Not that I know of, but it won’t do them any harm for you to have a look.” Mullins took the pouch and lifted out one of the blades. He examined it with his strong hands and looked it over using both the firelight and that of the sky by the window. He then performed the same exam on the other one. Muc watched on in silence. Mullins then slid the serrated boar tusk replica’s back in the pouch and held it out to Muc,

  “They’re as strong now as the day I made them for you,” he said.

  “Grand to hear it,” Muc smiled.

 
; “So tell me why you’re really here today, Muc,” Mullins said, “I hope you’re not trying to recruit me again for your gang.” There was an edge of irritation in the blacksmith’s tone.

  “No nothing like that, though you would earn four or five times more than you do here, I’d say, but no, that’s not what I’m here.”

  “Why then?” the tone was gone but still there was distrust.

  “Have you heard about the woman killed by the Collect Pond? Muc asked.

  “Yes, the police are looking for her boyfriend, Starling or something like that.”

  “Stirling,” Muc corrected him, “Yes, but the lad didn’t do it.”

  “How do you know?” Muc looked around and then out the door into the street before answering.

  “He came to me and told me what happened, well his version of what happened.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Not at first, but I went to the murder site and looked around and now I do believe him.”

  “You shouldn’t be creeping around murder sites like that!” Mullins scolded, “I was nearly hanged back in Dublin for being in the wrong place at the wrong time!”

  “Twice, as I recall,” Muc laughed and Mullins’ face shone red,

  “Yes, twice and I’ve learned my lesson. You obviously haven’t!”

  “Ah would you stop crying,” Muc jeered, “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “Help you with what?”

  “I’m going to find out who killed the girl,” Muc said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.