The Legend of Long Jones Read online

  THE MASSIVE BULK OF Lord Muc drew many more looks in the middle class area the O’Malley’s called home. Here the people, though not especially well off, didn’t have to worry unduly about starving ort freezing to death every day. Muc noticed how alike all of the people were in this neighbourhood. It was like they were all part of the same extended family and this was despite the mixed nationalities. No one came close to his own height but still there was a general sense that people were taller here- perhaps due to not being bent over looking for whatever they could find on the ground or in the gutter all day.

  The O’Malley textiles store was closed today but there was a sign saying orders could be left under the door and would be seen to as soon as possible- it also stated the shop would be back open in a couple of days. Muc supposed it was well for them that they were able to close while they buried their daughter. There was many a family down near the Five Points for whom life couldn’t stop for even a few hours without causing long term negative effects.

  Some flowers had been left near the shop door by neighbouring businesses but the cold and snow was cutting their life short. Muc peered in through the window to the darkened store and could make out filled shelves and display counters. It looked like a thriving business- or at least he was sure it did most other days than this.

  The family home was just up the street a little, on the opposite side from the store. If Muc had not already known this the people gathered outside and the flowers on the rails would have made it clear enough. There was a woman crying in the doorway, being held by two others who looked stricken. Muc supposed it was the mother and some aunts or close relative like that.

  “You’re turning up in all sorts of odd places, this morning, Muc,” the voice of Sergeant Malwey came from behind. Muc saw his reflection in the glass of the store before he turned to look at the man. The policeman wore a look of satisfaction at getting up on Muc without notice.

  “You nearly busted the seat of your pants tying that lace on your shoe back there,” Muc said and the smug face dropped when Malwey found out Muc had indeed seem him approach.

  “So what are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I came to see this family that has been affected by murder.”

  “And what were you doing by Jeremiah Roan’s place this morning?”

  “The same thing.”

  “What concern is all of this to you of a sudden? Malwey asked.

  “I’ve seen this kind of thing happen before,” Muc said, “A killer who goes on killing until he’s caught.”

  “You think the two murders are linked?”

  “Don’t you?” To this Malwey shrugged,

  “I don’t see any reason David Stirling would kill Roan.”

  “Then it should stand to reason he didn’t kill Ms O’Malley either.”

  “Where are you getting that from?”

  “Someone tall, a foot even, taller than me, killed those two people, and from what you were describing, David Stirling is not much of a species.”

  “Still, I don’t see what business all of this is of yours?”

  “I’m just poking around,” Muc said, “Testing out a few ideas. If I find anything I'll let you know.”

  “What ideas?” Malwey eyed him suspiciously.

  “Nothing I can say at the minute, I wouldn’t want to be sullying names and getting myself into the courts.” Muc saw Malwey’s eyes shift then and he followed them to see a black carriage pull up at the house with a fine coffin on the back of it.

  They both looked on as two men came from the house and insisted they take the coffin inside themselves. The men who brought it stood there with hats off and didn’t argue. The two men looked alike, brothers Muc supposed, but the pain of loss was written much harsher on the face of one- the father. Muc watched him as he did this sombre work of carrying his daughter’s coffin inside so she could be placed in it. His eyes saw no one but at the same time Muc was sure he could see a savage fury in them. They were easily the eyes of a man capable of murder. This was all Muc had come to find out and his business was done here.

  “Where are you going now?” Malwey asked as Muc started away.

  “I’ve my own neck to protect now,” he said without turning back.

  “Stay out of trouble,” Malwey called after him. If the gang leader heard he didn’t show it.

  Chapter 5

  Terrence Scaddow was amused when one of his men told him Lord Muc had come to see him. No one had ever dared come to the house ‘The Shadow’ gang called home before. It was an unusual move on Muc’s part- leaving the danger to one side- and Scaddow was curious as to what he could want so badly to come here himself and alone.

  “To what do I owe this great pleasure?” he called out as he descended the stairs to greet Muc. Muc smiled at him and said,

  “I was hoping for a quiet word, if I could?” the very example of manners save his dancing mischievous eyes. Scaddow could see the intent was not hostile and he nodded and passed Muc,

  “Come in to the bar,” he said. Muc followed looking around the house with interest.

  The came to a large room out to the back of the house, built on later than the main structure itself. It was like a large barn save it had a wooden floor and there were a few tables and chairs scattered about the place and short bar at the back of the room.

  “You should open this place up to the public,” Muc said, “I’ve been in worse places than this with a trading licence.” Scaddow laughed,

  “Maybe I should think about that,” he said, “The place might start making money then instead of costing it.” Four men sat at a table in one corner of the room playing cards. They looked at Muc as he passed but not for long, their fellow players were not to be trusted.

  Muc and Scaddow came to a table on the far side of the room and sat down while Scaddow called for a couple of glasses of whiskey.

  “Tell me what is so important that has you risking your life today?” he said to Muc while they waited. Muc smiled at this but didn’t rise to it.

  “I’m going round to the gangs today and tomorrow to ask a favour,” he said.

  “Which is?”

  “Don’t try to kill me until I find out who killed the girl by the Collect Pond, and that fella killed this morning.”

  “You think someone is trying to kill you?”

  “I’m sure of it, I’ve spotted the lad who hopes to do it.”

  “Why do you care about those two murders?”

  “An innocent man is set have them pinned on him. I want to stop that happening.” A beefy man came over and put the drinks on the table and walked away without a word. Scaddow looked long at Muc as they supped, his face seeming to dance in flickering candlelight.

  “You’re an odd character, Muc,” he smiled. “I’ve no desire to see you gone anytime soon. It’s not us who’s looking to kill you and I haven’t heard of anyone who is.” Muc saw sincerity in the eyes of his oftentimes opponent and nodded.

  “Glad to hear it,” he said.

  “If you’re going to be searching about for this throat ripping killer there’s something else you should know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The girl was not the first one.”

  “Who then?” Muc was astonished by this and found it hard to believe he hadn't heard about a previous one- unless of course it was long ago.

  “A boy on the far side of the Pond.”

  “When?”

  “About a month ago.”

  “Seems odd it wasn’t news,” Muc observed.

  “It wasn’t news because the boy was black,” Scaddow said.

  “Ah!” Muc said. He didn’t hold any animosity towards the blacks himself but he’d seen it all around him since arriving in New York. He supposed it would have been the same back in Ireland had there been any black people there. “What was he doing on the other side of the Pond?” Muc asked.

  “I heard he’d been recently orphaned and he ran away from the home he was put in to find
his parents graves over there.”

  “How do you know about this?”

  “I have some slaves here who I heard talking about it. I didn’t think much on it until the woman was killed.”

  “Did the police do anything about it?”

  “I don’t know that they ever even knew about it. The slaves wouldn’t go to them about anything. They’d be afraid the graveyard they have over there might get taken away from them.”

  “What happened to the body then?”

  “They gave it one of their night burials and that was the end of it.”

  “They didn’t care who did it?” Muc asked. Scaddow sat back at this and sighed,

  “They are a superstitious lot,” he said ruefully. “They thought some demon or something had done it.”

  “Jaysus! That bullshit again,” Muc exclaimed. Scaddow laughed at this and lit a cigar, offering one to Muc who declined with a hand held up. “Do you mind if I talk to your slaves- the ones who knew about this?” Muc asked.

  “I have no problem with that, but they’re hired out at the moment down at the shipyards. Benny and Tojo are the names they go by.” Muc thanked him, annoyed they were not here to talk to. It was too late to be traipsing down to the docklands. Muc left soon after and Scaddow said as he left,

  “My men will keep an eye out for anyone coming after you, Muc.”

  “Saving me for yourself?” Muc smiled at his adversary,

  “Something like that,” he smiled back.

  IT WAS NOT TOO LATE to call in on Mullins, however.

  “How did I know it would be you?” Mullins said when he answered the door.

  “No one else would be able to knock so forcefully!” Muc laughed as Mullins nodded for him to come in.

  “How are you Muc?” Kate said when he came into the main room they rented. “Before you ask, Tim will not be accompanying you to any cabin or pub or taverns this evening. He has a big job on in the morning and he needs his rest?” She was firm but polite and Muc couldn't help but laugh when she was finished.

  “Perhaps I’d be better asking Kate to help me on this one, eh Blacksmith?” he elbowed Mullins’ ribs.

  “Get off me!” Mullins said pushing him away, and then to Kate he said, “You’ll be putting me in the mind for a drink if you give him something else to mock me about!” He was trying to sound harsh but it just didn’t come off. All three of them laughed.

  “I’ll make some tea,” Kate said.

  While Kate did this, Muc told Mullins of his meeting with Scaddow and about the boy who’d been killed near the black burial grounds. Mullins was shocked to hear this and was in agreement with Muc as to how surprising it was that it hadn’t been more known in the city.

  “I’m going down to the shipyards in the morning to talk to the two fellas who know about it,” Muc said as Kate came back in. Kate had been listening near the door as she went about her work so she didn’t need to ask what they were talking about.

  “What then?” Mullins asked.

  “That will depend on what they tell me,” Muc said, “But I’ve no doubt it will involve a trip to the place where it happened.” Kate looked at him uneasily and took her husband’s arm at the same time.

  “Doesn’t sound like the kind of place you want to go poking around,” Mullins said.

  “I’ll be fine,” Muc smiled at him, “I’ll have you there with me.”

  “Me?” Mullins said aghast at the idea, “I’m not prowling around any graveyards for no good reason!”

  “It’s for a very good reason,” Muc said calmly, “How else do you suppose I’m going to catch this man? He’s not going to call to my house and turn himself over for arrest!” Mullins was silenced by this but Kate wasn’t,

  “I don’t want you going over there,” she said, “Either of you.”

  “There’s no helping it,” Muc said smiling at her. Though she didn’t know why, this made her think of Alderman James back in Dublin. It was how much he cared about what he was doing and it surprised her to see this now in Muc.

  “You’ve gone very soft since coming to America,” she teased him.

  “I must be picking it up from this little woman!” Muc laughed and at the same time landed a heavy blow to the lower sternum of Mullins. It winded him and he spilled hot tea on his lap and jumped up from the chair slapping at himself. Both Muc and Kate erupted in laughter. Mullins angry eyes flashed at them both and he threw the remainder of his tea into the fire and tossed the cup onto the table,

  “I warned you pair!” he said, “I’m going down to the tavern, now!” He took up his coat and cloak and Kate took him by the arm,

  “Sorry,” she said but the sight of him jumping around was still in her mind and she couldn't help but smile. He smiled back at her, seeing the funny side of it now. He hugged her close and looked to Muc,

  “Are you coming?” he asked.

  “Why not,” Muc said getting up, “Thanks for the tea, Kate and I’ll do my best to keep your husband in one piece tonight!”

  “Thanks, Muc,” she answered and then to Mullins whispered, “Don’t be late.”

  BRADY’S TAVERN WAS unusually quiet when Muc and Mullins came in. Though they wouldn’t feel it, there was a collective shift of mood to unease when the two noted brawlers came in. One as likely to start a fight as the other- one for fun and the other out of anger.

  “Where is everyone?” Mullins asked the barman after ordering their drinks.

  “There's a to do at Jeremiah Roans’ place of business tonight,” the man said.

  “He was a regular here?” Muc asked. The bar man nodded. “Any idea who would want to kill him?” Muc pressed.

  “Roan wasn’t popular but he wasn’t hated either. I don’t know of anyone to have grudge enough against him to kill him.” Muc downed his drink in one and then looked to Mullins.

  “What did you do that for?” the blacksmith asked.

  “We’re going to Roan’s place.”

  “Why?”

  “To see who else it there and if we can find anything out. Come on, drink that and let’s go.” Mullins sighed and downed his drink in two large swallows.

  “I don’t enjoy them that way,” he said tossing some coins down on the bar.

  When they were out on the cold streets, Muc asked,

  “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Jeremiah Roan?”

  “I don’t,” Mullins said, “I don’t know who he is.”

  “He was a regular in your tavern.”

  “So what, I don’t be looking around and asking everyone who they are when I’m out for a drink.” Mullin’s voice had the edge of exasperation in it and Muc smiled; it was always so easy to rile the man up.

  They arrived not too long later at the Tailor’s that bore the deceased man’s name above the door. Candles were lit and the small space inside was filled, and people spilled out in the street outside huddled around an impromptu fire someone had assembled. It seemed an odd place to be having a send off- Muc felt it would have been better done at the tavern.

  The group was all men and Muc didn’t know any of them. He asked Mullins and the blacksmith was able to point out a few local traders he knew.

  “Any one of them known for trouble, or temper tantrums like yourself?” Muc asked. Mullins gave him a fake smile and said,

  “No, the only murderous son of a dog on the road tonight is yourself.”

  They walked up into the shop and looked around for the source of the drink everyone was imbibing. At the back of the room, defended by a short stout man, were a few crates of beer bottles. The man looked at them suspiciously before saying,

  “This isn’t a free for all. It’s for the memory of Jeremiah Roan.”

  “We know,” Muc said. Mullins didn’t say anything as the man continued to eye them. At length he lifted one bottle from the case and held it out to Mullins,

  “I know you from the tavern so Jeremiah must have as well, but you,” he said this to Muc, “I know who you are and there is no wa
y Jeremiah had any dealings with you.” Mullins took the bottle offered and said thanks. Muc was standing there smiling. He couldn’t figure out if this little man was trying to insult him or just being overzealous in his guarding work.

  “And who might you be, to Mr Roan?” Muc asked him.

  “I’m....”

  Muc was gone thrashing the crowd of men out of his way before the man ever spoke his name. Mullins took a moment to realise and then quickly followed. When he came out of the shop Muc was already halfway up the street and moving fast.

  “What a night!” Mullins said before pulling one draft on the bottle and tossing it to the ground to set off after Muc.

  Pain scorched Muc’s thighs as he ran. The last time he’d chased someone like this, it was back in Dublin and the fellow had turned out to be an acrobat who used the roof of a building to escape him. Muc could only hope this man wasn’t as skilled as the last. The young man, the same one Muc had seen in the mirror in the ‘Bridge Cafe’, had a good head start but Muc felt he’d closed some of it already. Only he feared the gap wasn’t closing fast enough and he was bound to lose him.

  “Come on the fuck!” he called behind himself to Mullins, but the panting of the blacksmith seemed to be falling farther behind with each step. He was out of shape.

  The young man weaved into an alley, slipping on the snow as he did, having to plant a hand on the ground to stay on his feet. It enabled Muc to close the gap, but only a little and he had to take the same corner more gingerly himself having seen what happened to his prey.

  Two men were coming from the opposite end of this alley and when Muc saw them he called out,

  “Stop him!” to them. They looked at one another and then to the man advancing on them at speed. Neither man made any attempt to stop him as he zoomed between them. They both stepped back then to accommodate the imminent passing bulk of Muc. “Shitheads!” he barked at them and clouted them both on the side of the face with an outstretched fist on either side of him as he went through the gap. Both men hit the ground hard moaning in pain in his wake.