The Legend of Long Jones Page 9

  WHEN MUC ARRIVED AT the Mullins’ place that afternoon, he found the place locked up. He assumed the blacksmith would be either in a tavern or at home having his lunch. The latter seemed the more likely and he made his way there. It was a short walk and in a few minutes he was knocking on the door. Kate answered.

  “Are you going to be moving in soon,” she said, “I’ve seen as much of you in this house as my husband the last few days!”

  “Ha ha!” Muc exclaimed, “Is he in?”

  “No, he’s on a job at lunchtime today, gone down to Pine Street to look at something.”

  “Working through his lunch?” Muc smiled, “That’s not like him.” He laughed now as Kate hit him on the arm,

  “He’s the hardest working man you’ve ever met in your life!” she scolded him. “Do you want him for something in particular or is it a drinking mate you’re after?” she asked.

  “No, no, nothing like that. I was nearby and I thought I’d drop to the smithy. When he wasn’t there I thought I’d try here.”

  “Well I suppose he’ll be back at the smithy soon enough,” Kate said, “I don’t imagine he’ll stop home until after the workday.”

  “I might wander towards Pine Street,” Muc said, “It’s on my way home anyway and if I see him, I see him.”

  “Any message for him if you miss him?”

  “No.” Kate looked suspiciously at him.

  “I hope this investigation of yours is over soon,” she said, “I don’t know what you’ve put in Tim’s head but he’s not sleeping well since.”

  “It will be over very soon,” Muc said, though he didn’t let her know that he didn’t have any choice in that matter. There was a day and a half left to save David Stirling. It had probably been a waste of time coming here to Mullins’ anyway- better that Muc get back to work.

  WHILE LORD MUC WAS at his front door talking to his wife, Mullins was in the backyard on Pine Street looking at an iron construction he didn’t understand the use of. The man who had hired him, a Mr Timmons, stood by his side also looking at the contraption.

  “Can you strengthen it?” Timmons asked. Mullins nodded,

  “I’m sure I can, but what is it? Where is it supposed to be at its strongest?” At this Timmons seemed to bristle a little.

  “It’s just a frame, it should be as strong everywhere I suppose.” Mullins looked on the thing again, and then tested the iron rods that made up the frame. They seemed to be in good enough shape to him but there was certainly something he could do. It wasn’t so heavy and he could heft it back to the smithy without much trouble.

  “Well, I can do it alright,” Mullins said, “I can haul it back to my place and have it back to you this time tomorrow if you like?”

  “No,” the reply was far too hasty before Timmons caught himself. “No, it has to stay here.” Mullins thought about this a moment and then said,

  “That’s fine if you want it that way, but I’ll have to do it in the morning. I need the light to see it.”

  “No, it will have to be today,” Timmons said sternly. Mullins thought about this a moment and then said,

  “I’ll drop back in a couple of hours then.” Timmons nodded at this, almost relieved. This was a job Mullins would not be sorry to have over and done with. He looked at the frame one last time before leaving. It was a rectangular frame of about three feet in height and a foot and a half across. There was some bending on the bottom cross beams that made it look like it was intended to sit across something or balance on something. The top was boxed in and there was a flattish platform with a slight depression in the middle on top of the frame. It was not made by someone who was skilled in blacksmithing. For the life of him, Mullins could not see or think of a use for such a creation as this. But then, it was made of iron and the customer wanted it strengthened and that was all that mattered at the end of the day.

  LORD MUC MET STARVING Sam Seedorf right at the edge of what would be considered ‘Wild Boar’ territory.

  “Any luck finding out where Stirling is being held?” Muc asked getting straight down to it.

  “Not yet,” Sam said, “But we have a list of places they might own and others they trade with that might turn up something.” Muc saw Sam looking at his knuckles as he spoke.

  “I met a few ‘Widowmakers’ earlier on,” he said. Sam smiled knowing who had come out on top in that contest.

  “How many?” he asked out of curiosity.

  “Just four,” Muc said like it was nothing, and right now it was nothing to him. “Any news on the fella following me?”

  “Nothing on that either,” Sam said apprehensively.

  “Jaysus lads!” Muc exclaimed, “What the hell are you doing? Why is it taking so long to find out anything?”

  “Sorry, Muc,” Sam said, “We’re doing all we can. We’ll have something soon, I’m sure of it.”

  “You better,” Muc said though the threat was not in it as his mind wandered. He was too hungry for proper thought now and he headed back to the house.

  Aunt Kay ladled him up a nice hot stew she’d been cooking since morning and it felt good as it went down Muc’s throat. The melted snow water washed it down and he began to feel better almost at once. It had been a tiring few days and he felt harried at every turn, not something he was used to.

  As he sat alone he began to run through things in his mind to see if he could make any kind of connection. His gut on the killer was that he was up to something in particular not just randomly killing people. He didn’t know why he felt this but he did. The killing of the slave boy had only been to spread the fear of the legend of ‘Long Jones’ around. The murder of Jeremiah Roan could have had some business sense behind it but Muc hadn't figured that out yet. The death of Stephanie O’Malley- that was the strangest one so far to Muc’s mind. It was possible now that he knew more about the family that perhaps it had been aimed at her family more so than her herself. If that was the case, the O’Malley brother’s didn’t seem to know it as they had the murder pinned on Stirling and were going to kill him very soon for it.

  It was frustrating; Muc just couldn’t make any real connection between it all. Now the ‘Widowmakers’ were saying ‘Long Jones’ was doing the rounds all over the place at night but there had been no more murders so far. The thought of another murder made his mind drift to the weapon that was being used to kill the victims. It wasn’t a huge powerful hand, but something sharp and powerful, something that closed like a vice but with sharp teeth. This was something he should talk to Mullins about; perhaps he’d come across some such contraption in his work.

  “Muc, one of the lads might’ve found the boy!” Tobias burst into the room, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Where?” Muc said already getting up.

  “A storage shed out at the very end of the docks.”

  “Who found him?”

  “Eddie, but we’re not definite he’s there yet,” Tobias said.

  “Why not?”

  “Eddie just got the information someone had been brought to the shed a couple of nights ago all bound up and with a sack over his head and the description of the men matches the O’Malley’s.”

  “Let’s go and find out for sure,” Muc said pulling on his overcoat and making for the door.

  THE WIND COMING OFF the sea was both bitterly cold and breathtakingly briny. The salt and grit whipped against the three men’s faces as they approached the lonely shed standing out near the end of the outcrop by the docks. It was hard to imagine any other reason the shed would have been constructed if not for the purpose of hiding men far away from prying eyes.

  Sam and Tobias were nervous but Muc was simply curious. It was very possible it wasn’t Stirling who was in the shed and they could be getting involved in something that had nothing to do with them at all.

  “No one is keeping a lookout at the door,” Tobias said as the three of them hunkered by the hull of an old upturned boat on the shore.

  “Weather’s too bad for that,�
� Muc said, “But there could be a spy hole in the wall we won’t be able to see until we are much closer.”

  “What do we do if it’s not him?” Sam asked.

  “That will depend on whoever is in there,” Muc said, “I’d be happy to walk away if it’s not our boy but they mightn’t feel the same way.”

  “What’s the plan then?” Sam asked.

  “Not much we can do but walk up and knock on the door,” Muc said and he broke cover and started walking across the open ground to the shed. Tobias and Sam exchanged a brief glance and then set off after him.

  The noise of the sea made it impossible to know if anything was going on in the shed so Muc found he had no choice but to simply knock on the door. He stepped back to have some room to defend himself if someone came charging out to attack him.

  “Come in!” a cheerful voice said and Muc thought he knew who it was.

  “Do you not want to know who it is?” Muc called back.

  “I already know,” the voice came back. Muc looked at his two men and gave a sign they should be on their guard. They nodded back and Muc went to the door and pushed it open gently.

  Inside the O’Malley brother’s sat at a table with a third man Muc did not recognise. They were playing cards and Muc saw the ropes and the sack on the floor in a bundle and he knew at once what was going on.

  “Will you join us for a hand?” Peter O’Malley said nodding to an empty seat.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have the time,” Muc said, his anger rising at this elaborate stunt.

  “Yes, I suppose you are short on time,” Peter smiled at him. James O'Malley hadn’t looked at Muc once and the pain and sorrow were still etched on his face for all the world to see.

  “You know the killer has been seen last night in the ‘Widowmakers’ area, looking for a new victim,” Muc said hoping this would rouse something in James. He didn’t react at all, like he hadn’t even heard it.

  “Well you should go there and find him then,” Peter said. “You should probably stop looking for Stirling while you are at it and save your energy and resources for your investigation. You won’t find him and it could be a costly mistake again like this one.” The grin on Peter’s face was unbearable and Muc determined he would smash that face in as soon Stirling was safe again. If the worst happened then Peter’s face could still be staved in. Every cloud.

  “That’s good advice,” Muc muttered looking at the man who’d been brought here in false shackles, registering the face for the future.

  “Well,” Peter said turning back to his cards and waving a hand in the air over his shoulder, “Until tomorrow, Lord Muc.”

  “Tomorrow,” Muc snarled and he turned letting the door fall closed behind him as he walked away with his two bewildered men.

  THE DOOR WAS OPEN TO let some of the cool air inside when the policeman stepped into Mullins’ smithy. It was unusual to have a policeman in here and it worried Mullins.

  “What can I do for you?” Mullins asked. For a moment there was no answer and the man came in and glanced around the room. Mullins could see his face now and he was surprised by how young the man looked.

  “You do work for Lord Muc, is that correct?” he said.

  “I have done in the past, but not for a while now.”

  “He’s been seen around here recently.”

  “Yes,” Mullins felt hot now under this questioning, “He comes around a bit and we go for a drink but he hasn’t had any work done is what I meant.”

  “I see,” the policeman nodded looking around some more. He reached inside his coat then and took out a dagger and held it out for Mullins to see. “I’m looking to have this restored to its former glory,” he said. Mullins looked at it and then put his hand out for it. After a slight pause the officer handed it over.

  Mullins felt the weight of it, tested the blade and felt the grip. He nodded at the quality of the original work.

  “Can you do it?” the officer asked.

  “Yes,” Mullins answered, “When do you need it back?”

  “Tonight.” Mullins looked at him and saw he was not joking. There was a pile of work to be done, but Mullins didn’t think it would be a good idea to get on the wrong side of the police so he reluctantly had to agree.

  “It will be done by seven,” he said.

  “Try have it done by six,” the officer said and then he left without another word.

  Mullins looked at the pile of work around the place and now he truly did regret not taking on an apprentice before now. He put what he’d been working on aside and started on the dagger right away.

  WHEN MUC, TOBIAS AND Sam were back on the busy docks, Muc turned to Sam and said,

  “Stay here and keep an eye on them. If they leave that shed follow them, if they split up follow the brother who didn’t lose his daughter.” Sam nodded. “Tobias, you get back to the house and see if anything has come up. Arrange for someone to come out to help Sam as quick as you can.”

  “Got it,” Tobias said and he set off at once.

  “You don’t think I should follow the father?” Sam asked Muc.

  “No, I think if the father knew where Stirling was he’d already be dead.” Sam nodded, this made sense to him.

  “What are you going to do now?” he asked his boss.

  “I feel like busting some heads, but I suppose I better think of something more constructive to do,” Muc answered and then he too set off. Sam blew into his hands and turned back to look at the shed. He would have to find somewhere sheltered for the wind to carry out this work.

  Muc walked at first with no aim in mind but he was thinking and thinking and he knew something had to come to him. And then it did. The only thing he’d thought of so far and hadn’t been able to check out had been asking Mullin’s about what kind of device could have caused the deaths of the victims so far. Though it meant making through enemy territory again, he set off in search of his friend once more.

  AS HE WALKED THE STREETS the urge for a drink came on Muc hard and he stopped off in a bar for a quick beer and whiskey. The place was not one he’d frequented before and he hadn’t even noted the name outside before coming in. It was a small one roomed place, warm and homely but for the moment with only two customers.

  Muc took his drinks to the window and sat down. As he looked out onto the street he thought again about the debacle at the shed by the docks. He saw Peter O’Malley’s sneering face and it angered him once more. How annoying it was for one of his men to be duped like this, but then, he supposed it had been set up for deception, that was the whole point of it. That, and to waste more of Muc’s short time. They were so sure of Stirling’ guilt that they didn’t give a damn what Muc came back to them with. He wondered were they going to have to fight to keep the young captive alive even if he was at the meeting point tomorrow wherever that might be. People could be so blind to the truth when rage or sorrow overtook them. Muc didn’t understand it; revenge wasn’t revenge at all if it was towards the wrong person.

  The O’Malley’s were still on his mind when he left the bar some fifteen minutes later and as the cold of the day hit him outside a new idea came to him and his eyes lit up with surprise at not having seen it before. He turned on his heels and headed away from Mullins place; talking to the blacksmith would have to wait. There was something else he would have to find out first.

  MULLINS FINISHED THE work on the dagger as soon as he could. He’d put all else aside and now he was going to have to start working on all these other jobs to try to catch up with himself. He’d sent a note on to Mr Timmons saying he would get to the work there as soon as he could today. Mullins felt it was best to get that job out of the way too and he headed off around three O’clock.

  When he got there, he was greeted by a very agitated client.

  “I really need this done as fast as you can!” he said before even so much as a hello, “Please get to work.” There was little point in trying to talk to the man so Mullins set about lighting a fire and gett
ing his tools ready. It was the last time he was going to be working for this man unless there was some serious payment over the asking price when it was done.

  Mullins did the work strengthening the iron frame and as he did Timmons flitted about behind him, peering constantly up and down the alley to the rear of the house as though he expected someone he did not want to see very soon. It was a cruel thought, but Mullins found himself wanting to be here whenever this person might arrive. It would be fine to see this man nervous and in trouble.

  “Come on, come on,” Timmons said, “Can’t you go any faster?”

  “Not if it’s to be done right,” Mullins said not bothering to look at him now. To this answer Timmons started to pace even faster and he looked out the back gate even more frequently now.

  Mullins was finished now, but he pretended to be still working on the frame for a few minutes more out of sheer devilment.

  “Now, Mr Timmons,” he said standing up, “That’s as strong as it can be made.”

  “At last,” Timmons said ungratefully, “Now get your things packed up and go, there will be a small bonus if you can get out here in the next minute!” Mullins weighed up which was worth more to him, the small bonus or allowing Timmons to worry some more and decided the money was more important. He gathered up his tools and bag, doused the fire and took the money held out by Timmons. The bonus was indeed small.

  Footsteps could be heard in the alley way then and Timmons froze with ghastly look of fear on his face. He looked around and then pushed Muc towards the back of the house.

  “Go out through the front door, if you please,” he said, “You can’t be seen here right now!” Mullins let himself be nudged along, he was far bigger and stronger than Timmons and could have stopped him at any moment, but the fear was genuine and he worried now that Timmons might be in for a bad beating if Mullins was seen here and he didn’t want that for the man. He went into the house and the door was slammed shut behind him.