Murphy's Law (25 page)

There was something about his voice that made me look

up. I stared at him, seeing him for the first time. To act the part of Teddy Roosevelt he had put on bushy whiskers. And the big booming voice ... I tried to stifle the gasp that escaped from my mouth. I backed away, and into one of the brackets that stuck out from the wall. An ornament on it wobbled and fell over with a loud crash.

Billy Brady looked up and his eyes focused on me. I put down the tray on the nearest table and fled. There was no mistaking that voice. It was the one that had bellowed at me on Ellis Island. And he had been wearing the same false whiskers that night, too. They must have been part of the props case he had brought with him for the afternoon's performance. Of course, an actor would know how to play any part. It would not have been hard for him to slip into the guard's room unnoticed and borrow a uniform jacket for a while. The paunch was probably a pillow stolen from a dormitory bed. And with the paunch and the whiskers he looked completely unlike himself.

I ran back along the hall, expecting to be grabbed at any moment. Did the others in that room know? As long as Billy was performing I was safe. But after that--he could track me down anywhere in the city and kill me at his leisure.

I stood in the cool darkness of the servants' passage. Think! Think clearly. Then suddenly it came over me in a wave of relief.

Daniel was in that room. It didn't matter how thick he was with Alderman McCormack, he wouldn't let me be killed by Billy Brady. All I had to do was to go back upstairs and get Daniel's attention. Better still, I could write him a note. I'd find an excuse, any excuse--yes, I'd go back to get the coffee tray, and I'd find a way to slip the note to Daniel. I rushed downstairs and into Mrs. Brennan's office and grabbed a sheet of paper. I tried to think clearly as I scribbled the words. Now all I had to do was force myself to go upstairs again and get the note to Daniel. Maybe he'd noticed what happened in the drawing room and he was already on his way to find me.

I took a deep breath, went back up the stairs, and out into the entrance hall. The tenor was singing, and the sweet notes of "I will take you home again, Kathleen" filled the house. I

crept along the hall, closer and closer to the drawing room, willing myself to have the courage to go in. Suddenly a door beside me opened and Billy Brady came into the hall.

I bit my lips together to stifle the gasp of fear. Keep calm, I told myself. I was in the hallway of a house filled with servants. He could do nothing to me here. My hand closed tightly around the note as I lowered my eyes and forced myself to walk past him.

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when a hand touched my shoulder.

"You were the young girl who ran out of the room just then." Billy's voice sounded smooth and relaxed. "Had something upset you? Are you feeling all right now?"

Suddenly it dawned on me--he doesn't recognize me. With the severe cap hiding my forehead and the starched uniform I must look quite different from the woman he saw on Ellis Island. A wave of relief swept over me.

"Thank you, sir. I--I thought I saw a mouse," I mumbled. "I'm fine now, thank you." The words came out as a whisper.

I went to walk past him. His large presence was blocking most of the passage.

"I've seen you before somewhere, haven't I?" He stepped out, making it hard for me to pass. "Your face--I never forget a face, you know."

"Maybe last time you were visiting here, sir," I mumbled, still looking at my boots. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really have to clear up the coffee tray."

He let me pass. I was free. The drawing room door was only a few feet ahead of me.

"Wait," I heard him say. "That hair.

I recognize that hair." Suddenly I was grabbed from behind and my cap was wrenched off. My hair tumbled free and at the same moment a hand came around my mouth, dragging me backward. "Ellis Island," he muttered into my ear. "You were the woman on Ellis Island. You recognized me, didn't you?"

I tried to struggle. We were still in a public hallway. He couldn't kill me here. Any moment a door would open and someone would come. Billy was dragging me toward the door on his left, back to the room from which he had just come. I fought, I squirmed, but his big hand was firmly around my mouth and his other arm around my waist so that

he was half carrying me. When I tried to kick out at him, he laughed. Daniel was only separated from me by one wall. If I could manage one kick against that wall, if I could reach out and topple one of those statues. My toe tipped one plinthe but it was heavy marble and didn't even wobble.

"It's no use struggling," Billy whispered in my ear. "I'm much stronger than you."

As he heaved me inside the room I opened my hand and let the note fall to the floor. Then he shut the door behind us and turned the key with one big hand.

I had a second to glance around the room. It was a small music room with a couple of elegant brocade chairs, a piano, and a harp. Billy had obviously used it as his changing room, makeup and props were scattered on top of the piano and a large theatrical trunk stood on its end, open, with clothes hanging in it.

Billy's strong fleshy fingers were crushing my mouth. His other hand was still holding my hair so tightly that tears were spurting out of my eyes. "Well, isn't this a stroke of luck for me. The one person who could identify me. Not that your identification would stand up in court, seeing as you only saw me in disguise--but it would start people asking questions and I really don't want them to do that."

One thing was sure--I was not going to make it easy for him anymore. I swung out my leg and brought it back hard on his shins at the same time as I sank my teeth into his finger. I tasted blood as he wrenched his hand away.

"You little vixen!" He struck me a savage blow across the face, knocking me across the room. I slammed into the open trunk. It wobbled. He rushed to right it and gave me a savage kick. "You'll be sorry you did that."

"You were going to kill me, anyway. Just like you killed O'Malley--and that poor old photographer!" I tried to sound defiant, but all that came out was a gasp. My head was still singing from the blow.

"I don't want to kill you, you stupid girl. I didn't even want to kill

Donny--"

"Donny?"

"He calls himself O'Malley now, but I recognized him right away. He wrote me a

letter. He thought he was so smart, but it turned out that I was smarter. His bad luck that I happened to be visiting the island that day, just as it was your bad luck to see me." He was looking around the room. It was as if I could read his mind. He was looking for something to dispatch me with. He snatched up a white scarf hanging in his trunk, then shoved me back into the carpet, his large knee holding me down in the center of my back. He was going to strangle me. I tried to make a sound, but his knee was crushing me to the floor. He was a big man, and very powerful. A man who could cut a throat with one stroke. "I'd better not kill you here. Too risky. That bloodhound

Sullivan's in the next room."

"That's right," I said, turning my face out of the carpet to sound as defiant as I could, "And he knows I'm working here as his spy. Any second now he'll come looking for me."

"Then I'll just have to get you away before he comes looking, won't I?" he said.

"And how do you think you'll get me out of the house? I won't go quietly. I'm not afraid of you."

"Elementary, my dear, as that Sherlock Holmes is always saying. I'll take you out in my trunk. We'll get a cab straight to the Hudson River. Up and over into the water. Nice and simple. They'll never know what happened to you." While he said this he yanked me up by the hair. I twisted and turned, kicked and flailed. Just as I got up enough wind to cry out he stuffed a wad of cotton into my mouth, then bound it tightly with the scarf.

"I'm sorry about this. I really am." The wad of cotton was choking me and the scarf was covering my nose so that it was hard to breathe. "You have to understand," he said as he dragged me toward the trunk. I caught a glimpse of his eyes.

They were not triumphant as I expected them to be, but darting nervously around the room, the eyes of a trapped animal. "You have to understand that I can't go on living like this any longer--waking up every day and wondering if this will be the day they'll find out about me and Plumbridge. And living with all that guilt. I was just twenty-one, for God's sake. I was the one they caught and they started torturing me. I would have said anything to make them stop. And when they let me go, I thought I was free." He was tipping unnecessary items out of the trunk. He

glanced at me. "You probably don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you?"

He had made enough room in the trunk. He ripped off the whiskers and I saw that he was really quite young. A young, harmless face just as you'd see in any Irish village. A spasm of pain crossed his face. "When I saw Donny sitting there on the bench, I knew I had to take my one chance. So I stayed on the island and I followed him. And if you hadn't seen me ..."

He lifted me to my feet by my neck. Then he was pressing on my throat. He was going to kill me here after all. The blood roared in my head. Feign death before he really kills you, a voice whispered through the roaring. I let myself go limp. He picked me up like a piece of baggage and stuffed me into his trunk among the clothing. The lid slammed shut. I knew I should try to do something but I kept floating in and out of consciousness. I was crammed in there so tightly that there wasn't room to move, anyway. To know that Daniel was so close and had not come to my aid was a final, frustrating blow. Even if he found the note now, it would be too late.

Suddenly the trunk was moved. I was being bumped and tumbled, then carried. I heard cheerful voices exchanging greetings. "Thank you, George, you've been most helpful."

"So sorry you have to leave early, Mr. Brady."

"Ah, well, that's show business, as we say. Shove that thing into the back of the cab, boys. Yes, I know it's heavy. These props weigh a ton. Anyone would think I'd got a body in here! Ha-ha-ha."

I landed with one final thump, lying upside down. I tried to turn my head so that I could breathe what little air remained. There was a keyhole. I just prayed enough air was coming in through it. Not that staying alive was going to help me. I'd only drown when I was thrown into the water, but I wasn't going to give up hope until the last second of my life.

I felt the trunk rattled and shaken as a carriage sped off. So Daniel hadn't suspected and now it was too late. What a stupid ending, I thought. So many dreams, so many hopes, and it was all going to end like this. If only I could have landed a good kick on Billy Brady, the way I had kicked Justin, I would

have enjoyed seeing him lying dead beside my kitchen stove. It annoyed me that I hadn't been quick enough or smart enough or strong enough. It's stupid being a woman, was one of my final thoughts before I blacked out again.

I came to with a jolt. We were no longer moving. The trunk must have been taken from the cab. I heard it scraping on concrete as I was half carried, half dragged. This must be it, then. The dock with the ice-cold water waiting below. How long did it take to drown? Hadn't I heard that it was a pleasant death--except that I couldn't imagine any death being pleasant.

"Good-bye little lady," I heard Billy's voice above me. "I'm sorry it had to end like this. I really am."

I was hurtling downward. The blow when the trunk hit the water smashed my face against the wall of the trunk. Icy water rushed over me, so cold that it took my breath away. I tried to gasp and nearly swallowed the cotton jammed in my mouth. My heart almost stopped as I fought to breathe. The icy water was in my face now. I tried to move my foot and suddenly it kicked free. So did the other one. The trunk must have broken open as it hit the water. Unfortunately I was underneath it, but that was easily remedied. One thing I could do as well as any boy was swim. I'd had my training in the cold, rough Atlantic breakers and I could still beat my brothers in a race across the bay. How lucky that Brady hadn't thought to bind my arms.

I struck out and gave a mighty kick that propelled me to the surface. Above me reared the blackness of the dock and behind it lights were twinkling. All I had to do was swim ashore--except that the heavy woolen dress was weighing me down and I found it hard to breathe through that gag. It was so tantalizingly close. Surely I could make it. Then I realized something else--the current was taking me out. I was being swept along the shoreline by an outgoing tide. I fought against it, but I was just about holding my own. The shore was no nearer and the cold was beginning to overcome me. It was getting harder and harder to move my arms.

There was a light ahead of me that appeared to be bobbing on the water. Suddenly I realized it was a rowing boat. Help was there, if only I could attract attention. I had to shout! I stopped swimming and fought with the knot behind my head. My

hands were so cold I couldn't move my fingers anymore. "Mmmmmm!" I groaned through the cotton. It was a pathetic little sound that couldn't have traveled more than a yard. I tried waving my arms in the air, but the sleeves of my dress were black. Who would possibly see my frozen white hands in this vast black night?

I could hear the splash of oars and men's voices. I waved my hands violently and tried to swim toward them. But suddenly I knew I wasn't going to make it. I was too cold, too tired. I'd put up a valiant fight, but in the end the Hudson River was going to win. Sleep seemed almost inviting now. I closed my eyes and I wasn't in the river at all--I was lying in a warm bed, by a blazing fire, and Daniel Sullivan was saying, "Don't worry, Kathleen, you're safe now."

"Who's Kathleen?" was my last conscious thought.

Twenty-three

I opened my eyes to intense cold and discomfort. My aching body was being flung around as somebody dragged me away from the soft bed and the roaring fire.