“Well?” Carmine pressed. “Which of you is Thomas O’Brien?”
Two didn’t respond at all. The youngest boy gave it away without even realizing it—one nervous glance to the heavily-freckled boy, and he all but announced who it was.
Carmine came closer. Towering above the seated redhead, he lifted his chin and looked right in his eyes. “Are you Thomas?”
The redhead, who was definitely Thomas, gulped. “Who wants to know?” He was trying like hell to be bold and fearless, but the shakiness in his voice gave him away.
Moving slowly, Carmine came closer, never once taking his eyes off the redhead’s. “Do you know who I am, kid?”
Thomas narrowed his eyes, and he tried and failed to sound defiant as he said, “Should I?”
Carmine leaned in and lowered his voice. “I’m someone whose questions you would be wise to answer right now.”
Beside the redhead, the youngest fidgeted and squirmed.
Carmine kept his gaze fixed on Thomas.
One of the two brothers spat something in what sounded like Irish, and Thomas growled back in English, “He can’t let us go.” Eyes locked on Carmine, he added, “Only the cops can.”
Carmine let his grin slowly come to life. “Is that so?”
Thomas swallowed, but he nodded. “It’s them that arrested us. Not you.”
“All right. All right, that’s true.” Over his shoulder, Carmine called out, “Officer.”
The cop stepped back in. “Yes, sir?”
Eyes still never leaving the redhead, Carmine said, “Bring Detective Higgins in here.”
The boys kept fidgeting and exchanging worried glances. When Higgins stepped into the room with the uniform on his heels, all four of them blanched.
Carmine turned away from the four boys and lowered his voice so only Higgins could hear him. “Let them go.”
“What?” Higgins stared at him. “I can’t just—”
“They’re petty thieves, Detective.” Carmine tucked a few more bills into Higgins’s breast pocket. “They’ll stay out of trouble after this.”
“They’re petty thieves who got their hands on Plaza uniforms and made it into the most expensive—”
“I’m aware of that. But they will stay out of trouble.” Carmine gave the bills an emphatic tap. “Let them go.”
The detective hesitated, glancing back and forth from the thieves to Carmine. Finally, he exhaled. “They’re all yours.” Gesturing at the officer, he added, “Uncuff ‘em.”
“Wait.” Carmine put up a hand. “Keep them cuffed for now.”
Higgins scowled. “I don’t play games with—”
“Keep them cuffed,” Carmine growled. “In a moment, they’ll be yours to set free.”
The detective was clearly not happy, but he already had a bribe in his shirt pocket, and he wasn’t stupid. So with an irritated grumble, he gestured for the uniformed officer to follow him. “All right,” he said on his way out. “Soon as you’re through with them, they’re free to go.”
With the cops once again out of the room, Carmine faced the boys. Their eyes were wide, and their already fair-skinned faces had paled.
“Now.” Carmine folded his arms across his tuxedo. “Where were we?”
One of the older boys sat straighter. “What do you want? You gonna let us go, or what?”
“Oh, I am.” Carmine nodded. “But before I do, I need you all to do me a favor.”
Four sets of eyes widened. He was sure he could feel their hearts racing with renewed fear.
“I’m not going to spend all night figuring out which of you is which. The point is that I know all your names.” Carmine held up the piece of paper again, and he read each of their names in turn. “I’ve got your names, and Detective Higgins has your addresses.” Sliding the paper into his inside pocket, he added, “Don’t think for a moment that I won’t be able to find any one of you after tonight. Understood?”
Two gulped, but they all nodded.
“Good. But you won’t hear from me or see my face again, and you won’t go to jail tonight or land in the workhouse…under one condition.”
The four leaned in slightly, eyes wide.
“I want the man in charge of this crew in my office.”
“What for?” one asked.
Carmine narrowed his eyes. “You want to spend a month in the workhouse or not?”
It didn’t seem possible, but those four Irish boys turned even whiter.
“I see your man in charge within the next three days,” Carmine said in a low voice, “or I personally deliver all four of you to the workhouse and make sure it’s a long stay. Am I clear?”
All four boys nodded mutely.
Carmine opened the door and beckoned the uniformed officer back in. “Get them out of here.” He clapped the officer’s shoulder. “Once they’re out of sight of all these nice people, uncuff them and let them go.” He looked right at the four boys. “And remind them that Carmine Battaglia does not play games.”
From the wide eyes staring back at him, he didn’t imagine they’d need reminding.
“All right, boys,” the officer said. “Everybody up.”
Cuffs clinked and shoes scuffed as the four young Irishmen rose. Carmine gave them one last look, then left the office.
The lobby had mostly cleared out. Agosto il Sacchi was nowhere in sight; he’d probably gone up to see his nephew before the body was taken away.
Carmine shuddered. The death of a high-ranking member of any family could mean war, even between the smaller families like Agosto’s or the family to which Carmine belonged, the Pulvirentis. He hoped the blood spilled tonight wasn’t first blood in a new war.
Stomach in knots, Carmine started across the lobby.
Giulia fell into step beside him. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.” Carmine tugged at the cuff of his tuxedo sleeve. He’d decide that once he met the man in charge of the Irish thieves.
But for tonight, he had a New Year’s Eve party to attend.
Chapter 3
Danny was numb as he climbed the tenement’s darkened staircase to his third-floor apartment.
The overcoat Mathew had given him hadn’t done much to keep him warm, but it was better than nothing. It also didn’t draw the attention that his stolen gold-trimmed red-and-black uniform would have.
And the bitter January wind wasn’t what had him cold all the way down to his bones anyhow.
At the top of the stairs, he felt around for the lock on his door, slipped in the key, and let himself in. Immediately he was greeted by the gentle warmth of the stove and the faint smells of cigarettes and coffee. The heat itself was a relief, but so was the realization that his apartment wasn’t empty. Sometimes it was, sometimes it wasn’t, and he always preferred the nights he didn’t have to spend alone.
Peering into the parlor, he found James sitting in a chair by the fireplace, a thick quilt pulled tight around his shoulders. The quilt didn’t completely cover his familiar black cassock and stiff white collar, but even if they had, it was still impossible to look at him and not see the priest. Though they’d known each other since they were boys, long before James had been ordained, he simply was a priest now. Most of the time, anyhow.