Tell Them I'll Be There (23 page)

The bartender took Sophie in hand and led her towards a door behind the bar. He smiled at Tim. ‘We cannot let her leave here in this state,' he said. ‘She would get us closed down, so she would.'

The crowd had thinned now and a small table and a couple of seats were free. Tim and Murphy moved in. ‘What does he mean
closed down
? I thought they were not supposed to open up.'

‘Ah,' Murphy said, ‘the polis know all about this place and so long as it's quiet and there's no trouble, they look the other way.'

Murphy sat back in his seat, legs splayed, his eyes beginning to close, and without realizing it Tim began to talk. He told Murphy about Kathy O'Donnell, how he had found she was dead and that he was responsible. ‘I killed her, Murph,' he said. ‘It was me.'

Unaware that his companion was barely capable of listening, he confessed to Murphy that he felt unfit to be a priest. He told him about Tony O'Reilly and how he had been unable to help the poor lad, how he failed to keep him out of trouble. He told him, too, how Tony had died in the electric chair and, his mood darkening, how it was all Vincent O'Hara's fault.

He went up to the bar and told the bartender, ‘I need to get to this club. It's called the Showcase.'

‘Is that a good idea?' the bartender asked mildly. ‘They'll be just about opening up and the way you look right now I reckon they wouldn't let you in.'

‘Sure they would,' Tim told him. ‘I got a date with O'Hara.'

The bartender was impressed. ‘You know Vincent O'Hara?'

‘I know O'Hara all right,' Tim said, swaying boastfully, though he had never met the man.

‘Well, look …' The bartender was worried. He didn't want any trouble with O'Hara's boys and that little rat Pickles. If this kid was supposed to be meeting O'Hara he didn't want O'Hara to think he had been allowed to get into this state here. He put an arm across the bar top. ‘Timothy,' he said. ‘Come in the back. Let's get some coffee down you, straighten you out.' 

‘I don't need straightening out.'

‘Maybe you do,' he said gently. ‘We'll get you a good strong coffee then we'll get you a cab to take you over there.'

D
AN WAS SEEING
Annie's friend, Sue, now. Each week on her free night they would go to one of the top restaurants then on somewhere for a few drinks. Sue was good company and he was fond of her, nothing more. Then one night she made it obvious she wanted to stay the night. It would be a pleasant change, she said, to stay in Dan's elegant apartment, a pleasant change from the room she shared at the German lady's rooming-house.

Dan had misgivings. He had not wanted things to get serious, but he said, ‘OK, you go to bed. I'll have the sofa.'

‘I don't want the bed,' she said.

‘Well, you have the sofa,' he said.

‘I don't want the sofa either.' She laughed. ‘I can see I'll have to spell it out. What I mean is: I don't want to go to bed on my own.'

‘Sue,' he said quietly, ‘I thought we were just good friends.'

She laughed again. ‘Oh my! You are a country boy, aren't you? We
are
just good friends. But we can be
very
good friends.'

‘With no strings?' Dan said. ‘There's always strings.'

‘No strings,' she said. ‘I promise.'

Dan thought of Peg O'Malley. That was fine. No strings and no come backs. But it was Christmas and they had both had a few drinks. Now, with Sue, they were both relatively sober.

‘You sure about this?' he asked.

‘Absolutely,' she said, and she drew him into the bedroom.

It was good and he was very fond of her and she was fond of him and so far there were no complications. Nobody was getting hurt and few people were any the wiser. 

Then one night this happy arrangement was interrupted. They had just come in from dinner and a dance at the Rainbow Room and both were in a pleasantly mellow mood. But then there was a telephone call and it was Jimmy Pickles.

‘Hey, Dolan. Jimmy Pickles. I'm at the Showcase. You better get down here – now.'

‘Why? What's going on?'

‘We got your brother. He's kicking up a stink and I want him out of here – fast.'

‘You've got Michael?'

‘Nah. It's your other brother. The priest guy. He wants to see the boss but I can't let him do that the state he's in. Looks as though he's been out on the town. He's loaded and he's using some pretty choice language for a holy man.'

‘You've got Tim? I didn't know he was back.'

‘Well, wherever he's been, he is and you better get down here and take him away or I can't be responsible.'

‘Yeah, yeah. I'll be there.' Dan put the phone down and turned to Sue. ‘They've got my brother Tim at the Showcase. I don't know what he's doing there but Pickles wants me to pick him up. Seems he's had too much to drink and he's creating a disturbance.'

‘You want me to come with you?'

‘No, no,' he said decisively. ‘I don't want you getting involved with O'Hara or Pickles and I don't want them to know about us.' He kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘You go to bed.'

At the Showcase there was a police wagon outside and a disturbance in the foyer. Pickles, his henchmen alerted, was urging two police officers to restrain Tim. When he saw Dan he hurried over. ‘I don't get it,' he said. ‘He's quiet one minute, crazy the next.'

‘O'Hara!' Tim cried. ‘Come out here, murderer!' He was telling the police officers as he struggled, ‘It's him you want, not me. He's a murderer. He should be behind bars. No, that's too good for him. He should be in the chair. He's not like Tony O'Reilly. Oh no. He's a
real
murderer.'

The police officers were doing their best to handcuff Tim. 
Dan stepped between them and gripped his brother by both shoulders. ‘Tim!' he said harshly and he slapped him hard across the face. ‘Stop it! Pull yourself together.'

Tim stopped struggling and shook himself free.

‘This is my brother, Officers,' Dan explained. ‘I'm sorry about this. I'll take care of him now.'

‘Oh no,' one of the officers said. ‘He's comin' with us. A night in the cooler is what he needs.'

‘No, please,' Dan said. ‘I'm sure that won't be necessary.'

Vincent O'Hara had appeared now and he, too, intervened. ‘Let Mr Dolan take him, gentlemen. I shall not be pressing any charges.'

Dan acknowledged him with a nod. ‘Thank you,' he said.

But then Tim looked up, saw O'Hara and erupted again. ‘So there you are. White tuxedo, Havana cigar, fancy night club. I'm going to expose you, O'Hara. I'm going to tell the world what you really are.'

‘Get him out of here,' O'Hara said, through his teeth.

Dan turned Tim away, pushing him towards the door and out of the foyer on to the sidewalk. Pickles and the two police
officers
followed.

‘Tell Mr O'Hara I'll call him tomorrow,' Dan said
apologetically
.

Tim seemed to have sobered a little. He glared at Pickles and with a slightly deranged look in his eye he said quietly, ‘You tell your boss he is not going to get away with this. He sent that boy Tony O'Reilly to the electric chair and I'll have him if it's the last thing I do.'

Dan hailed a cab but as the driver slowed down he didn't like what he saw and he accelerated and sped away. Dan turned to one of the police officers. ‘Any chance of a lift?'

The officer made a face but opened the rear door of the wagon and as they climbed in it occurred to Dan that, though Tim was clearly inebriated, not even the police had asked where he got the booze.

Dan hadgone to his office by the time Sue dragged herself from 
the bed. She was not due at rehearsal until 11.30 but she was not looking forward to it. They had a new choreographer, a young guy eager to make his mark and, as the stage manager said, he was ‘a regular pain in the ass'.

She staggered to the bathroom and was surprised to see a man she had never met sprawled out on the sofa in the living room. He appeared to be sleeping, his face creased as if he expected to meet one hell of a hangover the moment he opened his eyes. She went back into the bedroom and pulled on Dan's bathrobe.

When she eventually emerged from the bathroom Tim was sitting up, his head in his hands as he stared at the floor.

Sue laughed. ‘As bad as that?'

He looked round. ‘Hey! I'm sorry,' he said. ‘I didn't know.'

‘That's OK,' she said. ‘I expect Dan didn't want to wake you. You look as though you've been hit by the hangover to end all hangovers.'

He tried to stand up but she indicated there was no need.

‘I've got coffee,' she said, amused by the look on his face.

‘I'm Tim,' he said. ‘Dan's brother.'

‘I guessed that,' she told him, still amused. ‘I'm Sue. I worked with Annie, Michael's girl. That's how I met Dan.'

‘So now you're Dan's girl?'

‘I wish,' she said.

Tim was surprised. ‘A fair assumption?'

She laughed. ‘I guess so. We're just good friends, as they say. And before you say it, yes, we're
very
good friends.'

‘Hey, look!' Tim said. ‘None of my business.'

She handed him a cup of coffee. ‘So what's with the
hangover
? I understood you were the one going into the Church.'

‘Yeah,' he said, with a grimace. ‘So did I.'

This was not just a flippant response. Recent events had
seriously
questioned his commitment. Did he have a vocation? Did he really want to live the celibate life of a priest? He was not sure. The only thing he knew for certain was that if Kathy O'Donnell was here he would sweep her into his arms.

‘Second thoughts?' Sue asked. 

‘I don't know. I don't know what the hell I think. But hey! Let's talk about you.'

‘Nothing to say. I'm crazy about your brother, but if I tell him I lose him and I'd rather have him on his terms than not at all.'

‘That's sad,' Tim said, thinking again of Kathy and the pain and sadness of a lost romance. ‘Does he know how you feel?'

‘I guess not. There's something …' She hesitated. ‘Sometimes, when I'm with him, it's as if he's not really there as if he's with someone else. Is there someone? Someone back home maybe?'

‘I don't think so. Always plenty of girls, but no one special.'

‘Well, there's something holding him back.'

‘Probably ambition,' Tim said. ‘He's wrapped up in this job of his right now. Maybe when he's made his millions …'

‘If that's all it is, fine,' she said. ‘But if he's carrying a torch for someone else I'd like to know.'

‘Ah!' Father Pat said. ‘You're back, so you are. I'll be with you in just a minute and you can tell me all your news.' He was standing on the path outside his church as he looked up to where two workmen were examining a corner of the roof.

‘What's going on?' Tim asked, well aware that before he left the restoration fund had nowhere near reached its target.

‘Great news, Timothy! We're to get a new roof after all. Just this morning a benefactor came forward promising to put up all the dough we need. Hoping to book his place in Heaven I guess.'

‘That's great,' Tim said. ‘Who is he?'

‘A local businessman,' Father Pat said evasively, ‘Good Catholic boy he was once, or so he tells me. Fallen away a bit since, fallen quite a long way, in fact.'

Tim gripped his arm. ‘Who is he, Father?'

‘Welt,' Father Pat said, pulling away, ‘I don't suppose you'll approve, but if we don't accept this very generous offer and fix this roof now we'll have much bigger problems later on. How the man came by his money is between him and his God. The Church will be here when he's gone.'

‘You're talking about O'Hara,' Tim said in disbelief.

‘If he wants to ease his conscience that's—' 

‘The man's a murderer. He sent Tony O'Reilly to the electric chair. His money comes from organized crime, booze, extortion, protection rackets, prostitution. He stole that money.'

‘And we're stealing it back,' the priest said. He put a fatherly arm around Tim's shoulder. ‘Listen, son. Men who live like O'Hara don't live long. Sooner or later they get what's coming to them. Give it time. He'll be dead and we'll have a new roof.'

‘And what does he expect in return?'

‘Well, I know you've been back a bit longer than you're letting on and you've been giving him a hard time. Preaching about the evil gangster in our midst. He wants me to call you off.'

‘No chance,' Tim said, inwardly fuming.

‘That's what I told him,' Father Pat said and he laughed. ‘But not until I'd taken his cheque.'

‘It'll probably bounce.'

‘He can't pull out now,' the priest said. ‘I told the newspapers.'

Spring came early that year, the sun slanting down between the tall buildings, the park an inviting green oasis at the top of the Avenue, out of the swirl of hurrying feet and away from the clamour of honking automobiles. It was one Saturday morning when, as he often did, Dan took a stroll as far as the boating lake and back to find a bench where he could sit for a while.

The previous Saturday morning he had run into Paul Merrick. Merrick had been sitting on a bench, enjoying the new green leaves on the overhanging trees and the rippling sunlight on the water, and he was there again today.

‘We can't go on meeting like this,' Dan said with a grin.

Without a word Merrick moved along the bench for Dan to sit down.

‘You OK?' Dan asked after a moment.

‘Yes and no,' Merrick said. ‘I can see where I want to go but I am not sure how to get there.'

‘Want to tell me about it?'

He shrugged. ‘Where to begin?' 

‘You can start by telling me what it is with you and Joe Baker.'

Merrick looked at him sidelong then appeared to make up his mind. ‘If you wish.'

Dan leaned forward.

‘My partner and I set up this company,' he said. ‘Bailey and Merrick. I was the junior partner. It was Bailey's money. We put up the capital for small businesses to expand. Same as Baker, only he was much bigger. We did well and Baker wanted to buy us out. He made us a pretty good offer. Bailey wanted to retire so he took the money and the deal was Baker must keep me on for three years or pay me fifty thousand dollars.

‘This was fine by me. I wanted to go and the fifty thousand dollars was just what I needed. Baker said he was happy with this and I could leave at the end of the month. Then I made my mistake. Big big mistake. I got involved with
Mrs
Baker, the dangerous Barbara.'

It was beginning to make sense. ‘And Joe found out?'

Merrick nodded. ‘Barbara went to Miami for a few days, the Fontainebleau Hotel, and I met her there. She told Baker she was visiting an aunt or something and I was to check on a company in St Louis. I spent one day in St Louis then I flew to Miami. But Baker called the Fontainebleau to speak to Barbara and I picked up the phone.'

Dan shook his head. ‘Not a good idea.'

‘We were expecting a call from room service.' He laughed. ‘I expected to be fired. But I didn't mind. I was happy to take the fifty thousand dollars and go. But no, Baker wouldn't have that. He's kept me on for three years and he knows this isn't what I want.'

‘What
do
you want, Paul?'

‘I want to go to the coast, out West, go into the movie
business
. This is the future, Dan. I want to make movies.'

He became animated at the mention of the movie business.

‘Two friends of mine, fellow countrymen, boys I came with to America, are there now and they're doing OK. They put up fifty thousand each and the offer was for me to join them. But I can't. 
I don't have the money. The three years will soon be up and I won't even have a job.'