“So do I,” I said. “Please give my best to Sarah when you see her.”
And so I left the settlement house with my head in turmoil. From what I had now learned from Annie, did I really want to find Bo Kei? And if I found her, how could I possibly deliver her back into the hands of Lee Sing Tai?
Eleven
I visited the other settlement houses but, as I suspected, they hadn’t seen my Chinese bride. So I began to look for Catholic churches and more specifically, for nuns. It was midafternoon and I was growing rather hot and weary. But I was now filled with a sense of urgency that I must find the girl before anyone else did.
I began to wish I had been a better Catholic. If I’d made a point of going to mass in New York, I’d have known where to find the churches here in the Lower East Side. But I’d too many sins to confess now to make me want to go back to church—and my few encounters with judgmental priests hadn’t convinced me otherwise. So I wandered aimlessly around, trying first the Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Mulberry. Here I moved warily again, as we were close to police headquarters. But nobody at St. Patrick’s had seen a Chinese girl.
“They don’t ever leave Chinatown,” a young priest told me. “Not if they know what’s good for them. And as for girls—well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Chinese woman out in public.”
I wasn’t sure where to go next until an idea came to me. I had help on the spot, so to speak. So I made my way to Cherry Street, where Seamus and his children were now living with his sister Nuala and her brood. I can tell you that climbing the five flights to that tenement brought back painful memories of my arrival in New York. How far I’d come since then. Now I was safe and secure and about to be married to a wonderful man. I found renewed energy to bound up the last few of those stairs.
It was Nuala herself who opened the door. She looked me up and down, hands on hips. “Well, would you look what’s turned up on our doorstep again,” she said.
“That’s a nice welcome, if ever I heard one, Nuala,” I said. “I’m glad to see you looking well.”
“So has your fancy man thrown you out?”
I laughed. “On the contrary. I’m about to be married. To a police captain.”
Nuala looked back into the dark room beyond. “You hear that, boys!” she yelled. “You’d better mind yourselves when Miss High-and-Mighty is around these days, ’cos anything you say will be reported back to the police.”
Several suspicious faces peered out of the darkness. I couldn’t see much of them, but I didn’t like what I saw. Nuala’s boys were now looking like the typical Irish louts.
“I won’t trouble you long, but I’ve a job for young Shamey, and your boys too, if they’d like to help.”
Shamey was called to the door. I wasn’t invited inside. When Bridie heard it was me, she rushed to me and flung her arms around me again. Shamey came with more of a swagger, to impress the cousins, I suspected.
I told him what I wanted. “All the churches in the area, where there might be nuns living. Your aunt Nuala probably knows where they are. Ask if any of them has taken in a Chinese girl. If they have, come and find me immediately.”
“Are you paying him for doing this?” one of Nuala’s boys demanded, pushing past Shamey to face me. He was now almost as tall as me, with a voice that hovered between boy and man.
“You too, if you’d like to help.”
“How much?”
“Are you out of your mind?” His older brother grabbed him by his shirtfront and thrust him aside. “She’s obviously helping the police. Didn’t you hear what she said? Monk’d kill you.”
“So you’ve joined Monk Eastman’s gang now, have you?” I asked.
“Junior Eastman.” The boy stuck his chest out proudly. “Monk says I’m real useful to him.”
“Then I think I’ll leave the nuns to Shamey,” I said. “You’ll do your best for me, won’t you, boy?”
Shamey nodded, but with a half glance back at his cousins to see their reaction. “Come and report to me as soon as you hear anything. You remember where I live, don’t you? And at the moment I’m across the street with the two ladies. You can leave a message with them if I’m not there.” I ruffled Bridie’s hair. “I’ll see you soon then. And you’ll come to my wedding. I need a flower girl. We’ll make you a pretty dress.”
As I bent to hug her she whispered in my ear, “Let me come with you now. I don’t like it here. Those boys, they’re bad. They drink and they fight.”
“Darling, I can’t take you right now,” I said softly, “because I’m sleeping in someone else’s house. But I promise you I’ll take care of you and we’ll find a grand place for you. You just need to stick it out for a few more days—be brave for me—all right?”
She nodded. But after I left, I had terrible second thoughts. Was she actually safe there? I thought about asking Sid and Gus if I could bring her to share my room, but then I resolved to take her with me when I returned to Daniel’s mother’s house.
I started back in the direction of Chinatown. Churches. Where would a Chinese newcomer go, looking for nuns? Then, of course, I remembered the blank brick wall that was the face of the Church of the Transfiguration on Mott itself. It had never crossed my mind that she might be there, still in the neighborhood. Surely she wouldn’t have stayed so close, within easy reach of Mr. Lee, would she? But she might have gone there for help. Perhaps she had found nuns there who had spirited her away to their convent. It was worth a try, anyway. I went back to Mott, which had become quite lively at this time of day. There were men going into restaurants, returning home with bags of provisions, standing together talking, sitting drinking tea. A few half-Irish children kicked a ball around, but there was not a woman in sight. I tried the heavy oak door of the church and it opened to my touch, leading me into a different world. The quiet peace and muted light through the stained glass windows was in contrast to the gaudy colors and loud, staccato speech outside. I stood, breathing in the tranquility, trying to collect my thoughts, and as usual wondering what on earth I was doing getting involved again in something so complicated. A piece of stolen jewelry was one thing, but now I had no idea how I should proceed if I found the girl. I was being paid to carry out a commission. Was it up to me to make a judgment on the moral validity of my assignment? Maybe that’s why I wasn’t a good detective like Daniel, who had learned to prevent himself from becoming personally involved in his cases.
The church was silent and empty apart from an old Italian woman, dressed all in black, praying at a statue of
