The Parting Glass. Emilie Richards

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ his palms on the wall again. Megan imagined that prisoners pounded cell walls the same way. “Rooney, that’s not going to help. Come on upstairs with me, okay?”

      “Are you looking for something?” Niccolo asked him.

      Megan wished Niccolo would stay out of the exchange. She was afraid Rooney was going to become even more distracted. “Nick, I—”

      “Here someplace.” Rooney moved down an arm’s length and continued pounding.

      “Megan, he’s not upset. He’s looking for something,” Niccolo told her. “Do you know what it might be?”

      “I don’t think—”

      “Listen…” Rooney stopped pounding a moment, then started up again.

      She was growing more disturbed. She didn’t like being away from the others. Maybe someone had gotten through to the fire department. She wanted to know if help was on the way. She wanted to figure out strategy. She wanted to see to her guests. “Rooney, I don’t hear anything! Please come up.”

      “It sounds hollow.” Niccolo took her arm. “Do what he says and listen.”

      “So what if it’s hollow? Who can tell why…” But she fell silent, aware that nothing she could say was going to turn the tide.

      “What’s behind there, Rooney?” Niccolo asked.

      Rooney grinned. “Jail time.”

      Megan caught Niccolo’s eye and shook her head. Niccolo was expecting too much.

      “Jail time?” Niccolo asked. “Jail for who?”

      Rooney was picking at a sheet of paneling now, trying to pry it loose with fingernails that weren’t up to the task.

      “For who?” Niccolo repeated.

      Rooney stepped back, obviously frustrated. “Tools. Hammer might do.”

      “What will we find if we pry the panel loose?” Niccolo asked.

      “Nick, please don’t continue this,” Megan pleaded.

      “Jail time,” Rooney said. He paused. “For bootleggers.”

      Megan faced her father, Niccolo’s part in the conversation forgotten. “Bootleggers?”

      Rooney smiled. “I wasn’t born.”

      “Megan, do you know what he’s talking about?” Niccolo asked.

      She was ashamed. She had been so sure Rooney was just talking crazy. “When I was a little girl the grown-ups talked about tunnels down here. Not when they thought we could hear them, of course. We weren’t really supposed to know. It was a family secret. But I haven’t thought about that for years. I thought the tunnels were probably just a story, a Donaghue fairy tale.”

      “Bootleggers?” Niccolo asked.

      “I don’t know for sure, but if there are tunnels, maybe they were built to smuggle in bootleg whiskey during Prohibition. There’s another bar on the West Side that claims they have tunnels that lead all the way to the water.”

      “The Shoreway would make that impossible here.”

      “It wouldn’t have then, because the Shoreway wasn’t there in the twenties. Besides, if there are tunnels under the saloon, maybe they led out to a road on Whiskey Island where liquor was brought in from the water. I do know Cleveland had its share of rum runners. Canada’s right across the lake, and Canada never bought into Prohibition.”

      “So if it’s true, the tunnels might still be here?”

      “Could be, although in what kind of shape, I don’t know. If they exist, they’ve been walled away my whole life. I guess it depends on how sturdy they were to start with.”

      “Sturdy enough, I bet. If they were built for bootleggers, they wouldn’t have taken any chances. Liquor was a profitable business.”

      “Yeah, for people like Al Capone. This is Cleveland.”

      “Elliot Ness came here after Prohibition to clean up the city,” Niccolo said. “There must have been some business here to draw him.”

      Obviously he’d been listening to Jon, for whom Cleveland history was a favorite subject. “Are you thinking we might tear out this wall and see what’s here?” she said.

      “Rooney, does the tunnel lead outside?” Niccolo put his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Can we get out this way?”

      Rooney gave a slight nod.

      That was enough affirmation for Niccolo. The possibility existed. “Can you get my kids and get us some tools?” he asked Megan. “And more flashlights, if you have them?”

      “The kids?”

      “Do you know anybody more talented at destruction?”

      She left the two men below and raced up the stairs. In the saloon, she clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Has anybody been able to reach the fire department?”

      Nobody had. Sirens had been heard in the distance, and shouting somewhere down the block.

      She explained quickly what Rooney had found and what they planned to do. Jon and Casey had organized people into small groups. One was tearing towels into makeshift bandages to supplement the small first aid kit. Another had stationed themselves as close to the front as possible to yell for help. Another was washing and doctoring cuts and bruises. One group was making attempts to comfort and entertain the children.

      Barry the bartender kept a crowbar behind the bar for security. He gave it to Winston, who headed straight for the kitchen. The other kids followed with whatever they were handed. Megan pulled a toolkit and more flashlights out of the storeroom, Greta gave Josh a mallet she used for pounding round steak. Peggy, trying to manage a struggling Kieran, volunteered to go upstairs and look in the apartment for more flashlights, but that effort was vetoed as too dangerous.

      Megan promised she would come back with news the minute she knew if the tunnels existed and if they led to safety.

      “They exist.” Deirdre grabbed her arm as she was heading back into the kitchen. “Your father’s not imagining this.”

      “Do you know where they lead?”

      Deirdre shook her head. “We weren’t supposed to know. I think my father’s generation was afraid we’d find a way to get inside and someone would get hurt. Do you want me to go down and help?”

      “Stay here and help Peggy with Kieran, will you?” Megan could hear her nephew wailing. The crowd, the noise and the confusion were bad enough for a normal child.

      She left Casey and Jon in charge, confident they could keep chaos at bay. Downstairs, she saw the boys at work and marveled. The tornado had nothing on the Brick kids for destruction.

      Someone had wanted the tunnels sealed for all time. Five minutes СКАЧАТЬ