"You tellin' me you ain't got a single clue as to what I'm sayin', kid?" Detective Moore unfastened his gaudy cuffs. This gum-shoe was a real pain in my neck, he had his eyes on me since day one. I ain't a bad kid, hand to heart, I'll swear it to you now. I always did try to make Sunday a strictly no-business day, a little somethin' Mr. MacCarthy had taught me right after he took me in. But I wasn't no angel either. 

"No, sir." I looked down at the shiny bracelets they strapped on me when I tried to hustle out of the warehouse earlier that night. 

"The kid is lying, Ernest! I saw her with my own eyes, she was talkin' with that Hugh fella. They were out back, loading up their truck." 

"That's bushwa!" There was no point in denying what Detective Harris said. He saw me, just as I'd seen him. He knew his onions better than Moore. 

"That true?" Moore looked at me with big sad eyes, like a disappointed dad or somethin'. I don't really know what he was expectin' from me, I wasn't no stool-pigeon or nothin'. I worked for MacCarthy first and foremost. Harris took in a long drag from his cigarette, eyein' me all the while. It was almost like the guy was darin' me to keep lying. Dang, they really had their good-cop, bad-cop routine in the bag. 

"It ain't true. I was.. I was only takin' a walk!" 

"On the fringes?" Harris was quick to ask. I admit, it wasn't the best of lies, and the fringes ain't no place a gal like me should be, especially late at night. Even dumb dora's know that. But I had to play the part, I couldn't let MacCarthy down. Especially after all he did for me.

"Ain't felt a breeze like the breeze on the fringes, Detective. Especially since it's port side." 

"Bushwa." Harris snubbed out his cigarette in frustration. "I don't even know why we're giving her the time of day, Ernest."

"Cause, Gerald, she knows things inside out- even if she won't admit it."

"Ernie," Harris stood and shook his head, grabbing on to Detective Moore's shoulders, "She ain't no good. She's rotten." 

"Shut-up, you pill!"  I yelled and kicked the leg of the table. I wasn't goin' to lay down and take his bologna. The funny thing is, I was more angry about him actin' like I wasn't even there than the insult itself. Though, that response was probably a huge mistake on my part. See, Detective Gerald Harris ain't the finicky type. He doesn't care who he rags on, or where. He had no issue giving a shiner to an already beat up fifteen year old girl like me. And that's what he did. 

I was seeing stars as soon as he hit me, and the details were blurry by the time I came to. All I remember is Moore screamin' things, and a lot of shufflin' noises. I'm guessin' Harris was kicked out and forced to take a walk, 'cause by the time I shook it off it was just me and Moore sittin' in that smokey room. 

He watched me sadly, like he was pitying me. Somethin' he tended to do a whole bunch.

"Alice, I've known you for how long now?" He folded his arms across his chest, and leaned back in his creaky chair.

"Around three years." I replied in a hoarse voice. Dang, I thought, Harris really knocked the voice outta me.

"Three years," Moore echoed, "And in those three years, was I ever unkind?" I shook my head, looking down at the table in-between us. He was a good guy, even if a gum-shoe. "I can help you, Alice. You just gotta tell me what I need to know." I sat silently for a minute, mullin' it all over in my head.

Ernest Moore, the man interviewing me. He was around his mid-thirties, and had a family. He was an honest man, and kind. He always looked after his friends, and for some reason  he counted me amongst them. I guess it might have been since I picked up his tab that one time when his wallet was stolen, though I helped in the stealin' of it. I felt bad so I bought his coffee. He never let any copper rough house me if he was around, and was always respectful. But..

I finally looked him in the eye, and with all the honesty I could muster I said, "They'll kill me if I talk." 

"No, Alice." He pulled his chair towards my side of the table, and sat beside me. With a firm hold of my arm, he looked at me with nothin' but pure conviction and promised, "I won't let them." 

I sighed and nodded.

"Maybe it's time to change. I'm still young after all." I smiled, cracking my already broken lips. It stung, but to hell with it, I had worse. Moore smiled back, eagerly waitin' on me to spill. "Alright, Mr. Moore. Let me tell you what I know.."

*****

The year was 1919, and I was eleven years old. I lived out in the country, a real rural area, let me tell you. My ma and pa were at the height of socialist society, and often hosted those big fancy parties, you know, the kind where they like to wear those big dresses and serve all that fancy food that really doesn't all taste that good? I'm not really sure what it was that made my folks so rich, I know my mom painted some, but that was only a past-time. I had no interest in what they did really, to me it was all a huge yawn fest. 

I usually kept to myself, they had me live in the opposite wing of the house, along with my Governess. I think her name was Bridgette. Or was it Bertha? At any rate, I didn't like Bertha at all. She was a real bluenosed cancelled stamp if you know what I mean. 

I was friends with one of the kids who lived on a farm a few miles away from where I lived, he wasn't rich or nothin'. Just a regular kid who liked to explore, and one particular day he explored all the way to my front yard. I was hidin' from Bertha in one of the trees that lined our walk way, leading to our door. I heard her callin' my name from the back of the house, the dame really had a pair of lungs on her. So, there I was laughin' to myself at how stupid she was, when all of a sudden I hear the kid callin' up to me.

"What are you doing up there?" He asked politely.

"Hiding." I replied, staring back down at him. "What are you doing down there?" 

"Exploring." He answered. And that's how we became friends, really. Nothin' to it! I jumped down and showed him around, all the while Bertha looked for me. Back then I was a real stuffed up ol' doll, too. Talkin' all properly, bein' stuffed into dresses that squeezed me tighter than a sausage. Why anyone wanted to be friends with a stiff like me, I don't know. 

After a month or two of runnin' between goin' to his joint or mine, my folks caught us. They were angry, to say the least. Especially cause of the state they found us in. We were rough housin', wrestlin' in the mud to see who was stronger. I can't really remember who won, but I can tell you the newest dress they brought home for me was in so many pieces, and caked in dirt. They called me indecent, said I'd be a whore if I continued having secret rendezvous with boys I barely knew. 

I shrugged off what they said about me, they were really strict but it was somethin' I was used to. What really upset me was when I found out the next day that they sacked Bertha. I didn't even get to say goodbye to the old cow. I may not have liked her, but I knew her all my life basically. She was more of a mother to me then my own ma. They thought she couldn't handle someone as "rambunctious" as me. 

Needless to say I locked myself in my room for a whole day when they tried to introduce me to the new governess. I didn't even bother to learn her name. A week goes by, and I'm back into the swing of things- hidin' from the new bluenose and all that. I decided it was time to visit my friend again, it had been a while after all, and I was kinda gettin' lonely. 

Here's where I decided that enough was enough; the moment I went over to his place and discovered it empty save for one old lady who turned out to be his Nan. I'm guessin' she was too old to travel.

"Where did he go?" I remember gripping my dress so tight that the lace lining began to feel like iron threads diggin' into my palms.

"They left, or don't you know?" She gave me the nastiest stink eye I'd ever seen, it kinda scared me some. I was quick to back away a few steps when she stood from her little rocking chair. "You can thank your parents for that! Now they have to start from scratch! You little bimbo! You've ruined us! Get outta here, before I whip you somethin' fierce!" She plucked up her cane off the floor and shook it as I ran off. I didn't look back.

I didn't eat that night, because I came to a realization: I hated my folks, the people who gave me life stopped me from livin' it. And took the chance from others so it seemed. 

Another week went by, and the house was bustlin'. This told me one thing: my folks were havin' another party. I don't know how the idea got in my head, but I decided I had had enough of the country life, where everyone was all stuffy and filled with fake manners and respect. I was going to run away. 

Each day I would prepare one thing at a time, so I didn't raise suspicion. The first day I went on a treasure hunt, gathering jewelry and money that my ma and pa wouldn't miss. Second day I took clothes from the cook's son, who was around my size and age. I figured if I was goin' to change I might as well do a complete 360. 

The third day I rummaged around the library, lookin' for maps and newsletters. Just to get a run-down on America. Where was the fast life, the excitement? Where would I choose to go first, and where did I want to settle, if at all?

Finally, the day of the party came. I joined in for a bit, smiled and played the piano at my pa's request. They all clapped after I finished. I put on my best good-girl face, and asked ma if I could go to my room.

"My head is absolutely pounding." She kissed my cheek, and rubbed away the lipstick stain that had stuck. She seemed satisfied with me, and nodded.

"You go on, dear. Maybe tomorrow we can all have breakfast outside." I smiled, actin' all excited. 

There wasn't goin' to be a tomorrow for me and them, though. I walked up stairs, ripped off that god awful dress they hung on me. My things were pre-packed, all I had to do was change. 

The brown wool clothes felt heavy, and scratchy. But for some reason, I felt so much more comfortable in them than I had ever felt in a dress and corset. I gave myself a once over in the vanity, admirin' just how hotsy-totsy I looked. Though, if you  ever asked Hugh, he would have said otherwise. But I haven't gotten to Hugh in my story yet. 

There was one thing off about me though, somethin' I couldn't leave without doin' first. I was quick as a jaguar when I went lookin' through my vanity drawers, until I found it; my sharpest pair of scissors I used when I sewed; which was rarely ever. 

The edges gleamed in the dim light of the big ol' blue moon. The only thing I can remember is that satisfying snip, snip, sound you hear when cuttin' stuff. All that hair I had on my head pooled in a heap on the floor around my feet. It looked like a bushy birds nest layin' there. My head felt lighter, and I could feel the air reachin' my scalp. It was as though I could think much clearer than before. I didn't even care I had cut it all uneven like, the flat cap I had seemed to hide the imperfections just fine.

After that, I grabbed my stuff and snuck out the servants halls. I was lucky they weren't occupyin' them, seein' how they were tendin' to the party. I can honestly say I had never ran so fast, and soon enough I was at the train station.

"I'd like a ticket, please." I said, slappin' my money down like the born and bread egg I was. The man workin' the ticket booth didn't even look up, which made me doubt myself for a little bit.

"Where you going to, son?" He jotted down letters in his workers log, sniffing and twitching his thick moustache back and forth. He was probably gettin' sick, it was especially chilly that night. I ignored his thinking of me bein' a boy, it was probably for the best anyhow, It'd be harder for my folks to track me.. that is if they ever decided to. I still don't know if they looked for me at all.

"New York." I grinned, gripping a map. The man chuckled, and set down his pen. 

"Son, that train won't be coming for a while." 

"Why not?"

"It takes a while to travel back and forth from here to New York." He closed the book he'd been writin' in, and looked like he was about to close the window to his booth.

"W-wait!" I held it open so he couldn't leave. "When's the next train coming?" 

"The morning." He said, sounding agitated. "But don't bother, it's not heading to New York."

"Where's it going?" I asked, desperately not wanting to bale on my plan.

"Boston." 

"Then," I knew I had to go, and at that point it didn't really matter to me where I went, "I'd like to buy a ticket to Boston, please!" I may have been an egg, but that night I hatched.

2: The First Time I Stabbed A Man

I can tell ya', sleepin' outside on a bench isn't luxurious in the least. What made it worse was that I was sat next to a young couple who kept flirtin' the whole night through. This broad's voice was an octave higher than a mouse's squeak, especially when she giggled at the sweet nothin's this cake-eater kept whisperin' into her ears. She was a real sheba, I'll give her that, but if she intended to elope with the guy I could peg her as nothin' less than your average dumb dora. 

They were really goin' hard with their petting, the guy went to town on the sheba's bubs. If I wasn't there, they'd have probably started barneymugging. 

At any rate, I somehow survived the night, though I barely did get a wink of sleep. It was early in the morning when I heard the glorious whistlin' of the train that would take me to freedom. The whirring of it's engine came to a stop right in front of me. I couldn't tell ya' how excited and happy I was to inhale that black sludgy smoke it poofed out. 

Not many people got off the train, I didn't blame them really. Only egg's came out to the country side, like my folks. And not many people got on the train. I guess the ones who wanted to go to the big bad city were already there. It didn't bother me none, in fact I preferred being one of the only people sittin' in the train compartment. More space was better, I had a lot of things to think about, too. And plenty of sleep to catch up on. 

The train ride was a blur to me, I slept most of it away. And the other half I was so far lost in my mind that the time I spent awake was all smushed into one block of memory. The only time I spoke was when I was asked to show my ticket. I handed the guy the crumpled pamphlet, showing proof I had a right to be there. The man looked it over a bit, and gave me a once over.

"How old are you, kid?" He asked, handing back my ticket. 

"I'm almost twelve. I'll be turning twelve next month."

"Oh yeah? Where are your folks?" I stiffened at their mention. He was probably on to me bein' a runaway. I didn't need him gettin' no bulls to take me back home. 

"They're out in Boston. I was living with my Nan for a few years, to help her out at home. You know how tough it can be for an old lady, right? I'm going home now, though. My older cousin came and he's going to look after her now." I smiled brightly, lyin' through my teeth. He nodded a few times, lookin' like he was thinking hard about somethin'. 

"You need me to sit with you, kid?" 

"No, sir. I'm alright on my own." He accepted that and walked off, finishing checking on other people's tickets. Though he did look back at me a few times. It was better than him sittin' with me the whole way, I didn't need no alarm clock's on my case. Runaway kids were practically adults themselves in my mind. 

When we arrived in Boston, boy, I couldn't tell ya' how grateful I was to get off that train and stretch my legs. I was always the fidgety sort, I couldn't sit in one place for a long time. 

The air was different in Boston, it was the opposite of what I was expectin' of the city air, almost thicker with all the hustlin' and bustlin' of these business-types walking 'round with their buttoned up, closed collars. The air was ringin' with sound, different than the country life, and different from what I pictured New York to be, but that was because I wasn't in New York- I was in Boston, a city that was in the opposite direction!  

"Getcher' news here, fresh off the press!" came a boy with a messenger bag stuffed with tightly rolled up news papers. "Got a sweet tooth? Read about the recent tragedy of the molasses flood!"

"How much for a paper?" I hadn't even gotten out of the train station and I was already throwing cash down. 

"Twenty-five cents," we exchanged money for paper, and as I read over the flooding he continued talkin' as if I was the only person who'd given him the time of day in what must've been a long time. "You new in town?" 

"Train station give it away?" I asked as I kept reading. 

"You should get back on it, and go home. Boston ain't been an easy place to live in." I was goin' to ask what it was he meant, but the kid walked off, holding up a paper in each hand. "News here, fresh off the press!" 

I kept readin' as I made my way out into the streets, apparently the flood had happened a week before my arrivin' in boston, up in the North End. Some folks even died from it, who'd have thunk somethin' like that could happen? 

I was in shock, and with my eyes glued to the page I barely noticed the person I nudged aside when I walked by. 

"Watch it, ya' hinkty!" I didn't bother to look back and apologize, I needed to explore the city, and by readin' the paper I'd know where the cat's particulars of parties were bein' held. "Hey!" The guy yelled again, it was gettin' annoying until I felt a hard yank on the collar of my shirt pullin' me back. 

A hay burner zipped past me then, splashin' a whole load of nasty that was pooled on the side of the road all over me. My twenty-five cent paper got soaked and the ink ran, but my mind was racin' way too fast to care about that. 

"Stay outta the road, ya damned Reuben!" The driver yelled out as his car continued down the road. A couple of broads across the way giggled as they looked me up and down. I was sure I seemed a right shinin' mess, and they knew I didn't belong.

"Jesus, kid! You deaf?" I shook my head, lookin' back at the guy who saved my life. "You zozzled or somethin'?" 

"Zozzled?" I asked dumbly, lettin' the paper slip from my hands. The guy nodded, combin' his hand through his greased back hair. 

"You drunk?" Came the clarification. 

"What? No!" I ain't never had a drop of alcohol before then. He nodded again, then slapped his hand on the back of my head, knockin' my flat cap straight off. "Hey!" I quickly picked it up.

"Then what the hell were you thinkin? Pay attention, kid." He stood up, showin' just how tall he really was.  He wore one of them new-aged kind of suits, the type pa usually frowned upon. He was boyish, dustin' off his oxford bags. I guessed he must've taken a tumble too, when he pulled me back. He was pretty dapper, and there I was wearin' a serving boys day clothes. If I wanted to blend in, I knew I'd have to become quite the brooksy. "Ain't you goin' to at least thank me?" He pulled out a cigarette from somewhere in his coat pocket, and lit it in a fell swoop. 

"Oh, uh, thanks." 

I looked around the street, noticin' waves of people walkin' passed us like we weren't even there. It was like the near-accident didn't even happen. 

"No problem. Someone pickin' you up, kid? You look like you need help." He blew the smoke straight in my face. I coughed and fanned it away, feelin' my eyes burn up. He laughed and blew another puff of smoke- away from me that time, thankfully. 

"No, I'm here by myself." I replied truthfully. "What about you? Are you new here, too?"

"Now, I know you ain't never been in Boston, kid. Otherwise you'd know me." He had this annoyin' amused smirk, like I was on display for some freak show. 

"What you some hot-shot around town?" I frowned, tryin' to look at him just as hard as he looked at me. He only shrugged, not answerin' my question. 

"Name's Eoghan," he held out one hand and took a drag with the other. He squinted a bit as the smoke drifted up towards his eyes. I shook it as firmly as I could. 

Be a man, Alice. I told myself, smilin' all the while. I wasn't givin' him a name, I didn't plan on seein' him again after all. He got the hint. It's pretty funny now that I think about it. He was one of the most influential people in my life.

"You readin' on sweet-town?" He nodded down to the ruined paper. 

"Sweet-town? Isn't that a bit insensitive?" I stiffened, and glared. "People died in that accident, you know." He held up his hands as if to ward off my hostility.

"Hey now, what's a laugh in a tragic situation? If anythin' it makes things better."

"Eoghen!" A deep voice rang out from the station, thick with an Irish accent. I had only ever heard the accent once before in my life, and that was when pa had hired an ol' doll to work in the kitchens. She was real nice to me, and would help sneak me sweets when I was younger. But she was pretty weathered and after only two years of livin' in our house she fell flat down dead.

Eoghen turned, lookin' towards the station until a lad, a bit younger than him came out. He wore similar clothes, except took to wearing a fedora and bow tie. He held out his arms, grinnin' like an excited kid. 

"Hugh!" Eoghen tossed down his cigarette and ran towards the guy known as Hugh. They hugged and spun, not carin' who their danglin' legs hit. "You ol' boy! How was your trip? How'd it go?"

"Without a cinch," Hugh shoved his hands into his pockets, "Who do ya' think yer dealin' with?" 

Obviously forgotten, and feelin' outta place with the two, I decided it was time to go chase myself. So, I lickity split as quietly as I could. 

****

"Wait," Detective Moore held up his hand, unbelievin' as he tried to take in the info I was spillin', "You mean to say you met two of our most wanted guys, and you just left?" 

"Tha's right, Detective." He shook his head. 

"Then how'd you end up workin' for MacCarthy? It don't add up, you don't just work for him without gettin' a screening from his boys." Jeeze, was he ever a nitwit. I ain't ever seen him so impatient before.

"Well, you'll know if I tell ya." With a quick reprimand, he apologized and agreed. He was obviously set on keepin' his yapper shut until the end of the story, a good sign seein' how I had only just begun. And if he remembered his manners, he shoulda known it was rude to interrupt a lady. But I ain't never really considered myself as such. 

****

So, there I was; in the heart of Boston late at night. Probably an indecent place for an eleven year old kid like me to be, but I didn't care none. For once in my life I had free reigns to do as I pleased. There were big groups of people walkin' together goin' god knows where. They were all dressed to the nine's, they had their fashion down harder than Jesus was nailed to the cross. And I wanted to be a part of it somehow, but I was too busy standin' there like an idiot- all slack-jawed and gaping, starin' up at all these bright shinin' lights. 

The streets were so crowded that hardly any boiler-boxes could drive by. They were honkin' up a storm, but you could barely hear it from how loud people were yappin' and laughin'. I was being tossed back and forth like a birdie in badminton, hell, I could barely get a good direction on where I was goin'- that's how badly my brains were scrambled. 

I'll tell you, Boston is berries. I don't regret comin' here instead of New York, but when it comes to a kid who's lived in silence most of her life, suddenly bein' thrown into the middle of place like that will really mess with your noodle. I can guarantee that. 

I swear I couldn't breathe, and not one to ever be the shy type, I let everyone know. I dropped my bags in a show to get people's peepers on me. They needed to know what was goin' down.

"I can't breathe!" I was screamin', "I can't breathe!" People just walked by, givin' me these looks like they were readin' them Sunday funnies in the paper. I kept goin' on like that for a bit until I saw a copper comin' towards me all angry.

"Kids shouldn't be out this late! Who're your parents?" That made me panic more than I already was, so I bolted down the street. I didn't really care where I was goin' as long as I got away. Stupid really, I left my bags back there- with all my scratch and jewelry. And I couldn't for the life of me find my way back. And don't you give me that look, It was my first run-in with a man in blue. I didn't want to go in the stir so that they could put a finger on who I was. They might have got in contact with the folks back home. Or they could have pegged me as a crazy and locked me up in one of them asylums, maybe they might have sent me to an orphanage. 

Needless to say, I was down in the dumps when I realized what happened. It was cold, and I had no map to find my way around town. No scratch to spend on a hotel room. Instead I was walkin' along a port, sea air chillin' me to the bone as I cried like an idiot. 

I don't remember what happened during the time I was a bumblin' mess, but I recall wakin' up on a pile of nets hidden behind barrels and crates stacked on each other. I needed to pee so bad it felt like I was goin' to burst. They only reason I didn't go and do the deed was cause I heard some whisperin' coming from over the crates I was hidden behind. Sounded like good ol' American-o accents.. and then I heard an Irish one. 

"So how we gonna do this?" I heard one voice say, followed by a puff. He was smokin' from the sounds of it. 

"Your call, Paul." I peeked through the cracks from the familiarity of the voice. Sure enough there was Hugh and Eoghen leanin' against the hood of their truck. Across from them were three guys, two were just like them- leanin' on their car with smirks on their face. The third was standin' up right, he radiated the essence of cool-guy. He was wearin' a fedora tilted down so it would cover his eyes,  his head was cocked to the side as one hand brought his cigarette to his mouth, while the other had his coat pulled back and was restin' in his pockets. That ain't it though, I think he was standin' like that on purpose, see notice how I said his coat was pulled back? It was so that he could show off the Hammerless .380 hangin' in it's holster around his waist. 

Funny thing was Hugh and Eoghen didn't look scared in the least, they just kept leanin' back and talkin' like they were with a couple buddies or somethin'. 

"You gonna leave us to run the show? Why make things so easy for us now, fellas?" The smoking guy- Paul asked. Hugh laughed and shook his head, lettin' Eoghen do the talkin'.

"MacCarthy gave us permission to bop ya', but he also said if we can yap it out that we should do that. We couldn't decide, so we're leavin' that choice up to you." He explained calmly. I was shiverin' just watchin' them. You could taste the tension in the air, that's how intense that little showdown was. 

"You thinkin' of clippin' us? Think you can bring us to the big sleep?" Paul forced a laugh, while he crushed his cigarette butt beneath his nice shined loafers. "Boys, you're nothin' but Grifters-" 

"We ain't no cons!" Hugh retorted. Paul merely shrugged, shovin' his second hand into his pocket.

"You sure seem like it, you glommed our connections. You know how much scratch Miller's lost cause of MacCarthy?" Paul proceeded to shrug as if losin' serious cash wasn't a big deal, "See, MacCarthy may have given you them nice orders, like the sweetheart he is. But Miller told me otherwise. I was on the line with him the other day, you know what he said?"

"Nah, why don't you tell us?" Eoghan encouraged. 

"Said that I should go ahead and clip you." Paul began to pace slowly, "I'm a good little Christian, you know? Never gone outta my way to sin, or nothin'." 

"But it ain't never stopped ya' before neither." Offered Eoghan, which made Paul smile. 

"You packin' heat, boys?" 

"Naturally," Hugh chimed in. He stood up straight away at Paul's question. Seemed like the time for talk was over. Paul kept his smile, nodding once towards Eoghan and then to Hugh. A way to say "Good luck, chuck!" from what I gathered. 

They each pulled out their pistols and revolvers, but before they could start shootin' the sound of a whistle came ringin' down, along with the sound of heavy steps, poundin' hard straight in their direction. 

"It's a bull!" Hugh yelled, pointin' his pistol towards an old-time copper that had his gun drawn. 

"Truce for now! Let's bolt!" Paul and his pack of goons hustled into their car and sped off. Hugh and Eoghan tried escapin', too. 

"The hell is a copper doin' down in the fringes?" Eoghan cried, makin' it safely into the drivers seat. Hugh barely made two steps when he was shot in the leg. He lost his footing when the copper shot a couple more rounds. Hugh returned fire, all the while crawlin' back to their truck. The shots stopped when he made it. As soon as he was in Eoghan floored it. The tires screeched down into an alley, addin' more smoke to the one the gun-fire created. 

I was so scared, I was shakin' like a leaf. I didn't even realize I had let loose in my pants. Let me tell ya: I would've stayed there crouchin' in my mess if I didn't hear coughin' and gurgling. I think that's what pulled me out of it. There was no way in hell I was movin' an inch before I knew the coast was clear. A quick peek through the crates showed me it was fine to move, all I saw was the outline of the copper layin' on the ground. He was breathin'- or tryin' to at least, real loud. I inched my way towards him as slowly as I could. 

"Mister, you alright?" No response, only a loud cough and the sound of splattering after. He must've hawked a huge glob of blood. Once I reached him the breathin' stopped and it was all quiet. It was more scary then when the copper was alive. It got real cold, real quick.

MacCarthy told me later on that the reason that happened was cause his soul was leavin' his body- he's a strict Catholic, if you wanted to know. Well, as strict as a mob boss could be. 

So, there I was lookin' down at the wide open eyes of this old man. And I'm talkin' old, like, close to retirement. He had a pension plan and everything. But it was his time to go, and the old man would stay dressed in blue forever. 

I had two options then: I could find another copper, or the police station- let 'em know what went down in the fringes. Or, I could hide the body and find out where Hugh and Eoghan went. 

I hope I don't need to remind you that I went to Boston in search of the fast life- who was I to turn a blind eye when the fast life went and found me?

I was quick to work, rollin' a couple of barrels, and shovin' a bunch of crates to the side of the docks. I brought the nets I was sleepin' on, savin' touching the copper for last. It wasn't my first time seein' a dead body. Remember that ol' doll I mentioned who would sneak me snacks but bit the dust not too long after? Yeah, we had an open-casket memorial for her. It was creepy, but not as creepy as seein' a body all covered in their own blood. 

I rolled him on top of the net, tryin' my hardest not to get his blood on me. Didn't work, it got all over my knees and hands. Got some on my cheek, too. How it got there, I don't even know. 

At any rate, I put the barrels and crates on next- the heaviest ones I could find. It took me a bit to get them all tied together. When all that was done, I spoke a little prayer for the old man. "How I barely knew thee," and all that jazz. Figured he needed some form of a send off, just to let him know it's time to fly to heaven or whatever. Then, one by one, I began kickin' him and all the crates down into the water. He was floatin' at first, same with the barrels. That got me sweatin' more than I already was. I had to go look around for a stick or somethin' to push the old man down. I needed him to sink, not float. 

Anyway, I came back with a fishin' rod cause I sure as hell wasn't findin' no stick port side. It was the next best thing to come across. I must've prodded him and the barrels most of the night, cause by the time I was done the sun was already risin'.  The funny thing was, at one point the rod broke, me bein' the stupid kid I was went to poke him with the splintered side. It went straight into his gut, and the water turned a real dark colour from the way his blood mixed in. That was the first time I stabbed a man, but I don't think it counts cause he was already dead. 

I didn't know how to clean up the blood on the docks where the copper bumped it, so I broke open one of the crates, and dumped out the dead fish on top of the pool. Just some hooligans makin' a mess of things, right? Maybe they even glommed a few fish while they were at it. 

I was out of the fringes as soon as I saw workers startin' to gather. I didn't want to be pegged as a thief neither. 

The last thing I had to do was find the two thugs I covered for, with any luck they'd at least let me serve as a messenger boy or somethin'. Maybe they'd give me a handsome stipend. God knew I needed the cash. At the moment I was nothin' but a dewdropper, and I didn't plan on stayin' one. I ankled all mornin' across town, just to find those two goons. 

By lunch I realized that I wasn't goin' to get anywhere by just lookin', I had to actually ask people. But first, my stomach had to be filled. It was growlin' louder than any angry lion, and the smell of the restaurant I was standin' in front of didn't help any. 

I looked up at the sign. It was in big bold letters that were all cursive. It read: Gavin's. 

****

"I knew that no-good liar was in on it! He was always had this air 'bout him." Detective Moore slammed his fist onto the table. I jumped a little in surprise before regainin' my composure. 

"Too bad you never caught him, hey?" I smirked, only to gain a suspicious glance in response. 

"It was a shame, but I always felt somethin' was rotten about the way he died." My smirk widened into a grin as  I leaned back into the chair, shiftin' my wrists to get as comfortable in the bracelets as I could. "You know somethin' about that, Alice?"

"Might do," I held up my hands, flashin' his cuffs, "I'll tell the story faster if you take these off." He stared at me long and hard, not quite trustin' me. All I could do was huff impatiently. "Where am I gonna run off to, Moore? You think I can man-handle you? Look at me, I'm a stick!" 

"Alright, alright. But no funny business."

"I don't deal funny, Moore." 

3: The Coolest Place in Town

Let me tell you somethin' about Gavin: guys like him came crowdin' around MacCarthy to make some easy scratch. Those fellas were cheap to buy off, you know? They weren't exactly in with the boss, but they did what he said for the right price. Their price tag wasn't nothin' too hefty for MacCarthy though, to him they were worth a dime a dozen. 

See, there's a huge problem with that. Since they usually do a lot for a little that makes them easier to buy off. That's how Gavin was anyway. The old man seemed a real chipper sort, always laughin' at everythin'- like the world was a big joke. He taught me never to trust a guy who smiles all the time, those are the sort that always got stuff to hide. And boy, did Gavin really have a lot of skeletons in the closet. 

His restaurant was goin' for that italian feel- servin' all those pastas with fancy names I couldn't even pronounce. My mouth just don't work that way. He had some real big timers comin' in and out like waves in Vienna. The place was packed, and the waitin' room was just the same. 

I came in lookin' like a gutter rat, which made them fancy folk turn up their noses. The ladies wearin' their fur coats used it to cover their noses. I didn't blame 'em; I was sweaty from anklin' 'round town in search of Hugh and Eoghan, I smelled like fish and piss, and with blood smeared all over my clothes. It was all dried up and to the inexperienced it probably looked like mud or somethin'. 

There was a kid standin' behind a podium, he was the host I guess from the way he kept callin' out peoples name and their party numbers. He'd lead them to their table and walk back, scratchin' somethin' or other in his book. 

I almost laughed at how the guy stopped when I showed up. He looked a little freaked out, and his mouth were twitchin' like he was tryin' to say somethin'. He couldn't find the words though and stood their lookin' like a fish outta water. I would have stopped to introduce myself, I was raised to have good manners after all. I walked right by him though, and the whole line of waitin' people. My stomach had never felt so empty before. I mean there were days I'd spend back home where I went without eatin', It was a sort of protest that never really got across to my folks. They never noticed cause they were all busy doin' their thing. Funny how voluntarily not eatin' is on a whole other level than bein' starved unwillingly. Never felt a pain like it really, and I guess that's why I forgot my manners.

I went to each table, stunnin' patrons into silence as I would grab pieces of food off their plates. Soon enough the whole restaurant was quiet, just watchin' me stuff my face.

"Dad!" The host, Henry (as I would later know 'em) called to the back room.

The door to the kitchen swung open, I could here the fwip, fwip sound of the two way door swingin'. I turned around, and lo and behold there was the man himself: Gavin. How'd I know it was Gavin at the time? His name tag.

I barely began greetin' myself before the angry ol' bear grabbed me by my shirt collar so tightly I thought I'd choke. He plastered on his signature smile, apologizin' to everyone before draggin' me into the kitchen.

We barely got an upward glance from the line cooks and servers. I'd say the dish washer was the most amused by it by the big ol' dumb grin on his ugly mug. I was pulled out of another door that led to the side of the buildin' where they dumped all their trash.

He tossed me up against the brick wall on the opposite end of the door, and that fake smile of his was replaced with the nastiest snarl a gal like me has ever seen. I was freaked out and pressed myself into the wall, wishin' I could just sink into and disappear.

"Who the hell are you? The hell were you thinkin' comin' in here covered in blood?" He rubbed the back of his neck, "I swear Mr. MacCarthy keeps on recruiting rookies, and that'll be the end of me and my business! I got a family to take care of! You tell your boss that next time you see him!"

"S-sorry.." I know it was a pretty pathetic response, but it was all I could think of at the time. I had no idea what he was yappin' on about. 

"The North Pole is just down that way, kid. You'll see a door that looks like a storage unit." He pointed further down the alleyway, "You remember the password?" I shook my head. "Jesus were you zozzled when they gave you the run-down?"

"No, sir. I've never had a drink in my life." Gavin grumbled before continuin'.

"Ol' Saint Nick."

"What?"

"The password, you dummy. Ol' Saint Nick." He repeated more sternly.

"Old Saint Nick." 

"Nah! Not like that! Like this: Ol' Saint Nick." He nodded once, urgin' me to try again.

"Ol' Saint Nick." 

"Good, now get outta here," he waved me off, "And don't you ever come through the front door again, or I'll give you a lashin' so bad you'll run home to your mama!" 

I walked slowly towards the door, no idea what I was in for. Before then I ain't never heard of anythin' like a speakeasy, and why would I? I was a born and bread egg, remember? But there was somethin' in the back of my head that told me to keep walkin'.

Go on, it said, Go on.

So that's what I did, till I was right in front of that storage door. I was nervous as all hell, even peeked back  to see if Gavin was still standin' there. I was contemplatin' whether or not I'd rather deal with his lashes than travel to the North Pole. He was gone, back through that kitchen door goin' about his business. Smilin' and smoothin' things down with his customers no doubt. 

I took a deep breath a knocked once. The sound of scrapin' metal made my heart start poundin' somethin' fierce. There was a little slot at the top of the door, a peep hole for the door man to look through. All I saw were this guys baby blues and his barely visible ginger eyebrows. They were so close to touchin' that's how angry this guy looked.

"Who is it?" Came his gruff voice. 

"Uh," I stammered, "Gavin sent me."

"Gavin who?" I pointed towards the side door where I came from, hopin' to god that would satisfy him. We stood their a minute, he just kept starin' at me like he was tryin' to figure things out. 

"You alone?" He asked finally. I nodded meekly, lookin' back and forth as show to check if the coast was clear for 'em. Another minute went by where he kept starin' before he slammed the peephole shut. I was confused and scared after that, but my danged curiosity told me I couldn't just leave things the way they were. 

I knocked again, harder and more sure of myself that time. The peeper slid open again, only this time they were a different set of eyes. They were all smiley, and brown- younger lookin' too. 

"Ey? What do you want?" He was an irishman, his thick accent told me so. Workin' so close to those guys taught me the difference between a northern and southern accent, though back then- to me they were one and the same.

"Gavin sent me." 

"Never heard of Gavin, you must have the wrong place." He went to close the peeper, but I wasn't goin' to be left in the dust again. 

"Ol' Saint Nick!" I yelled, and the guy stopped midway. He closed it after a second, and I thought I was done. But then I heard the locks creakin', and as that big rusty door slid open I started grinnin' so hard. The guy popped his head out, revealin' a familiar face. Though I knew him, he didn't know me. I felt I had the upper hand then, and smiled even harder. He looked in each direction down the alley way and stepped outside, shuttin' the door behind him and stood in front of me. 

"Who sent you?" He asked.

"I've been looking for you myself actually. All morning." He gave me a funny look, scrunchin' his nose on one side.

"Ey?" He stepped closer to me, limpin' all the while. He was backin' me up as means of intimidation. Only thing is, all it gave me was more conviction. See, the whole mornin' I was foggy on the details of whether or not the night before actually had happened. But seein' him limp gave me all the clarification I needed. He was still sportin' that gun-shot wound after all. "Funny, I ain't have no business with ya', lad. Best go chase yerself." He turned back towards the door.

"How's your leg? Did you get it checked out?" I ain't never seen a person go so stiff the way Hugh did. I bet if he was facin' me, his porcelain complexion would go a shade finer. But in the business we're in, you're trained to stay cool under pressure. It comes in handy when you got a gun pressed to your head. And my metaphorical gun was pressed right into this goons temple. 

He strode forward, tryin' to cover up his hurt leg more than before. The door was opened wide when he knocked. Behind the door was the same guy with the baby blues, he seemed much calmer in comparison to when I first seen him through the peep hole. There was a lot of smoke waftin' around, and it were real dark in there, like a fire waitin' to happen. 

"Office free, Donal?" Hugh asked, though by then I barely paid attention.

"Desmond's been snoozing all day." The doorman, Donal replied. Who, when I began to work with, found was the muscle of the group. He'd toss any pill out in the streets if they were too zozzled, and he'd tough up anyone who didn't treat MacCarthy's people with respect. Donal was a real gentleman though, I can guarantee it. He'd bring me drinks if I was down in the dumps, chat me up and share some funnies with me. Out of all the guys I knew, I was sure he'd be the one who'd get hitched. But he never did find himself a dame to call his own and slap a manacle on.

I was glarin' real hard tryin' to look through all that smoke, cause deeper inside was a real hoppin' tune playing. The lungs on the broad who was singin' Marion Harris' "A Good Man is Hard to Find" was really somethin' else. I was so into it I didn't even realize I was walkin' straight into the North Pole. 

Neither Donal or Hugh did nothin' to stop me. They just let me step right in, though that was there plan to begin with. I guess they knew I was a first-timer; ain't never seen nor heard of a speakeasy before. I guess it must've been pretty entertainin' to watch. 

The outside light was quickly snuffed out when they closed that big, ugly rusted door. The orange lights of candle flames and and dim incandescents were quick to take over though. Once I stepped outta that small hall and into the big open dance floor, lined with tables and booths filled with patrons smokin', and drinkin, my heart gave a little leap of joy. 

There was a bar near the back, and tendin' it was a bald old-timer servin' his fancy cocktails to the ladies. They were real excited about everythin' and they kept complimentin' each other on their dresses. They were real sparkly, and loose. Real good for movin' their hips to the band playin'. They were the pinnacle definition of a flapper.

But that stage holdin' the band and that tomato singin', that's where my eyes were glued.Above the stage was a big flashin' sign that read "The North Pole", and below it was it's slogan "The coolest place in town!" The band was matchin' in their dapper suits and hemp braided boater's. But the lady was givin' it her all when stretchin' her chords. I even seen some sweat runnin' down the side of her head, though her short curled bob-cut covered it up. 

"A good man is hard to find

You always get the other kind.

Just when you think he's your pal

You look for him and find him fooling 'round some other gal."  There were lots of oliver twist's on the dance floor, and I had to back up and sit in an empty seat to avoid bein' bumped on my ass. Hugh sat down beside me with a more relaxed face then before. 

"That's Aideen," he said, noddin' to the beauty beltin' her heart out. "She's our talent here at the North Pole." 

"She's amazing." Hugh grinned at how I gushed.

"She wouldn't be workin' here if she wasn't," he leaned in and whispered in my ear, "But don't go being sweet on her. Ye' understand, lad? She's taken." 

"Oh, no. I- er," I turned as red as ol' saint Nick's suit. The downside of goin' along with people thinkin' you were a boy was that every move you made, people thought all you did was directed by somethin' other than your head. And no, it ain't your heart I'm talkin' about. "Is she your sweetheart?" I asked, shiftin' the attention on to him. He merely shrugged, lookin' bored. 

"We kissed once, but no." He stood and motioned for me to follow as he scouted the bar area. "She's my partner's Moll." 

We walked over, avoidin' the crowd as they enjoyed themselves in mindless debauchery. A real task for Hugh and his hurt leg. Poor guy looked pale by the time we ankled over there. 

"Finn," Hugh called the bartender. "We're takin' the stock room. Make sure no one comes in." Finn only nodded, half payin' attention while he whipped up some more quilts for the thirsty folks. I was yanked in to another room, filled high with open crates and wine racks. There were kegs and taps linin' the walls.

Hugh closed the door behind us and leaned against it, almost like makin' sure it stayed shut; makin' sure I didn't escape. With his arms crossed and his hands in his pockets, his voice took a serious tone again- just like when I met him out in the alley beside Gavin's. 

"So, you got something ta' say." I nodded, suddenly feelin' real insecure. "Well, now's the time ta' talk, lad. And I should warn ye, depenin' on what ye' say- I may or may not," he pulled out the same pistol he held out in the fringes, "Have ta' use this." 

"You killed him," I fidgeted with my fingers, "That cop. When you shot back, you hit him in the throat." He didn't look bothered by what I said in the least as I pointed to my neck. I shivered, rememberin' the sounds the copper made when he clipped it. "This is his blood on me. I- Well, I hid his body." 

"Why?" Hugh lowered his gun, but he only looked more suspicious than before. 

"I want to work for you- with you. Or do something for money." I explained. Before I got a lick of any response from my future coworker, Finn's voice could be heard yellin' from outside the door.

"Hugh! Watch yerself, bearcat's on the loose!" The door banged loudly, bumpin' Hugh back and forth.

"Christ!" He yelled, tryin' to push the door back.

"Open up this instant, Hugh!" Screamed a woman on the other side, "Don't think I won't shoot through this danged thing!" 

"Alright!" Obviously irritated he slowly unlatched the lock to the door, grumblin' a curse towards Finn for not doin' his job. The singing' sheba, Aideen came in like nothin' happened. She bumped Hugh with her shoulder and stood right in front of me. 

"Hey, I saw you watchin' me sing. What'd ya think?" She leaned over, lookin' me straight in the eye. I ain't never felt so focused on. That was thing with Aideen, she could make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered when she talked to ya'; made you feel at home in her company. 

"I really liked it. I've never heard anyone sing like you." She smiled real big, flashin' her pearls. 

"That's sweet," she rubbed my cheek and then spun on her heels, glarin' at Hugh like you wouldn't believe. "You think it's fine to scare a kid? What were you goin' to do with that pistol of yours, huh? Playin' show and tell?" She snatched it from his hand.

"Ye' can't be too careful, Aideen. Being with Eoghan shoulda shown ye' that. Besides," he took back his gun and placed it into it's holster. "I only would've roughed the lad up a bit at most. I was only trying to scare him." 

"Her." Aideen corrected in a stern voice. Hugh blinked in confusion for a bit, gettin' that glazed over look in his eyes- like no one was home. Then he looked from Aideen to me, almost like tryin' to remember what a real dame looked like. 

"What?" Was all the big goon could manage to say, "I taught- Well, I didn't know.."

"What's your name, sweetheart?" She looked back at me, removin' my flat cap and runnin' her perfectly manicured nails through my dirty hair like it weren't no biggie. 

"Alice," I replied. 

"Well Alice," Aideen kept playin' with my hair, "Welcome to Wonderland, doll." 

****

"Your tellin' me Aideen Lewis, was your connection?" The gum-shoe shook out a cigarette from the box he had in his pocket. He spun it around in his fingers a few times while thinkin' hard about stuff.

"That's right," I reached towards his box, and with a motion, asked if it was all honky dory with him to take a cigarette of my own. He nodded, lightin' his then mine. We sat there for a few seconds, enjoyin' the moment. 

"It's just so weird to me. You, a kid who had everything.. threw it away cause you wanted to have fun?"

"That's phonus balonus, or weren't you listenin'?" I defended. Money, and an estate might have sounded like everythin' to some- but it wasn't. 

"And then you just stumble into meetin' some of the biggest baddest guys out there. And one of the gals who's in with them vouches for you." He continued ramblin' like I didn't even say nothin'. "It all sounds too good to be true."

"Don't I know it!" 

****

I ain't never said my life was bad, I've had a pretty easy streak compared to most people. I'll admit that freely. Though I've had my share of grievances, I was always aces by the end of things. I ain't ashamed of my choices though, I'll defend every damn one to my grave. I'm happy I was led to the people I know, you're one of them, Moore. 

Aideen vouched for me, I didn't know why but she took a shinin' to me. I wasn't complainin' none either, it made the transition all the smoother. Once I was in with Aideen, I was in with Eoghan. And whoever Eoghan was peachy with, Hugh just had to suck it up and agree. 

Eoghan remembered me as "the kid who had a noodle for a brain". He seemed almost excited about meetin' me again. And after I explained how I covered for him and Hugh, he loved me all the more. 

"Things like that just don't happen for any ol' reason, kid." He said to me, and went on this whole spiel about destiny or somethin'. I didn't really pay attention to it.

They took me to meet Desmond, Donnovan MacCarthy's younger brother. He ran MacCarthy's speakeasy, and reported business related stuff back to him. He dealed with numbers and people, receivin' orders to give hand out to us footmen. I never got too into knowin' what Desmond actually did. But his job was pretty important, and without him I knew the North Pole would melt. 

Needless to say, Eoghan and Hugh sat in on the meetin' they set up for me and Desmond. I never held any real love for the guy, and I think I know my onion's when I say: neither did he. Our relationship was strictly business. And it never went beyond that. Well, there was that time I turned thirteen and Aideen made me wear one of her dresses to celebrate. He was half-seas over when he started gettin' sweet on me. I was only creeped out and gave him the icy mitt. We never spoke of it after that. 

He asked me a bunch of questions during our meetin': "Why'd you do it? How'd you find us? Why'd you find us? Are you workin' for anyone?" Blah, blah, blah. He went on for a bit, and I had to do everythin' to stop myself from snoozin'. 

After a while he agreed to introduce me to the big man himself. Funny thing was, I wasn't nervous at all. Besides those goons wavin' their big shiny guns around every opportunity they got, they weren't so bad. 

During the month I spent waitin' to meet MacCarthy, I would trail behind either Eoghan and Hugh, or help out at the North Pole. My twelfth birthday came and went, and I discovered my love waitin' tables and helpin' the band set-up before the show. I even got to play the piano one time to back Aideen's vocals. It was heaven when we got a standin' O. 

Finn was pretty nice, too. A real funny guy and a genuine pleasure for a young gal like me to be around. He treated me like his own kid, even insisted I stayed at his place for the month once I got everythin' in order. His wife, Kerry, was real nice about it, too. The only tough part was when she got fed up with me wearin' the same outfit every day, and then forced me to make my own clothes. They didn't turn out bad, it was just that given the choice, I'd have chosen to wear slacks. 

Everyone showed me the ropes, and on their free time, Eoghan and Aideen would teach me how to speak like them. That way I wouldn't stand out so much. 

One day I was wipin' down the bar after a fella was on a drinkin' toot. He got real zozzled off some panther piss. It had been a while since he had some, at least that's what I remember him shoutin'. The eighteenth amendment was rough on the free-spirit type of folks. Which was almost every young buck back then. And to top off that wet-blanket of rules was that almost everythin' that was berries was banned in Boston. 

That made speaks a necessary "evil", if you'd like to see it that way. 

Needless to say, this fella was causin' all sorts of trouble. Donal made short work of him though, only after Finn started cursin' up a storm while he puked all over the bar. Poor ol' man had to go back into the stock room to calm himself down. I was afraid he'd get an ulcer by how many veins I saw poppin' outta his neck. The patrons were a bit upset about it, but the deal was either Finn made their drinks right or not at all. Desmond did a real swell job of keepin' them all calm though, and Aideen and the band did even better by keepin' them entertained. 

I had to spray some vinegar to get the nasty smell to lift from the wood while cleanin', as I hosed it down Hugh walked in the North Pole, lookin' as sly as a fox. 

"What's with the grin?" I greeted him with a nod when he took a seat near me as I cleaned. 

"There are three reasons for this smile, darlin'." He spoke affectionately and looked around for Finn to fetch his drink. With him nowhere in sight, Hugh reached over the bar and took a random bottle, drinkin' straight from it. He let out a satisfied sigh as he guzzled down his poison. 

"Don't leave me in suspense." I sat next to him, takin' the bottle and swiggin' some down for myself. He patted my shoulder proudly and rewarded me with the news.

"I got myself a date later tonight."

"That ain't news," I frowned.

"It is if you've known how long it's been since I've had the company of someone with the opposite parts." 

"What about me?" He chuckled and took another swig, rufflin' my hair. It ticked me off cause  Kerry had spent the whole mornin' fixing it for me. I slapped his hand away and huffed.

"I meant one's my own age, darlin'." 

"So what's the other news then? Or you just wastin' my time, I got other things that Desomnd needs me to take care of, yenno?" 

"It's spooky how quick ye' picked up on this life, Alice." Hugh was serious for a second, "But then yer' a spooky kid."

"I ain't spooky! Now spill, ya' pill!" I threatened him by hangin' the nearly full bottle over his head.

"Well, I'll be out of Boston for a bit, pickin' up another shipment up north."

"You're goin' to Canada again?" Hugh always loved the solitary of the long drive to Canada, I guess it was the only time he could get away from bein' this big known baddy. He nodded and continued, shovin' my arm away from him. 

"Third news is more for ye', but in the long run, once yer good at it- it'll make Eoghan and my job a whole lot easier. MacCarthy is ready to see ye'."