KERRIGAN’S SISTER-IN-LAW.
The following Tuesday, Carroll having accepted employment at the new
depot of the Philadelphia and Reading Company, McKenna would be unable
to see him until after the day’s work was done, and therefore turned his
attention elsewhere. A man named McNellis, with whom he held some talk
at Summit, as before noticed, met him at the Columbia House and in his
company the operative set out to find Kerrigan, hoping to light upon the
pistol with which Yost had been killed. McNellis said he also wanted to
see Kerrigan, but did not, at the time, divulge the particular business
he had in view. As McNellis was a Mollie, and McKenna was another, they
were soon on friendly terms and conversing on various subjects with
considerable familiarity, thus passing the afternoon together, in
Carroll’s saloon; and the man from Summit Hill grew somewhat excited,
through the liquor he had imbibed, while his companion, intoxicated
early in the day—as he had pretended—was in reality a little the worse
for his potations, but by no means as fully overcome as he appeared.
They interchanged opinions upon all topics, excepting the weather, which
was decidedly hot, and ultimately decided that they were two of the
arbiters of the fate of nations—in other words electors—and the decision
of the forthcoming State campaign rested in their hands. The policy of
the Reading Railway and Coal and Iron Company received due attention,
and it was remarkable how nearly their ideas regarding those great
corporations tallied. McNellis reprobated the management. McKenna abused
Mr. Gowen and the entire association, from its lowest to its highest
official. After exhausting their capacity for concealing spirituous
liquors about their persons, and the supply of subjects for argument,
McKenna agreed to accompany the Summit Hill man to Kerrigan’s residence,
known to be a little outside of the borough limits, hoping to find the
Bodymaster at home. On the route, by way of the cemetery, they passed
the house of Yost and the fatal street lamp, seeing which McNellis said
something about a matter then being negotiated, which would exceed that
deed in interest to the order, but, as he made no more definite allusion
to the subject, the agent refrained from comment, merely remarking, for
about the hundredth time: “Be jabers, that wor a nate, clane job!” And
to this McNellis, for the hundredth time, gave earnest assent.
Kerrigan’s house formed a portion of a long row, or block, of tall
buildings, with stone basements and wooden upper stories, standing on a
high embankment, accessible over the cut by a staircase. The little
Tamaqua Mollie, with his big wife and three unruly children, occupied
the basement and floor above, while the third story and garret were
uninhabited. If Jimmy Kerrigan was physically a small fellow, measuring
but two or three inches above five feet in his stockings, he had a
spouse of rather more than average size. She was also something of a
virago, and, as the neighbors said, drove the Bodymaster with a tight
rein—while he lorded it over the Mollies—and had so held him in check
for many years.
It will be remembered that, in 1874, Tamaqua boasted no division of the
order. In 1875 it had one, to which some of the best and worst of the
Irish Catholic inhabitants belonged.
[Illustration: “_‘Who is that lady?’ asked McKenna._”]
Mrs. Kerrigan said, when visited by McKenna and McNellis, that her
husband would be back from his work, at Col. Coke’s Colliery, in a short
time, and they could amuse themselves at the front, while she
entertained a neighbor. They took the hint that, in her enlightened
view, they were a little too far gone in drink to be company for
respectable ladies, and she wished them to remain at a distance, which
they did, and occupied themselves with the children, chickens, and pigs,
until they saw Kerrigan, in his shifting suit, coming along the ravine.
Just as he arrived and they joined him at the house corner, McKenna’s
sight was refreshed by the appearance, coming from Kerrigan’s residence,
of a young woman, fashionably dressed, and carrying her parasol, whose
face and figure seemed wonderfully familiar to him. Who could she be?
Without pausing to look at him, as she came nigh, after once passing,
the lady cast a shy and modest glance in his direction over her
shoulder. Surely, he had seen that face somewhere. “Who is that lady?”
asked McKenna, turning to Kerrigan, who was speaking with McNellis, and
pointing toward Mrs. Kerrigan’s caller.
“Who is she?” said the Bodymaster. “Why, sure an that’s me own
sisther-in-law, Miss Mary Ann Higgins!”
It here burst upon the senses of the bewildered operative that it was
the same lovely girl who made him feel, for a time, so supremely
ridiculous at the Polish wedding, and the soft touch of whose lips
lingered so pleasantly upon his cheek many weeks afterward.
“Then that is your sister-in-law? Bedad, but I must hev an
introduction!”
“That ye surely shall hev!” returned Kerrigan. “She’ll he here to-morrow
avenin’, wid her sisther, which is Mrs. Kerrigan, an’ if you makes it
convaynint to drop in, I’ll get ye well acquainted in jist no time at
all!”
“I’ll be here!” answered McKenna, who could not keep his eyes off the
handsome Miss Higgins, as long as she was within his line of vision.
Entering the house, Jimmy introduced McNellis and McKenna to his better
and greater half, and they received her apology for keeping them so long
outside. It was:
“Since the Yost affair, I have bin so much worritted by polace officers
and their dirty spies, that, unless I know who the new-comers are, all
hev to kape well outside until the man of the house is at home!”
“That’s right!” said Kerrigan.
“Certainly!” echoed the two strangers—strangers to her, but not to her
husband—and McKenna, especially, cursed all detectives and policemen
with such downright earnestness that he completely won the heart of Mrs.
Kerrigan.
“Sure, Misther Kerrigan,” said McNellis, “an’ I am sint to tell ye not
to go beyant, to-night—if ye know what that manes, which I don’t. At any
rate, the word is you’re not to come over the-night!”
“I perfectly understhand!” replied Kerrigan.
“Hugh McGehan an’ Bill Mulhall have just got in from Luzerne County!”
“I’m glad to hear of that!” remarked the Bodymaster. “They are the boys
for a swate thing!”
There was little more conversation until after supper, of which all
partook with keen appetite, when Kerrigan put on his coat, and McNellis
reiterated the remark about “not goin’ over, because the boys were
back.”
“Be the way,” exclaimed Jimmy. “Will ye do me a small favor?”
“Certainly I will!” answered McNellis.
“I want ye to take Roarty over his revolver! It has been here long
enough!”
Kerrigan started to go upstairs, when McKenna brought out his pistol, at
the same time saying:
“Just look at this little beauty! Wasn’t that a raise to make for wan
night’s worruk?”
Kerrigan took the repeater, weighed it carefully in his hand, worked the
lock, pronouncing it a splendid affair, then said:
“Wait here a bit, an’ I’ll show you the one what kilt Yost!”
The detective had evidently struck a vein that bid fair to prove
productive, but he controlled his countenance to the expression of doubt
in unmistakable terms, saying:
“I guess not by these lights!”
“But I will!” reiterated Jimmy. He left the room, ascending the dark
staircase, and soon returned with a black, rather old-fashioned
five-shooter, which he transferred to McKenna, employing the words:
“That’s the gun what brought down the peeler, Yost!”
All present had taken in much whisky, after eating, and McKenna judged
most of Kerrigan’s share was gathering in his head. So delivering
himself, at least, he was again informed he held the weapon that had
“fixed the Dutch policeman!”
The pistol carried a number thirty-two cartridge, and, although he was
convinced of the truth of Kerrigan’s allegation, it served his purpose
to give out disbelief.
“I guess you’re wanderin’ a bit, there!” exclaimed the operative, “fur
isn’t it currently reported that Barney McCarron, Yost’s own partner,
shot him, because of a racent quarrel they’d had?”
“Oh! that’s a swate enough story!” was the quick retort of the
Bodymaster, “but you’ll allow that I know somethin’ of a job that I
planned be myself, an’ wor there on hand, when it wor all done!”
Here was a direct confession of one of the murderers, which was more
than McKenna had expected. But at once dropping his assumption of
disbelief, he acquiesced in the statement that Kerrigan really should be
well informed, and begun to talk of the pistol, which was, in the
operative’s presence, turned over to McNellis for transportation to its
owner, James Roarty, of Storm Hill.
Subsequently the trio went to Carroll’s, and found the saloon-keeper at
home. But McKenna warned Kerrigan that, for his own sake, it was best
they two should not be seen together on the street, and Jimmy walked
alone, while McNellis and the operative traveled in company. While going
toward town, McKenna again handled the old revolver, and found it to be
of rather peculiar construction. In order to take out the cylinder a
screw had to be unloosed in front of said cylinder. The weapon was fully
loaded, and had one rusty screw, evidently not a part of it when leaving
the manufactory. Somebody had given it repairs. But where, and who?
These were questions to be solved in the future.
Before nine o’clock McNellis started for Storm Hill, carrying the
tell-tale pistol with him. Subsequently Kerrigan and Carroll engaged in
games at cards. At ten P.M. the “babe”—a name given the Tamaqua
Bodymaster, but not on account of his known innocence—and McKenna
visited a point on the hill, near the old cemetery, and sat down on a
bank of earth together to have a talk. Kerrigan expressed a feeling of
great bitterness toward Yost and McCarron, saying he had once been
arrested by the policemen for taking the part of Duffy. Warming up a
little, and deftly urged on by the detective, Kerrigan, in the end, made
a revelation, substantially confirming young Mike McKenna’s statements.
He said he got his men in their positions, the night of the fifth, then
went down town, where he drank with the policeman whose life was to be
taken, and saw that Duffy was well in bed at Carroll’s and all was right
for the deed. He assured McKenna that not a man in his division,
excepting Carroll, knew anything about it. He did not want them
informed. Although the act was brought around by the order, it was
enough for him—the President of the division—to be aware of it, and when
the ordinary members came to be called on to do a job for Campbell in
return, they would suspect, but could swear to nothing. Before the
shooting, he went to the spot and remained in the vicinity, in
concealment, until he saw that his men had put in their work. In a few
minutes he retreated, with the rest, through the run and over the hill,
and kept with them until coming out near Breslin’s, at the White Bear
Tavern. There he left the others, they going to their houses at Storm
Hill, where they must have arrived at about five in the morning. The
tale was continued in about this way:
“I got home early, an’ me ould woman wanted to know where I’d been, an’
I told her a lie, an’ so got rid of it. Faith, I wor to go this very
night an’ lay in wait, wid two men, an’ shoot a boss, who richly
deserves it, but, on account of the word McNellis brought, that McGehan
hev come back, it is put off till another day! It wouldn’t do to have
anything occur, ye see, the very time McGehan got here! Let him get to
work at the breast first!”
This was further confirmation of Mike McKenna. McGehan was certainly the
taller man of the two who had murdered Yost. It was more than probable
that Boyle was the other.
“You’d better belave,” concluded the Bodymaster, “I took off me boots
an’ moved aisy enough, that mornin’, fur there’s a German family livin’
next door, an’ I wor afraid I’d be heard by them. But I made up to me
house, begun to scrape wid me nails at the door, an’ Mrs. Kerrigan knew
what it meant, an’ let me softly in. I jist tould her I’d been drunk and
stopped out all night, as I’ve done before, an’ didn’t want the
neighbors to know it! Jist as sure as you’re over there, an’ I’m over
here, I’ve never brathed a single word of it, only wonst to Jack
Donahue! He said it wor a good job an’ I was entitled to credit for me
skill! I tell ye what ’tis, McKenna, ye want to be very careful how ye
talk wid strangers, at the hotel, for the place hev been fairly swarmin’
wid detectives these few days past! Some of ’em may hev stolen the sign,
ye see, an’ still be detectives!”
“I know my business!” replied McKenna, “an’ devil a word will they get
out of me at all!”
At midnight the couple separated, my agent going to his hotel and
Kerrigan staggering awkwardly homeward, as full of self-importance and
spirits as he could be and retain power of locomotion.
The ensuing day McKenna met and conferred with Linden, who was thus
fully informed of his progress. After this, he made up his mind that it
had become his plain and open duty to cultivate the intimate
companionship of Kerrigan, who was proving such a valuable informant. In
order to gain further grace in the Bodymaster’s eyes—also to please
himself, it may well be believed—he resolved to give desperate siege to
the heart of the handsome sister of Mrs. Kerrigan. To resolve was to
act. Visiting the barber, he caused his wig to be properly dressed, face
well cleansed, and beard and mustache nicely trimmed. Then attiring
himself in his best clothing—none too fine at that, but much better than
the garments he usually wore—he thought he was ready to start on the
wooing expedition. It appears McKenna had soon learned to forget Pat
Hester’s daughter. But then, he argued, Miss Higgins was the earlier
claimant for his attention. Had she not commenced the courtship at the
Polish wedding? He was very sure of that. His sympathies could not have
been earnestly enlisted with the other lady. In Miss Higgins he really
believed he might easily be permanently interested. While this was the
case, he felt forced to confess he was not so much paying attention to
Miss Higgins, for Miss Higgins’ own sake, as for the sake of her wicked
little brother-in-law, whose cruel works would yet bring him within
prison walls, if not beneath the gallows tree.
Kerrigan’s little, round face expanded in a broad grin when he saw the
particular pains McKenna was taking to make himself genteel, and he put
on his best manner as he presented the young man to his fair
sister-in-law. Jimmy was somewhat puzzled when Miss Higgins blushed
crimson, as she extended her hand, and remarked that she “believed she
had seen the gentleman once before.”
“Yes!” explained McKenna, the red blood also mantling his forehead and
face. “I remember meeting you at a party, some months ago!” But he
added, for her encouragement, in a low tone of voice: “Never fear, Miss!
I’ll say nothing further about it!”
“Thank you,” said Miss Higgins, below her breath.
They were very commonplace words, as the detective afterward thought,
but they sounded very musical to his ear, that evening, coming from the
handsome young lady’s lips.
In a short time, by using the free-and-airy style now so natural to him,
McKenna succeeded in putting all present completely at their ease, and
Miss Higgins, as well as her sister, Mrs. Kerrigan, begun to think they
had known him since they were children. As for Jimmy Kerrigan, he was
already confidential with his brother Mollie from Shenandoah. But the
whisky toddy soon put the “babe” out of the way, as he was forced to
admit that he had taken several glasses before reaching home, and the
liquor he drank with the family disagreed with it, getting up a reaction
in his system making a recumbent position indispensable. Mrs. Kerrigan
marched her liege lord off to bed. It was a very pleasant evening that
the operative enjoyed with Mrs. Kerrigan and her unmarried sister, after
the exodus of the noisy fellow claiming the house as his home, and when
he bade the ladies good night, at a late hour, they united in cordial
requests that he should visit them often. Miss Higgins, especially, was
pressing, in her modest way, to have the caller not forget their humble
place of residence.
“Sure, an’ I will not!” said McKenna, “an’, all in due sayson, I hope I
may be able to take revinge on the young lady that so surprised me at
the Polish wedding!”
This last remark in a whisper, at the door.
“Hush!” warningly exclaimed the lady, her face the color of a blooming
rose. But Mrs. Kerrigan saw nothing, heard nothing.
“I’m as silent as the churchyard I’m goin’ to walk beside,” said the
operative, with a roguish smile, as he took his final leave.
“She’s a very fine girl,” soliloquized the officer, while walking to the
Columbia House. “What a pity she is of such a family! And to think that
I must get her brother-in-law hanged! Oh, I never can hope to have ‘Miss
Higgins’ transformed into ‘Mrs. McParlan!’ Brother-in-law to a murderer!
No! Never!”
Despite this decision the dreams of the detective, that night, were not
fated to be entirely deserted by the girl by whom he had been victimized
at the Krozenski nuptials.
It was soon whispered over Tamaqua by talkative spinsters and gossips of
more advanced experience, that the wild fellow, Jim McKenna, had fallen
desperately in love with Mary Ann Higgins, Kerrigan’s wife’s sister, was
quitting the drink, fast sobering down, and, if his wooing sped
successfully, bade fair soon to marry the object of his passion, settle
in Tamaqua, and make an honorable and respectable member of society.
Certainly the subjects of these conversations were frequently together,
and just as surely McKenna was more regularly seen dressed in his best,
a lady on his arm, of a Sabbath day, attending church, than ever before,
and it was evident that, as far as he was concerned, it would not be his
fault if the New Year did not look upon him a full-fledged Benedict. As
for Miss Higgins, she kept her own counsel. It is more than probable
that her heart really remained untouched and she accepted the attentions
of McKenna, as any virtuous girl in her station would have done, more
because the man was popular and generally pleasing, than from the reason
of having placed her affections upon him.
It was at or about this time that McKenna received the following letter:
SHENANDOAH, July 30, 1875.
JAMES MCKENNA:
DEAR SIR:—Them persons who you heard was around was Inquiring about
you in Pottsville hall (Pennsylvania Hall probably) Captain Jack (Mr.
Linden) was telling me, a few nights ago.
I remain, as ever,
Yours, in Friendship,
FRANK MCANDREW.
P.S. They were asking Captain Jack if he knew any person of the name,
and they told your weight and height and he said he knew nothing of
you.
F. MCA.
This work on the part of the detectives secured the enduring friendship
of the Shenandoah Mollies, and confirmed Muff Lawler in his belief that
Linden could be implicitly trusted. “If he would not give McKenna away
to the officers from Buffalo,” said Lawler, “why should we, who are also
his friends, fear to confide in him?” Muff was right, as far as tangible
results were concerned, but as the reader will easily see, his arguments
rested upon unstable grounds. Linden was seeking, with McKenna, to
obtain the good-will of the Mollies. This letter shows that their mutual
labors were successful.
It was now McKenna’s purpose to cause Kerrigan to repeat his confessions
before Capt. Linden, or some other person who could be safely used as a
witness, and a number of attempts were made to agree upon places of
conference where this could be gone through with, but the recklessness
of Kerrigan, and his carelessness in keeping prearranged appointments,
caused the efforts to come to naught. He met the detective, but not at
the hour fixed, and sometimes at a different locality. Linden was thus
greatly inconvenienced and left to lie on the ground, behind a
protecting fence or wall, for many weary hours, without seeing Kerrigan
or taking down his expected account of the Yost murder. But on these
occasions Kerrigan freely opened his heart to McKenna, giving him the
most explicit delineation of about every fact connected with the crime,
excepting the names of the murderers. These would come all in good time.
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