Stanley laid his head against the wall of the trolley and closed his eyes. The rocking motion soothed him a bit, but not much. Everything was moving fast, and he felt like it was all out of control. But there would be no going back now. The fat, as Seamus loved to say, was truly in the fire now. And nothing would stop it. Not a damn thing.
Finding the train station confirmed all of his worst fears. It wasn’t that he doubted The Winnowing was real, but seeing the train station, built some time ago, showed how long the VP people had been working to put their plan into motion. It showed the arrogance of money and power, believing their agenda could not be thrown off or stopped. Evelyn’s murder showed that too.
Stanley sat up. But did it? Evelyn’s murder seemed a bit too public with everything else he’d seen. He wondered if that was a mistake. No, not a mistake. Charles would not have been such a lunk head. He and Hazel walked up on him right before he could cover his tracks. They’d gummed up the works. The VP, or whoever, always wanted to work in secret until it was too late to do anything about it. And he and Haze ruined all that.
He smiled. Hazel was something else, all right. He and that dame could rule the world together, if they could get out of each other’s way. No doubt, that dollface had a temper like Ducky from the Gas House gang. Yet, she could be soothing, comforting, and strong.
Shaking his head, he told himself to focus. He needed to find Seamus and tell him about the train station. Maybe he could do something, and maybe he couldn’t. But at least it was worth a shot.
And Frisky. He needed to send her to Teeth. Maybe, somehow, she would be at mass. Sometimes she came, and other times she didn’t. But it was Christmas Eve and that made everyone more Catholic. Well, if she came, she came; he couldn’t go and find her just now.
He hopped off the trolley as it made its turn on Skinker Avenue. Walking fast, he found himself back in Dogtown and wound his way to his house. The whole block seemed to be celebrating Christmas, with loud singing, laughter, and conversations drifting out of the houses. And normally, he loved every bit of it. But tonight, he felt isolated and alone. No one at these parties knew what was going on in the city around them; at least, not yet.
Closing his eyes, he tried to pray, but nothing came. He didn’t have any words. What should he pray? For all the people he loved to be protected? That seemed selfish. A lot of people were being hurt or missing their kids tonight.
He crossed himself. “Our Lord, help me to be brave and stand for what is right.”
Stanley went inside and found Seamus dressed in his best suit. His uncle turned and faced him with a big smile. It transformed his whole face, and he no longer looked like the haggard, stressed-out police detective.
“Ah, boyo, best get ready for mass. You’re serving all the …” He paused for a moment and then said, “Ah, look at you, like you’ve seen a banshee. Sit, boyo, sit.”
Stanley sat down on the couch and took off his hat. He ran his fingers through his hair. “If only it were a banshee. I’d show her the crucifix and pray.”
“Then what it is, boyo?”
He told his uncle about Lincoln, Mama Jefferson, Teeth, and the train station. When he finished his tale, Stanley looked up at his uncle. Seamus had bowed his head while listening to what Stanley had to say.
“Did you see anybody? More importantly, did anyone see you?”
Stanley shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Think. I don’t like that word. I need you to know.”
Stanley sighed. “Well, I got a little spooked and thought I was being watched, but I think it was just my nerves.”
Seamus shook his head. “Boy, I know you’re smart, God knows. But saints preserve us, you’re not paranoid enough yet. How do you think I’ve survived with all the crooked cops? You don’t trust any situation, not ever. Always have your eyes peeled.”
“But come on, there wasn’t anyone in that station.”
Seamus arched his eyebrow. “You checked it all, did you?”
“Well, no, but …” Stanley’s cheeks burned. “You’re right.”
“It’s all right, boy. Chances are, they’re following you everywhere. I think I need to go see this place myself.”
“Oh. Why?”
“For many reasons. First, so Father Timothy can get a full report. Second, so I can look around the place and see something you didn’t. I am the cop, after all.”
“Seamus, don’t go. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Let’s go to mass and then have Christmas breakfast, like we used to.”
His uncle grinned. “Get up, and let me have a look at you.”
Stanley stood and towered over his uncle. The little man looked up at him and smiled with pride. “You’re a fine man.”
“Then let me come with you …”
Seamus put his hands on his shoulders. “I’ll be fine, lad. Really. If anyone asks questions, I’ll just show them the badge, and give them the usual bull about how they need to vacate the area.”
“I don’t like it. What if one of Legion comes around? They’re not gonna run and hide just because they see your badge.”
Seamus smiled again. Stanley had never seen so many smiles in one evening. His uncle was in a fine mood but seemed sober as a stone.
“I’ll be down and back in time for midnight mass, just under the deadline. And then sure, we’ll have breakfast together in the morning. I’m actually way ahead of ya. I bought all the stuff today. So be ready to eat like a horse. But then, you usually do.”
Seamus laughed at his lame joke and then put his hands on either side of Stanley’s face. “I’m proud of you, lad. Proud of how you turned out. Don’t think it had anything to do with me, but I’m proud all the same.”
They stared at each other a moment. Seamus’s eyes watered as he said, “Your da would have been proud of the man you are and the one you’re becoming. Cannot think of anything better to say than that.”
He gave Stanley’s cheek a few firm pats. “All right, enough of this woman talk. I’m off. I’ll see you at mass.”
Without another word, the detective grabbed his hat and was gone.
Stanley stood in his living room. He felt frozen and locked by all the emotions pouring through him. Watching Seamus crack open right before his eyes, well, that was something. It must be because the truth about Peggy was out. The burden of secrecy and raising Stanley alone was over. Stanley wondered how different things would have been between them if his uncle had displayed that kind of emotion on a regular basis.
Stanley went upstairs, took a bath, and dressed in the suit that Mr. Malloy bought for him. It wasn’t like anyone would be able to see it under his server robes. But it made him feel more the man. He started to whistle “Jingle Bells” and then reached for his shoes.
The touch of leather reminded him of Vinnie’s swinging body, and he dropped the shoes to the floor. How, how could he wear these when they’d been with his best friend at the moment of his death? Maybe he should just throw them out or burn them.
Stanley stared at the shoes for a moment and then picked them back up. No. He wouldn’t throw them away. Instead, he would wear them in honor of his friend, and maybe Vinnie would send some prayers his way. He’d hallowed them with his death, and they were holy shoes now. In them, Stanley would walk forward in life—and grow old for the both of them.
He put them on, tied them, and said, “All right, Vinnie, if, somehow, you ain’t in purgatory right now, I need your prayers for protection, you big, Italian idiot.”
Making sure to lock the door, Stanley walked the few blocks to St. James’s parish. Before he headed to the sacristy to “suit up,” as Father Timothy liked to call it, he decided to check the sanctuary to see if Frisky was there. Something told him that she would be.
Looking out from the side door, he saw the familiar tangle of red hair bowed in prayer amid some other people at the altar rail. He knelt by her and crossed himself.
“Hey Frisky,” he whispered.
No reply from the tangle of curls.
“I really need to talk to you.”
“I’m talking to someone else, Lord Stanley, who has a bit of a higher claim than yours,” Frisky said without moving her head.
Sighing, Stanley said, “This isn’t about me; it’s about Teeth.”
She looked up, eyes wide. “You found him?”
Somebody shushed them and it echoed in the church.
Stanley ducked his head. “Nah. Lincoln found him, and he took him to Mama Jefferson.”
Frisky frowned and whispered, “Who is that?”
“You’ll meet her soon enough. Meet me at the boxcar later, and I’ll take you there.”
Frisky didn’t say anything for a moment. “He’s alive. He is actually alive. I need to go home and get some things for him, his little teddy bear …” She got up, crossed herself, and started to walk away.
He caught her elbow and said, “What about mass?”
Frisky smiled. “Offer it up for me.”
With that, she strolled down the aisle and out the door. Stanley smiled a little. Teeth would be spoiled rotten with Mama Jefferson and Frisky looking after him.