MOBPg2

"You're new around here, aren't you lad?" the bartender asked as he filled the mug with the frothy brown liquid.
"Let me take your coat. I'll hang it by the door."

"I'm from New York," Kevin answered and handed the bartender his coat.

"You Irish?" the bartender asked as he put Kevin's change on the counter.

"Yes sir. Name's Kevin Donnelly. My uncle lives here. I'm staying with him." He took a gulp of ale.

"Is that Olly Donnelly?" he asked.

"Oliver Donnelly, yes. He's my uncle."

"Everyone, this is Olly's nephew!" he announced to the other patrons, and then turned back to Kevin. "I'm
Mitchell O'Brien. That there's my girl Molly." He pointed to the beautiful girl at the edge of the bar. "Molly! Come
here for a moment."

Molly sashayed over still wearing the burgundy dress he'd seen her in earlier today. Kevin could hear the freshly
starched crinoline petticoats swish as she walked.

"How do sir," she said and sat her empty glass on the bar.

"Fine thank you," Kevin said. "My name is Kevin Donnelly. Would you care to dance?"

"I'd love to," Molly said and led him to the dance floor. Kevin forgot about ordering anything to eat.

The more they danced the more intoxicated he felt, even though he only took one drink of ale the entire
evening. She was as light as a feather and an excellent dancer. They twirled and jigged for what seemed like
hours with the other guests. It was the most fun Kevin had enjoyed since his arrival in this dreary town. He lost
himself in the smell of her perfume and held her inappropriately as they swayed to the music.

He ignored his parched throat and tired feet for as long as he could, but at last he could take no more and led
her over to the bar. She cheered as he drank the rest of his ale. Mitchell laughed as he refilled Kevin's glass. He
stumbled over to a sofa in the corner. Molly followed him and plopped down beside him laughing and caressing
his hand. He reached up and stroked her long auburn hair. The room started to spin then everything went dark.

* * *

Kevin awoke with a start and stared around the room. The putrid smell of charred wood enveloped him and he
forced himself to his feet despite his aching head. He was alone in an abandoned burned-out building sitting on
a sofa that was rotted and bug ridden. He jumped up and brushed the filth from his clothing.

Where was he? How did he get here? They must have put something in his ale. He felt for his wallet and found it
tucked securely in his pocket, and then reached for his timepiece. It was almost seven o'clock in the morning.
He swaggered over and picked up his coat, which lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. What a sorry band of
vagabonds to not even take his wallet or his expensive pocket watch! He swallowed hard to rid his throat of the
bile that crept up from his stomach. Sweat poured from every pore on his body even though a cool breeze
flowed freely through the broken window panes. Holes in the floor exposed the bare earth below, the roof was
missing in places, and black fabric hung from broken windows, yet there was something so familiar about it all.

His memory only revealed bits and pieces of the prior evening's events and Kevin found it difficult to put them
all together. There must be witnesses who saw them carry him here and dump him. Neither Molly nor her father
had the strength to carry him far and he searched his memory for the faces of others who may have been
involved. He felt like a fool, but he knew he had to alert the authorities.

He stepped over a pile of rubble to search for any clues. Adrenalin rushed through his veins when he saw the
Lands Meade Pub sign, dingy and black, propped against the back wall. On the counter lay his change. His hands
trembled as he scooped up the coins. He ran as fast as he could through the front door and into the street.

The gray skies gave way to a clear blue and the sun crested the horizon. Not many people were out yet, as it
was still early, but the ones who were gave him curious stares. Kevin walked up the street as fast as he could
without drawing too much attention. At last he came to the river, got his bearings, and headed for the
shipyard. He reached for his keys but the door was unlocked. Inside, his uncle was already hard at work.

"Up to your old New York habits are you?" Uncle Oliver scoffed, not bothering to look up from his desk.

"Sorry," Kevin said more out of obligation than heartfelt regret. He hung his coat on the coat rack.

"Can't you even have the decency to go home and change?" Uncle Oliver said as he cast an unpleased eye on his
nephew. "You reek of alcohol. I insist you go home and clean up. I'll be wiring your father today about your
intolerable behavior."

"Do you know the O'Brien's - Mitchell and his daughter Molly?" Kevin asked.

"Why would you ask that?"

"I met them last night," Kevin said. "At the Lands Meade Pub."

"Found another way to torment me have you?"

"What do you mean? He asked me if I was your nephew."

"Don't be ridiculous," Uncle Oliver said. "You must stop drinking so much."