Boston Globe 

Reputed Irish Crime Boss Killed 

Chaos Disrupts Family Funeral 

Jewel Heist Remains Unsolved 

The telltale signs of grief were deeply etched across Elizabeth O'Hara's tear-stained face. Her father's death rocked her in so many ways. Since her mother's death, she'd prayed for the violence to end, but it always reared its ugly head when they least expected it. The murder of her father on their doorstep was no exception. The small, quiet funeral she'd planned had turned into a spectacle of reporters, lights and cameras, police, rival gang members, and hundreds of Bostonians, each wanting to be a part of a passing era while reviving unanswered questions. 

Elizabeth turned the highly polished door knob and hesitated a moment before entering her late father's study. She closed the door behind her. The last few days had left her exhausted. She pressed her back against the massive wood door and allowed her eyes to wander around the room. A simple thought, and without warning, her mind's floodgates opened, drowning her in an avalanche of memories.  

She envisioned her father and his formidable "army" of Irish men seated around the mahogany round table and others working near the expansive desk fondly known as her father's throne.  

Men raised their beer steins and smoked expensive cigars in this room as Frank O'Hara planned the family's future. It was the gathering place where they plotted and schemed in search of power and fortune. A place they celebrated when they neared the pinnacle of success or licked their wounds, covered in sorrow and blood when they lost. Times had changed, and Frank O'Hara had mellowed, but the loyalty of his men remained steadfast.  

With the funeral behind them, Elizabeth hoped for a change in their lives. Instead, she longed for a quiet, conventional life. 

"It's over, Cooper." Her voice was only an octave or two above a whisper. Her long-ragged sigh was louder, more pronounced, as it slipped through her thin, dry lips. 

Elizabeth brushed a few stray strands of graying hair from her face, dabbing a tissue to her eyes, wiping any remaining tears away. Then, straightening her shoulders, she tilted her chin upward and moved across the room.  

When she spoke again, her voice was firmer, almost defiant. "It's over. We're free." Her weary eyes told a different story, but she continued, "Now we can be a normal family."

A man in his early forties stared out the bay window. He wore a crisp, white doctor's coat and a creased pair of black linen slacks. His striking good looks made most women's eyes linger longer than etiquette allowed, and he always rewarded them with a warm smile.  

Even in this time of mourning, a glimmer of motherly love crossed Elizabeth's face as she addressed her son. 

"I am sorry he's gone —" Trembling, she paused and struggled to control her inner turmoil. "But — I am glad we can put the past behind us." Her fingers mindlessly toyed with items on the desk. 

"Wouldn't that be a blessing, Mama?" Cooper stepped toward the serving cart and poured two cups of black coffee. The freshly perked brew's aroma battled the pungent odor of stale cigar smoke lingering on the brocade drapes, the overstuffed chairs, and the yellowed pages of a long-forgotten book collection. 

Elizabeth accepted the coffee cup and settled into her father's favorite chair, a dark maroon wingback near the bay window. Hidden from the street, it was a welcoming spot, away from the peering eyes of strangers. Her fingers rubbed across the time-worn upholstery tacks, much like her father had when deep in thought.

She sipped the steaming brew, allowing it to warm her, before answering her son. "Of course, it would." With more conviction, she added, "It will be! There will be no more violence or fear of the Costellos plotting against our family. Father's gone, and neither of us poses a threat."

Cooper's smoldering eyes returned to the skyline view he'd learned to love as a child. He'd spent many early mornings watching the sun rise above the buildings and wrap its glow around the city, their city. Everything was beautiful and promising in those moments, not filled with distrust and fighting. 

Deep lines of worry creased his forehead. He wanted his mother's dreams to come true, yet he knew it wouldn't be that simple.  

Cooper refilled his coffee cup and sat in the matching wing chair across from his mother. Thoughts of better days when they held spontaneous "tea parties" in his grandfather's study and his mother reprimanded him for his rowdiness because he might break his grandmother's fine china brushed his sorrow away for a moment.  

Cooper's love for her was evident as he stared at Elizabeth. His mother was only a shadow of the beautiful woman she'd once been, having survived a lifetime of corruption, not knowing what tomorrow would bring. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and reassure her things were going to be different, but deep inside him, he knew it wasn't possible. There were many reasons, and the battle within him was becoming a large part of it. 

"Free? You honestly believe we are free?" Shaking his head, he stared in disbelief. "How does one step out of the shadows of Grandpa's empire and believe it's all behind them? This house and everything in it will always be a reminder. Don't you understand that my career's foundation rests on Grandpa's ill-gotten money? Grandpa's enemies will always be nearby —" Cooper closed his eyes for a moment before looking at his mother, "especially Peter Costello."

The mournful tolling of the church bell across the street reminded her of her father's horrible ending. A tear escaped from the corner of Elizabeth's eye and rolled down her cheek. She swatted it away. 

"He was a struggling potato farmer who dreamed of much more for his family." Elizabeth picked up a family photo from the small table near her chair. It was of her mother and father holding their toddler daughter. "They looked so happy in this picture. Living in the sanitarium took her from us in so many ways. Maybe things would have been different if she'd lived longer." 

Her father, an immigrant from the beautiful island of Achill off the coast of Ireland, came to America seeking a brighter future. 

Instead, he found the dark side of power and fortune. His lovely wife, Bethany, struggled to accept her husband's dreams and succumbed to her maker after being hospitalized after the robbery. She'd retreated into her world and lost the strength to survive, leaving Elizabeth's father and their only child on their own. 

"Grandpa's first taste of what life could be like in America consumed him. Power and proving his worth surged through his veins like life's blood itself. He chose his life, and, unfortunately, he blindly let the war between the Costello family and ours destroy everything he'd fought to gain. There's no proof, but we both know it cost him his life and my grandmother's as well."

"But don't you see how we can start over now? We aren't part of the organization anymore. It's gone."

"Mama, the Costello family has taken everything from us except the air we breathe. I am sure they would take that too, but Peter Costello has a soft spot for you. Now his father is ill, and yours is no longer here, and I have no doubt he plans on filling both their shoes with you at his side."

"Cooper, watch your mouth." Sparks shot from Elizabeth's eyes. "No one will control our family. Peter is welcome to the business, but I would spit in his face if he laid a hand on me." 

Elizabeth's passionate outburst was short-lived. She succumbed to grief, burying her face in her hands and sobbing.  

A chagrined Cooper knelt before his mother, pressing her hands against his chest. "Please, Mama, don't cry. It breaks my heart to see you so unhappy. We are going to be okay. I promise."

She lifted her head, allowing her tear-stained eyes to search her son's eyes. She looked for answers but feared what she saw. "I know I let Papa down, and I am sorry. He hoped I would surrender to Peter's charms and our family would rise again, but Peter Costello is an evil man. I would rather grovel on my knees as a washwoman than live in his house."

"Never!"

The word exploded from Cooper's mouth. Biting his lower lip, he altered the tone of his voice. "I don't know how, but someday I will give you everything you deserve." He kissed his mother's wet cheek and wiped away the tears. "I promise you, Mama."

"I don't want that promise, Cooper. There will be no more wars. Your grandfather, may his soul find salvation with our Lord, is where it stops. You've studied long and hard to be a doctor and bring civility to this family. You are about to be appointed Chief of Staff at Mercy Hospital. That's your destiny, and mine is to watch you prosper. That's the only promise I want."

"Mama, I love you with all my heart." Cooper grasped his mother's hand and gave it a gentle tug. Smiling, he led her to the window and draped his arm around her waist. "It's a new day, Mama. The sun is shining, and the Lord will lead us to better pastures. Let all your worries disappear."

"Amen, and thank you, oh blessed Lord of ours." Elizabeth rested her weary head against her son's chest and watched the sun sink behind Boston's skyline. Family and responsibility twisted Connor's thoughts between his current life and the memory of promising his grandfather he'd save the family legacy. 

Could they walk away, or would his grandfather be able to control his destiny from the grave? He did not know the answer, but he understood his grandfather's last words very well. "Protect our family. It's up to you."