Free Triple Pursuit by Ralph McInerny

memories evoked. Austin Rooney stepped forward and tapped Jack’s shoulder. In response, Jack swung Maud in an elaborate pirouette and they disappeared among the other dancers. Austin’s face was dark with anger and embarrassment.
    â€œI thought when someone did that, the partner had to be given up,” Father Dowling said to Edna.
    â€œHe should have! That isn’t right.”
    Marie said she wondered why one man, let alone two, could be interested in Maud Gorman.
    â€œTwo?” said Edna. “Several others had to concede defeat to Austin.”
    â€œJack Gallagher hasn’t,” Marie said, and it was difficult to tell from her tone if she had taken sides.
    Meanwhile, at the microphone, Desmond was intoning “Dream,” but his eyes were following Jack and Maud. He had seen the rebuff of Austin’s attempt to break in—it had happened just in front of the bandstand—and he looked prepared to sing on forever if Maud could be kept from the arms of Austin Rooney.
    Austin had circled the floor, and suddenly stepped forward and tapped Jack’s shoulder again, more forcibly this time. Jack merely shrugged and once more swept Maud out of harm’s way. This time Austin waded into the dancers, gripped Jack by the arm, and said in a voice audible through the soothing strains of Desmond’s singing, “When someone taps your shoulder it means he wants to break in.”
    The dancers turned to look and then began to dance more slowly, fascinated by what was happening.
    â€œAnd when there is no response, he should give up.”
    Maud had stepped out of Jack’s arms and stood in her pretty rose gown looking back and forth between the two men. Austin was unable to keep his anger from showing, but Jack, head tilted back, looked at Austin with amusement. That was when Austin hit him.

    Jack reeled backward, moving through the dancers like a bowling ball through tenpins, and crashed to the floor at the feet of Desmond O’Toole. Desmond raised his hand, the music stopped, and then he was kneeling beside Jack.
    â€œGive him air. Give him air.”
    But Jack was already rising. He started toward Austin, but Desmond, after a moment’s hesitation, stopped him.
    â€œIs he all right?” Father Dowling asked Edna.
    â€œWhat can one punch do? So long as they don’t have a real fight.”
    Father Dowling strode to Desmond, told him to play something rousing. “Do you know ‘MacNamara’s Band’?”
    â€œMacNamara’s Band” was played, and Jack, restored, divided his attention serially among half a dozen delighted women. Off to the side, Austin and Maud were in earnest conversation.
    â€œI think it’s safe for me to leave,” Father Dowling said to Edna.
    â€œThanks for coming by, Father.”
    Marie was not ready to return to the rectory. She seemed to fear—or was it hope?—that the violence was not yet finished.
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    She was right, but its continuation took place long after Marie had gone back to her apartment in the back of the rectory. The two adversaries met in the parking lot after the dance had been completed, with the mandatory playing of “Goodnight Irene.”
    â€œI think I owe you something, Austin,” Jack said, tapping his brother-in-law on the shoulder as he walked to his car. When Austin turned, Jack swung a haymaker. A mistake. Austin had ample opportunity to step out of its way and drive his fist into the stomach of the beau of the ball. Gallagher doubled over like an Olympic diver after he has left the board, and Austin, for good measure, gave him a push
that sent him stumbling backward. When he sat, it was in a puddle of melted snow.
    Maud Gorman looked on enigmatically; Austin helped her into the passenger seat of his car and slammed the door possessively when she was seated. Maud had come with Austin and she always went home with the man who brought her. But as they drove off, her