Ingenue Part 2

aSo, we ready to open officially for the night?a Cecil asked.

aYep. Iave just gotta make sure the village idiot is ready, too.a aHey now, Sparkas a good egg. His mama just dropped him on his head one too many times when he was a kid.a aYou ask me, his mom shouldave dropped him a few more times and done us all a favor.a A group of giggling women with feathered headbands descended the stairs. aHere we go,a Cecil said as he poured vodka into two shot gla.s.ses. aTime for one quick belt, if youare up for it.a Lorraine stared at the shot gla.s.s, filled to the brim with throat-burning, world-fuzzying, wonderful, beautiful liquor. A drink would be pos-i-lute-ly lovely, but a she couldnat risk even the slightest bit of foggy-headedness at this job. If she messed anything up, it would get back to Puccini. And then Puccini would send a telegram to their mutual friend back in Chicago. And then Carlito would come to New York and teach Lorraine a lesson.

Cecil could drink and work, but not Lorraine. She pushed it away. aDonat tempt me.a Cecil threw back both shots, one after the other. aI guess youall have to be responsible enough for the both of us.a Lorraine remembered sitting next to Carlito in his reserved booth when head told her his plans for her. It was a few weeks before graduation, and Lorraine had become a regular at the Green Mill. Carlito paid her to hang around and be a pretty face for the male patrons to look at. It was easy peasy work, made Lorraine feel desired, and gave her something to do after all her so-called friends had abandoned her. And she kind-of-sort-of liked Carlito.

The thing shead tried to explain to anyone who would listen was that Carlito was very attractive. Not just handsomea"though his slicked-back hair and dark eyes were good-looking enougha"but powerful and fearless. She had no idea whether Carlito was actually strong, but everyone treated him as if he could break a person with a snap of his fingers. It was a little bit frightening and a lot s.e.xy. Lorraine had never met someone so young who seemed so confident and dangerous.

aSo,a Carlito had said, shuffling a few poker chips through his fingers, ayouare leaving for New York and Barnard soon, isnat that right, Lorraine?a She narrowed her eyes. Maybe she mentioned Barnard a lota"it was a big-deal school, and people needed to know that she was a smart cookiea"but she didnat think shead said anything to Carlito. And why would she have? Her deal had been to work for him at the Green Mill until graduation. And then she could go back to how her life was supposed to be.

aMaybe at the end of the summer,a she said.

Carlito laughed and draped his arm around her. aIave gotten very attached to you these past few months, doll. You work hard, and youare feisty. Perfect for a position Iam looking to fill over the summer.a aNo thanks, Carlito, Ia"a He patted her thigh. aSo I guess you donat want Jerome Johnson and whatas-her-face, that Gloria dame, to pay for what they did to you?a She almost sprayed her drink all over him. Gloria. She hadnat heard that name since Jerome had run off with Gloria months earlier. There were rumors about what had happeneda"one of Carlitoas goons had gone missing around that time, and no one seemed to wonder where head disappeared to. Which meant he was dead. A tiny part of Lorraine worried that Gloria had been involved in the gangsteras murder, but a much larger part hated Gloria for abandoning her, and that part won out every time.

aWhat exactly do you have in mind?a shead asked Carlito.

Six weeks later she was here at the Opera House, living off her paycheck and her allowance from her parents (to whom shead promised aprogress reportsa from the summer cla.s.ses she was taking before Barnard started in the fall) and stopping Spark from abusing the musicians. aThe ba.s.s goes behind the piano, not on top of it,a he was saying to Rob. aYou think youare fronting this band?a aLeave him be, Spark,a Lorraine said, striding toward the stage.

Spark was a skinny man who liked to wear brightly colored bow ties and vests. With his wispy brown hair and stupid straw boater hat, he looked like a child playing dress-up.

aWhy, h.e.l.lo, Raine,a Spark said, removing the boater and pressing it to his chest. aWhatever did I do to earn the privilege of your attention? I figured you were just gonna stay at the bar and let me do all your work for you.a Spark was supposed to be Lorraineas comanager, but they both knew that Lorraine gave the orders and Spark took them. He was ten years older than Lorraine, which sometimes seemed to make him think he was smarter than she was.

Lorraine looked at the band on the stage. aThey all set?a She got her answer when the band launched into an upbeat tune. The blond piano player, Felix, was. .h.i.tting on all six, his fingers flying over the keys. He was one of the best piano players Lorraine had seen, second only to a well, Felix was definitely the best piano player Lorraine knew who wasnat also a murderer.

Carlito had told her that Jerome had stolen money from the Green Mill, and when Tony had tried to stop him, Jerome had taken out a pistol and shot Tony in cold blood.

Lorraine hadnat even had to fake her shock. Jerome was even worse than Bastian. Murder! Gloria had thrown away her friendship with Lorraine for a poor black piano player who went around killing people? aItas just not right,a she said aloud.

aI dunno,a Spark said. aI think they sound pretty good. But of course, I donat have your educated ear, Lorraine.a She looked at Spark. aYour ears are so tiny itas a wonder you can hear anything at all.a Then she turned on her heel and walked back through the swiftly filling room to the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY beside the bar.

She didnat look back to see whether Spark was followinga"she knew he was.

Through that door and then another door was the Opera Houseas tiny office. Dante, Lorraine, and Spark all made use of the place, and it was in a constant state of messinessa"sticky rings on the oak desk left by gla.s.ses of Scotch (Dante), discarded headbands and gloves lying on the file cabinets (Lorraine), crumpled sheets of paper in the trash can and on the floor (Spark), and overflowing ashtrays on every possible surface (all three).

Lorraine sifted through the mess and unearthed a folder. aI made some changes to our ad. Make sure to take it over to the Times first thing in the morning.a Spark sat down in the desk chair, propped his feet up, and opened the folder. He read through the advertis.e.m.e.nt. aThis is a lot more specific,a he said.

aWe want a certain type,a Lorraine said.

aBut what was wrong before? Just saying weare looking for a young, pretty singer with experience?a aI have a look in mind. A vision, if you will.a aWhyas she gotta be a redhead?a Good question. Lorraine bit her lip. a aCause we want her to look Irish. Ireland is known for its jazz singers.a aSince when?a He shook his head. aNever mind. And she has to be five-three? Whatas that about?a aAcoustics,a Lorraine said quickly. aThatas the perfect height for a singer to a project effectively. Everyone knows that.a Spark snorted. aUh-huh. And whatas this business about her having green eyes?a aSpark!a Lorraine s.n.a.t.c.hed the folder from him. aHow about we just do what we were hired to do? I was hired to think, and you were hired to a why did Puccini hire you, anyway?a Spark stood up from the chair and bowed. aWhy donat I go and make sure Cecil isnat giving away free hooch to his buddies again?a After he was gone, Lorraine looked at the ad one more time. It was the perfect bait. Gloria had been in New York for half a year; she had to be running out of money. Sure, an ad like this probably wouldave seemed fishy to the old Gloria. But desperation put a whole new shine on things.

Carlitoas plan was simple. aThere are two different ways to catch a bird,a head said. aBeat the bushes so it flies out. Or lure it into a cage. Weare gonna do both. My guys are gonna beat the bushes. Youare gonna build a gilded cage so that the birds fly right inside. You manage one of my clubs in New York, and you hire Gloria and Jerome. Then I show up to collect a debt. Itas that simple.a aWhat are you going to do to them?a Lorraine had asked.

aNothing to the girl. I donat hurt women, itas not my style,a Carlito had said. aAs for the piano man, well a Iall rough him up a bit and send him on his way. Teach him a lesson.a Head leaned in a bit closer to Lorraine. aWeall teach him a lesson.a Lorraine had liked the sound of that.

Now Lorraine shivered a little and slipped the folder into Sparkas absurd yellow briefcase. She went back out into the bar.

It was just the usual chaos. Sparkling young women and dapper young men, the girls sporting their sultry flapper besta"all drop-waisted, shimmery, sleeveless evening dresses, and hair crimped and bobbed and caught in beaded headbands. They constantly checked their cigarettes and their c.o.c.ktail gla.s.ses for lipstick marks, and they constantly laugheda"they were desperate to be witty. The men were the same way, only without the lipstick and headbands. Lorraine could barely stand any of them. Had she been as dizzily vacant as the flappers who filled the club and cut a rug on the dance floor?

She let out a heavy sigh. She missed the days when a speakeasy seemed like a rebelas paradise, full of sparkling diamonds glinting in a smoky pool of soft jazz and even softer laughter. Now it was just a whole lotta hard work. She felt as if she was somewhere between being a waitress and a maid. Although she was pretty sure Marguerite had never had to sc.r.a.pe vomit off the floors of the Dyer residence. (Not that Lorraine did the actual sc.r.a.ping. But watching over Jimmyas shoulder while he did it to make sure he didnat leave any specks was almost worse.) But it was only for the summer.

Once Gloria fell into Lorraineas trap, Lorraine would tell Carlito where Gloria and Jerome were hiding. And Gloria would suffer. She would have to watch Carlito and his goons rough up her boyfriend. Shead have to go along as they ran him out of town. Then Gloria would wander back to her sad little New York life, broken and alone. Eventually, she would come crawling back to Lorraine, begging for forgiveness.

And Lorraine would laugh. No, she would cackle! Like a witch!

Gloria had made a huge mistake when shead crossed Lorraine Dyer. Now Carlito would come and take Jerome away, just as Gloria had taken everything from Lorrainea"Bastian, Marcus Eastman, the flapper lifestyle Lorraine had introduced her toa"without a thought for anyone but herself.

Once laaffaire Gloria was all wrapped up, Lorraine could start her real life in New York. She would have some positively scandalous stories to tell to her spectacular new Barnard friends about how she palled around with mobsters and ran their gin joints and how it was all so old hat for someone as worldly as she.

Lorraine was almost done making nice with gangsters and doing actual worka"her revenge on Gloria was so close she could taste it.

So why did she feel so awful?

CLARA.

Looks ainat everything.

Claraas black feather fan looked like the perfect accessory to go with any slinky flapper dressa"dark, intricate-looking, s.e.xy. But as a fan, it didnat work so well. She was no cooler after ten minutes of flapping, and now her arm was tired.

She dropped the fan into her purse and pulled out her copy of the Ill.u.s.trated Milliner magazine. She liked it for the pictures and the articles, which werenat too literary but were engaging enough. Shead wanted to be a writer back in the old days, when she was living in New York with Leelee and Coco. Poetry mostly, but writing for a magazine seemed fun. Glamorous. A way to set trends and impress people.

Clara laughed a little to herself. Who cared if she wasnat a trendsetter anymore? The only person she wanted to impress was Marcus, and head fallen for her when shead been stuck wearing dresses that were about as attractive as potato sacksa"let alone anything that would be featured in a magazine. She shook the Cartier bracelet on her wrist and smiled. That was far more gorgeous than any stupid dress in the Milliner.

But what Clara loved most about the glittering diamond and platinum bracelet was what it meant. Marcus had first given it to her when he still believed she was Country Clara, Gloriaas innocent cousin from a small Pennsylvania farm. And then even after he had learned the truth about Claraas turbulent past, he had again clasped the bracelet on her wrist and asked her to move to New York with him for the summer.

Clara hadnat taken it off since.

She knew that Marcus had imagined that she would be living in Upper Manhattan, close to him and Columbia, where he would attend college in the fall. Instead, she had chosen to live in Brooklyn Heights. She just couldnat go back to Manhattan, not yet. She didnat want to run even the slightest risk of falling back in with her party-all-day-and-all-night crowda"or into the lifestyle that went with them. For right now, Manhattan was like a giant neon LOOK BUT DONaT TOUCH sign blinking at her from across the East River.

Aside from Marcus, there was only one reason to visit Manhattana"to find Gloria.

Clara knew that her cousin was in New York City somewhere. Gloria had promised she would send Clara a telegram in Pennsylvania once she and Jerome arrived safely in New York, but the telegram had never come. And now Clara herself had come to New York, and Gloria was no closer to being found.

Clara leaned back on her bench and looked down the street, past the line of elegant brownstone town houses. She could just make out a tiny part of the Brooklyn Bridge. It was beautiful, just like everything else in Brooklyn.

Her folks hadnat been so enthusiastic about her returning to the very place where shead lost her virtue. In fact, theyad forbidden it.

But then her aunt Bea had stepped forward on Claraas behalf and persuaded them to give Clara a second chance. aThe mistakes Clara committed in the past,a she wrote, ahave made her a better person.a Her aunt had testified that Clara had become a new woman in Chicago and a favorite of the smart set. And shead praised the positive influence of Claraas beau, the upstanding young man Marcus Eastman, one of the most sought-after bachelors in the great state of Illinois.

So the Knowleses had grudgingly allowed Clara to return to New York. But shead had to make promises: Not to fall back into her wild ways. Not to run with the same group of adissolute girls.a Not to drink. Not to dance. Not to set foot in palaces of sin (as they called speakeasies). They sent Clara money from time to time at her Brooklyn address, but it was the absolute minimum.

Clara had resorted to wearing dresses that had gone a little threadbare, and she couldnat afford to replace her worn-out black Mary Janes. Her apartment was s.p.a.cious and cheap, but that was only because it was such a long hike from the subway stop. She was making ends meet, but just barely.

Clara jerked when she felt someone slide up close to her on the bench.

aYou sit with such style, miss,a a soft voice whispered. aYou positively brighten up this dreary bench just by parking yourself on it.a She exhaled deeply and turned toward him.

Marcusas sky-blue eyes shone mischievously from under his hata"his eyes were the same color as her dress, only brighter. He was dashing in a tan suit and a light blue shirt. With each pa.s.sing day, he looked less like an eighteen-year-old and more like a man. But then head smile, and his cheeks would dimple, and shead see in his face the charming boy he would always be.

She scooted away from him. aI donat take kindly to strange men.a Marcus scooted right after her, wrapping his arms around her. aYouall find that few strange men are as devastatingly strange as I am.a She laughed. aYou may have a point. You are exceedingly strange.a aI exceed in everything, darling.a He kissed her softly on the lips. It wasnat much more than a pecka"there were children walking by, after alla"but it still left Clara a little offbalance.

Back when she was sixteen, shead run off to New York in search of that intense, heart-wrenching, almost painful kind of love. Shead spun through parties, dinners, nights at the theater; dancing with men whose gorgeousness belonged within the pages of magazines. But only one thing was on those menas minds, and it certainly wasnat love.

Who would have thought that shead end up finding true love in that stuffy, flat, sn.o.bby, high-society nonsense world that her parents had always pushed her toward?

aWere you waiting long?a aYears and years,a Clara replied, laying a hand across her forehead. aI was simply dying in the heat.a aOh, that would have been tragic. I would have had to eat alone.a She pushed him away. aYouare a beast.a Marcus stood and offered Clara his hand. aYou could have gone ahead,a he said. aI wouldave just met you at the restaurant.a aYou know you would have gotten lost without me.a He grimaced at the street sign. aYou may be right. Why canat they just use numbered streets here like they do in Manhattan?a aTheyare trying to force you to use your head every once in a while.a He huffed. aNever. There will be more than enough for my head to deal with in the fall.a aMarcus, your parents practically built half of Columbia. You probably wonat have to try too hard.a They walked arm in arm down Hicks Street and toward the Franklin Arms Hotel. A breeze stirred the treetops, but down here along the slate sidewalks the heat was stifling.

aI hope you didnat have too much trouble getting here,a Clara said. aA little trouble, of coursea"you need to work for love or itas too easy. But not too much work, or itas like a work.a He sighed. aItas just so far, Clara. Why do you have to live all the way in Brooklyn? Itas like another country. People even dress differently here. Look at that man in that horrible coat.a Clara rolled her eyes. aThatas a woman in a maternity dress.a aYou see what I mean?a aYou know why I live out here.a aBut I donat know why you wonat let me help you out. It would be a gift to me more than anything, to have you closer. No more decade-long subway rides.a She smiled but murmured, aI canat, Marcus.a Marcus gave her hand a squeeze. aSorry to pester you about it. I just miss you.a The only way to reach the restaurant was through the hotel lobby. It was a grand old place, and bright with the golden light from a dozen wall sconces.

The restaurant was darker and more run-down, but the room felt plush anyway. The red wallpaper was richly textured, and the long mahogany bar was beautifully polished, and even at lunchtime, intimate candles lit each table. A man played a slow tune on a glossy-white baby grand in the corner. Clara adored this placea"it reminded her of the speakeasy Marcus had taken her to in Chicago on their first date.

After the waitress took their orders, Marcus looked around. aWe should come here at night sometime. The bandas supposed to be the catas meow.a Clara shrugged. aMaybe.a She would have loved to go out with him in Manhattana"it wasnat as if her parents would ever find outa"but a promise was a promise, and she was trying to be good. aIam sorry I havenat been the most exciting girlfriend.a Marcus laid his hand over hers. aI canat think of anything more exciting than being here with you.a Lunch was lovely, but Marcus was in an odd mood. He seemed eager to finish as fast as possible. When Clara remarked on how quickly he was shoveling down his salmon, he grinned.

aI just want to get out of here and take a walk across the bridge. Itas such a beautiful day.a Clara hiked an eyebrow. Sweet as Marcus was, he rarely gave a d.a.m.n whether it was aa beautiful day.a The waitress returned and asked, aDessert?a As Clara said, aYes!a Marcus said, aNo, thank you, just the check.a She frowned as the waitress walked away. aA cake-eater like you rejecting a slice of cake? I never wouldave believed it.a Marcus paid the check promptly, and then he grabbed Claraas hand and pulled her back outside.

Marcus had been telling the truth: The day was beautiful, the sky bright and blue, and a nice breeze off the water chased away the heat. Claraas Mary Janes clacked on the wooden planks as they made their way across the bridge, her hand in the crook of Marcusas arm.

aYou wonat get a better view of Manhattan anywhere,a he said as they strolled underneath the first arch.

The farther they walked, the more clearly Clara could see the aquamarine Statue of Liberty raising her torch to the sky. Wind dimpled the water and twined the smoke rising from pa.s.sing steamboats.

When they came to the second arch, Marcus eyeballed the cart of a nearby vendor, one of the many who camped out on the Brooklyn Bridge every afternoon. aOn second thought,a he said, aI think dessert is a good idea.a aIad kill for an ice cream,a Clara said.

aNo need for violence, Miss Knowles. If itas ice cream you want, then it is ice cream you shall have.a He walked over to the vendor with two fingers raised. aI scream fora"Oh, never mind. Two, please.a Clara turned away and leaned her elbows on the railing. She had a swell view of the Manhattan skylinea"the tall white Woolworth Building, the spires of Park Row. Shead almost forgotten how idyllic the city could look from a distance, the way it did to newcomers.

Marcus walked over with a cup of lemonade. aHe was out of ice cream.a At times like these, Clara remembered that she really didnat know Marcus all that well. Shead only been in New York for three weeks, and she and Marcus had spent the previous months with a few hundred miles between them. Theyad had a small amount of precious time together when Clara had stayed with Gloria in Chicago, but for much of that time Clara had believed that Marcusas interest in her was just a cruel joke he had cooked up with Gloria and Lorraine.

And it had been, at first.

But things had changed. She and Marcus had developed real feelings for each other. Clara had tried to tell him about her wild flapper life in New York and her affair with Harris Brown, but that desperate wench Lorraine had got there first: Shead drunkenly announced to the world the one secret Clara most wanted to keep hidden. Not only had Clara had an affair with an engaged mana"shead become pregnant. And then had lost the baby.

Clara had been sure Marcus would leave her after that, but he hadnat wavered.

But what would happen when he started cla.s.ses at Columbia in the fall?

aLetas sit for a second.a Marcus led her over to a metal bench and sat next to her, taking hold of her hand. aSo, listen. I have a surprise for you.a Suddenly his strange behavior made sense. aOh? I love surprises.a aRight.a He took a deep breath. aYou remember how my father went to Columbia and my mother went to Barnard? Well, dear old Motheras been writing letters to her friends on the admissions board. And my father handed out some bribesa"er, donations.a aWhatever for?a Clara asked. aI mean, you were already accepted.a aItas not for me, Clara. After all that and a little sweet-talking, they were able to pull some strings and get you into Barnard!a He pulled her into a tight hug and laughed. aNow you can go to school across the street from me! Your parents will be thrilled, youall have a good reason to move uptown, and life will be just peachy! Isnat it wonderful?a Clara pulled away. aThey got me into Barnard? They can just a do that?a aMy dadas got low friends in high places.a Marcus met her eyes, his smile dimming a little. aYou arenat excited. That is not the face of a thrilled Clara Knowles.a She let out a forced-sounding laugh. aOf course I am! Itas justa"Wow, it caught me off guard. Barnard a wow.a aYou donat need to be nervous, Clara. Youare the smartest girl I know. Look at how easily you finished up your course work before you moved here. Youare certainly smarter than the Unmentionable, and she got in.a Clara paled. Shead forgotten that Lorraine was going to Barnard as well.

aSorry to remind you. Is that whatas wrong?a Lorraineas being at Barnard didnat help matters, but Clara would be able to avoid her easily enough. It was more that enrolling would force her to face her old uptown haunts and even older friends before she was sure she was ready.

And as awful as Lorraine was, at least she had gotten into Barnard on her own merit. aGetting me into Barnard a itas just a lot. I didnat even want you to get me an apartment, and you got me a whole college.a aI thought an apartment would be a little cramped,a he said. aMy parents wanted to do this for you, Clara. Actually, thatas the other thing: My fatheras in town and wants to meet us for dessert at Le Royale Bakery. Heas so eager to meet you.a Suddenly Marcusas refusal of dessert at the Franklin Arms and his random desire to enjoy the outdoors made sense. As he pulled Clara into a kiss, she tried to feel as happy as he obviously felt. Barnard. Her parents would be so proud. They might even start sending her more than nickels and dimes.

Clara wasnat sure she could accept Marcusas offer, but she did need to find the courage to face Manhattana"even Greenwich Village. Marcus had been kind enough to leave her past in the past.

It was time she did herself the same favor.

VERA.

Vera yawned and watched the beams of morning sunlight stream in through the giant half-moon windows of Grand Central Station.

She had never been to New York beforea"never been anywhere outside of Chicago. If this had been a normal trip, she would have been marveling at the beautiful buildingas grand staircases and the starry mural on the ceiling, gold constellations connecting to create Pegasus and other signs of the zodiac against a blue-green sky.

But all she could think about was the killer coming after Jerome.

If the woman found out the address of his post office box in New York City, then eventually she would just come and wait for Jerome or Gloria to turn up. But she probably had her hands full with Carlito in Chicago, and that might buy Vera just enough time to find her brother first and warn him.

Vera smiled as Evan appeared with two cups of hot coffee. She drank down a big gulp. aNow I feel human again.a She looked at the map of Manhattan hanging on the wall. aHis post office box is close to Harlem a so I guess we should walk to Times Square and take the train uptown. Not that I know a d.a.m.ned thing about the subway.a Evan reached over and squeezed her hand. aWeall find him, donat you worry. Here, I got you something.a He handed her a small paper bag head been holding, which contained a single glazed doughnut. aA little something sweet for somebody sweet.a Vera started to laugh. aExcuse me?a Evanas cheeks darkened. aSorry. That was stupid.a Vera was about to laugh again but stopped herself. Was Evan flirting with her? It didnat seem likelya"he was her brotheras friend and former bandmate first. But did former bandmates hop overnight trains to cities halfway across the country?

No.

Could Evan a like her? She looked at him again, his high cheekbones, his dark and stormy eyes. Evan was gorgeous, and he played the trumpet like a dream.

But Vera wasnat here to fall in love. She was here to find Jerome.

That didnat mean she couldnat enjoy a doughnut, though.

aThanks a lot,a she said quietly.

Evan chuckled. aYeah, Iave given you a sandwich and a doughnut. Maybe Iall even throw in some fruit and vegetables sometime, though I donat want to spoil you.a After theyad checked the map once more, Evan and Vera walked outside into the bright sunlight. Vera marveled at the buildings they pa.s.sed. They loomed higher than any shead seen back in Chicago. Despite the early hour, men and women filled the sidewalks. The men mostly wore suits and straw hats, while the women dressed in smart-looking day dresses with skirts that came down only a few inches past their knees.

Cars of every make and model crowded the streets, as well as a few horse-drawn wagons. Hulking yellow-and-black Checker cabs tried in vain to weave through the stalled traffic. A wonderful smell of brown sugar pervaded the aira"Vera realized that the source was a cart selling sweet, hot peanuts, cashews, and almonds.

aSo you want to get off at a Hundred and Third Street,a Evan said once they were on the subway and the train clicked into the Eighty-Sixth Street station.

aBut you wonat?a Vera asked, frowning. Theyad just gotten here. She wasnat sure she was ready to face this strange city alone yet.

aNaw, Iam gonna stay on until a Hundred Forty-Fifth. Iam gonna start lookina for a gig right away. A friend works up there at the Hooch Pooch.a aMeet back at the Hundred and Third Street station around four?a Vera asked.

aThat should be just enough time a for a few clubs to kick me right back out the door.a He let out a nervous laugh.

Vera nudged his shoulder with hers. aDonat be ridiculous. I bet you find something before I even make it to the post office.a Vera emerged from the station and straightened her cloche hat.

The subway stop was only a few blocks from the post office, and it was a pleasant walk. This area was a bit like her neighborhood in Chicago. She pa.s.sed tiny markets selling everything from newspapers to cigarettes and hot coffee. There were more white people than black. Vera decided to keep her head down so as not to raise suspicion.

The post office was like every other post office shead seen, if a little dingy. A few people with packages in their arms stood in line in front of a bank of small wooden-framed windows. Others strolled in, went to the wall lined with the little bra.s.s doors of post office boxes, and opened them with tiny keys.

Vera selected a sheet of stationery and an envelope from a display, paid for them, and went to a table to dash off a short note to Jerome.

Dear Jerome, There is too much to say and this note has to be short, so Iall get to the point: Someone killed Bastian Grey and is after you. The killer may have got this address from him, so youad best stop using it. I am in the city, staying at Then she realized she didnat know where to tell him to look for her; she and Evan hadnat found accommodations yet. She scratched out the line and began again.

Iam staying in the city, and I will go wait under the clock in Grand Central from noon to two every Sat.u.r.day until you show up.

Your loving and worried sister, Vera This was not the best plan for finding Jerome and Gloria. But it was the only lead Vera had.

She folded the note up and tucked it into the envelope, casually watching the customers in the post office. Who knew how often Jerome and Gloria checked their mail? Would they come together? Or would Gloria waltz in like the redheaded woman whoad just entered, glanced around nervously, and gone over to one of those tiny mailboxesa"

Vera realized she wasnat looking at a Gloria look-alike: it was Gloria. She was a lot thinner and was wearing a cheap blue dress that old high-society Gloria wouldnat have touched with a ten-foot swizzle stick, but it was definitely her.

Vera was just about to call out Gloriaas name when she saw that Gloria had been followed.

A woman in a dark gray dress and a large hat had entered the post office right on Gloriaas heels and was standing at the bulletin board as though interested in the WANTED posters. But her head was clearly tilted in Gloriaas direction. The woman wore large sungla.s.ses and kept one hand hidden in her handbag.