“Stay safe,” he said softly.
Oh, that made me heated! “You’re not going to walk me out?” I asked, bass in my voice.
“Oh.” Jay jumped up, his expression like a dog’s who’d been caught peeing on a rug. “You’re right. Apologies.”
I tried to hide the rolling of my eyes as we walked through the yard and into the house. Everything was quiet. Then he sent me off, watching from the doorway as I went, alone into the world of my plans.
Later, I sat on the stoop, and Daisy walked the rows of Auntie’s crop garden, searching for ripe tomatoes. We’d decided that we’d attend the gala at the Buchanan mansion, during which Cannon would receive an award. Daisy would go, just to support her boss’s event, and I’d go as her escort.
I hadn’t forgotten what Jordan had said about Cannon. It was easy to speculate now that Buchanan was the one paying him off and stalling out the investigation, but I wanted toknow.
The gala would be flush with cops, and we’d be there to overhear their conversations, as their lips were loosened by the very alcohol they spent their days sweeping the city to confiscate.
Every now and then, the breeze lifted Daisy’s skirt, and she didn’t fix it, only lilted in the wind like an apple, almost fallen.
Uncle Beet opened the door behind us. “Nick, your auntie said she wants to give you this suit for the gala.”
Daisy filled a basket and took it into the house. Meanwhile, Ileft to find Auntie in the washroom slipping a hanger through a blazer for a three-piece forest-green suit. “This used to be your uncle’s, but I think it will look great on you too. See if it fits.”
I checked it out in the mirror. I liked the Norfolk jacket—it looked good on me, but the sleeves were a bit too big. Auntie attached a West Egg pin to the lapel because she still loved the coveted ribbon of status, even though hate had taken it down.
“There’ll be a good bit of journalists at this gala, won’t there?” Auntie asked. “Get your foot in where you can.”
Ah, making connections. I hated the idea. But each time I thought of disappointing her or Uncle Beet it felt like betraying my own parents. I was planning to break a few safes before the spring arrived. Life insisted I do this, and I was going full speed ahead. I couldn’t crank the brakes.
“It’s hard to get a real job as a writer without my certificate,” I told Auntie, almost as a coded apology for my plans. “The school burned down before I could get it.”
“All the more reason to make a good impression. Good luck tonight,” she said with a smile. “I know you’ll do great.”
Auntie, I’ve taken to the streets, and they’ve taken me, I wanted to say. Isaiah was right—so much of growing up was simply taking charge of your life without explaining a thing.
I went back into the house and found Daisy in her room, trying on a top in front of the mirror.
I studied a necklace sitting on her table. “What’s this?” I asked as I entered the room. It burned dark blue like the night ocean waves.
“It’s sapphire,” Daisy said after she saw me looking. “Nick, why don’t you wear it tonight?”
I examined the gem and the tag. “Buchanan’s Jewelers? Didhe...give you this?”
“Charlie did, back when he was trying to pursue me. He’s generous with his father’s things,” Daisy returned with a shrug.
When she was finished dressing, she pulled a giant piece of rolled-up parchment from inside the closet.
“Come here, I want to show you what I’ve been working on.” She unfolded a sketch, beckoning me to hover over it. “I’ve been marking on the map where I’ve seen safes in Buchanan’s house. Tom revealed at least two of the locations to me while drunk, but I think the more important ones are in the vents—one in the library, in the space under the mounted elk, and the other is hidden somewhere in his bedroom. I’ve never seen it, so we may not be able to reach that one. And we still need to figure out how to open them.”
“Easy,” I said. “Grease.”
“Grease?”
“It’s a chemical you can use that makes a concoction that burns safes. My mentor taught me how to crack them in a manner of ways, but that one is the easiest. I still have his tin of it.”
“Okay, Nick.” Daisy looked impressed. “So I’ll leave that up to you. If you can get away tonight, try to scope out all the places I’ve marked so you can know exactly where they are later.”
It was happening. And tonight, at Buchanan’s mansion, we’d lay the groundwork necessary to pull it off, whether Jay chose to help us out or not.
In Buchanan’s driveway later, I got out of the car first to help Daisy out, and we set out to navigate through the maze of Harlem’s most esteemed. People and activity filled the round lot; policemen and politicians spilling out of limos.
I spotted Mr. Cleary, Cannon’s father, holding open the door for his wife and their perfect Cannon. I’d understand his motives by the end of the night.Why was he leading an investigation into the fire? Was this a cover-up for a sinister deed? Had he ever been on the victims’ side?
