“A favor in return.” Honor went back to the desk, bending down to open one of the lower drawers. A moment later she stood, an unmarked bottle full of maple-colored liquor in one hand and two glasses in the other. Her toes were pointed as delicately as a dancer’s as she nudged the drawer closed with her foot. “Since the favor I did you last night was rather substantial, I’m going to ask you to do something important, though I hope it won’t be too dangerous. But I think you’re in a position to do it.”
“You hope it won’t be too…” Vivian trailed off, her eyes narrowing as Honor sat back down. If the conversation needed to be lubricated with something stronger than coffee, that had to mean… “It’s something to do with that dead man, then?”
Honor looked surprised by how blunt the question was, as though she had expected to dance around the heart of the matter for a while longer. “I knew you were a smart girl.”
“Why me? I’m sure you’ve got better resources available, given your line of work.”
“That’s true,” Honor said, not taking her eyes off Vivian as she set down the bottle. “But those resources weren’t the ones who discovered the body. And they don’t know the people who come to this club the way you do.” She smiled. “You like to know people, Vivian. It’s part of your charm.”
“It’s the best way to get a free drink,” Vivian said, shrugging.
“I’m not asking you to solve the whole fiasco. I just need you to keep your ears open around the club and let me know what you hear. And… you can start by getting to know a particular person. He’ll be here tonight. See what you can find out about him, then tell me what you learn.”
Vivian snorted. “You expect me to believe that twenty-five dollars in bail money meant that much to you?”
Honor poured an inch of glowing liquid into both glasses. “No, twenty-five dollars didn’t mean that much to me. But it meant a hell of a lot to you, especially last night.”
There was no arguing with that. “I’ll pay you back, Ms. Huxley.”
The other woman took one glass for herself, then slid the second one across the table. “Honor.”
“I’ll pay you back, Honor.” Just saying the name made Vivian blush, and she quickly took a drink to cover it. The amber liquid burned as it slid down her throat—it was real whiskey, not the dyed moonshine that passed for whiskey in most of the city, and even some nights downstairs—and it made her eyes water as she swallowed a cough.
Honor took a slow sip of her own drink. “How? Do you actually plan to show up in court?”
“I have a job.”
“It’ll take you a long time to save twenty-five dollars on what you make from Miss Ethel.”
Vivian couldn’t hide her surprise. “You know where I work?” She narrowed her eyes. “Did Bea tell you?”
“Indirectly.” Honor leaned one elbow on the arm of her chair, resting her cheek against her fist. One of her feet made slow circles in the air, but her expression was sharp and focused. “I like to know a thing or two about the regulars in my club. It’s a good way to stay in business.”
It was on the tip of Vivian’s tongue to ask what else the club owner knew about her, but she hesitated. Sparring with Honor didn’t seem safe, especially with what the woman was asking her to do. “And did you agree to pay my bail so that you could trap me into doing what you wanted?”
“Of course not.” Honor set down her glass abruptly, her smile gone, replaced by a look that was more sincere than any she had yet shown. One of her hands settled over Vivian’s own. “I gave Beatrice the money because I wanted to help you.” Her stare was disconcertingly direct. “I hated the thought of you in jail.”
Vivian swallowed, aware of every inch of that hand pressed against hers. “But you’ll still ask me to pay you back.”
“That’s how this world works,” Honor said, shrugging. “And if you’re going to play down here with us, pet, then you’re going to end up owing a little favor from time to time.”
In spite of herself, Vivian laughed. “Why do I get the feeling there are a lot of people who find themselves in the position of owing you a little favor?”
Honor’s slow smile returned. “I think you’ll be very good at this. You might even enjoy it.”
“You said you wanted me to listen around and tell you what I hear, but also to get to know one fella in particular. Who is that?”
Honor leaned forward. “A man named Leo Green.”
For a moment, Vivian was sure she had heard wrong. “Leo Green?”
“And luckily, I think you’ve already met him.”
“I have,” Vivian said warily. “He seemed…” She frowned. “He seemed like a nice enough fella. And he’s friends with Danny, so what makes you think he has anything to do with this?”
“They were friends,” Honor corrected her. “Mr. Green spent the last five years living in Chicago, and he has… well, let’s just say a bit of a reputation has followed him here.”
Vivian swallowed, thinking of her dance with Leo just before the raid, his flirting when they went their separate ways that morning. She had liked him. He’d been fun and charming. Was Honor saying… “You think he’s a killer?”
