We expect that Miss Myrtle,the article ran,who only one month ago left New York for an exclusive school upstate, will return in time for her brother-in-law’s funeral. We can only hope that she will bring the sisterly comfort that Mrs. Wilson will need during this trying time—and, perhaps, for several months yet to come.
Vivian let the paper drop and leaned back against the desk, frowning. What could Wilson, from all appearances a society guy with prestigious business partners and a perfect blushing bride, have to do with a back-alley meeting? How was he involved with the two toughs who had cornered Danny?
The sound of the doorknob turning momentarily drove every thought of Willard Wilson from her mind, and Vivian stared at it, too surprised to even think of moving. But instead of coming face-to-face with an irate Honor Huxley, she found herself staring at Leo, who paused on the threshold, eyebrows raised, before he laughed and pulled the door shut behind him.
“You look like you’re about to beat me over the head with that and do a runner,” he said, nodding at the paper that she had half raised without realizing it. “What’s got you so jumpy, sweetheart? Worried Ms. Huxley was about to find you?”
“What are you doing here?” Vivian demanded, trying to slow her breathing to a more normal pace as she dropped the paper so the picture of Wilson was facing down.
“Trying to find you, of course.”
“How’d you know where I was?”
“Danny told me.” Leo glanced around the otherwise empty office, his eyebrows rising once more as he strolled toward her. “What exactly are you doing in here? Going through Ms. Huxley’s things?”
“Of course not,” Vivian said quickly as he sat down against the desk, his shoulder pressed against hers. The weight and warmth of it would have been pleasant if she weren’t so nervous. “Just reading the paper. Got too hot out there, you know. But I’d be up for a twirl on the dance floor if you want.”
“Sounds swell,” Leo said, and before she could stop him he plucked the paper out of her hand. He was about to toss it into the basket with the others when he glanced down at the page with the obituary.
Vivian held her breath. He hadn’t seemed interested in the dead man before. But if his face gave anything away when he saw the picture of Wilson…
“Can’t resist the society gossip?” he teased, glancing up, his expression still as open and friendly as ever.
Relief washed over Vivian, though she tried not to show it. “I work for a dressmaker,” she said, thinking quickly. “I like to keep up with the clothes.”
“Makes sense,” Leo said. “Though an obituary’s maybe a morbid way to…” He trailed off. “Wilson? Why is that name familiar?”
“Is it?” Vivian asked, trying to sound casual as she watched his face, though her heart was racing.
“Yeah.” Leo gave her a puzzled look. “Because that’s the fellow you asked me about last night. Isn’t it?”
Vivian tried to think of an answer, but her mind came up blank.
“You wanted to know if I knew a dead guy?” Leo frowned. “Who was he?”
Vivian stared at him, trying desperately to think of something to say. But then she realized how unconcerned he looked—confused, yes, but not angry or wary. Not even tense. None of the emotions she would have expected if he’d actually had anything to do with Wilson’s death.
“Far as I heard, some bootlegger who showed up here on the wrong night,” she said at last. “I thought maybe all you types knew each other.”
Leo looked back at the picture, frowning in thought, and Vivian couldn’t help feeling reassured by how seriously he was considering it. Her heart gave a little leap of relief as he shook his head once more. “I never saw his face before. And if I ever met him, he definitely wasn’t using that name.”
“Do guys like you often use fake names?” Vivian asked, trying not to look too interested in the answer. “How do I know Leo Green is your real one, then?”
He raised a brow. “I could take you to meet my dad if you want,” he suggested. “Or you could just ask Danny.”
Vivian laughed, the knot of tension in her chest beginning to loosen.
Honor had asked her to keep an eye on Leo, yes, to find out if there was any reason more than just coincidence that he had appeared at the Nightingale the night after Willard Wilson’s murder. But she had admitted she didn’t know if there was anything behind her suspicions. Leo was fun and charming and a great dancer, and his smile gave her a delicious, fluttery feeling. And given how unconcerned he seemed about Wilson, Vivian was inclined to believe him when he said he hadn’t known the man.
That didn’t mean she was off the hook for Honor’s favor. But it might mean that she could just enjoy Leo’s company without worrying about ulterior motives.
She smiled at him, feeling relieved. “Well, I hope you’re more careful than that Wilson fella was about where you spend your nights.”
“I think they’re mostly going to be spent here for a while.” His smile grew sheepish. “You can probably guess why.”
“You expect me to believe you keep coming back here just to see me?” she said, rolling her eyes and trying to sound unimpressed.
“Is that so hard to believe?” Leo asked, leaning forward a little.
