Mentally crossing her fingers for luck, she said, “I met a fella the other night who I think was a friend of yours. He seemed like he was here to get his arms around a girl, too.”
“What was his name?”
“Not sure,” Vivian said, warming up to her lie. “Um… William? Wilson? Not sure whether he was giving me his first, last, or fake, but he said he knew you.”
“Tall fella, light hair, crooked nose?”
“Sounds like him. Seemed like he could be a decent enough dancer, but I haven’t seen him around anymore to find out.” Vivian fought the nervous urge to hold her breath.
Jimmy shook his head. “And you won’t see him around again, I’m afraid.”
“Did he get kicked out? He did seem a little handsy,” Vivian said, shaking her head. “Ms. Huxley isn’t a fan of handsy.”
“Actually…” Jimmy hesitated. “He croaked.”
Vivian stumbled, skipping a step on purpose and letting her eyes go wide with surprise. “Oh hell, I’m sorry. Hewasa friend of yours, then?”
“Wilson was his name. And yeah, I guess you could say he was a friend. Dined in the same circles, if you know what I mean. But he liked places to gamble mostly.” Jimmy shook his head, looking sad and admiring at the same time. “Liked to play high because he knew he’d never have to pay. Wilson could wiggle out of anything, he knew that many people. Going to be a less interesting world without him.”
“Surprised I met him, then,” Vivian said, hesitating. She wasn’t sure how much prodding she could do without seeming too interested. “Not much in the way of gambling here.”
“Oh, he’d go anywhere he could find a good time,” Jimmy said, smiling a little. “Like any of us. We were actually just toasting him a little while ago, me and the boys.”
“He was a good friend, then?” Vivian said, patting Jimmy’s shoulder. His casual regret made her think that he wasn’t too broken up about Wilson’s death, even if he had liked the man. And he didn’t seem to know there was anything suspicious about how that death had happened.
Jimmy shrugged. “He was a fun friend.”
“Well, I’m sorry I called him handsy, then,” Vivian said. She liked Jimmy, and she didn’t want to upset him. “Hope you weren’t offended.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not offended or surprised. Wilson didn’t have much of what you’d call a type, but he did like pretty girls with dark hair,” Jimmy said, laughing as he ran a finger under the edge of Vivian’s bob. She pretended to laugh along, but underneath her stomach turned over. She didn’t want to hear that she might have been the deadman’s preferred kind of girl. “In fact, I bet if he was here, then he was following a particular girl. Poor Wilson wasn’t used to hearing no, but she wasn’t interested in making herself available.”
Vivian could feel her pulse hammering at her neck and wrists. “Poor fella,” she said, pretending a sympathetic pout. “She hangs out here, you say?”
“Sure, she does.” Jimmy gestured with his chin as they turned around the corner of the dance floor.
Vivian followed his gaze to where a familiar, glamorous brunette was laughing in the arms of her partner. Her stomach turned over again. “Mags knew your friend?”
Jimmy laughed. “She also knew his wife, which is why she wouldn’t give him the time of day. She finds her way around, does Mags.” He winked at Vivian, a broad grin spreading across his pretty face. “But none of us tell her dad that. I think you should let a girl have some fun, right? And the rest of the fellas who know her are hoping to be the lucky one when she’s finally old enough to get married. They won’t get her riled up if they don’t have to.”
Vivian wondered why it had taken her so long to realize that Mags was a society girl. One look at her dresses should have given it away. But if Mags was part of that glamorous world, why hadn’t Vivian seen her name or photo in any of the society pages?
“You all right there, Viv?”
Jimmy’s puzzled tone pulled her wandering thoughts back in, and Vivian turned quickly back to her own partner. As the implication of his last few words sank in, she gave him a questioning look. “But you’re not one of those fellas hoping to marry her, are you, Jimmy?”
He smiled as if it didn’t matter, unable to shrug while they were still dancing. “I’m not the marrying type. And I’ve got an older brother, so I can get away with avoiding it.”
There was a softness to the statement, a careful admission that was there if you were paying attention. She glanced over at his friends, still drinking raucously at their own table, and gave Jimmy a gentle smileas she met his eyes again. “Not everyone is,” she said quietly, squeezing his shoulder with her fingertips so the gesture wouldn’t pull the cut on her palm. “I’m only halfway to being the marrying type myself.”
He smiled back, then laughed, breaking the moment. “Well, Mags certainly is. She’d keep every fellow in New York on a string if she could. Wilson was determined to catch her eye. Poor fellow ran out of time, though.”
“Guess he was the sort who didn’t take no for an answer?”
“Who takes no for an answer?” Jimmy said, rolling his eyes. “He’d have brought her around eventually.”
“What if she didn’t want to be brought around?” Vivian said quietly.
Jimmy laughed again as the music flourished to a stop, not noticing the seriousness of her question. “Every girl wants to be brought around. You just have to know what to say.” He winked. “Thanks for the dance, Viv. You look swell tonight.”
