“Because it’smyfault he’s dead.” Vivian said. She sank into the chair next to her friend, elbows braced on the table while she stared at her hands. “Florence shot him because of me. And we’ve both got to live with that, so I want to becertain…”She broke off. “I’ve been holding on to this for so long. How can I just let it go without knowing?”
Bea’s hand settled gently on her shoulder. “He’s dead because of himself,” she said. “You asked if I’d kill anyone who hurt my sister, and I would, in a heartbeat. That’s what Florence did, so stop blaming yourself. Some things aren’t worth the heartache of holding on to, and I’m pretty sure Roy Carlton was one of them.”
Vivian’s steps were slow as she arrived home.
The nurse was in the front room, rocking in Florence’s chair and knitting, needles clicking softly together. “She’s awake,” she said in response to Vivian’s silent question. “I lent her some of my needles—she’s a quick study, your sister—but she said she wanted to be left alone.”
“Does she seem…” Vivian swallowed, not sure what she wanted to ask or how to say it. “Is she okay?”
“She’s quiet,” the nurse said. “I couldn’t get her to eat much. Physically, she’s perfectly well. Her shock has passed. But…” She shook her head and stood, gathering her things. “Whatever happened last night, she’s not going to forget it in a hurry. But you shouldn’t need to worryabout leaving her alone or letting her go on with things as she normally would.”
“Thank you,” said Vivian, not sure what else to say. She watched silently as the nurse gathered up her things and pulled on a sensible blue coat. “I’ll go get your needles from Florence if you’ll wait a moment.”
“She can keep them,” the nurse said with a shrug. “She wanted to try to finish the scarf today. Very determined girl.”
“She is,” Vivian agreed, trying not to remember how Florence looked with a gun in her hand. Determined didn’t even begin to cover it. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Don’t mention it. Anyway, it’s my job.”
Vivian stared at the door after it closed, then at the door that stood between her and Florence. She paced around the tiny room—nine steps each direction—put on water to boil, turned it off again. She thought about Honor and Leo, about Danny and Bea.
She thought about the bargain she had wrung out of Miss Ethel, and what she would need to do next if she wanted the better life she had promised herself. She stared at the spot on the floor that had been scrubbed clean of Roy’s blood only hours before.
She took a deep breath and tapped on the bedroom door. “Flo?” she called quietly. “You awake?”
There was a long pause, and she could hear the iron bed frame squeaking as her sister shifted position. Then, Florence’s quiet voice: “Come on in.”
Vivian closed the door behind her and stood with her back pressed against it. The two sisters stared at each other without speaking. Then Florence flung herself out of bed and tore across the room. Vivian was yanked into an embrace so crushing it forced all the air from her lungs and brought all the aches and pains in her body rushing back. Everything that she had intended to say scattered out of her mind. She couldn’t remember the last time Florence had held her so tightly. She could feel hot tears on her neck, and she wasn’t sure which of them was crying.
“Flo, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant—”
“To hell with that.” Florence’s voice was muffled, and at first Vivian thought she’d heard wrong. But when Florence lifted her head, Vivian almost took a step back at the blazing heat in her eyes. “I’d do it again,” she whispered, her hands cupping her little sister’s cheeks. “I’d shoot him again in a heartbeat, Vivi. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”
Vivian wasn’t sure if the sound she made was a laugh or a sob. “I had no idea you were so fierce,” she said, pressing her palms against her sister’s hands. “But I’m so sorry, Flo. I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through, thinking about—”
“Don’t say it.” Florence shook her head sharply. She shivered, fumbling her way back to the bed to sit down and wrap her arms around herself. “I’d do it again, but that doesn’t mean I want to think about it. Well, that’s not quite true.” She glanced up, her jaw set. Vivian wondered if she had ever really known who her sister was before. “I don’t want details, but… what happened?”
“I saw something I wasn’t supposed to,” Vivian said, choosing her words carefully as she sat down next to her sister and drew her knees up under her chin. After what happened, Florence deserved at least some of the truth. “Or he thought I did. His name was—”
“Not that,” Florence broke in. “I don’t want to know his name. What did he think you saw?”
“He thought I saw him kill someone,” Vivian said quietly. She would tell Florence the easiest version, she decided. The version she could probably live with. “He shot his boss, a man named Wilson. Fifth Avenue type. The fella last night was trying to find out what I knew.”
“So he wasn’t a nice man,” Florence said quietly.
Vivian snorted. That much she could answer with perfect honesty. “Neither of them were, apparently. There are plenty of men who can enjoy their liquor or make their living on the wrong side of the law and not turn into murderers or woman-beaters,” she added, feeling a little defensive. She thought of Leo’s gentle insistence that she could trust him. “One of them helped us out last night, you know.”
“One of your friends?” Florence asked quietly, pulling the skimpy blanket around her shoulders. “What did he do?”
Vivian stared at her feet, not sure how to explain her complicated feelings toward Leo or exactly what he had done for them last night. “He knew the fella was dangerous,” she said at last. “And he also knew some people in the police commissioner’s office. When he found out R—found out that man was on his way here, he…” She swallowed. What would have happened to Florence if Leo hadn’t been there to help? And he had just stood there and let her lay into him. “Leo showed up too late to stop him but took care of things afterward. There won’t be any more questions.”
Florence let out a shaky breath. “Thank God,” she whispered. “The nurse said I didn’t have to worry, but I couldn’t quite believe it. I’ve been terrified that someone would come and…”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Vivian said fiercely, gripping her sister’s hands. “I would never let that happen.”
“Well, except to work,” Florence said with a short, bitter laugh. “If I still have a job. I can only imagine what Miss Ethel said when you showed up alone today. She must have been furious.”
She hadn’t been happy, that was certain.
