Vivian caught her breath. Myrtlehadbeen there. “Oh, okay. Thanks. I’ll just… she might have left something behind…”
The old woman laughed. “Steal whatever you like, girl. Not mybusiness.” Giving Vivian a final look up and down, she shrugged and pushed past, her cane thumping the ground as she headed out the front door.
The cooking smells were different, but otherwise Vivian could have been walking up the stairs to her own home. Most of the building was divided into cramped apartments, families stuffed into too-small spaces. The noise of arguments, laughter, and what sounded like a very frisky romp in the sheets drifted into the stairway.
There was only one door on the sixth floor; apparently Mr. Willard had kept the largest space for himself. And it was open, just a crack, as if someone had left it carelessly unlocked. Vivian was reaching for the handle when she heard voices on the other side of the door.
She froze.
There were two men in there. And she recognized their voices.
“So what’re we supposed to do, then, George?” one deep rumble inquired.
“Nothing, I guess,” the second voice answered. “Beats me where she got to, but less work for us. Come on.”
Vivian glanced frantically around the stairwell as the sound of footsteps drew closer to the door. If she ran, they might hear her and wonder who was trying to get away. But there was nowhere to hide at the top of the stairs. Heart in her throat, she crept down as quietly as she could. At the next floor down she paused, listening.
“Should you lock it?” Eddie asked.
“Nah, not our problem.” She could hear George’s weaselly chuckle echoing down the stairs. “Mrs. Wilson already sold the whole building. Doesn’t want anyone connecting it to her. Just leave the key in the door.”
If they were leaving the place open, there was still a chance that she could look around. She just had to make sure they didn’t see her on their way down. Vivian spun around, looking for somewhere to hide, when an arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her back from the stairs. She tried to scream, fumbling at her pocket for the gun, but a hand clapped over her mouth.
“It’s me,” a familiar voice hissed in her ear.
Vivian went limp with relief. As soon as she relaxed, the hand eased away from her mouth, and the arm at her waist shifted. Turning, she found Danny with one finger to his lips, tugging her away from the stairs.
George and Eddie were just behind her, and there was nowhere to hide. Danny backed her up against the wall, shielding her from view with his body and keeping his back toward the stairs. They looked like a young couple stealing a moment together. Between their bodies, Vivian eased the gun from her pocket as she peered around him.
Hattie Wilson’s bruisers thumped down the stairs bare seconds later, arguing and chuckling together. They paused for a moment on the landing, and Vivian ducked back behind Danny’s shoulder, barely breathing.
“Who’s that?” George demanded.
Danny’s hands gripped her elbows tightly, tense and ready for a fight.
There was the sound of someone spitting on the floor. “Trash,” she heard Eddie say.
“No morals in this part of the city,” George agreed.
A moment later their footsteps faded down the stairs.
Vivian and Danny stayed frozen in place until they heard the door slam downstairs. Drawing in identical breaths, they stepped apart.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Danny demanded.
“Me? What the hell are you doing here? And what were you thinking, grabbing me like that?” A thought occurred to her, and she gasped. “Did Honor tell you to follow me?”
“No, I decided to on my own when I looked out the window of my parents’ restaurant and saw you wandering around by yourself,” Danny said, yanking off his hat to run an agitated hand through his hair. “Don’t you know better than that? Especially after you were…” He glanced at her face and changed whatever he had been about to say. “It isn’t safe for a girl like you to be in this part of town alone at night.”
“It’s not night yet,” Vivian argued.
“It almost is,” he sighed. “What were you thinking?”
Vivian sighed too. “Come upstairs and I’ll show you. It’s probably something Honor will want to know about anyway. She likes to get dirt on people, right?” she added as she led him back toward the stairs. “Well, Hattie Wilson’s taking over for her husband. Those two weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow, but if they were careless, there might be some real good dirt on her in that top room.”
Danny frowned but didn’t say anything as he followed. When they reached the top floor, Vivian took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
It wasn’t fancy, but it was the sort of place someone used to a nicer home would still feel comfortable spending time. It was divided into a sitting room and bedroom, both furnished with plush fabrics and the bare minimum of furniture. In the sitting room was a table with two chairs; a separate washroom had a flush toilet and a basin for bathing. Vivian wondered whether any of the homes lower down in the building had such nice plumbing.
