“I’m supposed to be…” Vivian let out a breathy, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I’m supposed to be working a regular shift. But I’ve managed all of one drink order. My head’s up in the clouds tonight.” Her head was back at the station, back in that office with Buchanan, but she didn’t want to say that out loud.
Leo was still studying her. “Can you just go ahead and make this a break now?” he asked. “You look like you could use a dance.”
Vivian wanted to throw herself into the music, to get lost in the sway of a dance, air heated by too many bodies against her bare arms. She knew if she pressed her cheek against the curve of Leo’s shoulder, her nose would fill with the scent of shirt starch, the tang of the whiskey he’d been drinking, the spicy warmth of his cologne. She could pretend, just for a moment, that nothing else in the world mattered.
But tonight, she didn’t need pretend. She needed a plan. “Can you get me in to talk to your pal at Bellevue?” she asked abruptly.
It took him a moment to catch up. “The medical examiner? What do you think he can—”
“I want to know if there was any kind of… what do you call it? When they look at dead bodies?”
“Autopsy?” He kept his voice low, not wanting anyone to overhear.
“That one, yeah.”
Leo grimaced. “From what you said, it seemed pretty straightforward, how he died. I’m not sure they could tell you anything new.”
“Please?” Vivian begged in a whisper. “I’ve gotta start somewhere. That’s a reasonable place, right?”
He sighed. “Sure, yeah. Of course. I’ll see what I can do. But…”
“But what?” Vivian asked at last, when it seemed like he wasn’t going to continue.
He didn’t answer for several counts of the music. “I’m all out of favors at Bellevue,” he said at last. “They don’t owe me a damn thing right now, and the medical examiner’s not going to risk getting on my uncle’s bad side for nothing.”
“What does that mean?” Vivian asked. “He’ll say no?”
“Not necessarily,” Leo admitted. “But you’ll be on the hook for a favor yourself.”
“Oh.” Vivian let out a slow breath. What could someone from the coroner’s office want from her anyway? “Well, that’s how it goes, right? Can’t get something for nothing. You’ll do it?”
“I will.” Leo gave her a gentle smile. “But we can’t do anything about it just now, right? So we might as well enjoy a dance.”
Vivian wanted to say yes more than anything. But the slow, melancholy drift of the music caught in her chest and her throat. It made her feel vulnerable, and scared, and she couldn’t handle that tonight.
Vivian shook her head. “I don’t think I can,” she said, trying to smile as she took a step back. “I’m sorry. I should get back to work.”
“Viv—” Leo caught her hand as she turned away. “You know it’s going to be all right, don’t you? We’ll figure it out. Just tell me what you need.”
She didn’t look back at him. “Just that meeting, okay? And once I know something more…”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll do whatever I can. I promise.”
“I know,” she said quietly, turning back to him at last. “And you’vegot no idea how glad I am about that. Because I think I’m going to need a lot of help.”
He tipped up her chin, then, and pressed his lips gently against hers. And even though they were in the middle of the dance hall, even though Vivian liked to keep her private life private and didn’t want her regular customers to know she had something like a fella of her own, she kissed him back, fingers tight on the lapels of his coat.It’s going to be all right,he had said. She wanted so badly to believe him.
Leo pulled back before she let herself get carried away, though, his eyes never leaving hers as he brushed the curtain of her hair back behind her ear. “You know I’m crazy about you, Viv, don’t you?” he whispered, and for a moment Vivian felt like they were the only two people in the world. “There’s not a chance in hell I’m letting anyone take you anywhere.” Still smiling, he gave her hip a little nudge with his. “Now get back to work, sweetheart, or Danny’s going to kick me out for distracting you.”
TEN
Six Days Left
The sound of the factory bell down by the river woke her, as it did every morning. Vivian shivered, feeling like it had only been minutes since she had crawled into bed. Yawning, she pulled the quilt that she had restlessly kicked aside back up to her chin, burrowing into its warmth for a few more minutes. She sighed, her eyes drifting over the meager furnishings that made up her home, almost beautiful in the pale dawn light that trickled through the window.
She missed Florence the most in the morning, when she had to wake up alone and persuade herself out of bed for the day. She would miss her second-most when she walked into the dressmaker’s shop and saw a new girl sitting in Florence’s old spot, head bent over rows of tiny stitches or trays of glass beads. Miss Ethel, the shop’s tyrant of an owner, had always told her workers that there were hundreds of girls in the city who’d be grateful for their jobs if they put a toe out of line. It wasn’t an idle threat—it had taken her less than three days to find a replacement after Florence gave her notice.
Before her pregnancy had put an end to it, Florence had helped out in the kitchen of the Chins’ restaurant, eager to become part of the family business as a sign that she was part of the family itself. Vivian had been invited to move in when Florence did. But the house on Spring Street was already crowded, and it would have been a challenge to squeeze her in there too.
