“Is that why you came over to say hi?” she asked. She was picky about her partners—a Charleston was no fun with someone who couldn’t keep up—but Mags had light feet.
Mags shrugged, smiling. “I was hoping. Pickings of the male persuasion are slim on the ground tonight, so what’s a girl to do?” When Vivian glanced around pointedly—there was no shortage of men that night—Mags laughed. “All right. What I mean is, you’re a better dancer than most of them, and I knowyouwon’t get fresh. What do you say?”
“You got it, sweetheart,” Vivian said, hopping down from her stool and holding out her hand. Mags downed the rest of her champagne with a quick gulp and took it, bouncing on her toes with anticipation. “Maybe when we’re done kicking up our heels, you can help with a puzzle I’ve been trying to solve.”
“Oh, I love a good brain-tickler,” Mags said as they squirmed their way onto the crowded dance floor. “What’s yours about?”
“Fella named Corny Rokesby. You know him?”
Mags’s expression grew curious and a little sly. “I might. But first…”
Vivian gave Mags a spin with one hand, sliding the other around her waist in a loose hold and letting the movement pull them into the music. After that, they needed all their breath for dancing.
“Well, first, I just want you to appreciate that I’m not asking how you got this, because I am damn curious,” Mags said, sipping a new glass of champagne as she leaned over Corny Rokesby’s appointment book.
Showing it to her was a risk, and Leo hadn’t hidden his disapprovalwhen Vivian reclaimed the book from him. He hadn’t protested, though Vivian suspected she’d get an earful from him if it turned out the girl couldn’t help her after all. But Vivian trusted her instincts, and they were telling her that Mags wasn’t the sort to rat out her friends. Especially when she turned a page and said, “He’s not that nice, you know.”
“Rokesby?” Vivian asked, scooting her chair closer. They were in a dark little corner where couples usually went to cuddle and drink if they weren’t the sort to make their way to the back alley for more privacy. With the bandstand not far away, it was as private as a spot in the Nightingale could get.
“Mm-hmm.” Mags nodded, head still bent over the book. She wrinkled her nose. “He’s a cold fish, you know? He doesn’t like talking to people. Awful secretive, too. He was at a party that Mother and Dad hosted last month, and I tried asking him about the night the Von Hilsens were robbed, but he didn’t want to say a word about it!”
Vivian leaned forward. Had Corny Rokesby been involved in something illegal? “What’s the story about this robbery?”
“You don’t know?” Mags looked shocked. “Golly, I thought everyone in the city would have heard! The Von Hilsens were throwing a party that got robbed.” She glanced up, eyes wide and excited. “You honestly didn’t hear anything about it?”
“I mighta heard something,” Vivian said slowly, frowning. “Everyone got knocked out with chloroform in the punch, right? And when they came to, all their jewelry and things were gone?”
“That’s about the shape of it,” Mags said, giggling. “Can you imagine? And they never found out who did it. Mr. Von Hilsen sacked all their servants, just to be safe.”
“And you think Rokesby might have been involved?” Vivian asked, trying not to dwell on the thought of all those folks losing their jobs for a crime they probably had nothing to do with.
“Him?” Mags looked shocked. “Golly, no. I mean, he was robbedalong with the rest of them! I just wanted to get the scoop on what happened. But Corny won’t say anything if you ask him about himself, and who doesn’t like talking about himself? He’s a funny one. I wouldn’t mind knowing what he gets up to.” She looked up, smiling slyly again. “You never know when it’ll be useful to know what people get up to.”
Vivian snorted. She couldn’t argue with that. But she gestured to the book, hoping to get Mags back on task. She didn’t like sitting there with something stolen on the table right in front of them, even if there was almost no chance anyone else would guess what it was. “Anything catch your eye?”
Mags snorted. “Well, I can guess that one,” she said, pointing to one instance ofDs with GCBs.She lowered her voice, eager once more to share her gossip. “The GCBs are probably the Gold Coast Boys. They throw the most amazing parties every few months, rotating between different houses. Usually whoever actuallyownsthe house is abroad or something like that, because things get… Well, from what I’ve heard, they get awfully wild.”
“And those nights were some of their parties?” Vivian asked.
“Might’ve been. I’m still too young to get invited.” Mags shrugged. “But if Corny Rokesby was, he wouldn’t turn that down. The Gold Coast Boys are connected toeveryonewho matters.”
“How do you know that if you don’t know for sure who they are?”
Mags smirked, shaking her head. “Everyoneknows that,” she said. There was an edge of pity to her voice that made Vivian’s cheeks feel hot. “And even if it’s not actually true, what matters is that everyone thinks it is.”
“Sure, of course,” Vivian said, trying not to sound too embarrassed. This was why she’d asked Mags for help. She didn’t know that world, and Mags did. And anyway, there was nothing about the Gold Coast Boys the week that Huxley Buchanan had been killed. “What about those double exes?”
Mags wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “I’ve got no idea what thosemean. Are those poems next to them? Odd, if they are. But I’m pretty sure…” She leaned forward, her voice dropping, even though the music more than covered their conversation. “I’m pretty sure thatHLMBis a Hamilton Lodge masquerade ball. Because there’s one tomorrow night.”
“Hamilton Lodge?” Vivian asked in disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”
Mags shrugged again. “I don’t know what else it could be.”
Hamilton Lodge was a fraternal lodge up in Harlem. Vivian didn’t know much about it, but she had heard of the masquerade and civic balls thrown around the city. Glamorous and scandalous, they were attended by thousands of people and written up in all the papers.
And while it was hard to picture a man like Rokesby somewhere glamorousorscandalous, a civic ball would be the perfect spot for something shady and secret. Especially because, from what she knew about them, guests at the balls came from all walks of life, so long as they could afford a ticket—or knew someone who could afford it for them.
For a moment Vivian felt like she would lift out of her seat with excitement. Then her heart sank. If a ball was happening tomorrow night, tickets would have been sold weeks ago. And there was no chance of getting in without one.
