But his partner cut him off once more. “You know Mr. Green, then?” he asked softly.
Vivian wondered if there would be permanent marks on her palms from where her nails had been pressed into them so long. “Yeah. I do.”
The younger guy was frowning, but he didn’t say anything as the older cop gave her a considering look. At last, he tipped his head toward the downstairs. “Telephone’s in the hall. I make the call so I know you’re not trying to pull one over on me. And then you can have your say. For two minutes.”
Vivian gave a short, sharp nod. “That’ll do.”
He glanced at his partner. “Don’t take your eyes off her, Sully.”
The younger one had been staring back and forth between them as he tried to make sense of the conversation. But he nodded anyway. “Sure thing, boss.”
It seemed even loudmouth young cops knew when to ask questions and when to shut up. Vivian tried to keep her head up as she walked down the steps between them, imagining that she was someoneimportant—a movie star, maybe, or one of the socialites that was always in the gossip columns—and that they were just her bodyguards or escorts. She wondered how many servants were watching and what they thought of her. She wondered if they could tell how scared she was.
The Buchanans had a telephone in their front hall, in pride of place next to an overflowing urn of bloodred roses even though it was only March. Vivian took one look at the color and had to swallow down her nausea.
The older cop lifted the receiver and waited to connect. “What’s the number?” he asked her impatiently.
Vivian swallowed. “Circle two-four-four-one.”
Another pause after he gave the number. “Leo Green?” The cop let out a short breath of surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. It is you. Got a girl here who wants to speak to you.”
Vivian’s fingers felt cold and clumsy as she took the receiver. “Hey, pal,” she whispered.
“Vivian?” Leo’s voice crackled with concern, even across the telephone wires. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Who was that fella?”
“A cop,” she whispered, hating the way her voice was trembling. The back of her eyes felt hot and prickly, and she took a deep breath, trying to hold herself together. “I’m in a real jam, Leo. I’m under arrest, and I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s all right, Viv,” he said immediately. “We’ll fix it, whatever happened. If they’re taking you in, I’ll meet you at the station and get it all sorted out. Just don’t tell them anything else until I get there, okay?”
“Okay.”
“What’re they arresting you for?” he asked, almost as an afterthought.
Vivian clutched the telephone with both hands, looking up to meet the eyes of the older officer, who was watching her impassively, with just that bare hint of amusement still showing. “Murder,” she whispered into the receiver. “They’re arresting me for murder.”
The silence on the other end was so absolute that Vivian was afraid they’d been disconnected.
“Okay,” Leo said at last. “Okay. You just sit tight, okay? And keep your mouth shut if you can do it without getting smacked around. It’ll be a little while before I get there.”
“Why?” Vivian asked, her voice shaking again. For a wild moment, she wondered if he was going to leave her on her own after all.
“Gotta track down some help. Put the cop back on, sweetheart. I need to know where they’re taking you.”
FOUR
The windowless room was cold, so cold that Vivian couldn’t feel her toes. She wanted to draw her feet up and curl her body around itself like a cat. But if anyone came back, she refused to let them see her like that. She kept her spine straight, her gaze fixed on the opposite wall, her hands clasped in her lap.
They had at least let her wash those when they got to the station. Looking in the mirror above the sink, she had discovered that at some point she had touched her face, and Mr. Buchanan’s blood was smeared across her cheek as well. She had stared at the blood for too long, remembering his smile when he handed her the cup of coffee—or was she imagining it? Had he smiled? It had all happened so fast, and why would she have paid attention? And then she had stared at herself, dark eyes with darker circles under them, bobbed hair that she wished were longer. Maybe then she’d seem sweet and respectable, instead of looking like someone who folks assumed madefriendswith other women’s husbands to pay her bills.
It wouldn’t have made a difference. People thought whatever they wanted about poor girls who had to support themselves. And they’d think plenty more, if they ever found out she had no parents, no family at all except for a sister who had recently married a Chinese man. If they ever found out she worked at a speakeasy, or danced with other women as much as she danced with men…
Vivian had barely noticed how cold the water was as she scrubbed the blood away.
None of that needed to matter, she told herself. Leo was on his way. All she had to do was stay quiet for as long as she could.
The two cops that had brought her in had handed her over to the sergeant at the station. He’d been the one to let her wash up before she was brought to the windowless room and seated across from another officer whose name and rank she never learned. He had played nice at first, but that soon changed.
He hadn’t liked her silence. He’d liked her one-word answers even less.
