Vivian bit her lip, trying to decide how much to share. But Levinsky noticed the gesture, small though it was. “What else do you know?” he demanded. When Vivian hesitated, he scowled at her. “If you want my help, you don’t hold out on me.”
She couldn’t really argue with that. “He’s got his secrets, and he lied about that appointment book for sure. But he couldn’t have been there when Buchanan died.” She gave him a brief rundown of Corny Rokesby’s gambling.
“So he did need money,” Levinsky said, looking thoughtful when she was done.
“Yeah, but didn’t you hear me?” Vivian said impatiently. “He couldn’t have stabbed the poor bastard.”
“There’s that.” Levinsky frowned, then nodded and gave her a little push toward the street. “All right, get going. I’ve got my own day to suffer through, and I know where to find you if I learn anything. Just keep your head down, okay? Don’t make trouble you don’t need to.”
“Sure thing,” Vivian agreed, not meaning a word of it. She didn’t have time to keep her head down. “I gotta go to work anyway.”
Levinsky gave her a skeptical look, but he didn’t call her a liar to her face. She was grateful for that. Once in a day was enough.
She turned her steps toward Miss Ethel’s shop, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see her shadow in the blue suit fall into step, half a block behind her.
TWENTY-FIVE
When she finally got home, after three deliveries that didn’t even get her any tips for working on a Saturday, there was someone waiting for her.
Vivian nearly turned around and fled when she saw her door sitting open. She had given the cop shadowing her the slip on her last delivery, heading out the back door instead of the front just for spite, just to prove she could. But now she almost wished he was downstairs, someone she could call on for help.
Then Florence poked her head out the door.
Vivian nearly sagged against the wall with relief. “Flo! What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.” Florence looked her over critically as she ushered Vivian into the room. “Were you working? You look dead tired.”
“Saturday deliveries is all. I’m fine,” Vivian said, yawning in spite of her protests. “You know how it goes.” She gave Florence her own up-and-down look. “Should you be walking around by yourself?”
“I didn’t stop being a competent human being just because I got pregnant,” Florence said, her cheeks pink with annoyance. “I know how to ride a few miles on the streetcar, thanks.”
The surge of affection that Vivian felt for her sister in that moment made her throat tight. It was a relief to have Florence snap at her over something so ordinary and dumb, instead of tiptoeing around her feelings looking worried. “I love you, Flo,” she said suddenly, pulling her into a hug.
Florence looked startled. But as soon as her surprise passed, she hugged Vivian back. “I love you too, even if you do drive me crazy,” she said, her own voice sounding choked.
“Did you just come by to say hi?” Vivian asked, finally letting her go.
“No, something at the restaurant arrived for you. Well, it’s got both our names on it. But I figured we should open it together.”
Vivian frowned as she took the letter, wondering who would be writing her in the first place. There was no return address. She glanced up at Florence. “Hasn’t been a lot of good news in my life lately.”
Florence shrugged as she lowered herself into a chair, wincing. Vivian wanted to ask if her hip was bothering her again but managed to hold back the question. “Maybe not, but you’ll keep wondering about it if you don’t open it,” she pointed out. “Might as well get it over with.”
She was right, of course. Vivian made a face, then ripped the envelope open.
Dear Miss Kelly,
After a good deal of time going through our records from 1904, one of my assistants found an entry I believe to be for a Mrs. Mae Kelly, who died of pneumonia that winter. Her body was scheduled for burial on Hart Island but was claimed in February. There is no record of the name of the claimant. When this happens, it can be generally assumed the claimant couldn’t prove a relationship to thedeceased and that money changed hands. However, the record did include an address, which I’ve enclosed. I hope this information can prove useful to you. I’m sure we will be in touch in the future.
Sincerely yours,
CN
“What is it?” Florence asked, looking worried.
Silently, Vivian handed the letter over.
Florence read it through with a frown on her face that gradually turned into disbelief. Vivian watched her read it again, then a third time, going very still as her eyes darted over the paper. At last, she raised her head. “What did… Who sent this?”
