“He’s one of Vivian’s many admirers,” Bea put in. She was leaning into Abraham’s arm as she spoke; for all she wanted to stand on her own feet and act like she didn’t need anyone to take care of her, Bea had admitted to Vivian that she liked how protective he could be. It was nice, she had said quietly, almost as if she were embarrassed to say it out loud, to have someone looking out for her for a change, instead of her being the person who took care of everyone else. She gave Abraham a little smile as she spoke; her eyes were still sad, still tired, but she clearly wanted to reassure him. “Don’t mind Leo. He just hangs around the Nightingale making eyes at her whenever he gets the chance.”
Leo scowled, but he didn’t argue with the description. Abraham’s mouth twitched as though he was about to smile as he glanced around the room. “What are you…” His eyes fell on the bed, which was still pulled away from the wall. Frowning, he dropped his arm from around Bea and went to it, one hand rising to the hidey-hole that was plainly visible. When he lifted his face back toward Bea, his worry was clear. “Something going on?”
Vivian looked around, but both the bottle and the letter had disappeared. Leo must have tucked them away quickly, with those handsthat were used to hiding illegal things from curious eyes. She wondered where they had gone, but there was no chance to look.
“Like you said, we’re looking through Pearlie’s things,” Bea said quietly. “I told you last night, remember?”
Abraham nodded. “You don’t think he did it to himself,” he said quietly, his hands tightening into fists once more. “So you’re going through his things to find… what?”
“Proof of some kind,” Bea said, sounding desperate. “There used to be money, there, Abraham, but it’s all gone. And we found—”
“Bea, don’t do this to yourself,” Abraham pleaded. “Whatever you found or didn’t find, do you think your uncle would want you mixed up in it?”
Bea’s reply was an angry accusation. “You don’t believe me.”
Vivian’s eyes were locked on Bea’s face, but behind her, she felt Leo give one of her hands a tug until it was hanging behind her back. The cold neck of a bottle pressed against her fingers until they closed around it.
“I think that if you’re wrong, you’re going to cause your family a whole mess of grief. And if you’re right, you’re going to get mixed up in something even worse.” Abraham glanced at the bed. “And I think either way, you shouldn’t leave things this way. If someone was messing with Pearlie…” He trailed off. “Let me take you home,” he said, more gently this time. “Pearlie cared about you too much, Bea, he wouldn’t want you doing this.”
Bea wavered, suddenly looking unsure.
“I’ll help,” Leo said, stepping forward. “He’s right that we shouldn’t leave it there, anyway.” After a moment, Abraham joined him. It took the two of them a moment to get a grip on the heavy bed, then they slid it back into place with a matched set of grunts. When they were done, Leo came to stand next to Vivian once more, side by side, their bodies hiding the brandy bottle from view.
“Will you let me take you home?” Abraham asked, putting his hands on Bea’s shoulders. “And you just forget about this whole thing?”
She swallowed, then nodded. “Okay.” But she gave Vivian a quick glance, and her fingers flicked out rapidly. Vivian’s hands tightened around the bottle, still hidden behind her back.
Abraham saw the look. “You need something?” he asked, an edge to his voice.
“Mrs. Henry wanted some of Pearlie’s papers,” Vivian pointed out. She could feel her palms growing sweaty and slipping against the glass of the bottle’s neck.
“I think I can help her with that,” Abraham said, a protective arm back around Bea’s shoulders as he sent another suspicious look toward Leo.
“Then we’ll beat it,” Leo agreed, placing his hat back on his head and picking up his own jacket from the chair where he had tossed it. “Sorry again for your loss, Beatrice. Come on, Viv.”
Somehow, as he placed one arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the door, he managed to let his jacket fall over his arm at just the right moment to cover the bottle from view once more. And then Vivian felt its weight disappearing from her arms as she was herded out the door. Vivian’s heart was pounding like a set of drums played by a drunk. Never mind Abraham—what were they thinking, walking out into broad daylight with a bottle of booze in their arms? What if someone saw? What if they walked past a cop on the beat?
Leo glanced at her face as they made their way outside. “Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured. The hand that wasn’t holding the bottle under his jacket slipped around her waist and gave her a quick squeeze. “I’ve been running liquor for years, and I ain’t been caught yet.”
“Were you usually this dumb about it?” Vivian hissed as they turned toward her own building, which was only a few blocks away.
“No. But I also usually had more than one bottle to worry about. This is nothing.” He grinned sideways at her, dropping his arm. “Cheerup, buttercup. I’ll get you home, and then I’ll head to talk to my friend at the coroner’s office. Unless I should just pour this down the drain? Did Beatrice really want us to drop the whole thing?”
“No.” Vivian shook her head, remembering the quick signal Bea had given her. It was another one of the signs from the club: two fingers up, then down to meet her thumb. A sign that looked like a mouth saying no. “She told Abraham yes, but she told me no. Which means she wants us to keep going.” She glanced at him. “But why do you need the bottle for that?” She shivered even as she asked. There could really only be one reason.
Leo didn’t answer for a long minute. “Come meet me tomorrow, okay?” he said at last. “Once you’re done with your deliveries, stop by my place. I’ll take you to meet my pal the medical examiner, and we’ll see what he can tell us.” They were at her building now, and he bent down to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “But first, can you run upstairs and get me a bag or something to stash this in? I’ll need to have my jacket on if I’m going to look presentable enough to ask for a favor.”
SEVEN
Vivian was halfway through her shift at the Nightingale when she spotted Bea.
It was a beautiful night outside, fluffy clouds flirting with the moon and glowing silver in its light. And it was a wild night inside, the smell of smoke and champagne hanging in the air. The sultry, humid heat of the night had made its way onto the dance floor, in spite of the electric fans. More than one person had tried to prop open the back door to the alley, hoping for a breeze to find its way in, but each time some member of the staff kicked it closed. Everyone wanted a breath of fresh air, but no one wanted to risk a curious or stupid policeman coming to see what all the music and fuss was about.
The band was playing Charleston after quickstep after Charleston, almost daring the dancers to keep up. White shirts were plastered to broad backs, and Danny had already called for a second case of gin to be brought up from the cellar.
A pretty redhead at the end of the bar had been smiling at Vivian for most of the last half hour. Vivian wasn’t opposed to asking the girl for a dance when she had her next break, but things were so busy shecould barely take time to breathe, let alone flirt. While she waited for her order of drinks to be shaken up, she glanced around, meaning to catch the redhead’s eye. Instead, she saw a familiar figure on the dance floor.
Bea was dressed to the nines, her hair perfectly styled and pinned in place with sparkles and feathers, her dress cut to perfection with eight inches of indulgent fringe that leaped and spun as she danced. She was partnered with someone that Vivian had never seen before, but she didn’t lean into him as she danced, didn’t look for comfort or closeness like she had with Abraham. He was just another fella at the club, someone nameless and forgettable, there for a dance and never again.
