“There’s something not right about it, Honor. I know he didn’t kill himself.Please. I can’t bear for another—” Bea broke off abruptly, swallowing back whatever she had been about to say, her expression shuttering.
But Vivian could guess what it was. Bea’s father had died a few years before, when influenza swept through the city. When Pearlie, his brother, arrived, it had been like getting a piece of him back for the Henry family. Pearlie and Bea had been instant buddies, and the younger children had adored his big laugh and tall tales.
For Pearlie to be gone now, another father lost, and so quickly after entering their lives… Vivian’s heart broke, listening to her friend grow more desperate. Grief could make anyone jump at shadows or look for a reason, for any kind of explanation, in the wildest places.
But Bea was practical to an infuriating degree. She was the sort of girl who looked straight at her grim lot in life, accepted it, and did her best to come up with a plan to manage. No matter how sad she was about her uncle’s death—and she was plainly heartbroken, even if she’d put on a good show up on that bandstand—she wouldn’t invent excuses for it. If she said something wasn’t right… Vivian shivered.
But asking Honor for favors was always a risk, especially if you asked before you knew you absolutely needed it.
“I can help,” Vivian heard herself saying before she had time to think it through. Honor and Bea both turned in her direction, startled, and Vivian swallowed nervously. “If it’ll make you feel better, Bea, I can help. What if a coroner took a second look, to see if they find anything unusual? Then you’d know, one way or another.”
“How would you do that?” Bea asked, weary and wary.
If she hadn’t been distracted by grief and worry, Bea would have remembered exactly how Vivian could get someone in the coroner’s office to help them out. But if she wasn’t thinking about it, Vivian didn’twant to remind her. It would only add to her friend’s unhappiness, and that was the last thing Bea needed.
“I’ll figure something out,” she said simply.
Honor was looking at her, her expression unreadable once more, and Vivian resisted the urge to fidget nervously again. She had a feeling Honor knew exactly what she was planning. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know how Honor felt about that.
Luckily, at that moment, a knock at the door interrupted them. Ellie poked her head in, glancing at all three of them before her gaze settled on Bea, her face falling in sympathy. “Bea? I’m so sorry about your uncle. There’s someone here asking for you, though. Fella named Abraham? He says your ma wants you to come home.”
“That’s good,” Honor said briskly, standing. “You do what I said, Beatrice. Come back when you’re ready.”
Bea gathered her things in a daze while Vivian brought her coat and street shoes. Bea had one pair of shoes that she wore when she was on stage, red velvet and tied with gold ribbons. She never wore them anywhere else, wanting to make them last as long as possible. When they were back in their box under the dressing table and she had her regular heels on once more, she glanced at Vivian.
“You sure you can find something out?” she whispered.
Vivian couldn’t help glancing at Honor out of the corner of her eye, but the club owner’s back was to them while she spoke with Ellie. “I’m not sure, but I’ll give it a try.” Vivian wanted to give her friend a hug, but Bea’s stiff posture said clearly that she didn’t want one. Vivian settled for holding the coat up while Bea slipped her arms in. “I’ll be by to see you tomorrow, okay?”
Once Bea was gone, following Ellie out the door, Vivian could feel Honor’s gaze on her like a hand on the back of her neck: warm, comforting, unsettling. They were alone—the first time that had been true in months. Vivian lifted her eyes, unsurprised to find Honor watching her.
“You all right, pet?” Honor asked quietly, not coming toward her, notmoving at all. They could hear the music from the dance hall clearly, but inside the dressing room it faded into stillness as they stared at each other.
Vivian lifted her chin. Honor never flirted with her anymore, but that gaze was enough. Just being around each other could still put them both on edge, could remind them of everything they had left unresolved. She wished there was some way to set things at ease between them. But she hadn’t figured out how. Not yet.
“I hate to see her such a wreck,” Vivian said, answering Honor’s question. She wondered which of them was going to be brave or reckless enough to mention the offer she had made. “Bea usually holds it together better than anyone I know. For her to be this upset…”
“She and Pearlie had gotten close, I think,” Honor said.
“And him going is probably reminding her of her dad,” Vivian added, her glance straying toward the door. She regretted it instantly; it was hard to know whether it was ever safe to tell Honor personal information. But Honor liked Bea. And there was little chance, anyway, that she didn’t know that Mr. Henry’s death had changed his family forever.
Honor nodded slowly. The playful sounds of a piano solo made their way into the room, pattering through the still air between them, making Vivian suddenly remember her promise to dance with Jimmy.
Vivian waited. She didn’t have to wait long.
“So. You’re going to ask him for help, then?” Honor didn’t mean Jimmy. “Do you think he’ll say yes?”
“You’re not the only one who has a hard time saying no to me,” Vivian said, but the words were playful rather than pointed.
Honor laughed softly. “True enough.” She held open the door for Vivian, and another wave of heat and music washed over them as they stepped back into the dance hall.
Spots of light reflected from a thousand spangles danced over the walls and patrons alike. Vivian took a deep breath, watching as a young woman in a silver-and-green gown persuaded another girl to join her on the dance floor, bangles flashing and legs moving in a joyful blur asthey danced, breaking away to mirror each other briefly before coming together once more. In the corner, one of the waitresses was being pulled out of her break, laughing but not protesting, by a young man with curly black hair.
To them, to so many of the other people Vivian could see, the Nightingale wasn’t just a place for a drink and a smoke and a spin around the floor. Plenty of people thought the daylight world of the city was the safer place to be. But that all depended on who you were.
That wasn’t true at the Nightingale. It might not be safe—it was illegal, no matter how much protection money Honor paid—but its dangers were distributed far more evenly than most other places.
Honor surveyed it all with pride, cool and elegant and dangerous as a panther on its own turf. But Vivian thought there was an undercurrent of tension in her posture. Honor had built something important in the Nightingale, and she was ruthless about protecting it. That ruthlessness didn’t come with any easy choices.
