“Someone wants me to take the dress from Miss Ethel’s shop. The one with the aquamarine and topaz stones. They want me tostealit. And then I’m supposed to leave it… This makes no sense.” When Florence looked up, the paper was trembling in her hands. She was pale, but more than anything else, she looked confused. “Why would someone write this?”
“Let me see it,” Vivian demanded. Without waiting for an answer, ignoring Florence’s softly uttered protest, she snatched the letter from her sister’s fingers. It was written in the same awkward, blocky hand as the letter that they had found in Pearlie’s papers. Its demands were just as simple and deadly. “Did this just arrive today?”
“Well, it would have come yesterday, I guess,” Florence said. “Theydon’t deliver the mail on Sunday, and I didn’t check the box yesterday.” She frowned, then shrugged. “I guess it’s someone’s idea of a joke, but I can’t say I find it very funny. Especially not today.”
Vivian stared at the letter in her hand, unable to meet her sister’s eyes. “It’s not a joke,” she choked out at last. Her legs felt wobbly beneath her, and she had to stumble into a chair at the table before they buckled. How could the thief have chosen Florence?
“What? Of course it is; just some stupid prank. What else could it be?” Florence’s voice was rising, and underneath the growing fear Vivian could hear the anger. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Vivian closed her eyes and dropped her head until her forehead rested against her palms, the heels of her hands pressing against her eyelids. She didn’t move from that position as she quietly explained about the letters, not stopping until she brought the story back around to the discovery of Mrs. Kaminski’s body. “Even Dr. Harris thinks there was something not right about it,” she said, still speaking to the table. “It’s not nothing, Flo. I wish to God it were.”
When she finally lifted her head, Florence was staring at her. There were two bright, angry patches of color on her cheekbones, and her eyes were snapping with fury.
“I asked you,” Florence said, her voice so quiet it made Vivian flinch. “I asked is something wrong, what’s upset you, is there something I should know about. You said no, there’s nothing. And now you tell methis?”
“I thought it had nothing to do with us,” Vivian whispered. She could feel her fear, hot and angry, pressing against the back of her eyes, but she refused to let it become tears. “I didn’t want it to have anything to do with you.”
“So you lied to me?”
“It wasn’t a lie,” Vivian pleaded. “Not really. I just… I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t think you needed to know.”
“Well, I’m plenty worried now!” Florence yelled. Her hands were locked around the back of the chair in front of her like it was the onlylifeboat on a sinking ship. “Vivi, what are we supposed to do? I can’t get that dress.”
“You don’t have to,” Vivian said firmly, jumping to her feet and going to put her arms around her sister. Florence was shaking, and to Vivian’s relief, she didn’t try to pull away. “I promise, Flo, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I know how to fix it.”
Florence laughed, grim and disbelieving. “You know a lot of people, Vivi, but I don’t think even you could possibly know someone who can make this go away.”
“Maybe not go away,” Vivian admitted. “But I know exactly what to do next. Go pack a bag, Flo, with whatever you’ll need for a few days. Maybe three or four, just in case.”
“Am I going somewhere?” Florence asked.
“You sure are,” Vivian said. “Somewhere safe, until I can fix this.” She and Florence had never been girls who hugged, but all of a sudden, she didn’t want to let her sister go. “I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”
“Circle two-four-four-one, please,” Vivian whispered into the receiver, trying not to glance around nervously.
The hotel lobby was a busy, bustling place, with visitors coming and going, bellhops pushing trolleys stacked with luggage, and the constantly shifting line of those waiting to use the bank of telephone booths. Vivian hadn’t wanted to let Florence out of her sight, not even for a moment, so they were squeezed into the booth together. They couldn’t close the door, and the clerk at the desk was scowling in disapproval. Florence looked embarrassed, but Vivian didn’t care. With two ratty suitcases wedged between their legs and coats over their arms, Vivian suspected the desk clerk could tell they didn’t have enough money to actually stay at the hotel. Any other day she might have bristled at the wayhe stared down his nose at them before turning to continue his survey of the lobby. But they weren’t the only people who were there just to use the telephone, and she had more important things to worry about.
Vivian let out a sigh of relief when the operator finally connected her call and Leo’s voice answered. “Hey, pal, it’s Vivian,” she whispered, cupping one hand around the mouthpiece. The lobby was loud with conversation and movement, but she wasn’t taking any chances. “Florence is in trouble.” Vivian swallowed. “She got a letter.”
Vivian nearly crumpled with relief when he asked simply, “What do you need me to do?” It didn’t take long for her to explain. “Okay, got it,” he said when she had finished. “And then I’m coming to meet you. Where will you be, at your place?”
“God, no,” Vivian replied, ignoring Florence’s scowl. She didn’t have time to worry about unladylike language. “We can’t risk staying there right now. I’m taking her to the Nightingale. It’s the safest place I can think of.”
“Yeah, probably.” The words sounded as though they had been dragged reluctantly out of him. “I’d offer to let you girls bunk here, but my landlady would have a heart attack. And then she’d throw us all out in the street.”
A laugh bubbled up through the tension in Vivian’s chest and came out as a snort. “That doesn’t sound so helpful, no. See you there when you’re done, okay?”
“I’ll take care of it as quick as I can,” Leo promised. “And Vivian?” His voice dropped, low and soothing. “She’s going to be okay, and so are you. You won’t let anything happen to her, and there’s plenty of folks won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Thanks, Leo,” she whispered.
Once she had ended the call and paid her two cents, Vivian pressed her forehead against the hot, flimsy wood of the phone booth, eyes closed, wishing she could go to sleep and wake up to find it was all a dream. A sweating, shaking hand found hers and held on tight; Viviangripped it with equal intensity. She couldn’t afford to fall to pieces. Florence—Florence who kept her head down and followed the rules, who did everything the world demanded of her and rarely dreamed of more, never mind asked for it—Florence needed her.
“Is that safe?” Florence whispered. She had been close enough to hear nearly every word of the conversation, even though Vivian had been speaking in a whisper. “Trying to get them involved?”
“It’s the best thing I can think of right now,” Vivian replied, shrugging, though there was barely room to move her shoulders. Bea was going to be furious, and Vivian wouldn’t blame her for it. But if breaking her promise meant saving Florence, she would do it. “I don’t like the idea of them poking around any more than you do. But I like it a whole sight better than the thought of you getting arrested for theft.”Or poisoned,she thought but did not say out loud. She didn’t need to. They both knew what the alternative was. Vivian shuddered.
“Okay then,” Florence said, nodding firmly, though she was still pale. Her curly brown hair was limp underneath the edge of her hat. Vivian could feel sweat that was only partially due to nerves tickling the back of her own neck. It was sweltering with the two of them crammed into the tiny space together. “I trust you. Where to next?”
