“I’m usually up a lot earlier,” Vivian said dryly. “I’ve been working all morning.”
“Golly,” Ellie said again, covering another yawn as she led the way into the building and up the stairs. “Glad I’ve got more than just me tobring home the bacon. I don’t know if I could handle mornings after a night running off my feet. Are you just always tired?” She didn’t wait for an answer but kept right on talking as they reached the fourth floor and a cramped, grimy hall. She pointed to the door just a few steps away from the stairs. “Beryl had to run out a few minutes ago, I passed her out front, but she said she wouldn’t be long, so we can just wait for her to get back…”
Vivian didn’t mind the chatter. There was something endearing about Ellie, barely older than a schoolgirl and enjoying every minute of her new grown-up life. It was easy for Vivian to let her mind wander while Ellie talked and they waited in the hall until the sound of footsteps made them both turn toward the stairwell.
A girl appeared around the curve of the stairs, out of breath and sweaty from hauling two large bags up the steps. She was young, probably close to Ellie’s age, and had the same wholesome look to her. Her curly hair was tied back with a ribbon around her head, and her dress was pretty but too short in the sleeves. Her bags had groceries peeking out of them, and she jumped in surprise as she came up the steps and found them waiting, though Ellie hadn’t been keeping her voice low. She flinched backward so sharply that she almost lost her footing, and Ellie had to catch her arm quickly. The girl gave her a grateful nod before she set down her bags and, turning toward Vivian with her eyebrows raised, made a quick, curious sign with her hands.
Vivian glanced at Ellie, who smiled encouragingly and said, “This is Vivian”—accompanied by a series of small motions with one hand that Vivian thought might have been spelling out her name—“who was hoping to talk to you.” She made a few more signs as she spoke.
The movements weren’t fluid the way the girl’s had been, but the girl still gave Vivian a cautious nod and signed something slowly.
“She’s saying it’s nice to meet you,” Ellie told Vivian. “Vivian, this is Beryl.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Vivian said in reply, noticing that the girlwas watching her mouth move closely. “Can I ask you some questions? About the letter you got a little while ago?”
Beryl’s face went pale, and she shook her head rapidly. She would have pushed past them if Vivian hadn’t held out a hand. “Please,” she said. “It’s real important.” She hesitated, then said, “My sister got one, too.”
Beryl glanced at Ellie, who frowned, thinking, before offering a few more signs. “Is your sister here, Beryl?” Ellie asked.
Beryl shook her head, and Ellie blew out a frustrated breath, glancing at Vivian. “I don’t know as much of the signing language as Beryl’s sister, but she’s not here to help out. Maybe we could—”
She broke off as Beryl laid a hand on her shoulder, heading toward the door to unlock it. Gathering up her bags of groceries, she gave a little tip of her head to show that they should follow her.
Inside was a plain, unadorned little space, but there was a bright, hand-sewn quilt thrown over a rocking chair, and the smell of the morning’s tea still filled the air. Along one wall was a row of four framed drawings, the kind that might have come from a book or a calendar, each one showing a different plant or flower. Beryl set her groceries down, then turned to give them a wary look as she held out her hand.
“Your letter,” she said, slowly and carefully, pointing at Vivian.
Vivian pulled it from her handbag and held it out. Beryl took it, but as soon as she glanced down, her brows drew together and her expression turned belligerent. She thrust it back at Vivian, shaking her head.
“What?” Vivian asked, stunned and confused by the girl’s sudden shift to irritation. Her hands closed around the letter again, and she glanced down at it before meeting Beryl’s eyes again. “What’s wrong?”
Beryl glared at her, then turned to Ellie. Holding one hand flat sideways, she dragged the finger of her opposite hand down the palm, then pointed at Vivian’s letter in a gesture so abrupt it was like a stab. “What is that?” she demanded, each careful word bitten off and angry.
“Vivian, what did you do?” Ellie asked, her voice quavering.
“Nothing!” Vivian insisted. “This is the letter we got, honest.”
Beryl shook her head again, signing rapidly, then abruptly turned on her heel and stalked toward the room’s single, mostly empty bookcase. Taking a thick old book from the shelf, she pulled out a piece of paper that had been tucked between the pages and thrust it toward Vivian, tapping it rapidly as if to say,No, this.
Vivian stared at the paper Beryl handed her, then back at the one that had been sent to Florence. Both laid out simple directions and a simple threat. The phrasing was different, but that could be easily explained.
What was less easy to explain was the fact that the two letters looked nothing alike. Where Florence’s letter had been written in blocky, poorly formed letters, Beryl’s letter was neatly and impersonally typed.
And where the letter Florence had received had been unsigned, Beryl’s closed with a simple sketch: a branch surrounded by triangular clusters of leaves.
“Golly,” Ellie said, glancing over Vivian’s shoulder. “Those don’t look anything alike, do they? Are you sure they were sent by the same person?”
“No,” Vivian said slowly. “No, I’m not sure they were at all.” She glanced at the framed botanical prints on the wall, then at Beryl. “Any chance you know what kind of plant this is?” she asked, pointing to the sketch at the bottom of the letter.
Beryl nodded and spelled the word out with her fingers.
Ellie glanced at Vivian. “She says it’s hemlock.”
TWENTY-TWO
The pawnbroker that Abraham had pointed the finger at, located just south and west of the park, wasn’t too shabby, as far as pawnbrokers went. There was no real sign out front, but the full window display and the three gold circles painted above the door said plain enough what it was. It was tucked almost under the rail for the elevated track and when they entered, the whole building was shaking as a train went clattering overhead.
Inside, a bell rang above the door as Vivian and Leo entered, trying their best to look like a respectable couple out doing a bit of shopping—or as respectable a couple as might be browsing in a pawnshop. Leo, hat tucked under one arm, smiled as he steered her toward the counter where the jewelry was kept.
