“We’re not here to buy anything,” Vivian hissed at him.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t look at pretty things,” he replied. “Unless you’d like to go examine the furniture? I see a very ugly chair over in the corner.”
Vivian covered a nervous giggle, and the sound came out more like a snort, which made her clap her hand over her mouth. Thepawnbroker glanced over at them, his expression considering. He was a plump, pleasant-looking man, with eyes that bulged a little too much and a chin that stuck out like a challenge. She had to fight the urge to fuss with her hat or tug her dress straighter, trying to look more worthy of attention. Or should they look more desperate and down on their luck?
The pawnbroker gave them a professionally courteous smile. “A moment, if you please.” He turned back to the counter, where he was appraising a violin while a nervous-looking girl watched him, her hands twisting together. She was rail thin, as though she hadn’t had a decent meal in days, and her eyes were wide and hopeful and sad all at once.
“It was my grandfather’s,” she said, her voice quavering as she watched the pawnbroker lift the instrument delicately in both hands. “He brought it over without a scratch on it, so I’m going to buy it back, you know, just as soon as I can…”
Vivian turned away, her gut twisting in discomfort. Leo was watching her. “Do you think you could do that, if you had to?” he asked with quiet curiosity. “Pawn something with that much meaning? I don’t know if I could.”
“Then you’ve never really been hungry,” Vivian said, her voice equally quiet. She gave him a smile that had no humor in it. “Get poor enough and you’ll sell whatever you have to sell to survive. It’ll break your heart, but you’ll do it.”
She had never thought about it before, but for all he had been cut off from the wealthier side of his family, Leo must have grown up in relative comfort. He might live his life on the rough side of the law, but she had a feeling that hadn’t been the only choice for him. “Did you go to school?” she asked abruptly, staring straight ahead at someone’s tea service and silver candlesticks. She had never asked him much about his life before. Sharing personal stories wasn’t the sort of thing that folks did at places like the Nightingale. And when he had taken herout before, he had been too busy trying to keep a lid on exactly who he was—and who his uncle was—to tell her about his past. “I mean college, or something like that?”
“My dad wanted me to,” Leo said, lifting an old, gilded book with a title in a language that Vivian couldn’t read. “He had hopes of me growing up to be something other than a tough guy on the street. But it would have been hard to pay for. And I had a hell of a chip on my shoulder once I found out who my mom’s family was.” He gave her a sideways grin, but there was an edge of regret to it, and he shook his head. “I lit out for Chicago almost as soon as my mom died. And my uncle found me there anyway.”
“Do you wish you had?” Vivian asked, feeling a little in awe. She’d never known someone who might have gone to college before.
“Nah.” He put the book down, slinging a friendly arm around her shoulders. “I like being a tough guy. And the company’s pretty good.”
“You’d probably be safer somewhere else, though.”
“Anywhere can be dangerous,” he replied, his expression growing more serious. “We both know that.”
Vivian shivered, nodding in agreement.
“For God’s sake, no, I can’t wait any extra time.”
The pawnbroker’s irritated voice broke into their conversation. Vivian glanced over her shoulder, trying not to be too obvious. The girl had gone—she had left the violin on the counter, and the sight of it gave Vivian an ache of sympathy in the center of her chest—and a tall man had taken her place. He was scruffy looking, with hair that stuck almost straight up and clothes that were wrinkled, as though he had found them on the floor and pulled them on anyway. But he spoke forcefully as he leaned over the counter.
“One week extra, Mr. Joyce. You can give me that. They belonged to my wife. I just need one more week to pay you back.”
“Poor bastard,” Vivian muttered.
The pawnbroker scowled. “You’re a cop, Arthur, you know how thelaw works. You have two more days. After that, they’re no longer your property.”
Vivian eyed the man, Arthur, in surprise. She never would have pegged him for a police officer. But she supposed even cops might fall on hard times. Especially if they were that rare thing, a cop who wasn’t involved somehow in bootlegging.
“What if I come back with a few friends and get you shut down?” Arthur said belligerently, pulling himself up to his full height. Leo and Vivian weren’t even pretending not to watch; they both stared at the sordid confrontation. “Everyone knows fellas like you run shady businesses. How many things here were stolen before you took them off someone’s hands and put them up for sale?”
Vivian’s breath caught and she glanced at Leo. That was exactly why they were there, after all. Should she try to catch the officer’s attention, maybe talk to him on the way out? But Leo shook his head, tightening his grip on her arm to warn her to stay where she was. He clearly didn’t like what was playing out there.
The pawnbroker sighed, looking far more bored than Vivian would have expected. “You could do that. Of course, your buddies would ask why you were pawning things in the first place, wouldn’t they? And maybe I’d have to tell them all about your little gambling problem,” he said, a cruel edge to his words. “I thought it had gotten better, since I hadn’t seen you for a few weeks. Didn’t need that extra cash for a little while, maybe? But it never lasts, does it? You always come back.”
Arthur flinched, his face darkening with an embarrassed flush. “Lucky for you that I’m retiring soon,” he snapped, sweeping his hand out to knock over a stand of silver spoons. It was the futile, destructive gesture of a man who had no other way to vent his anger. He pushed his way out the door, past another man just coming in, calling angrily back over his shoulder, “Getting out of this mess of a city!”
“See you next week, Arthur,” the pawnbroker called as the door banged shut. He turned to Vivian and Leo, his cheerful salesman smileback in place as he came out from behind the counter. “My apologies for the unpleasantness. How can I help you this morning? I saw you were looking at our lovely selection of furniture? Or perhaps you seek something pretty for the young lady?” He gestured toward the jewelry display at the counter.
“As a matter of fact, we did want to talk to you about jewelry,” Vivian said slowly, glancing at Leo. He nodded but didn’t say anything, letting her take the lead. She took a deep breath. “A necklace that you sold a little while back, a gold locket with a rose on it.”
The pawnbroker frowned. “A locket, you say? Was there something wrong with it?”
Vivian smiled, trying to look as sweet and friendly as possible so the man would be willing to talk. “A friend of mine showed it to me, and it was the prettiest thing. And I know—” She giggled. “I mean, it’s a pawnshop, it’s not like you’ll have another. But if you’ve got good taste in one piece of jewelry, stands to reason you might have others I’d like, right?” She squeezed Leo’s arm, giving him a flirtatious smile before turning back to the pawnbroker. “Does that sound familiar? A necklace with a rose etched on it? Did it come from here?”
“Well—”
“A necklace, is it?” a new voice asked. Vivian jumped, jerking around to stare at the man who had come in and was now watching them. Beside her, Leo tensed. The man eyeing them, his hat tilted low so most of his face was in shadow except for his smile, was Bruiser George. “That’s what we’re asking about?”
