“Just get on up there, will you?” he growled. “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting, and I don’t need her thinking I’m the reason she has to.”
In spite of her nerves, Vivian felt a small smirk creeping across her face. “Guessing she wasn’t happy with you, then, about that dustup at the pawnshop?” she asked with mocking sympathy. “Poor George. In trouble with the boss.”
He glared at her. “I’m going to the bar. You’re going upstairs.”
“You can’t make me. Not here,” Vivian taunted. She saw his eyes narrow, but before he could do more than draw a deep breath in, she smiled. “But I’ll go to be nice. Get yourself a drink, George. You look like you need it.”
“One day, girlie,” he said softly as she turned away. “One day, that smart mouth is gonna get you in trouble. I just hope I’m there to see it.”
Vivian didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning around, but the back of her neck prickled all the way to Honor’s office.
“Come in,” Honor’s voice called when she knocked.
The tableau was eerily familiar: Honor behind her desk, Hattie Wilson seated in front of it. An empty glass waiting for Vivian.
But she was already on edge from the day, and her conversation with Bruiser George hadn’t helped. So when she came into the room, she didn’t take the seat that had been left for her. Instead, she stopped a few feet from the desk and fixed her eyes on Mrs. Wilson. “Did you need something from me?”
Hattie Wilson gave her a slow look, then took an even slower drink from her glass. She was elegant as always, in a dress of black-and-gray silk, a white fur stole wrapped around her shoulders in spite of the heat. The veil on her tiny confection of a hat left her eyes in shadow, and Vivian wondered uneasily what they might have revealed about what she was thinking.
Vivian didn’t look at Honor, though she desperately wanted to.
At last Mrs. Wilson spoke. “You know what they say about if you want something done right. Since you managed to send George packing—Iwon’t say I’m not impressed, though I am curious about this young man he says you were with—I decided I needed to find out what you’ve learned myself. Aboutyourlittle problem withmycompetition. So tell me, Miss Kelly.” She took another sip. “What news is there for me?”
“The kind you don’t need to worry about anymore,” Vivian said slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Honor lean forward, though she doubted her boss would let any of the surprise she might be feeling show on her face.
Mrs. Wilson raised her brows. “Oh?”
“Yes.” Vivian hoped her expression was as impassive as those of the other two women in the room.
“Just poof, it’s gone away?” Hattie pursed her lips. “I’m going to need more than that.”
She couldn’t name Pearlie and Alba as the criminals using the hemlock calling card. There was no point. Pearlie was gone, and she didn’t want to drag the rest of his family into it. And Alba… Vivian didn’t like her much, but she clearly had no plans to keep going with what she and Pearlie had started.
She could have named Dr. Harris. For a moment she wanted to. She had a feeling that pointing the finger at him would mean the doctor was no longer a problem or a threat she needed to worry about. But she couldn’t do it.
She hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. And she couldn’t pretend, even to herself, that naming him to a woman like Hattie Wilson wasn’t as good as the same thing.
“No,” Vivian said, surprising herself with how cool her voice sounded. “You really don’t.”
Hattie looked genuinely surprised. “Do you not know who was behind it, or are you not going to tell me?”
“I’ll let you wonder which one. But it isn’t a problem you need to worry about anymore.”
“I don’t like it when people keep information from me,” Hattie said,her voice all the more menacing for how soft it was. She set down her glass and stood. “I did you a favor. I expect something in return.”
“Your return is that you don’t have to worry about this hemlock group anymore,” Vivian said, holding her ground through sheer stubbornness and hoping Hattie didn’t see her trembling hands. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“Miss Kelly, I hope you’re paying very close attention because I—”
“She’s not yours to order around.”
Vivian jumped. She had almost forgotten that Honor was still in the room. Hattie turned more slowly, but she looked just as taken aback. “Excuse me?”
Honor stood. Her smile was friendly, but her voice held a clear warning. “You’ve said your piece, Mrs. Wilson. I’m sure Vivian appreciates your favor. But she doesn’t work for you. She works for me. And around here, when a woman says she’s done talking, we respect that.”
Hattie seemed about to reply. But then she stopped, her lips slightly parted, staring at Honor. “I just realized who you remind me of,” she said. A slow smile spread across her face, and she began to laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. And yet not.” Her voice grew a little mocking. “It isn’t as if you’ll ever see any of that money.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Honor said, her voice so even and cold that Vivian suspected she knew exactly what Hattie Wilson meant, that Vivian herself was the only one in that office who was still in the dark.
