“Sure, and I put it back in the drawer quick as a wink. He’d notice if it was missing.”
“Wise. And you have mentioned this to no one else?”
“Not even Damien. I came straight from the room just now.”
“I see.” She frowns. “A key. Well, that could go anywhere. Can you remember anything else that was on the pages?”
“Another list was all about money changing hands, coming out of bank accounts. Looked like he was buying and selling buildings and the like.”
Mrs. Evans taps her finger on the desk, thinking. “Mr. Carboni knows a lot of things about a lot of things, and most of those are illegal. He has many people advising him, which means he often knows what to do before others do.”
“Mrs. Evans, may I ask a personal question?”
“I suppose.”
“Who is Wally?”
She’s stricken. “Was Wally’s name written in the book?”
“Only once. Mr. Carboni wrote that he wanted to file a grievance against you, then he would discuss Wally with you.”
Mrs. Evans seems smaller all of a sudden, and softer. She exhales, thinking, then she shares her story with me. “Wally is my younger brother. It was just him and me for a long time, then he went to war. Over there, he lost his legs, and when he was back here, he’d many ghosts crowding his mind. Some people say he’s mad.” She purses her lips and slumps back in her chair. “But he isn’t mad. He’s hurting is all. Wally is very smart. He couldn’t bear to be left in an asylum and be forgotten. He was never made to sit around and feel sorry for himself.” Her brow draws down slightly. “So, Mr. Carboni took him out of the asylum and gave him a job in accounting for his… business.”
She has more to say, so I am quiet.
“My brother seems content doing that. I’m sure he knows that most of what he is doing for Mr. Carboni is against the law, but after all he survived, that doesn’t bother him. Wally is busy, and he is being paid. That’s all he wanted. The trouble is, Mr. Carboni uses him as a chip against me. If Ianger him, he might do anything to Wally. He could fire him, or he could do worse.” She meets my gaze. “Listen closely to me, dear. Mr. Carboni has done terrible things in the past, and he will keep doing them. I planned to move you to a different floor for your work, but I… Please understand, I can’t right now.”
I had overheard her saying that, and I know why she can’t. Mr. Carboni told her not to change a thing… or else.
“Stay away from him, Rosie. And forget about that book. Don’t mention it to a soul. Your life might depend upon that.”
chapterTWENTY–SEVEN
Bianca’s a wreck, and she hasn’t confided a thing in me, so ’tis something I’m not supposed to know about. Or something that might upset me. Both of those narrow it to Mr. Carboni.
Mind you, I cannot be cross with her, for I’ve been keeping my own secret, haven’t I? Best friends or not, I’ve been keeping it from her and Damien and everyone else. Tonight’s the night for them both to hear it.
It’s been an age since she and I had a cigarette together outside my building. She has a story to tell me, and I’ve something to say as well. This wall between us must come down. Tonight we will face whatever’s going on.
After work, I wait outside the apartment with two unlit cigarettes. The night is cold. I clutch my coat around me and tuck my chin into my old grey scarf. When Bianca arrives, she’s pure surprised, but she keeps coming. She knows we’ve things to talk about. I hold out her cigarette, put mine in my mouth, and she lights them both. Just like old times. Before the Dominion. Before Mr. Carboni and Mrs. Evans and Damien and all the rest of it. We smoke in silence, and I am struck by how quiet the night is without Granny hollering at us to get rid of the cigarettes.
“I miss your granny,” Bianca says, reading my mind.
“What’s your story?” I ask, because Granny is not what we need to talk about. “You’ve been prancing around, full to the teeth of yourself, and now you’ve your tail between your legs and you’re running in circles.”
’Tis a moment before she faces me. “Gimme another cigarette.”
I do. Her hand trembles as she lights it. When she exhales, her breath shivers, and I’ve a terrible pain in my heart.
“I’ve messed up, Rosie. Don’t go on about how you warned me, neither. I don’t wanna hear it.”
“What? Don’t tell me ’tis Mr. Carboni. You shouldn’t—”
“I saiddon’t.” She inhales, holds the smoke for a bit. “So here’s the story. Carboni gave me that loan for Papa. It paid for the operation and the hospital. Mr. Carboni, he seemed happy to do it, you know?” Her hand falls to her side. “But he’s called in the loan, Rosie. And I will never, in my whole life, have the money to repay him.”
My heart bleeds for her, but I keep my mouth shut.
“So, I went to him, begging for mercy,” she admits, not meeting my eyes. “And I… well, I went to his room, and I did what I thought he’d want instead of money. I don’t know. I guess I thought if I could make him happy, he’d forget the debt. You know what I mean? He’s handsome, and he is so…”
