“Then I suggest you answer quickly,” Gideon said, his gazesettling on a rapidly widening bloodstain on Frank’s leg. He pulled off his cravat as Leopold knelt to join him.
“We should cut his trousers away,” Leopold said. “He won’t be any use to us if he dies.”
“You think I’m really going to die?” Frank all but sputtered.
Leopold pulled a knife from his boot, made short shrift of cutting away part of Frank’s trousers, then took a moment to probe around the small hole in Frank’s leg, earning a howl from Frank in the process.
“The bullet went straight through,” Leopold said, taking the cravat from Gideon and then wrapping it around the leg, tying it off a second later, which earned another howl from Frank. “Still, we’ll need to have it taken care of soon.” He sent Gideon the barest hint of a wink. “As I said, he won’t be any good to us if he’s dead.”
Knowing full well Frank’s injury was not life-threatening, not that Frank seemed to realize that, Gideon crouched down next to the man. “Who are you working for?”
“You clearly haven’t taken time to learn who I am if you have to ask that because I don’t work for anyone.”
“You’re Frank Fitzsimmons, one of the touted up-and-coming bosses of the Lower East Side,” Gideon said. “With that out of the way, you may not actually work for anyone, being the big boss and all, but I know someone sought you out to procure the particular type of services you offer—someone who needs to get their hands on one of Sophia Campanini’s journals.”
Frank’s eyes glittered. “I’m not saying anything until my attorney is present, a man who’ll have me released and back in my bed before morning.”
“Not to disappoint you, Frank,” Gideon began, “but I don’t think your attorney is going to be able to pull any magic get-out-of-jail-free rabbits from a hat anytime soon. If you’re unaware, you and your associates could have killed ladies of theFour Hundred. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if your attorney neglects to take on your case because of the daunting odds he’ll face trying to represent you.”
“I wasn’t the one who started shooting first,” Frank said, jerking his head toward the other man who’d been shot, who already had his hands tied in front of him, compliments of Vernon, a circle of blood staining the shoulder of his well-cut jacket. “Bernie and Johnny were the first to shoot, so maybe you should be directing some questions their way.”
“Shut your mouth,” Bernie growled.
Gideon frowned. “You know this man?” he asked Frank.
“He’s Bernie—works for Victor Malvado.”
Gideon nodded to Leopold, who pulled his pistol out again and trained it on Frank before Gideon straightened and made his way over to Bernie, ignoring the glare that man sent him.
“You work for Victor Malvado?”
“Frank doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Bernie growled.
“It’s always been my observation that when a man is cornered, he’s likely to give up a few truths in order to save his skin,” Gideon said. “And if rumor has it right about Victor, he runs an established crime syndicate, which I imagine puts him in direct competition with Frank. The question of the hour is why Victor became involved in this situation and who approached him to do so.”
Bernie turned his head, giving the distinct impression he wasn’t going to be forthcoming with any details.
Gideon stalked back to Frank, his temper rising with every step. “Since Bernie doesn’t appear to be in a cooperative frame of mind, I guess it’s up to you to explain who wants Sophia’s journal.”
“It wouldn’t be in my best interest to say anything else.”
Gideon smiled. “Probably not, but you see, Victor’s reputation precedes him, and I doubt he appreciates your encroachmenton the Lower East Side and has probably been making plans to deal with you. That you just gave me the name of two of his employees and disclosed that Victor himself is somehow involved in this, well, I don’t believe he’ll take that lightly.”
“I don’t know anything about Victor’s involvement, save for the fact two of his most trusted men showed up here tonight and began firing at me and my boys.” Frank narrowed his eyes on Bernie. “For all I know, Bernie and Johnny showed up here tonight because of what you said—Victor’s furious about me taking over some business on the Lower East Side.”
“Or he was approached bythe manbecause you’re incapable of retrieving an opera singer’s scribbles,” Bernie muttered, pressing his lips together a second later, as if he’d just realized he shouldn’t be saying anything.
“Who’sthe man?” Gideon demanded, leaning closer to Frank.
It was infuriating when Frank, obviously taking a page out of Bernie’s book, pressed his lips together and turned his head.
Adelaide suddenly cleared her throat, drawing Gideon’s attention. His brow furrowed when she sent him a hint of a smile before she began wiping Charles’s blood from her hands with a handkerchief Edna handed her and walked across the room, stopping directly next to him.
“I don’t believe Frank is grasping the direness of his current predicament,” Adelaide began in a voice that held not the slightest tremble in it, which was impressive given what she’d just experienced. “He evidently doesn’t seem to understand the extent of what we already know about his little criminal organization.”
Frank released a snort. “You’re bluffing.”
Adelaide arched a brow. “If I were bluffing, I wouldn’t know that you’ve been using this very bookstore as a hub to exchange messages and instructions regarding illegal activities. And if I’m not mistaken, you also supplied a Mr. Elmendorf withcrates of books to sell to Mr. Bainswright, probably giving that poor man a few dollars to traffic your messages for you for his trouble. Do know that we’ll be tracking that man down in the near future, although I highly doubt that he, quite like Mr. Bainswright, had any idea he’s been assisting your criminal endeavors.”
