I paused on the sidewalk, not wanting to pass in front of him.
The person he spoke to looked familiar, and then I realized it was George Cryer, the recent mayor of Los Angeles. Rumor had it he was influenced by Kent Kane Parrot, a wealthy lawyer who illegally controlled the Los Angeles Police Department and was linked to bootlegging, gambling, and brothels. It was also said that Mr. Cryer was part of the corrupted Committee, a group of powerful men who oversaw those vices and worked hard to keep federal agents out of Los Angeles.
Spencer shook Mr. Cryer’s hand—and saw me standing there.
His eyebrows came up in surprise. “Ally. What are you doing here?”
If I hadn’t been so shaken up by the information I’d just learned, I would have been more concerned about seeing Spencer with Mayor Cryer. “I was at the library and looking for a cab so I can go home.”
“There’s no need to find a cab. I’ll take you.”
“I don’t want to bother you.” I glanced at his companions, who were all watching me. “It looks like you’re busy.”
“Our meeting just ended.” He nodded at the men and made no move to introduce us as he stepped away from them. “Come on. I’m parked this way.”
They didn’t seem offended at his lack of manners and turned away from us in a tight group, talking.
“Why were you meeting with Mayor Cryer?” I asked.
He took my hand, much like he had the night he brought me to the speakeasy, and led me down the street. When I looked at ourhands with a raised eyebrow, he shrugged and said, “We need to make this relationship look believable, don’t we? Look over there. A group of tourists have already seen us together. This is exactly what we want. Besides”—he winked—“I like holding your hand.”
My head believed he was holding my hand for publicity’s sake, but my heart tried to make me think otherwise. And my rational brain realized he’d distracted me from the question I’d asked.
It didn’t take long for us to pull up to my house on Westmoreland Place Road.
Spencer looked out the front window of his Rolls-Royce. A gentle smile warmed his eyes. “You grew up here?”
The vine-covered walls of the house gave it a cottagey look, and the sprawling lawn was green and inviting. “I’ve lived here most of my life.”
“You never moved out?”
“I lived in an apartment with a few other girls for a couple of years, but finances haven’t been good lately.”
“Yeah, L.B. told me all about it. Said your father is on the brink of bankruptcy.”
I didn’t like people talking about Papa that way, but it was the truth and there was no reason to deny it. I noticed an envelope at my feet, so I decided to change the subject.
Leaning down and picking it up, I saw that it was addressed to Mr. Herbert Leeds—his real name—from Mrs. Herbert Leeds, in Chicago, Illinois.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was stepping on this.” I handed it to him, but before I let go, I asked, “Is Mrs. Herbert Leeds your wife?”
He gave me a look. “My mother.”
“Oh.”
“She and my aunt, Sherry, write me once a week. I’m sure Aunt Sherry’s letter is in here, too.”
“That’s sweet.”
He sighed and put the envelope in the glove compartment. “Not when they’re disappointed in my life decisions and questioning me about the rumors.”
He hadn’t talked about the scandal between him, Fanny, and Mabel, and I hadn’t asked. Would he tell me now? Although I wanted to go inside and talk to my parents about what I had learned inThe Annals of San Francisco, part of me wanted to talk to Spencer, too. This was the first time he seemed to let his walls down.
“What happened that night with Fanny and Mabel?”
“Come on.” He closed the glove compartment and opened his car door. “I don’t want your parents thinking we’re sitting out here necking.”
“Spencer Hayes!”
