“You did this?” I don’t where to begin punching her. Stomach? Jaw? Eye socket?
She is amused by my anger. “Yes, darling. We need to put Julia’s Bureau on the map prior to Max Blanck’s party. Can you think of a better way to do that than to stir up controversy?No oneloves controversy more than a New Yorker.” She inhales fire, exhales smoke.
I am speechless, so she continues. “Look. Smuggle your clients through the back door while these protests continue. Tell your patrons not to tellanyone elseabout this place. It’s too delicious. Controversy is a diamond on a silver platter. You’ll be turning folks away soon, I promise. I mean, look.”
Clarice waves the tip of her cigarette back at the crowd. More folks have gathered, and William and Nirav discreetly hand out our pamphlets. The recipients tuck these papers deep in their pockets, like treasure, then continue to shake their fists at our storefront.
“You are an entertainer, Stella, whether you like it or not.” Clarice exhales another plume of clove-scented smoke. “You are a performer whose specialty is testing people’s relationship with death. You challenge people’s deepest beliefs. And that can inspire wonder, if you perform convincingly enough.”
Clarice flicks her cigarette to the sidewalk and places the toe of her elegant shoe over it. She grinds. “You know that saying,A fool and his money are soon parted?”
“Yes, of course.”
“It’s not wrong, but there’s a better way to get money from folks than to treat them like fools, no?”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps, nothing. Treat someone like a fool and they’re your client once. Treat someone like your confidant, and they’re your client for life.”
Dammit. Clarice DuBois is a good businesswoman.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
May 24. Max Blanck’s party is tomorrow.Tomorrow. We huddle around the list that Kiyoko made, her tidy handwriting with checkmarks next to every item but one.
“Max Blanck’s attorney,” Pax says, tapping the list. “Matthew Steuer.”
The man who, we hope, knows the combination to Max Blanck’s safe.
Clarice clicks her tongue. “I’ve tried to get a meeting. His law firm is like a fortress. It was easier for me to lift literal stock certificates out of the portfolios of Wall Street brokers than it was to enter those offices.”
“I bet,” I mutter, before I realize I’m talking aloud. Clarice winks at me.
This is your sign, Stella.
Call off this terrible charade.
We do not support your revenge.
“We need him.” William drums his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Let’s craft a letter to him. Very frank. Anonymous. Send it by courier. And hope he’s compassionate to our cause.”
“And if he ignores us?” I ask, looking from face to face.
Or worse—turns your letter over to the police?
Pax shrugs, chews on the cuticles of his thumbnail. “That’sa chance we have to take. If he simply ignores us, we’ll go with our backup plan.”
“Which is?” Kiyoko asks.
Pax’s teeth grit. “We don’t have a backup plan.”
24 May 1912
Dear Sir:
I’ll be forthright: A loved one of mine died in the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire. I am seeking the combination to Max Blanck’s personal safe. Bring it to his soiree tomorrow evening. Give it to the fortune teller. We are not stealing from him.
Signed,
