“It is so nice of you to do this for me.”
“Well, you are paying me. It’s actually the first money I’ve ever—”
“There he is!” Emma flails as she spots Robbie emerging from his apartment building. “And he’s alone. Thank you, God, he’s not secretly married.”
Emma’s enthusiasm has Sidekick turning circles in the backseat. “You know, most men don’t take their wives to work.”
“Oh.” Joy drains from Emma’s face. “I guess you’re right.”
Robbie heads east, away from his automobile. “Looks like we’re going on foot.” I make quick work of looping the leash through Sidekick’s collar. “Ready to do some walking? How are your shoes?”
“I’ll make do.” Emma glances out her window at the sidewalk. “Is it safe?”
Much like the evening I dragged Walter to John Barleycorn, the sidewalks are crowded with hand-holding couples and groups of men and women dressed to flirt.
“We’re not on Astor Street, to be sure.” I bite my lower lip. “But, really, where is it safe in Chicago anymore?”
Emma’s face broadcasts her fear, but she climbs out of the Ford anyway. She cranes her neck for a glimpse of Robbie on the opposite sidewalk. “We’re going to lose him.”
“No, we’re not. Just be patient.” I wrap Sidekick’s lead around my palm several times. When Robbie is far enough down the sidewalk that I don’t think he’d recognize Emma at a glance, I say, “Okay, let’s go.”
As we walk, Emma’s gaze is locked on Robbie. She’s not even watching what’s ahead of her. “Emma, try to look more casual. Don’t look right at him.”
“Oh. Okay.” She directs her gaze ahead of us. “Like this?”
“Much better. Just glance at him through your peripherals.”
“It’s rather hard to spot him like this. He looks like all the other men.”
So I’ve observed. It’s unnerving when I dwell on the kinds of professions where that ability to blend in, to be impossible to describe to the police, would be an asset.
Robbie stops at an unmarked door between a dress shop and a church. He knocks.
“Oh, look at these flowers over here, Emma.” I pull her toward a flower box by a store window.
“Very pretty.” Emma’s words are polite but laced with impatience. “What are you doing? We’re going to lose him.”
“He’s stopped too. See?”
Emma turns in time to see Robbie step inside the door on which he’d knocked. “What’s that place?”
“No sign. Gin joint, maybe? Maybe he works there? Maybe he didn’t want to tell you because he thought you’d disapprove?”
Emma’s frown deepens. “I don’t like the idea, certainly. But why would it be better to tell me in a few months? Now’s as bad a time as any to learn your boyfriend’s profession is illegal.”
“You ladies lost?”
A man who’s likely a decade older than us stands there, a cigarette smoldering between his lips. The cut of his suit is fashionable enough, though the sleeves are too long for tailor-made.
“No, sir, but thank you.” Emma’s voice rings appreciative, like she truly thinks this stranger is being kind to have checked on us.
“Where you girls headed tonight?” He pulls the cigarette from his mouth and holds it between his fingers. “My buddies and me, we want to hit the joint with the prettiest ladies.”
Emma flushes.
“We’re just taking our dog for a walk.” Sidekick stands between me and the man, and I pat his head. “If we don’t walk him often enough, he’s prone to biting. And it’s been a couple days.”
The man’s eyebrows arch. “Doesn’t look like you’re doing too much walking.”
“We had only stopped to admire the flowers, and now we’ll be on our way, sir. Thank you.” I loop my arm through Emma’s and carry on. “Infuriating man. Let’s walk up to the corner. Hopefully, Robbie will come out soon.”
“Yes, I hope so.” Emma’s words are breathy. “I don’t care for strange men talking to us on the sidewalk.”
“We’re fine. We have Sidekick. And I have a knife.”
Emma’s feet stop moving. She turns to me with wide eyes, a dropped jaw. “You have a knife?”
“Keep your voice down. And, yes, just in case.”
“How do you know how to do this?” Emma’s gaze is admiring, and it creates an itchy discomfort in my chest.
I urge her farther down the street, to the other side of a street lamp. “What do you mean?”
“How do you know to watch someone across the street from your peripherals? To bring a knife? You didn’t learn this at Presley’s.”
“No, I didn’t.” I glance at the door—still no Robbie. “I don’t know, really.”
“Did Mariano teach you?”
Just the sound of his name makes me flinch. “No.”
“That Mariano is one good-looking fellow.” Emma makes a show of fanning herself. “I told Jeremiah that, and I thought he might pummel me. As much as I like the idea of you and my brother—”
“The door’s opening.” And not a second too soon.
Robbie emerges, briefcase still in hand. Hmm.
“What does it mean that he’s leaving? Does it mean he doesn’t work there?” Emma’s voice lifts with hope.
“He’s crossing this way.” I tighten my hold on Sidekick’s leash. “We gotta move.”
We hustle down the sidewalk, and I resist the urge to check over my shoulder.
“Should we duck into a store?” Emma huffs between breaths.
“That’s tough with Sidekick.” An idea sparks in my mind. “But I’ve got an idea. You go in to this store, and I’ll stay here.”
“But, Piper, he’ll see you!”
“We’re running out of time, and I can’t explain. Go into the drugstore, wait until we’ve gone, and then go back to the Ford. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
“Until you’ve gone? But—”
“Just trust me.”
Emma blinks at me several times, looks down the sidewalk where Robbie will soon come into view, and then dashes into the drugstore in her impractical shoes.
I suck in a breath, breathe a prayer, and limp my way back the direction I came. Do I have enough time to conjure real tears? I should practice fake crying. That would be a handy skill in a pinch.
“Miss Sail? Are you all right?”
I look around, as if I can’t fathom who would be talking to me. “Oh, Mr. Thomas. Thank heavens.” I fall heavily against him and feel him brace.
He wears a gun. Fear lights up every nerve in my body.
“What happened to you?” Robbie looks around. “Are you out here alone?”
The alarm on his face makes me question the wisdom of leaving Emma on this end of town on her own. With no dog or knife.
I can’t think about it now. I have a cover story to concoct. “I was with a couple of girlfriends, but they met these guys and . . . Oh, I just didn’t like the look of them at all, but my friends wouldn’t listen to me.” I sniffle and choke out a sob. “I’ve been trying to find the closest L station, but then I twisted my ankle, and I don’t know my way around here at all.” I put on the face I would use to ask Father or Tim a favor. “Can you please help me, Mr. Thomas?”
“Of course.” Robbie tucks his arm around my waist to support my weight. “Emma wasn’t with you, was she?”
“Emma would never do anything like that. In fact, she told me I shouldn’t go out with those girls. I should have listened to her.”
“My apartment is just a block or so away. Can you walk that far?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine, thank you.”
“Instead of taking the train, someone should come pick you up. Who could you call?”
Time to get the attention off me. “Oh, you have your briefcase! I’m dreadfully sorry. I’m causing so much trouble for you.”
His eyes are surprisingly kind. “It’s no trouble at all, Miss Sail.”
; “But you were on your way to work, weren’t you?”
After a pause, “Yes.”
“Oh no.” I stop walking. “You can’t let me be the reason you’re late to work. Please, Mr. Thomas, just point me in the direction of the nearest train station. I’ll be fine.”
“Emma would skin me alive if she heard I’d done that to her closest friend. Come on, now. No more arguing.”
It takes a surprising amount of energy to pretend to limp, and by the time we arrive at Robbie’s apartment building, my blue cotton dress sticks to me. I sneak a glance behind me as we go through the dingy double doors of the apartment building, but Emma is nowhere to be seen. She’s going to be fine, right? It’s a short walk back to the car, and I’ll rejoin her in less than a half hour, I’m sure.
But I can’t help seeing Lydia in my mind’s eye, waving to me from her gate for the last time.
“I think I have a bandage from when I sprained my wrist.” Robbie slides back the grate on the elevator door and helps me in. “We could wrap that around your ankle, and you could call for someone to come pick you up.”
Sidekick nuzzles close to my leg and whimpers as the elevator gets going. I rub his ears. “It’s okay, boy.”
Robbie grins down at him. “How old is he?”
“I don’t know, actually. I’ve just had him a month or so.”
Robbie holds out his hand, but Sidekick only cowers. “He has a sweet temperament.”
“He does. But I think he would turn on a man if I gave the word.”
“That’s a good trait in a dog, I say.” Robbie releases the operating button as the elevator lines up with the third floor. He pulls aside the grate, then pushes up the sliding door and helps me off.
As soon as Robbie opens his apartment door, I see that Emma can put to rest her fears of him being married. It’s a studio apartment with dull white walls, a single bed, and not a feminine touch in sight. I exhale a breath of relief.
“Here, Miss Sail.” Robbie pulls out a beat-up kitchen chair. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you. And you can call me Piper.”
“I’ll get that bandage for you.”
As Robbie rummages around the bathroom, I soak in as many details of the room as I can. If only it were possible to take photographs with your mind. Of course, what would I photograph? There are no papers lying about—not even a pile of mail—no family pictures, and no mementos to suggest past vacations or even a favorite sports team. The place doesn’t even have a scent to it. It’s all very . . . stark. Maybe most bachelors have sparse apartments? I’ve never been in one before.
Or perhaps it’s in Robbie’s best interest to keep his apartment void of personality. Easy to pack up and make a clean getaway.
“Who can I telephone for you, Miss Sail?” Robbie asks as he reenters the room with a bandage in hand.
“I think I can make it to the station okay once we get my ankle wrapped.”
Robbie gives me a skeptical look. “Miss Sail—”
“Piper.”
“Piper, I can’t in good conscience load you on a train by yourself in this condition. Not in this neighborhood. And as much as I would enjoy taking you back downtown, I can’t afford the time.”
“No, I wouldn’t even ask it of you.”
I wrap the bandage over my stocking. Who am I going to call? Tim would ask too many questions. Walter left for California on Sunday. Not only that, but I have the Ford, and Nick and Alana likely left the house with the Chrysler. Jeremiah? That could get Emma in hot water at home . . .
I wince. Mariano is the only person who won’t be irate with me when he learns the truth. Who might even help me figure out what Robbie Thomas is up to.
“Can I dial a number for you?” Robbie asks.
Robbie’s telephone hangs on the kitchen wall, a strange fixture in this apartment of no frills.
“No, I can manage, thank you.”
Robbie moves to the kitchen, tidying a space that looks perfectly fine in an effort to provide me privacy as I spin the dial.
“Hello?” The male voice that answers at Mariano’s apartment is unfamiliar.
“I’m calling for Mariano.”
“He’s at some dame’s house.”
“Oh.” My gut clenches—Zola’s? “What time do you expect him home?”
“I dunno. Late? Who is this?”
I hang up, my face hot and my heart hammering a painful beat. So Mariano’s at a girl’s house. That’s fine. I’ve been ignoring him, after all. I take a deep breath as I lift the receiver to my ear once more. Maybe Nick and Alana are still at home. It’s better, really, to call them. I certainly don’t need to give Mariano the impression that I need him.
“Sail residence.” Joyce’s voice is crisp over the phone.
“Hi, it’s Piper.”
“Where are you calling from? Is everything all right?”
“Is Nick around?”
“No, dear. He and Miss Kirkwood left about ten minutes ago.”
Blast. It’ll have to be Jeremiah. I really hope this doesn’t make life difficult for Emma.
“But Detective Cassano is here, if you’d like to speak with him.”
My eyes fly open and my heart soars. “Mariano is there?”
“He’s been sitting on the front porch the better part of an hour. Would you like to speak with him?”
Me. He’s there for me. “Please.”
I catch myself standing with weight on my supposedly hurt leg. Fortunately, Robbie is still in the kitchen, his back to me.
“Hi.” Mariano’s voice has a tenderness to it.
“I tried your apartment first, but you weren’t there.”
“No, I came here after work. Joyce said you were out with Emma, but would be back before too long.”
“Yes, that was the plan.” I swallow and try to infuse hysteria into my voice. “But then Mae and her sister went off with these terrible johnnies, and I refused to go with them.”
“Piper . . . what’s going on? Who are you with? You’re not in the North again, are you?”
I swallow. Um . . . “But fortunately I bumped into someone. You know my good friend Miss Crane?”
“The longer you talk, the more nervous I get.”
“Well, her boyfriend happened to be on his way to work—”
“I bet.”
“—and when he found me limping, he was good enough to bring me up to his apartment so I could ring for someone to come pick me up.”
“I thought you had a car with you. That’s what Joyce said.”
“I know, wasn’t it fortunate? Downright providential, I say.”
“Good grief, Piper. So you need me to come get you?”
“Quickly please. He needs to get to work, but he’s being a gentleman and insisting he wait with me until someone comes.”
“You still have the car though, correct?”
“Yes, I do.” I pull the mouth piece away from my mouth. “Robbie, what’s your street address please? My friend is on his way to come get me.”
“703 W. Schubert. Right on the corner of Orchard. We can wait downstairs, if he likes.”
“Mariano, the address is 703 W. Schubert, and we’ll be waiting in the lobby.” There’s silence on the other end. “Mariano?”
“What are you thinking, Piper Sail?” Mariano’s voice is coarse. “Do you realize where you are?”
My laugh rings hollow. “It’s not like I planned this, Mariano.”
“That’s the same block Patrick Finnegan lives on. If they were to realize who you are . . . I’m coming. I’m coming now. Just stay there.”
The line goes silent. I swallow hard. “I know it’s an inconvenience, but I do so appreciate it. Thank you. Good-bye.”
The Finnegans. Yet again.
“So your friend is on his way?”
“Yes.” I make myself smile at Robbie. Is he associated with them? “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Robbie.”
Together, we walk and fake-hobble down
to the front door to wait for Mariano. I’m dying to check the Ford for Emma, but it’s parked just out of view.
My gaze drifts to where I know Robbie’s gun is holstered. All of this cannot possibly be a coincidence, can it? His secrecy about his job, the unmarked door from earlier, where he lives, and that he carries a gun?
I have to stop dwelling on it, or I’ll be too nervous for the rest of our time together. That certainly won’t help Emma and me get answers. “If you need to go to work, I’m sure my friend will be here soon.”
“It’s no trouble.” But he’s jingling the change in his pocket.
“I’m so thankful to know my friend is seeing someone kind-hearted like you.”
Robbie’s smile goes soft, and it stirs something in my heart. I want him to be a good guy. I’m not exactly sure when I decided I like Emma Crane, but I do.
“When you’ve moved around as much as I have, there’s always a question of how long it’ll take for the new place to feel like home. When I met Emma, Chicago finally felt like home.”
“She’s the best sort of girl.”
Robbie ducks his head and smiles at his shoes. “I still can’t believe she’d be interested in someone old like me.”
Why thank you, Mr. Thomas, for opening up that window of opportunity. “You’re hardly old, Robbie. Surely no more than twenty-five.”
“Somewhere in there, yes.”
“And lots of girls like the idea of finding a man who’s already settled in a profession. What is it you do again?”
“I work for the railroad.”
“How long have you done that?”
“A few years.”
I gesture to the briefcase resting by the front door. “Do you always work in the evening?”
His smile is no longer the bashful variety, but rather the kind a person wears when making polite conversation. “Trains run at all hours of the day, unfortunately.”
“What exactly do you do for them?”
“Oh, I’ve done all kinds of things. I’m sure you’re not interested in the details of my work.”
“You might be surprised. Trains have always interested me.”
“Me too. Their power is incredible, the way the ground trembles when they pass. It’s fascinated me from the time I was a child.”
He goes on to talk about how his father was a railroad man, spinning a story both interesting and vague. The man certainly knows what he’s doing, knows how to cover up that he’s revealing nothing.
The Lost Girl of Astor Street Page 25