He inclined his head. “True.”
“I am asking you to act as a kind of unofficial—detective, I suppose the title would be. And as such, you should be compensated.”
As if she had spoken Jack’s name aloud the boy said, “I don’t want no business with no cops.”
“This arrangement is between you and me,” Anna said. “No one else. With the understanding that you will not put yourself in danger, under any circumstances.”
He broke out in a wide and amused smile, and rightly so: it was na?ve to think he could avoid trouble, or even wanted to.
She said, “Now about compensation. I’ve been thinking about it. Do I understand that staying here costs ten cents a night?”
“For older boys. The little ones pay six cents. Another dime for two meals,” he said. “Morning and evening. Ma Howell runs a good kitchen.”
“Very well,” Anna said, endeavoring not to smile. “Let’s say one and a half dollars a week for your lodging and meals. Six dollars would cover four weeks. That will serve as a retainer. If you are successful tomorrow or if we are successful, if anyone finds Tonino or reliable word of where he’s gone, you will still keep the fee I am paying today. If you find him or reliable word of where he is, I will pay you another ten dollars. If in four weeks there is still no word of him, we will reassess the situation and discuss whether to continue. Are these terms agreeable to you?”
“Yes,” he said with great dignity. “I accept.”
She took papers from her bag and placed them on a corner of the desk. She had asked permission to use the pen and ink, and so she got those ready, too. “Now, I believe that you’ve been attending classes since you first came here, and so you can read and write English. I’m going to write out our agreement here and we’ll both sign it. If that’s acceptable?”
“I’m always ready. Write on, Dr. Savard.”
? ? ?
WHEN SHE RETURNED to the parlor, both the manager and his wife had gone to take up their duties. Jack sat alone reading a paper, his legs stretched out and his ankles crossed. Something changed in his face when he saw her, but there was no suspicion there. She wondered if he was ever surprised by anything. She wondered if he played poker.
“What?” Anna said, as he unfolded his long frame from the chair.
“What?” she said again, as he stopped right in front of her, not touching but so close she could smell the starch in his shirt collar.
He said, “Did you bribe that kid?”
She raised her head sharply and took a step back; Jack moved two steps forward.
“I paid him for his services,” Anna said, refusing to step away again and trying to convince herself this had to do with calm self-assertion and nothing else. “That’s not bribery. Why must you always put things in terms of criminal behavior?”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Because I’m a cop,” he said. “And Baldy is a criminal.”
Anna felt her heart pick up a beat. “He may have broken the law—” she began.
“Laws,” Jack said. “Multiple. Often, with great skill and enthusiasm.”
“Well,” Anna said, shifting in her irritation. “Of course he’s no angel.”
“How much money did you give him?”
“Six dollars with the promise of a bonus if he’s successful. And before you say anything else, Mezzanotte, you should know that if he just takes the six dollars and never does anything to earn it, I will still consider the investment to have been worthwhile.”
For a long moment he looked down at her, a crease in the fold between his eyebrows, and one corner of his mouth pulled up, as though she were a puzzle that resisted solving.
“Come on,” he said. “We have a couple more stops to make.”
Anna said, “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
? ? ?
FOR THE NEXT two weeks, Anna was on high alert and agitated with herself about it. Some days there was a note from Jack Mezzanotte with news about the search, but more often when she left for the day the porter would have a note asking her to meet somewhere: the Protestant orphan asylum, the Our Lady of the Rosary convent, the Boys’ Protectory on Broome Street, the Sheltering Arms Home, the Society for the Relief of Destitute Children, the Asylum of St. Vincent de Paul.
They would meet, talk to the head of the asylum or hospital, and go their separate ways. If it was dark when they finished, Jack insisted on seeing her home, and they talked of everything and nothing at all. Anna wondered if she had imagined his interest in her. But then he would come to call and sit down to talk to Rosa about what they had learned and where they would go next, and during those visits she was well aware of his regard.