‘So you did, so you did.’ Bushwick must have made a gesture because the breather moves. ‘And as I’ve said, you’ve got spunk, girl. But don’t let it go to your head like it did with your old man. You keep coming to me with whatever goodies you find and we’ll get on fine, you and me. When you’re ready, I’ll have a place for you in the organization. When you get tired of playing at detective.’
He’s laughing again, calling to his man even as the door shuts behind us, and this time Care rushes down the steps, her worn shoes slapping on the linoleum as she runs.
‘Hey, girl!’ It’s the doorman, but she keeps on going, out into the sunshine and down the stairs. Only when she’s around the corner does she stop, taking a great breath in what sounds for all the world like a sob.
‘Care, there you are!’ The boy is here, for good or ill. I shift and mew, ready to get down. ‘What happened?’
She’s panting, fright rather than exertion. I call again and scratch at the fabric. She sinks to the ground, her back against the building, and I jump free. It has been a disturbing visit and I feel the need to groom. One asserts order however one can.
‘He threatened me, Tick. And he pretty much confessed to having the old man killed.’ She pauses but I can imagine her train of thought. Bushwick views himself as a fancy man, despite his cheap furs and low-life companions. He’s quite capable of ordering violence, although he’s unlikely to have committed it himself. There is something wrong, however. Something about how he presented …
‘And he didn’t care about the ledger. Maybe there was something in the old man’s office.’ She’s talking to herself now more than to the boy. ‘Something I missed.’
I neaten my ruff and begin to work on my leg. It feels good to stretch after all that time being carried. My fur is falling back into place.
‘I think he’s behind the heist, Tick,’ she says at last. ‘I think he got the necklace – paid those jerks to steal it, most likely. And now, with the old man and Fat Peter dead, he’s neatening up the loose ends.’
I pause, my leg extended, struck by her phrasing. Struck, as well, by the logic of what she says. Yes, it makes sense. The man has a business large enough to incorporate many kinds of contraband, and gemstones would be more compact, easier to transport than those stinking ratty furs. What I don’t understand, I realize, as I return to my grooming, is why the man should still smell of fear – and why he views this one pale girl as a threat.
‘So what now?’ The boy is on his feet, anxious to move. ‘You want me to bring that book to AD? I mean, if he wants it so bad.’
‘No.’ She shakes her head, scowling. ‘I don’t understand what’s going on with it yet, Tick, but it’s worth something. I need to put it together before I present it, case closed, to Diamond Jim. The old man always taught me to watch out for the loose ends, to make sure I had everything in place. I think I need to go back to the old man’s office. See if I can figure out what Bushwick was really looking for.’
The boy, accustomed to obeying orders, stands at the ready, but when Care looks down at me I remove myself, just far enough to make my intentions clear. Concern flashes briefly across her face as she realizes I will not be compliant, and I experience a twinge of regret. I do not want to cause this child any sadness. However, I do not wish to be confined again, no matter how benign her intent. As she begins to walk, retracing our steps to the back street, I trot along in full view, the better to reassure her, aware of her gaze as she watches my upright tail.
It is my fault, therefore, that she is caught in an inattentive moment and I spin, hissing, as an arm reaches out from a recessed doorway, pulling her into its shadow.
‘Care!’ The boy raises the alarm, jumping away from the hands while I crouch, readying myself to attack.
‘It’s me, Jonah!’ The man in the shadow pulls back, hands open and up, releasing her. She sways and rights herself, staying still within the shadow as she considers him. He looks too much like a splayed frog to be threatening, but his smell is foul. Sharp and gritty all at once. It irritates my nose and eyes as I pass behind her, settling into a low growl. ‘I just – I wanted to warn you.’
‘Warn me?’ Care’s been spooked but she’s curious. I feel her lean forward on her toes; her head tilts up with the question. My pose does not change, though I lower my growl to listen. He has not harmed her – not yet – but that does not preclude a trap.
‘I shouldn’t.’ Even from below, I see the whites around his eyes. He’s the one who’s afraid, his face drawn and darting, peering out into the sunlight and back again. I step forward to sniff his cuff. It’s worn and dirty, frayed as if by claws, and rank – soaked in more than filth and sweat. ‘The boss sent me to get a crowbar but I saw you and, well, you were good to me. You and the old man. You couldn’t know … Bushwick – he’s the big boss now. He’s the one who …’ He swallows and points to himself. Whatever happened, it’s still too raw to articulate.