Corinne didn’t take her eyes off him. She was watching his eyebrows. A lie was always in the eyebrows.
“Was it your people at the wharf the other night?” Ada asked.
Carson’s eyebrows moved upward, only slightly. He was quiet for a few seconds, considering her.
Around them, the club echoed with movement and conversation. Someone onstage was striking the first few notes on a piano. Eva Carson’s hand was still on her husband’s arm, her fingertips moving in slow, soothing circles.
“No,” Luke Carson said.
“Can you swear on your mother’s eyes?” Corinne asked, jumping into the conversation to throw him off balance. “And while you’re at it, can you swear that you didn’t just accept a bribe from Agent Mammoth and Agent Slick who were just here?”
“Kid, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carson said, his voice heating despite his wife’s consoling touch.
“She rarely does,” Ada said, propping her chin on her hands. “I’m sure the Hemopath Protection Agency is just collecting for charity.”
“Maybe it’s time for you both to go. The show’s about to start.”
“You two should play another set for us sometime,” Eva said, tapping her manicured red nails against her Manhattan.
“Certainly,” Corinne said, forcing a smile that more closely resembled bared fangs. “I’ll save that poem for you.”
“We’ll see ourselves out,” Ada said, standing.
“I think you won’t,” Carson said, waving again to his armed lurkers.
In an effort to remain dignified and avoid unnecessary bruising, the girls let the bodyguards lead them out the front door by the elbows. Once they were deposited outside, they started walking with purpose in the direction of the Cast Iron. When she heard the door shut, Corinne nudged Ada’s arm and they doubled back toward the stage door. Gabriel was waiting for them.
“Well, Carson denied everything, predictably enough,” Corinne told him.
“Do you think he was lying?” Ada asked.
Corinne shook her head. “It’s hard to tell. He’s hiding something for sure. What do you think?”
“Those HPA agents were there for a reason,” Ada said after a few thoughtful seconds. “But I don’t think he knew anything about Johnny.”
“That settles it, then,” Corinne said, linking arms with both of them to start walking back to the street. The slushy gray snow crunched underfoot. “We’ll pay a visit to Down Street, see if the Witcher brothers have anything to say for themselves.”
“Not tonight,” Ada said. “You know they don’t let anyone into the back room after ten.”
“Why do you think the Witchers are involved?” Gabriel asked. “I didn’t think they were part of Johnny and Carson’s rivalry. Down Street doesn’t even host shows.”
“It’s the only other iron-free joint in town,” Ada said.
“The Witchers don’t party like we do, but they still have their fingers in a lot of pies,” Corinne said. “Illegal sorts of pies. The Witchers may not be involved, but I’ll bet they know who is.”
Gabriel didn’t say anything. Corinne wondered how long he was going to pout about being left out of all the heroics. The three of them were walking in the direction of the club, with Corinne still linked between them. The hotels and restaurants they passed were bright with activity, as women in furs and men in silk hats cavorted between their nightly entertainments. Competing music drifted from establishments as doors swung open. Corinne was overwhelmed by the carefree nature of it all. Johnny was dead and her world was ripping at the seams, and somehow these people could go about their lives without noticing.
“We’ll want to come back to the Red Cat at some point, I guess,” Ada said, breaking into Corinne’s reverie.
Corinne quickly pushed away the troubled thoughts and grinned at her.
“You saw it too?”
“It was hard to miss. I can’t believe we never noticed before.”
“What are you two talking about?” Gabriel asked. He managed to keep the irritation in his tone to a minimum, though it obviously cost him some effort. “And why do you think you’ll learn any more from Carson by barging into his club a second time?”
“It’s not Luke we want to talk to again,” Ada said.
“His name might be on the deed for the Red Cat, but he’s not the head of their crew,” Corinne said. “His wife, Eva, is.”