“And . . .” I’m at a dead end with Lydia anyway. What’s the harm in offering this? “Maybe you should bring your notebook, and we could talk about Matthew like you’ve been wanting to. I don’t know how much help I could be, but—” I shrug. “Some help is better than no help, right?”
Alana seems shocked by my change of heart. “Yes, that would be swell. Has he telephoned you?”
“No, nothing like that. And you should know that I believe Matthew is innocent. I don’t want to get mixed up in a story where you make it sound like I think he’s guilty.”
“Of course not. But if not Matthew, who do you think killed her?”
“I don’t know.” The Finnegan name echoes in my head, but I can’t vocalize that, now can I? Especially not to someone who would actually print it. If I hadn’t been the true target to begin with, certainly that would seal the deal. “I need to go, or I’ll be late. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Mariano rang for you, by the way,” Nick calls after me. “I told him you were unavailable.”
I pause at the door, but don’t turn around. “Thank you. I’m taking the Ford.”
My heart thunders in my chest as I close the door behind me and clatter down the steps to where the Ford is parked along the curb. I just won’t think about him yet. I won’t think about how he called Sunday, yesterday, and now today. Or how I think if I see him, I won’t be able to hold so tightly to my doubts.
And I certainly won’t think about how deeply it scares me that if he is lying, I might be too hung up on him to perceive it.
“This is so exciting.” Emma is almost bouncing in the passenger seat. We’ve been parked here about ten minutes, and this is the fifth time she’s expressed her enthusiasm. “I’ve never been in the car with a lady driver. My mother says it’s uncivilized for women to drive. She seems to think it’s a gateway to rebellion. I doubt I’ll ever have my own car.”
“Sure you will. Just not while you live at home.”
“Jeremiah let me practice once on his coupe.” Emma beams at the memory. “I was terrible.”
“I was too. Walter taught me because my brothers were too busy.” I shift my hips to find a position that’s comfortable, which is tricky with Nick’s pocket knife digging into my side.
“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?”